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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..959e46b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53960 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53960) diff --git a/old/53960-0.txt b/old/53960-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fe5a11b..0000000 --- a/old/53960-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6995 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 5, May -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. 5, May 1849 - -Author: Various - -Editor: George R. Graham - J. R. Patterson - J. B. Taylor - -Release Date: January 14, 2017 [EBook #53960] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, MAY 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. May, 1849. No. 5. - - - Table of Contents - - Mr. and Mrs. John Johnson Jones - Lines to an Idea that Wouldn’t “Come.” - A Summer Evening Thought - The Naval Officer - The Rustic Shrine - Luna.—An Ode. - From Buchannan - The Recluse. No. II. - A Voice from the Wayside - A Sonnet - Passages of Life in Europe - The Grass of the Field - To an Absent Sister - Taste - The Man of Mind and the Man of Money - A May Song - Fifty Suggestions - History of the Costume of Men - Wild-Birds of America - Ariel in the Cloven Pine - Reminiscences - Parting - Montgomery’s House - Editor’s Table - Review of New Books - Virtue’s Evergreen - - Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: Anaïs Toudouze - -LE FOLLET -Boulevart S^{t}. Martin, 61. -_Robes de M^{me}._ Bara Bréjard, _r. Lafitte, 5—_ -_Coiffures de_ Hamelin, _pass. du Saumon, 21_. -_Fleurs de_ Chagot ainé, _r. Richelieu, 81—Dentelles de_ Violard, _r. - Choiseul, 2^{bis}_. -Graham’s Magazine] - - * * * * * - - GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE. - - * * * * * - - VOL. XXXIV. PHILADELPHIA, May, 1849. NO. 5. - - * * * * * - - - - - MR. AND MRS. JOHN JOHNSON JONES. - - - A TALE OF EVERYDAY LIFE. - - - BY ANGELE DE V. HULL. - - - “These are the spiders of society.” - -Mr. and Mrs. John Johnson Jones were commonplace people, but like him -who cried because there were no more worlds to conquer, they were -ambitious. There was one sphere within whose sacred precincts they could -not enter, and they wanted—to be fashionable. They looked around—they -beheld others, who, like themselves, had once been excluded from the -“land of promise,” and with a mighty resolution, determined to die or -conquer—to overthrow the _chevaux-de-frise_ surrounding Japonicadom, -with “the impudence of wealth;” and at length—at length the charmed -gates at which Mrs. Jones had sat in an agony of despair, burst open to -her delighted gaze, and she rose in public estimation high as the frothy -pyramids with which she ornamented her expensive suppers and baited her -guests. - -After all, and in spite of the old copy that we have written, about the -root of all evil, money is a “great invention;” especially here, where -it bestows wit on fools, beauty on beasts, and covering the blots on all -escutcheons, forces us to that promiscuous mingling which out-democrats -democracy. How magnanimous it makes us! While the friends of the needy -assist them down the hill of fortune and bid them farewell, they turn to -help the lucky over its stepping stones, and lifting the pedlar’s pack -from his shoulders, rub them down, and push him into what we call “our -first circle”. And a pretty circle it would be, were the beginning -known! But the shining gold that glitters through a handsome purse, is -the _passe partout_; and like the princess in the fairy tale, nobody -looks behind for fear of hobgoblin discoveries of his next door -neighbor. Besides, reduced people are _so_ contemptible! Put them out! -With each new reign new peers arise, and so new houses should rear their -tops over the old ones, when the owners are useless and the furniture -tarnished. - -Such a generation as we are! Such an age of refinement! Who would sit -down in the year 1849, to a dinner on a square-table! Who would touch -any but a Westphalia ham—drink champagne from a narrow glass—take a -cup of tea from any but a silver urn—sit in any but a Louis -Quatorze—kiss a baby that wore corals—notice an acquaintance with a -last winter bonnet, or a _visite_ instead of a Jenny Lind? Dear me! dear -me! I have been thinking a long time, and don’t know anybody that would! - -Mrs. Jones knew better for one—so did Mr. Jones; and while they were as -vulgar as pride and ignorance could make them, learned to look upon -themselves as “glasses of fashion and moulds of form.” They had to labor -for the distinction with a zeal worthy a better cause; and my readers -shall have the benefit of their attempts if they are not already too -tired to proceed. - -Mrs. Jones canvassed among her female acquaintances for popularity, by -calling, flattering, cringing, and sending them delicacies made by her -own fair hands; and Mr. Jones, who was very anxious to be “genteel,” -studied Chesterfield, and wondered what it meant. He belonged to one of -the first families of a state, in which all the families were first—a -universal right of distinction. His connections would have been titled -in an aristocracy; but their respect for the American government made -them condescend to be plain Misters, Madams, and Misses. - -Mr. Jones himself was a little finnikin man, with sharp, black eyes, and -high cheek bones, upon which rested two red spots like the remains of a -fly-blister. He combed his hair into a stiff _toupet_, that made him -look like an inverted furniture-brush, with the usual equivocal portrait -of some very great individual upon it. - -Fortune particularly distinguished Mr. Jones and saved him the trial of -an impossibility—the one of distinguishing himself. She gave him the -key to every door when she made him wealthy, and in pure gratitude he -converted his soul into a cent, and his heart into hard specie. - -Then, Fortune bestowed on him the would-be-elegant Miss Pushaw, as -high-born as himself; and he was certainly a happy man when he stood up -with a bride whose dress was, like Margaret Overreach’s, “sprinkled o’er -with gold.” He was soon dazzled by her manœuvering qualities, and -touched by the congeniality of feeling which existed between them. An -adoration of fine clothes, fine furniture, and fashionable people, was -the sacred link that bound these loving hearts into one; and upon their -removal from the country to the city, no marble-cutter labored harder, -or struck more small pieces right and left, than did Mr. and Mrs. John -Johnson Jones, when they fawned and flattered, and ran small errands for -the neighbors that surrounded them, “the great Athenians.” - -Mrs. Jones kept a small confectionary establishment in her pantry, for -all the ladies who fell sick; and Mr. Jones was kind enough to open a -cigar and drinking establishment for the gentlemen who were obliging -enough to call. They progressed, however, slowly in the affections of -the proud ——ians, and were somewhat discouraged, but recollecting the -pretty motto of “Hope on, hope ever,” they did not despair, and -contemplated taking larger strides toward gentility. - -Mrs. Jones had been originally called Sally, but changed the appellation -for the softer one of Sara. Spring came on, and she resolved to follow -the world of fashion to one of its favorite resorts, the little village -of Quiproquo. She persuaded her loving spouse to rent one of its -cottages; and covering some old sofas and chairs with new chintz, -furnished it nicely and neatly enough to have satisfied the most -fastidious. But to every visiter the same apology was made for its -plainness; and Mrs. Jones informed them all that “her house in town was -furnished _elegunt_, but she didn’t like to bring out her mahogany -cheers,” while her husband’s invariable rejoinder was, “Why, Sara, there -are plenty more where them came from!” A mere playful allusion to the -amount of his fortune, a fact he never lost sight of, and in time it had -its due effect on his listeners. - -This house became at length the _pied-à-terre_ for all the high-bred -loungers that had nothing to do but smoke, drink, and play Boston in the -summer months; the season of inevitable idleness for all Southerners of -all professions—doctors excepted. - -Mrs. Jones talked very loud and very much _du nez_; she took all the -empty speeches she listened to for witticisms, and was forever busy in -the service of others, running about shaking a little basket of keys, to -impress them with a due sense of her importance. - -Mr. Jones’s wine flowed freely, (so did his brandy par parenthesis. -Brandy-and-water drinking becomes a solemn duty in the warm weather, -among the inhabitants of Quiproquo.) Then the boxes of best Havanas were -fast emptied, and clouds of smoke arose from the front piazza, -frightening the neighbors into thinking the house was on fire until they -were used to it. And Boston! and whist! there was no end to these -favorite games, while the gossips of the village whispered that it was a -very profitable amusement to Mr. Jones. - -But there was still a Mordecai at the gate of poor Mrs. Jones’s soul. -Many had called to see her, whose nod a few months previous was as great -as Jove’s from Mount Olympus; but like all who strive for much, she -wanted more. There was one card whose reception would at once stamp her -“a peer,” give her the right to place the golden grasshopper in her -hair; for Mrs. Macfuss was one of the proud Autochthones whose boast was -that she had never been but the first among the first. She had been -heard to say that she could not think of encouraging such persons as the -Joneses! And such a speech from the cynosure of all eyes threw Mrs. -Jones into hysterics. - -Mrs. Macfuss’s house was the house par excellence; her suppers were -given in the Hall of Apollo, where Lucullus supped with Lucullus. The -dinners were triumphs of culinary art, over which the very spirit of Ude -must have presided. Her toilette was ever in the most exquisite taste. -Her dresses gave the _ton_, and her patronage decided the fate of a -mantuamaker for life. The entire race of milliners would have credited -her forever sooner than lose the honor of her custom; and she it was for -whose favor poor Mrs. Jones pined in green and yellow melancholy. She -cried for very spite, while Mr. Jones swore that he would trample on the -d—n proud set after a while. - -They determined to make a mighty effort, and commenced preparations for -a ball. Invitations were written on scented paper, and put into -envelopes with embossed vines and bouquets over the seal. These were -sent to her new acquaintances, and the “picked and chosen” of her old -ones; and breaking through the charmed rules of etiquette, Mrs. Jones’s -cards were slipped into some of the invitations and left at Mrs. -Macfuss’s for herself and family. A band of music was engaged, and every -thing prepared on a large scale. - -Mrs. Jones was seen rushing in and out of the house in an old loose gown -looking like—herself; sleeves up to her elbows, and said elbows covered -with eggs, sugar and butter; while behind her ran Master Pushaw Jones, -on a pair of hard fat, blue legs, his face besmeared with the same sweet -compound that graced his mamma’s arms, enlivening the scene with shrill -screams for egg-shells, into which he concocted sundry messes that defy -description. - -In every sunny spot around the house were tables covered with cakes like -pyramids of snow, so white and smooth was the icing poured over them. In -the kitchen were fowls roasting and hams boiling; turkeys innumerable in -their tin houses, getting basted and browned; and oysters getting -plumped and pickled, peppered and spiced. There was more shuffling, -running about, upsetting and breaking, than can be imagined, and -fussing, to Mrs. Jones’s content. Baskets of champagne arriving from -town; blocks of ice; borrowed china and glass; lamps, candelabras, &c., -&c. Servants rushing out to assist the draymen, shouting, tumbling over -one another in an agony of amazement at “Miss Sally’s importance,” and -ransacking drawers and closets for cup-towels and tumbler-towels that -were insufficient for all the wiping that was to be done. - -The table was set out—and a magnificent one it was, if profusion is -beauty. There was nothing wanting. Plenty of lights, too, were in -readiness, and nearly all was completed the evening before, to poor Mrs. -Jones’s relief. She went to bed, endeavoring to think the fatigue a -pleasure, and slept soundly enough to feel recruited. - -But, alas! a bad day and a worse night damped her expectations, and she -walked about, giving her directions with less buoyancy than the evening -previous. _Then_, the fair moon was filling the earth with her silver -light, and covering the galleries (whereon the guests were to have -promenaded) with her radiance. _Now_, the air was damp and chilly, the -rain was still dropping over the roof, and the roads were, of course, -almost impassable. The grandees shrugged their shoulders at the idea of -a wet drive to Mrs. Jones’s party, and many who would have gone, -remained at home for want of comfortable equipages. - -The musicians called the quadrilles in hoarse voices, and their -instruments were out of tune. The wind blew out the lights, and great -confusion prevailed among the dancers. The icing ran down the sides of -the cakes, the Charlotte Russes flowed over and the beautiful jelly, so -perfectly moulded, melted away like a dream. Mrs. Jones was ready to -swoon, but rallied, and talked louder than ever as she ran to and fro, -in great agony of mind. Her husband suffered less; he was winning at -cards, and the expenses of the party were much lessened as some of the -guests pockets lightened. He even forgot the absent Macfusses, and -wondered that Sara “took on so.” Supper was announced—the champagne -foamed and sparkled, the corks flew about like hail-stones, and every -body was pleased but poor Mrs. Jones, who was glad when it ended, and -lay down at length with a terrible _migraine_. Then came the nightmare -in the shape of one of her own black cakes thrown at her head by Mrs. -Macfuss—and so ended the party for her. - -She had, however, the consolation of telling her next door neighbor, who -was too sick to accept her invitation, what an “elegant supper she had, -and how much it had cost her.” She enumerated the number of empty -bottles that _had_ been full, the loaves of sugar that were broken up, -and the hundreds of pounds of ice that had been used for freezing, &c., -&c. The dozens of eggs, the ounces of gelatin! She had followed Miss -Leslie’s receipts, “and,” added she, taking breath, “you know, Mrs. -Hill, that you _must_ go to vast expense for that, as she directs you to -take the best of every thing.” - -Mrs. Hill did not doubt it, and as she afterward told her sister, heard -an account so minute of the costs of the entertainment, that she could -easily have made out the bills for the city confectioners and grocers. - -“But she did not tell me who were her guests, Eda; and I really had no -opportunity of asking,” said she, smiling. “Now I might have learned -something more interesting for your benefit.” - -“Not for mine, Fanny,” returned Miss Seymour, laughing. “Poor Mrs. -Jones! she could not tell you that Mrs. Macfuss did not accept her -polite invitation, and in _her_ absence, she considered her rooms empty. -Is she not a host within herself?” - -“I should like to have seen _her_ reception of Mrs. Jones’s envelopes -and cards,” exclaimed young Seymour, rising from the sofa, and seating -himself at his sister’s side. “It is certainly a bore to have such -vulgarians thrust themselves among us. Fancy your compliance with the -request I heard her make _you_, Eda, to ‘Come over and be intimate!’” - -“You may look as disdainful as you please, my exclusive brother,” said -Mrs. Hill, laying her white hand upon his own, “but I prophecy Mrs. -Jones’s rise in the world of fashion as a thing of certain occurrence, -as much as we all now laugh at and despise her vulgarity and ignorance. -She will be as well considered as you or I, and more, for she has -wealth, and we have only education and high-breeding.” - -“Tell it not in Gath! What, Macfusses and all, Fanny!” cried her -brother. “Impossible! No one is a prophet in his own country, my dear -sister, and thus I console myself for the shock you have given me.” - -“_Nous verrons, ce que nous verrons_, Harry,” said Mrs. Hill, smiling, -“but I think I am right. Human nature is the same all over the world, -and I have learned to study it of late years. Did not Lady Montague -write, that wherever she had gone in her travels in Europe and the East, -she met with ‘men and women!’” - -“Very true, Fanny, but if what you predict comes to pass, I shall play -Timon of Athens, and fly to Texas.” - -“O, lame and impotent conclusion!” said Eda, rising and running her -fingers over the harp-strings, sending a full, clear strain through the -apartment. - - “‘If music be the food of love, play on; - Give me excess of it, that surfeiting—’ - -I may forget Fanny’s shocking view of fashionable human nature. She is a -perfect old Diogenes, and deserves no better than a tub! Play, Eda, that -‘music for a time may change _her_ nature.’” - -“Nay, sing, sister,” said Fanny; “’twill soothe his troubled spirit -sooner. Sing something from Lucia di Lammermoor, and I will promise not -to repeat my offence.” - -But Mrs. Hill was right. She did not presume to deny the title of every -one in our own free country to the equality it claims. She would exclude -none from the advantages of society, let their pedigree be what it -might. She respected honesty, and venerated truth. She knew that wealth -could not confer either, and was too often acquired in their absence; to -her it covered no faults, mended no reputation, refined no coarseness of -mind, and looking upon it as affording opportunities of relieving -misery, ways of making others happy, of giving to genius the advantages -of education and learning, it was no wonder that she sighed, as she -witnessed its daily influence on the minds and hearts of those with whom -she mingled. There was no bitterness in her contemplation of its -consequences, for she was too good and gentle to be envious, too pious -to repine. She had been in the sunshine of the great world’s favor, and -was now beginning to see its clouds, as her means of affording mere -entertainment to its votaries began to decline. But, although she felt -privations, the want of comforts to which she had ever been accustomed; -although she felt that wealth can bestow much happiness on those who -know its proper use, she murmured not, nor thought more of those on whom -fortune was conferring her choicest favors. No wonder, then, that she -could foresee the success of Mrs. Jones, when with _her_ accomplishments -and fine, noble mind, the diminution of prosperity brought her less -consideration. The mortification to her was, not the loss of fortune, -but the mistake she made in fancying that her real worth had been -appreciated. She knew that true hearts could not forsake her, that true -friends could not be changed, and the rest passed from her mind as a -dream that had lasted too long. - -Winter approached, and after giving dinners, suppers, and picknicks -innumerable in honor of her new acquaintance, Mrs. Jones prepared to -remove into her house in town. At the same time Mrs. Macfuss was ready -to do the like, and as mortified as the former felt at her palpable -neglect, it was a comfort to know that their furniture-wagons went side -by side for six good miles. - -And so ended Mrs. Jones’s first year of climbing. The ladder seemed not -so steep, nor the ascent so difficult; she could look up and smile on -those at the top, while hands were held out to help her as she mounted. - -She dreamed of Paradise, and began to breathe and hope. Who would not in -her place? She talked louder than ever, and began to patronize a few, -offering to chaperone very young ladies, or ladies of a certain age. Her -toilette was magnificent, and began to be elegant. Mrs. Jones had -improved decidedly. - -The house continued to be thronged with her usual visiters. Her parlors -were a kind of club-room for young men who staggered about, half-sober, -after having played cards all night, or rested their weary heads upon -the satin pillows of her sofas, and dozed off the effect of the -champagne. Mrs. Jones declined all further communication with her former -friends, and wrote pompous notes to all who took any liberty with her -name. It was a thing she could not think of allowing; she had certainly -the right of choosing her associates, and neither herself nor Mr. Jones -could permit any one to question their conduct in any manner. Indeed, -she was often upon the point of requesting Mr. Jones to impress it upon -the minds of the silly creatures, that she could not acknowledge the -acquaintance of such a promiscuous set. They had fastened upon her -during her residence at “the Creek,” and she could not shake them off; -she never dreamed of encouraging them, and had resolved on her return -from the North, not to notice any calls paid her by such an obstinate -set. - -“Ah, indeed!” exclaimed the bosom-friend of days gone by, upon hearing -all this repeated; “she don’t intend to know us! Perhaps she forgets how -glad she was when aunt invited her and her sister to a party, and they -mortified us so, by coming with paper crowns on their heads, and little -baskets filled with artificial flowers on their arms?” - -“And every one laughed so!” cried another. “She came to see _me_ once, -with a colored dress on, trimmed all over with broad white ruffles. -Wasn’t that a costume? I wonder who _she_ is, to slight us! She would do -better to recollect what she springs from. Indeed! the time was—” - -But we have not time to repeat the angry sayings of Mrs. Jones’ friends. -Some were told to her, but she cared not a _sous_, since the old set and -the new would never meet to canvass her pedigree or her paper wreaths of -yore. So, bidding a long farewell to them all, she left for New York, in -all the glory of traveling-dresses, trunks labeled “John Johnson Jones,” -and a white nurse for Master Pushaw. - - - CHAPTER II. - - “I dressed myself from top to toe.” - -“Are you going out this morning, Sara?” said Mr. Jones, as he saw an -unusual quantity of finery on the dressing-table, embroidered collars, -cuffs, handkerchiefs and gay ribbons. - -“Yes; I have some calls to make—no very important ones to be sure; I -intend dining out to Mrs. Hill’s place at Summerfield. But as I think it -a duty to assist in putting down the pride of such people, I wish to go -with some eeclaw, and will take Pushaw with me, to show off his handsome -suit. Some of my friends told me it was folly in me to put myself to the -trouble of calling, but I wish them to see how mistaken they were, poor -things! when they took upon themselves to treat us with so much -indifference when we were neighbors. The Hills are of no earthly use, -everybody knows that! and I vow and declare that I saw Mrs. Hill wear -that shine silk of hers two winters ago. I really must ask some of her -acquaintances; it is worth while to ascertain it. I suppose I must go -alone, for I could not ask any one to be charitable enough to go with -me; and after this, I mean to cut the Seymour and Hill clique most -decidedly.” - -Mrs. Jones took breath, and laughed at her own wit as though she -relished it; and well she might, for the idea of her being able to “cut -people” was a very funny one to be sure. - -“Hill is doing a bad business this winter,” said her husband, buttoning -his coat, and straightening himself before the glass. “He’ll be ‘done -up’ at the end of it, I’ll wager any thing, for he sold his beautiful -horse a short time since, and a man must be in a poor way to part with -such an animal as that is. Sinclair bought him, and hardly knows how to -ride.” - -“Well, I’m sure _I_ don’t care, for one,” remarked Mrs. Jones, with -great elegance of manner and tone, as she threw over her shoulders a -Brussels cape that had been sent up by her modiste for her inspection. -“This is splendid, I declare! I’m glad Mrs. Puff thought of sending -this; it is exactly like one Mrs. Macfuss wore at the Ford’s fine -dinner, and so it must be the fashion. As I was saying, Mr. Jones, the -Hills were rather high with me last summer; I never could get them to -come over and be intimate. Now there’s Marian Fawney, as sweet a girl as -ever lived, I had only to tell her once, and we’ve been like sisters -ever since.” - -“Yes; a little _too_ intimate for my good,” said Mr. Jones, as he -thought of the constant visits of all Miss Fawney’s family. “It may all -be very fine for you, Sally, and she may be a very good girl, but I -think she loves rich folks, and no others.” - -“Well, and who don’t?” replied his wife, who felt herself subject to a -similar weakness. “Besides, Mr. Jones, her acquaintance has been an -advantage, consider that! I have no doubt but that through her influence -we shall have Mrs. Macfuss in our house before the season is out.” - -“D—n Mrs. Macfuss!” exclaimed Mr. Jones, forgetting Chesterfield in his -indignation at the heart-aches she had given him and his helpmate. “You -expect the Saxons, too, I suppose! For they are as proud as the others, -and as grand in their notions.” - -“The Saxons dine here on Monday,” said Mrs. Jones, with a look of -triumph. “They called this week, and I immediately asked them, reserving -the news for one of your cross humors, and you were just beginning one -at the Macfusses.” - -Mr. Jones “unknit his threatening brow” and congratulated his wife upon -her cleverness. “And never mind, Sally,” continued he, forgetting to use -the more musical name of Sara, “I’ll pull down those Macfusses yet, with -the fortune I’m making; for I have sworn to be the wealthiest man in -——, and I don’t think Macfuss can say as much. I have the means before -me, and if Will can help, ‘there’s no such word as fail.’ Hurrah, Sally! -hurrah!” - -Mr. Jones was like Richard, “himself again,” and almost upset the -chiffoniere in the middle of the room. His wife smiled benignantly upon -his playfulness, but thought it time to end his exhilaration where it -began; “for,” said she to herself, “if any one should hear him!” So she -dismissed him by reminding him of the hour, and Mr. Jones left his -Penates for his sanctuary, the counting-room. In his mind, if mind it -were, there was but one idea, the one of amassing wealth, and he was as -unlike that being of superiority, man, as the sloth to the bee. While -his limbs moved, while his fingers marked down the all-important -figures, his mind lay dormant, his soul stagnant; and forgetful of the -treasures that “neither rust nor moth doth consume, where thieves do not -break through nor steal,” he left uneared for the harvest which we are -bound to reap—the harvest of a good and useful life. Where his treasure -was, there also was his heart; but such things pass away, and will be -like a drop in the ocean; where then would lie the benefit of all this -toil, these struggles for the vain possessions of a passing world? - -Equally heedless of _her_ real fortune, his wife proceeded to her duty -of _une grande toilette_. Calling her sable handmaid, she gave -directions for Master Pushaw’s outfit, upon this unusual occasion for -display. - -“Dress him in the suit that came from the North, Cilla,” said she, with -an air of Zenobian authority. “I wish to take him with me. Be prompt, -and do not cross him, for he would cry, and I cannot have his face -swollen. It will disfigure him.” - -There were few charms to destroy in Master Jones’s little dish-face, but -his mother descended to the front parlor with a Gracchi perception of -greatness in embryo, and walked up and down before the pier-glass until -her father’s softened image followed her. Sundry shrill screams had -found their way below, but as the injuries were entirely confined to -poor Cilla’s face and hands, Mrs. Jones was satisfied. She surveyed him -attentively, and the result was satisfactory; although Master Pushaw -looked very much as if he were about to mount Miss Foote for a race, or -a circus pony for a ride around the ring. His clothes were remarkable -for their gay color, and he wore a fools-cap, whose long gold tassel -swung to and fro as his motions grew animated. We have seen little -creatures dressed like, and resembling him—but they were not children. - -Mrs. Jones was whirled off in triumph to Mrs. Hill’s. A pretty cottage, -elegantly but simply furnished, stood unmoved as the splendid equipage -dashed up to the front door. A servant opened it, at sound of the bell, -and answered in plain English that his mistress was “at home.” Mrs. -Jones descended the steps, and was ushered into the parlor. Still there -was no unusual stir about the place, the pretty portraits kept in their -frames on the wall, and the flowers remained unwithered at her approach. -Mrs Jones’s astonishment redoubled, and when Mrs. Hill entered the room, -her smiling, blooming countenance completed the disappointment of her -guest. Nay, her quiet manner, and indifference to the mass of ribbons, -flounces and embroidery that sat before her, gave Mrs. Jones nervous -twitches at the mouth, and she at length asked for Mrs. Hill’s little -boy, certain of seeing him, as Master Pushaw looked when he was not -“dressed in the suit that came from the North.” - -But the nurse entered holding by the hand a beautiful boy, whose smooth, -fresh complexion was ornamented with only the bloom “Nature’s cunning -hand had laid on.” His costume was as unlike a fancy one as possible, -and Mrs. Jones felt the thorn deeper in her side, as his bright dark eye -rested boldly and scrutinizingly upon his visiter. - -“What a funny cap!” exclaimed he, as it swung to and fro when Pushaw -turned his head. - -“And so it is funny, dear!” replied the nurse with true Irish naiveté. - -“Take the little boy with you, Charley, and get him a nice biscuit,” -said Mrs. Hill, and she felt relieved as the children left the room. “A -glass of wine will refresh you after the drive, Mrs. Jones,” continued -she, hoping to direct her attention to a different channel; and pulling -the bell, she ordered a tray of refreshment for her fashionable guest, -not fearing to display the contents of her pantry to such practiced -eyes. - -Mrs. Jones swallowed a sponge cake, and washed it down with a mouthful -or two of wine; but it almost choked her, and she rose to go without -having dazzled Mrs. Hill with an account of her “elegant dinner-service, -and the splendid silver tea-set.” She remained imperturbable during the -enumeration of the parties Mrs. Jones had attended, and the invitations -she had been forced to decline, so bidding her hostess good morning, the -lady stepped into her carriage with a feeling of bitter disappointment, -“for” said she, “Mrs. Hill don’t look at all as though her husband were -doing a bad business. Mr. Jones must be mistaken; no woman on the verge -of poverty could ever look as undisturbed as she did this morning.” - -No woman like Mrs. Jones _could_ have been cheerful under the sad -reverses of the young creature whom she chose to despise. _Her_ aim was -fashion—her idol wealth. Mrs. Hill cared for neither; she struggled to -preserve in adversity the happiness that had begun in prosperity. The -object of the visit she received was intelligible to her, and her only -emotion was one of pure amusement as she resumed her quiet rational -pursuits. Mrs. Jones would have disdained pleasures that occasioned no -display. Fanny felt grateful to the Giver of all good for the resources -that supplied the place of the worldly amusements in which she could no -longer afford to participate; and felt that however they may gratify for -a time, they leave, from their uselessness, a void in the heart. - -That night, while she and her husband sat together in animated, -sprightly discourse over some work they had been reading, four people -were assembled around the centre-table in one of Mrs. Jones’s handsome -parlors. The lady herself, her husband, and Miss Fawney, with her -brother, a little snub-nosed, purple-visaged fellow, conceited, of -course, and fond of talking. - -Mrs. Jones held a pencil in her hand. Before her lay a _portfeuille_ of -unexceptionable shape and hue, and on a sheet of satin paper she was -writing a list of the guests to be invited to a ball Miss Fawney thought -it advisable for her to give. It was a popularity party, but as she -catered for patronage that needed notes from the élite, not from the -vulgar, it was a very exclusive affair. - -“Every thing shall be perfectly _elegunt_, Marian—so be as select as -you please, my love, I fear no rivalry in business like this; Mrs. -Macfuss shall see herself at home, if she accepts,” said Mrs. Jones, -raising her head proudly, and smiling as she concluded. - -“That’s right, Sara!” said her husband, stroking his small crop of -whiskers. “Go the whole hog, and give us something out of the way.” (Mr. -Jones was forgetting Chesterfield, decidedly, but then he had not so -much need to learn refinement, since his rise in the world.) - -“Do mind him for once, Mrs. Jones, although you ladies don’t love -obedience to the conjugal yoke,” observed Mr. Fawney, screwing up his -face to refrain from laughing at his own wit. “All the young men in town -are wishing that you would give a party. They know what they may expect, -I can tell you.” - -“Do they, indeed?” said the lady, expanding. “Then lose no time, Marian -Fawney, I leave the invitations to you, for you know none but the first -people here, and we can ask as many as you will write down. I give you -_coorte blonche_.” - -“Will you, dear Mrs. Jones,” cried she, embracing that lady with great -affection, and filled with delight at the commission given her. “How -kind of you to leave every thing to me! But then you know how much I -feel—” Miss Fawney here wept a little, and wiping her eyes and -snuffling, resumed: “Now we’ll begin with—the Macfusses, of -course—then the Fentons—” - -“But none of them have called on Sara,” interrupted Mr. Jones. - -“But they will—I know that they intend it. Mrs. Macfuss told me the -other day that Mrs. Jones entered a room like a Parisian, and that her -dress was perfect!” said Marian. - -This appeased Mr. Jones, and so enraptured his wife, that it was a pity -it was not true; but Miss Fawney told an untruth so gracefully that -falsehood became in her _plus belle que la belle verité_. - -“Shall Mrs. Hill be invited?” asked she in a tone that plainly demanded -a negative. - -“Might as well,” said Mr. Jones, picking his teeth with fashionable -ease. - -“Poor thing!” sighed Miss Fawney, while her face lengthened as she -assumed a look of compassion, “does she go out this winter?” - -“Mrs. Jones says her husband does a bad business this season,” observed -Mrs. J. “She can’t get a ball-dress, what’s the use of tempting her?” - -“Ever principled, my dear Mrs. Jones!” cried Miss Fawney, much affected -a second time, but restraining her tears. “However, she might borrow one -from her sister,” continued she, feeling that the more she dwelt upon -Mrs. Hill’s reverses, the less inclined Mrs. Jones was to be polite to -her. - -“D—n it, let ’em come!” said the master of the house, conscious of no -reason for slighting people who were never rude. “What’s the difference -to Sally how they dress! She don’t lose by it, does she?” - -“You have such a kind heart!” cried Marian, taking his hand, and gazing -upon him with a look of two-fold approbation; but Mr. Jones turned away, -wondering inwardly “what in heaven’s name the girl was forever crying -about!” - -“Come, Sara, decide! shall the invitation be written, or not?” said he, -somewhat impatiently. - -“No!” said the lady, positively, for she had just remembered Mrs. Hill’s -indifference to her costly silk, her new carriage, and Pushaw’s fancy -cap. - - * * * * * - -“Fanny,” said Miss Seymour, as she stepped from her carriage one evening -at her sister’s door, “come with me, wont you? I am going to drive on to -the city, having some _emplettes_ to make, and we can call on Mrs. Jones -as we return. The sound of her silvery voice will re-animate you this -evening, for you do not look so well.” - -Mrs. Hill was not as cheerful as was her wont, for her prospects did not -brighten, and she had been sitting on the steps, thinking, until a few -tears rolling over her sweet face, left their glaze, and did not escape -Eda’s eye of affection. Ever willing to oblige, however, and anxious to -resume her usual looks, before her husband should return to mark and -grieve over her sadness, she assented. - -“You must wait awhile, Eda, until I change my dress; I must put on a -more ceremonious costume, for Mrs. Jones has ceased asking me to ‘come -over and be intimate’ since my fortunes are changing. This satin de -laine would be an insult after the magnificence with which she assailed -me two weeks ago? Can you give me time to make _une toilette soignée_?” - -“Certainly,” said Miss Seymour, seating herself and taking her little -nephew on her lap, “although you require but a slight change in my -humble opinion, to present yourself at Mrs. Jones’s door.” Fanny smiled -and hastened in; but soon returned, looking pretty enough to make the -fine lady jealous, in despite of her simple attire. She had that real -elegance of manner which Mrs. Jones so much admired in herself, but -could not see in others that failed to prosper in the world’s -estimation. - -She was “at home,” the servant said, and they were ushered in by an -African damsel, in washing attire. Her clothes were looped about her -waist like a _blanchisseuse_, and she displayed a pair of ebony legs -ending with wide, naked feet. Her drapery was not like her mistress’s -company, “select,” but seemed to hold the accumulated dust and dirt of -the house. - -Seated in the parlors, the sisters had leisure to contemplate the -contents of the apartment they had often heard described. Two portraits -hung opposite. One represented Mrs. Jones in ball costume, giving the -finishing touch to her toilette. On her lap was a very work-box looking -casket, out of which she was taking a string of most unequivocal -wax-beads, supposed to resemble pearls. - -Mr. Jones sat bolt upright, with a book in his hand, looking very -learned, and very much puzzled about some weighty question. - -But what struck them most was, that on the tables in the corners, stood -cake-baskets, covered with doilies, and candlesticks innumerable were -disposed about the room, with unlit candles, and curled paper wound -around them. Some of the baskets contained cake that plainly looked, -“don’t touch me yet,” and we forgot to mention a tub of rather muddy -water that stood in the middle of the folding-doors, on a large -oil-cloth, as though the dark damsel, with the very short garments, had -been interrupted in the act of scouring paint at this untimely hour. - -“Mrs. Jones has scrubbing done at a strange time,” said Eda, pointing to -the implements before mentioned. - -“Hush, Eda! I’m sure that we have called at a very wrong hour,” said -Fanny, pointing in her turn to the cake and candles. “Does not that look -like a bidding of guests to the banquet hall?” - -“It does, indeed. What have we done, Fanny? How could we know of such -preparations when the stupid girl said her mistress was at home? The -idea of scouring at such an hour, too! Housekeeping should be like the -mechanism of the clock—we know that it goes, but do not see the -operation. When was our house ever seen in such a trim by visiters?” - -“In such an _un_trim, you mean to say,” said Fanny; “but pray do not -laugh, Eda, it is like hypocrisy to do so now, that we have given -ourselves the trouble of coming to see Mrs. Jones.” - -“You are too good, Fanny; but if you keep your face serious in that -absurd way, striving to practice what you preach, I shall shriek out,” -replied her sister. “Do laugh, if you feel like it.” - -“No, Eda, no!” said Fanny, trying to look grave. “Do not make me act -rudely. _We_ have made the mistake, for we live in the country and hear -none of these ‘fine ladies’ doings.” - -“Pshaw! Mrs. Jones cannot give a party without _my_ hearing of it; she -owes me the invitation, and you also.” - -“I never shall expect one,” said Mrs. Hill, smiling, and the servant -entered to ask “if Miss Seymour were in the parlor.” - -“Miss Seymour and Mrs. Hill,” said Eda, wondering what was to come next. - -“Well, then, marm, Miss Sarly say, (and I told her it was you and Mrs. -Hill, too,) that she’s been busy all day, and can’t see no company. -Here’s a ticket for you to come to the party. Miss Sarly say she never -had no time to send it out in the country, but long’s you are here, she -told me to fotch it down. They a’nt none for you marm,” turning to -Fanny. - -This new way of sending invitations was, in reality, ignorance on the -part of poor Mrs. Jones. She had not yet been out as far as Mr. -Seymour’s country-seat, and thought it an excellent idea to take -advantage of Eda’s presence in the house. The neglect of Mrs. Hill was -intentional, as we have seen, but it was _now_ difficult to say which -was most uncontrollable, Eda’s indignation, or her sister’s amusement. - -“I have a mind to send it back to her,” cried Eda, in French. “What -gross impertinence!” - -“Ignorance, sister; she knew no better, and I told you I expected -nothing from Mrs. Jones,” said Fanny. “Do let us go, dear Eda! I cannot -help it now, I must laugh! Come”—and she led the way out, observing -that she ought to forgive it, as Mrs. Jones had not yet unlearned her -_habitudes de chaumière_. The door stood open, and behind it was Mrs. -Jones, intent upon hearing what comments were passed by Mrs. Hill, when -she found herself “neglected.” She had the great satisfaction of knowing -that she was seen, for Fanny’s merry eyes rested full upon her; and she -was somewhat disappointed as she heard the sweet, silver laugh that -echoed behind them as the carriage rolled away. - -This was not pleasant, but Mrs. Jones remembered that Mrs. Hill saw no -one now, “and, of course, Miss Seymour wont come when her sister is not -invited. I wish I had not kept on this old gown, since they spied me -out; but, lor! it don’t make any difference. I wonder what they said, -too; I couldn’t tell from here.” - -She asked Cilla; but Cilla replied that “they didn’t talk Merrican, and -how could _she_ understand? But I tell you what, Miss Sarly, I didn’t -like to invite one ’thout tother; and I felt very oncomfortable ’bout -it, too!” - -So Cilla had the advantage over her mistress in good feeling at least, -but she was told to hold her tongue and go to her work, and no one was -ever the wiser by it. But as we wish to give only an account of the rise -of Mr. and Mrs. John Johnson Jones, we must pay less attention to the -little incidents of every-day life. - -To have slighted Mrs. Hill, “whose husband did a bad business,” was one -triumph—to have secured Eda’s non-attendance, another. But to receive -Mrs. Macfuss’s acceptance, was one worthy of the gods! This joyful blow -was too much for Mrs. Jones’s nervous system! She had the paint -rescoured, and Cilla, much discomforted, observed (out of her lady’s -hearing, of course,) “that if cos Mrs. Makefuss is a comin’ I has to do -all my work over, I wish, (oh, my sakes! if Miss Sarly could hear me!) -she’d a kept her ’ceptance to herself. Here’s Miss Sarly almost out her -head, and when the ’oman _do_ come, she’ll be crazy as a coot—and coots -is bad off for sense.” - -Cilla was not far wrong. When Miss Fawney communicated the intelligence -that an acceptance was to be sent on the morrow, Mrs. Jones ran about in -playful bewilderment and relieved herself a little by adding some -extra-artificials to her dress. She borrowed more candlesticks and -lamps, and had some idea of illuminating the house from attic to cellar, -ordering lanterns to be hung at the gate, that Mrs. Macfuss might not -mistake. “And now, Marian, my dear child,” continued she, turning to her -convenient friend, “do tell me what Mr. and Mrs. Macfuss like best to -eat. What more _can_ I have on my table that they would relish? I know -they always have the finest of every thing—think well now, and let me -know.” - -Miss Fawney was a little puzzled at first, but suddenly recollected what -she liked most herself, so informed Mrs. Jones that Mr. Macfuss was very -fond of _pâté de foie gras_, and also of oyster gumbo. - -“The gumbo I have prepared, my love, of course; but the potty dee foy -graws I had almost forgotten. Gourmand has quantities of potties, as he -is a Frenchman, and imports those articles from Paris direct. I think -you said Mrs. Macfuss liked sherbet and lemon ice cream?” - -No; Miss Fawney liked vanilla best, and affirmed that Mrs. Macfuss was -very partial to it. - -“Is she, indeed! Oh, Marian, I had ordered lemon!” cried Mrs. Jones, in -dismay. “Come, we’ll go to Praline’s this instant and reverse it. And -those pine apples. They must be rich. Smith! have the carriage round -immediately; I’ll go up and put on my bonnet, Marian;” and when Mrs. -Jones arrived at Praline’s her heart dilated as she saw in how much -consideration she was held by her confectioner and his wife. They were -all smirks and smiles, particularly as she constantly repeated “you know -now, Mrs. Praline, that I mind no expense whatever.” And Miss Fawney -called her an extravagant creature! “But I knew, Mrs. Jones, that when -you did give a party, it would be a magnificent affair!” - -And so, indeed, it proved. The weather was fine and everybody came. Mrs. -Macfuss meeting her own set, and seeing so much display, was reconciled -to her new acquaintance. Mr. Macfuss, seeing a magnificent supper and -drinking the finest of wines, shook hands with his host, and asked him -to come and see him sociably. - -There was a pleasant combination of things. The host and hostess said -they never would regret the ball, and Miss Fawney was profuse in her -congratulations. At length they had reached the goal, and began to feel -with Mr. and Mrs. Vincent Crummles, the sweets of popularity. - -Mrs. Jones who heard soon after to say that she had scarcely time to -take her meals, people so thronged the house; and before she was quite -aware of it, she had asked Mrs. Macfuss to come over and be intimate! - - * * * * * - -One evening, as Mrs. Hill and her brother stood together at the gate of -her pretty cottage, a handsome equipage dashed by, filling with dust the -mouths of the plebeian pedestrians on either side of the smooth road -through Summerfield. - -Two ladies were on the back seat, while in front sat two little boys, -looking very gravely at one another. The driver had on a coat filled -with brass buttons—and this was called a livery; so the whole effect -was very grand and imposing. - -“Who was that, Fanny?” said young Seymour; “whose carriage is that?” - -“The carriage belongs to Mrs. John Johnson Jones, brother. Did you not -see her?” - -“I did not recognize her—she bowed, did she not?” - -“Not she, my good sir; she never bends so low. Could you not see how -stiff the lady was?” - -“Then who did bow to you just now?” - -“Mrs. Macfuss,” said Fanny, smiling archly. - -“Whew! Whose little innocents were those in front?” - -“Master Pushaw Jones and Master Johnny Macfuss.” - -Mr. Seymour paused. - -“Fanny,” said he at length, “I’ll go to Texas. I see that Mrs. Macfuss -has been over, and is intimate!” - - * * * * * - - - - - LINES TO AN IDEA THAT WOULDN’T “COME.” - - - BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD. - - - “Why thus longing, thus forever sighing - For the far off, unattained and dim? - - “Has Hope like the bird in the story, - That flitted from tree to tree, - With the talisman’s glittering glory. - Has Hope been that bird to thee?” - - - Oh! fondly wished for, why delay? - This virgin page awaits thee— - It’s waited since the dawn of day— - What can it be belates thee? - - Thou ne’er wilt find a nicer couch, - A softer or a fairer? - Thou ne’er wilt find a desk to which - Thy coming could be rarer. - - Oh! airy rover, rainbow-winged! - Oh! coy and cold deceiver! - Alight upon this beggar leaf, - And blessèd be forever! - - Alight and shut your gleaming wing, - And let my verse be amber, - To make for you, while glad you sing, - A fitting, fairy chamber! - - Whether around the dainty tip - Of Whitman’s pen you hover, - Or rest on Greenwood’s rosy lip, - To greet some poet-lover; - - Or hide in glorious Hewitt’s heart - Until you’re robed divinely, - Or lend impassioned Eva’s line - The glow she paints so finely. - - Oh! fly them all, and fly to me! - I’ll entertain ye rarely; - My happy pen your host shall be, - And introduce you fairly. - - I’ll dress you in the prettiest words - You possibly can think of, - I’ll let you sip the purest ink - That e’er you tried to drink of. - - Your rich _relations_ throng to _them_, - While I’m alone and needy; - And though I cannot sing, my gem, - In tones so rich and reedy. - - Be sure I’ll make the most of thee! - While throned in state and glory, - Oh! think what pride alone to be - _Unrivaled_ in my story! - - Oh! fairy treasure, fine and fleet, - Oh! subtle, rare creation! - Whatever obstacles you meet, - Accept my invitation! - - I’ll give you welcome warm and true, - However strange you be; - And take what route it pleases you, - It’s all the same to me. - - Oh! come by telegraph from Maine, - Or by a junk from China, - By steamboat from the shores of Spain, - Or cars from Carolina! - - But _come_—at all events—without - Another doubt or fear; - Fly, fly to this devoted heart, - And be—“my own Idea!” - - * * * * * - - - - - A SUMMER EVENING THOUGHT. - - - BY COUSIN MARY. - - - See the fire-flies brightly sparkling, - While the night around is darkling; - See, above, the star-light streaming, - Part of Heaven’s own radiance seeming. - - Brighter than the stars’ far beaming - Is the nearer fire-flies’ gleaming; - This, a moment shall endure, - That, forever, calm and pure. - - To our world-bound hearts are given - Joys of earth and hopes of Heaven— - Flitting in the path before us, - Star-like, beaming calmly o’er us. - - Shame such choice to deathless spirits, - Who _some_ god-like traits inherit! - Groveling still, we turn our eyes - Earthward from the distant skies, - - And to our benighted vision - Brighter earth than “fields Elysian;” - Dearer are the joys here given - Than the promised joys of Heaven! - - * * * * * - - - - - THE NAVAL OFFICER. - - - BY WM. F. LYNCH. - - - (_Continued from page 230._) - - - CHAPTER IV. - -It was the morning of the fifth day after the escape of Talbot and his -companion. The land breeze, like the breath of expiring humanity, had -become more and yet more faint, until it ceased entirely, and the flag -that was wont to wave over the ramparts of the Moro Castle hung listless -beside the staff which supported it. Into the cavernous recesses worn by -the friction of the water, in the foundations of the massive structure, -the sluggish waves tumbled with a dull and deafening sound. In the near -offing lay the frigate, rolling slowly on the unbroken surface of a -light ground swell, while the sails flapped against the masts, as if -impatient for the breeze. In various directions, a number of vessels, -differing in size and appearance, like the frigate awaited a wind to -waft them to their various destinations. Beyond them, and until it -blended with the distant horizon, save here and there a sea-gull -noiselessly skimming its surface, there was nothing visible on the -far-stretching and pellucid sea. Like a slumbering giant, the very -heavings of that sea told of the latent power that dwelt within it, and -conveyed a forcible idea of the might and majesty of the Great Being -that made it. - -On the after part of the deck of the frigate, screened from the sun by -an awning overhead, sat Miss Gillespie and her brother. She, with an air -of unmitigated sadness; he, chafing at a captivity which he deemed -illegal, and impatient to reach the shore and obtain his freedom. He had -never understood for what purpose the soporific incense had been burned, -or, boy as he was, he would have attempted the life of their insidious -foe. He had imagined that it was an attempt on their lives, (for the -disaster of the count had been carefully concealed from them,) and his -sister had shrunk from undeceiving him. Her pure nature could itself -with difficulty comprehend such baseness, but was absolutely incapable -of conveying an idea of it to another, particularly one whose -disposition was naturally as unsuspecting as her own. She therefore -determined to avoid exciting his suspicions, and even forbore to -interfere further than by advice, when the steward, at the instance of -his master, now able to sit up, represented that so far from designing -injury, the object was to soothe their nerves, those of the lady in -especial, after the anxiety and alarm of the evening previous. He also -persuaded Frank that the count would exert himself to obtain their -speedy liberation when they reached the port; and, that having found -them on board of a privateer of the enemy, a class of vessels not in the -habit of conveying passengers, he was, by the strict tenor of his -orders, bound, although most reluctantly, to detain them. These -representations so far operated upon the youth, that he was several -times prevailed upon to visit the designing count. But his sister -pertinaciously refused to see, or receive any message from her -persecutor, and might have departed from her resolution and told Frank -sufficient to prevent him from leaving her alone, but that in her fears -for Talbot she had forgotten every thing else. - -Although a prisoner, confined apart and denied all intercourse, the mere -presence of her lover in the same vessel gave her a sense of security. -But now he was gone, whither and wherefore she could not tell, and she -felt as if she were abandoned to the dreadful fate which so long had -threatened her. To do her justice, too, her bitterest source of grief -was in anxiety for the safety of Talbot. Had she heard nothing of him, -she would have concluded that he was still among the prisoners, and by -the strict vigilance of his guards denied the opportunity of -communicating with her. But her persecutor was too malignant, was also -too shrewd not to know that if he could persuade her of her lover’s -desertion, he might more reasonably hope for success. She was therefore -but too soon informed of the escape, of which the missing boat was -sufficient proof; and through others every representation was made, -calculated to impair her confidence and weaken her attachment. But, like -a mail of proof, her own integrity protected her, and the malicious -shafts fell harmless, creating no pain, and scarce attracting notice. - -Although young and inexperienced, scarce more than a nestling that had -for the first time fledged its wing, this girl possessed the noblest -attributes of her sex, and hers was more than the ordinary love of -woman. True, deep, fervent love, such as that sex alone can feel, cannot -harbor a doubt. Undying and unchangeable in itself, it cannot comprehend -that, of the existence of which it is unconscious. Often placed -unhappily, often denied the communion for which it yearns, it looks -beyond the grave for the fruition of its hopes. - - “They sin who tell us love can die.” - -She had listened to the soft and hesitating whisper of proffered love, -and her gushing eye and mantling cheek and throbbing breath had -confessed that love to be requited. Her soul had mingled with another’s -in the dearest and the noblest union which adorns and irradiates -existence—the union of manly strength with shrinking beauty; of the -clear eye to look upon, and the bold heart to encounter peril, with the -step hesitating and timid as a fawn! of skill to do and will to dare, -with affection to sustain and fortitude to endure; of man, fashioned in -comeliness and radiant with virtue, with woman, the celestial link that -binds him to a purer state! With a pledge as dear as it was enduring, -they had sworn to preserve that union until it should be merged into -that most glorious, holiest and most beautiful of all, which is effected -in death—when their souls, stripped of the mortal coils which -encumbered them, and wafted on the wings of love, should soar upward and -onward, until side by side, inseparable as in life, and inseparable -forever, they intoned their hymns of praise with the choir which -surrounds the Eternal! - -Could a woman capable of conceiving such a pledge ever falter, much less -prove unfaithful? Never. And Miss Gillespie was as unmoved by the -insinuations of those around her, as is the calm and placid moon by the -howlings of a hungry wolf. - -As the two orphans sat apart, occasionally exchanging a few words, and -then relapsing into silence, the first lieutenant, an old and worthy -officer, who, from the want of family influence, had long been denied -promotion, touched by the sadness of the fair captive, approached and -respectfully accosted them. He first confined himself to inquiries -respecting their health and comfort, and made some cheering observations -on their prospects of liberation. He then, after musing a few moments, -left them and whispered a few words to the officer of the deck. The -latter nodded intelligence, and immediately gave an order which required -those of the crew hovering about to go forward to aid in its execution. -The lieutenant then returning said, “Young lady, may I speak a few words -with you?” and leading her a few steps from where her brother sat, -continued, “I have two daughters at home, one of them about your age, -and when I think how I should feel if either of them were in your almost -unprotected situation, I sympathize deeply with you. Indeed I am not the -only one. There is a general feeling among the officers to protect you -if need be. You may rely upon our disposition to serve you—and now -answer me frankly—Does your extreme sadness proceed solely from your -detention here, and the escape and apparent desertion of your friend?” - -“Oh no, sir!” cried she, immeasurably relieved by his words, “whatever -may have induced Mr. Talbot to leave us, I am sure that he has acted for -the best. You judge rightly,” she added, “in supposing that I have other -cause of anxiety than what proceeds from our detention, which, if we be -not most unjustly dealt by, must terminate so soon. I have not dared to -tell my brother what horrid fears distract me, for I know he would -attempt something violent, that would most probably separate us, and I -love my only protector.” - -“Our fears then are not unfounded, and the mystery of that night is -partly solved,” said the lieutenant, in a soliloquizing tone. - -“What night? Of what mystery do you speak?” exclaimed the lady. - -“Of the night you came on board. But is it possible you are ignorant of -what I allude to?” - -“I have not the most remote idea; Frank and I slept soundly the whole -night, and did not awake until late the next morning. I remember that at -first we thought that an attempt was being made to stupefy or smother us -with something that was burned, but, as we were not molested, we -concluded that we had been mistaken. For God’s sake, tell me what -happened?” - -“Young lady,” he answered, “I have ever since sought an opportunity to -speak to you; why is it that you have confined yourself below?” - -“We often wished to come up,” she replied, “but were told that the count -was too ill to be consulted, and that without his permission we could -not leave the cabin. But do tell me all about that night, I implore -you.” - -The lieutenant then informed her of the condition in which the count was -found the next morning, and the general belief of the officers that his -villainous design had been frustrated by Talbot or Gonzalez, who must -have been concealed in the cabin. They conversed for some time, and -before leaving her, he advised her, as the count was nearly well, to -keep always near her brother, and to write a note to the American Consul -in Havana, claiming his protection, promising that if she would send her -note to him he would forward it at once to its destination. - -With diminished fear, and in a comparatively cheerful mood, Miss -Gillespie returned to the cabin, and repeated to her brother such parts -of her conversation with the lieutenant as she thought she could safely -confide to him. - -About the usual hour the breeze set in, and sailing “majestically slow,” -by the towering fortress on the one hand, and the gay and beautiful -structures of the town, with its crowded wharves and numerous shipping -on the other, the frigate, early in the afternoon, had anchored in the -upper harbor of Havana. - -Frank Gillespie, who was no longer restricted to the cabin, watched his -opportunity and slipped into the old lieutenant’s hand the note with -which his sister had entrusted him. Soon after the ship had cast her -anchor, the Captain of the Port came on board to pay his official visit. -The lieutenant, who was on intimate terms with him, invited him down to -his state-room, and there giving him the note, with the assurance that -it was of very great importance, exacted a promise that he would -transmit it without delay to the American Consul. The officer promised -to attend punctually to the commission, and the kind-hearted lieutenant -with great satisfaction saw him, a short time afterward, take his -departure for the shore. - -Quite late in the afternoon, when the ship was moored, the count, unable -to go himself, sent the first lieutenant to wait upon the admiral and -report the ship. About dusk, and before he returned, a boat came -alongside for Miss Gillespie and her brother. The person who came in -charge stated that the American Consul was absent and would not return -for a day or two, but that his wife had prepared a room for, and would -gladly welcome them. The message ended with an entreaty that they would -come at once. They needed no persuasion, and with alacrity making their -brief preparation, and without meeting obstructions, which to the last -they feared, with indescribable joy they took their seats in the boat -and bade adieu to their late floating prison. - -Talbot and Gonzalez, representing themselves as having escaped from a -wreck, were kindly received at the little settlement where they landed, -but instead of accepting the hospitalities which were freely tendered, -they merely asked for a guide to conduct them into the interior, so -fearful were they of being pursued. With much toil and privation, and at -one time exposed to imminent peril, they reached the Reglos, a -settlement opposite to the city of Havana, the very day on which the -frigate arrived. - -Afraid to venture out before night-fall, one of them feigned to be sick, -and the other remained as if to keep him company, in the small room of -an obscure fonda, which they occupied. They had remained for a very long -time without seeing or hearing any one, when, about an hour after the -ship had anchored, they heard footsteps on the creaking staircase, and -one called out, “Is there any one above, Marguerita?” - -“There were two sailor-looking men there this morning,” replied a female -voice, “but they must have gone out, for I have heard nothing of them -since dinner.” - -“We will see,” said the first voice. But Gonzalez was too quick for him. -He had started at the first word, and rising from the bed, which was at -the side of the room, placed himself by the door, and quietly turning -the bolt of the lock, withdrew the key. He then bent his head and -listened attentively, taking care not to place it in a line with the -key-hole. - -The party, consisting of three, came up in the meantime, and two of them -proceeded to an adjoining room, while one stopped and tried the door. In -a few moments he rejoined his companions, saying, “All safe, they are -out.” - -When Gonzalez started up and hurried to the door, Talbot was struck as -much by the expression of his countenance as by the movement itself, and -he had continued to watch him in silent amazement. But he was soon -convinced that his friend was not insane. When the person who tried the -door had retired, Gonzalez, stepping lightly to the bed, whispered, -“Don’t speak or make the slightest noise, it is the rascally steward, -with some of the cut-throats who resort to this side of the harbor. The -count has some design afoot, and Providence has sent us just in time to -save that unfortunate young lady.” - -Talbot needed no more, and with their faculties on the full stretch, -they listened intently, and gathered almost every word of the -conversation in the next room. - -It was a festival day in Havana. The clang of the bells had been -incessant since noon, and the air reverberated with the almost -uninterrupted discharge of artillery from the forts and men-of-war. -There was no diminution of light with the setting of the sun, for the -clouds which slowly floated along the sky, threw back the blaze of the -illuminated city, while, like an undulating mirror, the harbor reflected -the myriads of lights interspersed among the spars and rigging of the -men-of-war. Along the shore, in each direction, bonfires were blazing, -and from every point as well of the waters as the land, was heard the -whizzing sound of the sinuous and beautiful rocket, which, exploding -above and around with an unceasing feu de joie, filled the air with its -fiery flakes. The sound of music and the shouts of merriment commingled, -and wafted by the breeze, fell gratefully upon the ear of the boatmen -reclining upon their oars, and the distant sentinels making their -solitary rounds on the ramparts of the castle. - -As the boat with Frank and his sister pushed off from the frigate, -another, and much smaller one, that had hovered within the shadow of the -ship, noiselessly pursued the same direction. The first pulled for some -distance up the river, until it had passed the city, and then stopped at -one of the neat villas that lined its banks. The smaller boat, which, as -the reader must have surmised, contained Talbot and Gonzalez, had been -obliged to keep close within the other shore, to avoid observation. When -the larger boat was turned toward the shore, the two friends, unseen -themselves, distinctly saw all that passed. - -“I do not understand this movement,” said Gonzalez. “They have stopped -at a Posada, to which the citizens, in their evening rides, usually -resort for refreshment. There must be some change in their plans since -we heard them discuss it.” - -In the meantime, the party, (with the exception of one who remained by -the boat,) had landed, and ascending the bank, opened the little -wicker-gate and proceeded through the garden toward the house. Talbot -and Gonzalez were about to pull across, and had nearly reached the line -of light when the latter cried, “Hush! back, back your oars quickly, -they are returning!” - -They again retreated within the shadows of the opposite bank, and saw -two men, followed by a third, hurrying the lady rapidly toward the boat, -into which they forced her, for it was evident that she was struggling. -The moment she was placed in the boat, they again shoved off from the -shore. - -“I now understand it all,” whispered Gonzalez to his companion. “They -have decoyed the brother into the house, and run off and left him. I am -sure, too, that the lady is gagged, for she does not cry out, although -she yet struggles desperately. Stop, stop! What are you about?” he -cried, as he saw Talbot begin to ply his oars with all his might. - -“Do you ask me, with such a sight before us,” replied the latter, -indignantly. - -“Nay, lay on your oars, I beg, I entreat you. Your precipitation will -ruin all. They are four, and well armed—we are defenceless. They would -slay us before we could cope with them, and then farewell to all hopes -of the lady’s rescue.” - -“What shall we do, then?” said Talbot, as he despairingly rested his -oar. - -“Follow them, as we at first proposed, and concert our plan after we -have seen the place in which they mean to place her.” - -“Gonzalez,” said Talbot, “you have not so much at stake as I in this -matter, and you are therefore less agitated and better qualified to -adopt the course we should pursue. I will not be rash if I can help it; -but, come what may, I will not again lose sight of Mary. She has no -father; her brother is torn from her. I am her sole protector. I will -die before I desert her for an instant.” - -“I have told you of my sister, Talbot,” said Gonzalez, “and you must -know I have a motive that impels me, which is as powerful as your own. -Love is your incentive, and revenge is mine. Yours is the most -impetuous, but mine, as the more cautious, is more certain to effect its -object. I pray you be moderate.” - -“I will, Gonzalez, with the condition I have named.” - -While they were speaking, they had not ceased to watch the movements of -the larger boat, which pulled about half a mile farther up, and landed -on the same side. The smaller boat following their motions with the -utmost caution, was run ashore a short distance below, and the two -friends crept along under cover of the thick brush that lined the bank, -to within a few paces of the ruffians. A carriage was in waiting, the -driver standing beside it. As soon as the latter saw them, he opened the -door, let down the steps, and then ascended his box. Two of the gang -forced the lady into the carriage, and followed after; the third closed -the door and mounted beside the driver. While this was taking place, -Talbot was endeavoring to free himself from the grasp of Gonzalez, who -tried to detain him. With a violent effort he succeeded, and springing -forward, leaped upon the foot-board of the carriage just as the driver -had applied the lash, and the horses started off at half speed. The -remaining ruffian, seeing Talbot rush by, turned to pursue him and give -the alarm, when Gonzalez sprung upon him, and violently struggling, they -fell to the ground. - -The patriot, on the eve of a battle which is to decide the fate of his -country; the secreted lover, impatient for the footfall of the mistress -of his affections; the young mother, beside the sick couch of an only -child, are all less vigilant in their watchfulness, than the specious -villain who seeks to hold a fair character with the world, while he -covertly gives full indulgence to his depraved and licentious appetites. - -The count had every reason to believe his plot well matured, and in a -fair train for execution, and yet he felt restless and uneasy. The -critical period between the conception and consummation of any -conspiracy, even when the judgment sanctions and the true heart approves -it, is the most trying of all the situations in which human nature can -be placed; but when the object is detestable, the means base and -treacherous, and the agents employed unprincipled, then, the suspense is -torturing—for the slightest accident, the most trivial carelessness may -frustrate, and the faithlessness of the least trusted agents betray the -best concerted plot that was ever laid. - -For some days the count had feigned to be weaker than he really was, and -no sooner had Frank and his sister left than he jumped up and leaned out -of one of the ports to see them embark, and to satisfy himself that no -one from the ship accompanied them. - -It is said that the Evil One favors his own, and in this instance the -adage was verified. No one had yet descended the side, and as the count -cast his scrutinizing glance in every direction, his quick ear detected -the light splash of an oar. Withdrawing instantly, he extinguished the -lamp and excluded as well as he could, the light of the illumination -which streamed through the opposite ports. Returning then to his first -position, in a few moments, as his eye became accustomed to the -obscurity, he saw indistinctly the small boat which contained Talbot and -Gonzalez. The outlines of the boat were alone visible, and he could not -make out how many persons it contained. It was, he thought, most -probably, the boat of some poor fisherman, compelled to forego present -enjoyment in order to procure tomorrow’s subsistence for himself and -family. Guilt, however, is always suspicious, and without being able to -assign to himself a reason for his misgivings, he summoned his steward -and gave him a few hurried instructions. The latter, immediately leaving -the apartment, slipped through one of the gun-deck ports as Talbot and -Gonzalez had done before him, and, unseen from the upper-deck, descended -into the boat just before it shoved off. The fears awakened (wherefore -he could not tell) by the sight of the tiny boat, had induced the count -to change his entire plan. It was therefore that Talbot, when he found -that the preconcerted plot they had heard discussed was not adhered to, -determined not to lose sight of his mistress. - -When the large boat stopped at the posada, the orphans were conducted to -a private room, the steward and two of the gang remaining without, soon -after a servant-maid entered, and said that the consul’s lady was -indisposed, and had sent her to beg that Miss Gillespie would come to -her chamber. With unsuspecting alacrity the poor girl rose up and -followed the maid. At a turn in the passage, she was seized, a gag -instantly applied to her mouth, and then hurried to the boat. - -Frank, who, unsuspecting as his sister, sat in patient expectation, -started up as he heard a stifled scream. At the same moment he was -felled to the floor by a blow of the ruffian, who, with a heavy cudgel, -had crept behind him. The miscreant then dragging the body into a closet -opening from the room, hastened after his companions. - -The steward, as soon as the party landed at the posada, had dispatched a -sure messenger to direct the carriage to proceed from the place where he -knew it was in waiting, to the spot designated by the count in his last -instructions. It was not distant, and, as we have seen, was at the -appointed place before the boat arrived. - -The steward and his party, warned by the count, had kept a vigilant look -out, to ascertain if they were followed by another boat; but, themselves -in the broad glare of light, they could not catch the slightest glimpse -of the one, which, much smaller and screened by the obscurity, hovered -sufficiently near to observe them. - -The carriage, with the ruffians, the victim of their toils, and that -victim’s determined champion, was driven at a rapid rate along the road -which ran parallel with the stream for a mile or more, when it turned -into one of the bye-roads on the right, which, as it was less -frequented, they pursued at increased speed for nearly two hours. -Overcome by terror and exhaustion, Miss G. had swooned away some time, -and lay unnoticed on the back seat of the carriage. At length they -stopped at a gate on the left, and the driver’s companion got down to -open it. Heretofore Talbot had remained at little risk, for the carriage -was closed behind, but, as the man who dismounted would certainly wait -until the carriage had passed through, in order to close the gate, he -was exposed to certain peril of detection if he remained. The road was -clear where it passed, and there was a slight ascent from it on the -left, at the summit of which stood the gate. There was no bush or cover -to conceal him, and to descend was out of the question. Beside the gate, -on the right, was a large tree, that stood just within the inclosure. -While Talbot hesitated what to do, the carriage ascended the slope, and -as it passed through the gateway, one of the branches of the tree swept -its roof. On the instant, quick as thought, Talbot caught hold of the -limb, and swung himself into the tree. The rustling noise he made -startled the man who stood beside the gate, and who had certainly been -drinking freely. - -“Hallo! what’s that?” he cried, and springing up to the box, called out, -“Drive on! drive on! It’s a wild beast! But I’ll have a shot at it,” he -added, as the carriage rolled on, and turning partly round, he -discharged his pistol into the tree. - -The driver, with an imprecation, had called out to his companion not to -fire; but he was too late, and at the report the horses affrighted, ran -off at full speed. The ruffians within the carriage, as well as the one -without, were instantly awakened to a full sense of their danger. They -were all acquainted with the place, and knew that a short distance -ahead, certainly not more than a third of a mile, the road inclined -short to the left, to avoid an old quarry, which had a precipitous fall -of 15 or 16 feet. As cowardly as base, each one thought only of his own -safety. The ruffian in front clambered over the roof and leaped off from -behind; the others forced open a door and precipitated themselves, one -after the other, and all fell with violence and more or less injured to -the ground. - -Beside Miss Gillespie within the carriage, the driver alone remained, -and he, with his feet pressed hard upon the foot-board, and with his -body bent forward, bore his whole weight upon the reins. Although they -passed with breathless velocity, he accurately noted every object along -the road, and was prepared, at the critical moment, to turn the horses -from the direction of the perilous chasm. With a quick eye and ready -hand the instant that he saw the turn, with all his might he pulled upon -the left hand rein. This over exertion ensured defeat, the rein snapped -asunder with the strain, and the horses rushing headlong, were with the -carriage precipitated over the bank. The driver fell upon some fragments -of rock, and laid senseless and immoveable. The horses, by their moans, -and the faint efforts they made to extricate themselves, showed that -they were severely bruised. Miss Gillespie laid on the battered side of -the carriage, partially revived from her swoon by the shock she had -sustained and the excruciating pain she felt. - -Talbot, unharmed by the discharge of the pistol, sprung to the ground, -and hurried at his utmost speed after the carriage, as soon as he saw -that the horses had run away. He passed the bodies of the ruffians on -the road without heeding them, although one, rising up, called out and -limped after him, and reached the spot a few minutes after the accident -occurred. In his excited state, it was but the work of a moment to -extricate his mistress, to press her to his bosom, to examine her hurts, -and to hurry with her yet scarce animate body into the neighboring wood. -His first anxiety was for water, and pursuing the declivity of the -ground in a direction leading from the road, he soon heard the trickling -of a rivulet. He laid his load gently beside it, and on examination -discovered that Mary had received a severe cut in her head, which bled -profusely, and that her left arm was broken. The loss of blood, the -cooling effects of the water, which he freely applied, and the pain she -endured, all accelerated her return to consciousness, and in a little -while, was enabled to thank her lover in expressions, brief, indeed, but -touching, and which, like the stamp of the mint on standard coin, are -treasured by the heart that receives them in imperishable remembrance. -They had no time, however, for interchange of feeling. They were -strangers, and upon the grounds of a powerful and persevering enemy. It -was necessary, therefore, that they should leave the place as soon as -possible, in order that if overtaken, it might be on land not peopled -with the myrmidons or subject to the jurisdiction of the count. With the -simple means at his disposal, the water which babbled at their feet, a -few splints, made of the twigs which grew around them, and the bandages -torn from his own garments, Talbot soon dressed the wounds, and -temporarily assuaged the anguish which his mistress endured. She laid -for some time without a movement or a murmur. The heavy air was laden -with fragrance, and now and then the pattering on a leaf would tell how -abundantly the dew had fallen. He watched her closely, in the hope that -she was in a slumber, but he soon perceived that her features were -occasionally flushed by intensity of pain. In truth, her arm had now -begun to swell, and was exceedingly stiff and sore. He saw that it was -necessary to procure shelter and medical attendance without delay. But -whither should he proceed? The night was now far advanced. The pall of -darkness was just lifting in the east; faint, tremulous lines of light -began to stream along the sky, revealing a succession of ridges of -vapor, through which, with lessening ray, the morning star occasionally -glimmered. The laborers would soon be abroad, and it was indispensably -necessary to proceed. Prevailing upon Mary to make an effort, he was -with the greatest difficulty enabled to support her, while they slowly -threaded their way through the thick undergrowth of the woodland. After -wandering a short time, they came to a hedge of cactus, some of the -plants in full bloom, the brilliant tints of their gorgeous flowers -heightened and suffused by the golden rays of the now rising sun. They -turned into a path which led along the hedge toward the high-road. On -their right, towering above the tangled brushwood, were many trees, -mostly large, and some of them magnificent. The most conspicuous were -the assumah, the ya yati, and the robla,[1] but the grandest and most -beautiful of all, the lordly frangipan, with its deep-green leaves and -thickly studded scarlet blossoms. On the other side of the hedge was an -extensive field of sugar-cane, in all the rich luxuriance of a matured -and abundant crop. An immense mass of foliage, of the liveliest green, -thick and impenetrable in its growth, its tops waved gracefully in the -wind with a rustling sound that was borne onward until it died away in -the distance. On the opposite side, visible through the hedge, the field -was skirted by a forest, which, ascending a slope behind it, and -becoming thinner as it ascended, left only a few trees scattered here -and there along the ridge which bounded the western horizon. But Mary, -striving to conceal her weakness and suppress the moans that were every -instant rising to her lips, and Talbot, who was wholly engrossed by -anxiety for her, could neither of them enjoy the natural beauties of the -scene. - -When they had proceeded a few hundred yards, they came to a small gate -set in an opening in the hedge. Talbot soon forced it open, and they -emerged upon a wagon-road which ran between the hedge and the cane. But -Mary could proceed no farther, and seating her on the road-side, Talbot, -himself in a state of indescribable anxiety, endeavored to cheer her -with hopes of speedy relief. - ------ - -[1] Spelt as they are pronounced. - - - CHAPTER V. - -The first lieutenant returned to the frigate about half an hour after -Frank and his sister had left, and was delighted to hear that the -American consul had sent for them. Soon after he had made his report, -the count ordered his boat, and left the ship. Supposing that he was -summoned ashore by some of the letters he had received, the old -lieutenant little dreamed that the departure of his commander, in any -manner, had reference to the orphans. He believed them safe, and with -many claims upon his attention, dismissed them readily from his mind. - -The count steered his boat to the usual landing-place, and hiring a -caleche, proceeded directly to the western gate. Here he was detained -but a moment, for the officer immediately coming out, recognized his -rank, and he was allowed to pass. Impatient of delay he took the reins -himself, and drove with a speed proportioned to the ardor of his -licentious passion, and his vindictive yearning, by its gratification, -to wreak vengeance upon her lover—whose hand he felt sure had before -frustrated him. There was a near cut through a neighboring plantation, -which struck a road leading to the rear of his hacienda, and saved -upward of two miles in distance. As he was well acquainted with the -owner of the plantation, without hesitation he took the road through it. -Once or twice he thought that he heard the sound of horses’ hoofs at a -rapid pace ahead of him, but the rattling of the vehicle he was in -rendered the sound uncertain, and he took it for granted that he was -mistaken. When he reached the rear of the building he alighted, and -liberally recompensing the driver, opened the postern gate with a key he -carried, and proceeded directly to the house. To the attendant who -obeyed his summons, he said impatiently, - -“The young lady, where is she?” - -“In her chamber,” was the reply, and in obedience to a gesture of the -count, the servant proceeded along the corridor and approached an -apartment at its extremity. - -“Fools! Why have they put her there?” muttered the count. - -“Señor?” - -“Stand aside, sir!” and pushing by, he threw open the door and entered -the apartment. As he did so, he started back appalled and terrified. -Propped on a bed, catching her breath with difficulty, was a dying -woman. The blood was streaming from her mouth, and at each respiration -gurgled in her throat. It was the young, the once pure and lovely -Esperanza, the sister of Gonzalez. By the bedside stood the brother, -regarding him with a look of fixed and deadly hatred. But he moved not -his arm from the sinking form it supported. The unhappy girl with -staring eyes and outstretched hands, uttering inarticulate and guttural -sounds, strove in vain to speak to them. In the effort the attenuated -chords of life were snapped asunder, and she fell back a corpse. - -“Conde de Ureña,” said Gonzalez, “behold your work! I came here to -protect the victim of your present plot—little dreaming of the sight -that awaited me. That poor girl must be avenged! You or I, one or both, -must bear Esperanza company.” As he looked toward the bed his voice -softened with emotion, but recovering himself instantly, he advanced to -the door and bolted it; then drawing a pair of pistols from his bosom, -he sternly added as he presented them, “take your choice.” - -“Not now! not here! to-morrow! any time! any where else!” said the -count, his cheek blanched and his brow beaded with perspiration. - -“Here! Upon this spot! This very instant!” shouted Gonzalez. “Vile -seducer and murderer,” he added, “you have killed your man! Where is -your vaunted courage? Will that arouse you?” and he struck him a fierce -blow. The count’s face flushed, he clutched the weapon, and turning to -Gonzalez with a look as vindictive as his own, sternly motioned him to -take his position. How corroding is the effect of vice! Time was when -the unhappy nobleman would have shrunk in horror from the contaminating -touch of one guilty of a crime, the dreadful consequences of which, in -all the appalling majesty of death, were then before him. And yet, more -fiend-like than such a wretch, he stood in all the concentrated hatred -of a duelist, prepared to take the life of the brother of his victim. By -a career of vice, the once honorable man had been converted into a -demon. - -The combatants confronted each other, leveled their weapons, and fired -so simultaneously that the reports sounded as one. The pistol of -Gonzalez was struck from his hand and one of his fingers shattered. -Heedless of the pain, as the reverberation ceased, he bent forward to -see if his adversary were unhurt. Partially concealed by a spiral wreath -of smoke, the count stood seemingly unscathed before him. But the moment -after his weapon dropped, he pressed his hand to his side, and casting a -look of anguish and despair upon the corpse of the woman he had ruined, -tottered, reeled, and fell heavily upon the floor! The threat of -Gonzales was verified. Almost instantaneously, two souls were summoned -to their dread account. - -When Gonzalez sprung upon the boatman from behind, he took him so much -by surprise that he had hurled him over and pointed a dagger to his -throat before he could muster presence of mind enough to defend himself. - -“Villain,” said Gonzalez, “lie still, and answer me truly, or I pin you -to the earth. I already know enough to tell if you deceive me. As you -value your life, say where has that carriage gone?” - -“A la hacienda Frangipina, señor.” - -“Why doesn’t it go to Mariel, as first intended?” - -“Yo no say, señor.” - -“Will you swear that what you tell me is true?” - -“Si, señor, por mi alma.” - -“Pshaw! Your soul is forfeit.” - -“Por la Señora Nuestra.” - -“Well, I’ll believe you, for my countrymen never deceive when they swear -‘by our Lady.’” - -He then permitted him to rise, and proceeded to question him further. He -soon found that the ruffian could be as readily employed to defeat as to -forward a nefarious plot. Gonzalez knew the hacienda well, and with the -aid of the boatman procured a horse and was enabled to reach it some ten -minutes before the count. Like the latter, he too had asked for la -señorita, (the young lady,) and by a similar mistake of the servant, who -knew nothing of the plot, he was shown to his sister’s chamber. He had -heard of her ruin, but knew not that she had been decoyed from their -father’s roof. He found her very ill, and her agitation at seeing him -brought on a profuse and fatal hemorrhage. All this, let it be borne in -mind, occurred before the carriage had entered the grounds. - -When Frank recovered his consciousness in the closet where he was -confined, he could not conceive where he was, or what had befallen him. -By slow degrees the events of the night were recalled to his -recollection, and in great alarm he began to grope about in the -darkness. When he found the door, and vainly tried to open it, he -knocked and shouted loud and vehemently. The landlord and several -others, astonished at the uproar, hurried to the parlor and threw open -the closet-door. To their rapid and noisy questioning he could only -reply in his own tongue, which was to them unintelligible. When, -however, by his gestures, the landlord understood that he complained of -ill treatment in his house, he swore that the stranger must be some -robber, who had concealed himself in the closet, and that some one in -passing had locked the door. Improbable as was this supposition, in face -of the mark of the blow which Frank exhibited, all present concurred in -professing that they believed it true. A police officer was accordingly -sent for, and the unhappy youth taken to the guard-house. The next -morning he was summoned before the alcalde, who, too indolent to send to -the frigate to identify the prisoner, and, to do him justice, wholly -discrediting the latter’s statement of being thrust into the closet, -condemned him to be transported for six months to the Castle St. Juan de -Utloa, off Vera Cruz, the last place held by Spain on the eastern shore -of North America, and next to the last held by her on the continent. - -Frank was taken immediately on board of a transport filled with troops -and convicts, the first to recruit the garrison, the last to assist in -repairs of the old, and the construction of additional fortifications. -The youth, although well-grown, it was evident was not accustomed to, -and could not perform manual labor. The alcalde had therefore sent a -message to the commander of the detachment, recommending that he should -be assigned to some light employment. The magistrate saw that the youth -was a foreigner, he believed him to be a vagrant if nothing else, and he -knew that hands of all descriptions were needed at that fortress. He -therefore made no inquiries. That afternoon the transport sailed. - - - CHAPTER VI. - -Talbot and Mary were successful in reaching the city unpursued, and had -been four days in the American Consul’s house, before, through his -exertions, they discovered the departure and destination of Frank -Gillespie. The sister was grievously distressed, and mourned her brother -as dead, but Talbot pledged himself to follow and attempt his rescue, -and although the fractured bone of her arm was not well knit together, -she determined to accompany her lover as far as she could. Talbot was -provoked to the resolution, to say nothing of a more generous impulse, -by the refusal of the Spanish authorities to take cognizance of the -subject. And Mary felt that without impropriety she could proceed to -some one of the small ports on the route to Vera Cruz, if not to the -latter place itself. She hired a servant to supply the place of the one -drowned in the privateer, and felt more reconciled to the peril to which -Talbot would be exposed, from the assurance of Gonzalez that he would -share the enterprise. The latter, dreading more assassination by some of -the connections of the late count, than any legal investigation, kept -himself secreted in the city, but was frequently visited by Talbot. - -The only vessel in port bound in the direction of Vera Cruz was an -American brig, advertised for Sisal. In her they engaged their passage, -and after night-fall Gonzalez, in disguise, accompanied them on board. -At break-of-day the next morning, they sailed with a fair wind, and had -gained some distance by sunset, when it fell calm, and with the land -upon one side, and an expanse of water on the other, the vessel rode -with graceful ease upon a prolonged but gentle undulation. The golden -rays of the setting sun mingled in the zenith with the soft and silvery -light of the moon in her meridian, and a long and lovely twilight -followed. Seated on deck, apart from their companions, (for Gonzalez was -too considerate to intrude,) Mary and her lover mused long and deeply. -The hour and the scene were calculated to dispel their anxieties and to -soothe their cares. When either was depressed—he, with the sad thought -that of all his race he stood alone—she, that she was an orphan, and -that her brother was perhaps lost to her forever, a glance around and -above would give their thoughts a holier and more soothing direction; -for the works of the Great Architect, the teeming earth, the slumbering -sea, the brilliant sky, all proclaimed in language unheard but _felt_ -that mercy is His great and most peculiar attribute. It was indeed a -lovely scene! Directly overhead, the moon shone forth in serene and -unclouded lustre; a little lower, the fiery Mars peered forth; then the -resplendent orb of Jupiter, and in the same direct line, but just above -the horizon, the beautiful Venus sunk to rest, enveloped in a mantle yet -rich with the gorgeous rays of the sun which had preceded her. They -remained on deck until a late hour of the night, for whenever they went -below they were annoyed with the hum and fretted with the sting of the -mosquito. At last they parted, Talbot throwing himself upon the deck, -and Mary retired to her berth and soon fell asleep. If the waking hours -of that pure-minded girl had been those of endurance, the visions of -that night were ample compensation. Reclined upon her narrow bed, with -the folds of the mosquito-net tucked closely around her, while, like the -Cossacks before Ismael, the multitudinous insects strove to enter, she -was either in fancy communing with the man she loved, or with Frank and -her father knelt beneath the cotton-tree which shaded the grave of her -mother, and listened to the gentle wave as it rippled upon the beach, -while from the jeweled sky, fit canopy, for such a scene, the Omniscient -eye seemed to look down approving. - -Among the crew there was a dandy sailor who took especial pride in his -flowing locks, and evidently sought to attract the notice of the lady -passenger. The day before they reached Sisal, seizing an opportunity -when Talbot and Gonzales were below, he passed once or twice by the -place where she sat on deck, and at length catching her eye, with a -meaning look dropped a letter at her feet, and immediately retired. Mary -had been beset with so many dangers of late; had been so often nearly -ensnared by plots, that she at once imagined the letter to contain a -friendly warning. She therefore hastily picked it up and ran below. It -proved to be a genuine love-letter, and despite her sadness and the -anxiety of her position, she laughed outright as she read it. Her -unusual merriment drew Talbot to her side, and after exacting a promise -from him that he would in no manner notice, or betray a knowledge of its -contents, she placed the letter in his hands, saying, “Don’t be -jealous—I will be true, although the offer is a tempting one.” Verbatim -et literatim, it ran thus: - - “dear Mary is a name so sweet, - - “i loves to spell it as i loves to eat. i kiles the ropes to - spell it, i scratches it with a marlingspike on the rale, - charming Miss Mary i addores you when you walkes the deck so - gracefull as a swan a swimming of a Rivver, i looks down upon - you from the top as you moves backards and forrards so - musically, i wishes that I was a hauk to pounce down upon you - and carry you of like a Duv in my Arms to sum luvly ileand in - the sea. Sweetest Miss Mary i isent a Lofer, for my Parrents is - respectible and my father ones a Large factory in New Jersy, - whar he makes a Grate quontity of paper, not your common Rapping - paper, but big sheets for the Nusepapers, and sum a grate deal - Finer for Riting upon than this, which is the best i can gett. i - is unfortunit Miss Mary but i isent a imposter for my Father is - ever so Rich and will give plenty of munny if i will cum home - and help him in his bizziness, but i cant go home nor no whars - els onless you will smile upon me i offers you all my prospicts. - if you will eccept my sute if your charming buzzom feels any - pitty for a poor Retch who loves you to dispare, and you will - cast them sweet killing ise on me, as you aires the deck, you - will liten my hart of its hevvy lode and make it swim in Blis. - Yours furever until deth. - - “CIRUS LAMBERT.” - -Poor Lambert! - - “It were all one, - That he should love a bright particular star, - And think to wed it.” - -But love, like faith, comes by inspiration, and whether it be a -milk-maid or a goddess, a man has a right to worship the object of his -affections. As we have seen, the maiden’s first impulse was to -merriment; but she soon perceived that the man was in earnest, and from -motives of delicacy and compassion she remained below the remainder of -the passage. The confinement was a brief one. The next afternoon they -reached Sisal, and were hospitably welcomed by an American merchant, to -whom Talbot had letters from our consul in Havana. Mary was immediately -taken to the gentleman’s house and cordially greeted by his wife, who -insisted upon her becoming an inmate of the family during her stay. An -offer most gratefully accepted. When the merchant was told of their -contemplated adventure he became a zealous coadjutor; chartered for them -a small, fast-sailing felucca, and purchased a cargo of salt, in order -that it might be supposed she was on one of her usual trading voyages. -He also procured for Talbot and Gonzalez, dresses such as are worn by -the crews of these vessels. - -Determined not to lose a moment, as soon as the arrangements were -completed our adventurers set sail, Talbot with difficulty tearing -himself from his mistress, who clung to him in all the reckless -abandonment of grief. Coasting along the shore, they passed Alvarado and -anchored the second evening under Anton Lizardo, until the moon went -down. They then lifted their anchor, and passing between Sacrificios -Island (where a Spanish corvette lay) and the main land, they entered -the port of Vera Cruz unobserved. - -Although necessary for the prosecution of their plan, yet coming to Vera -Cruz, in one contingency, very much increased their difficulties. It was -indispensable that tidings of their arrival should not reach the castle, -and yet they would certainly be communicated by the first flag of truce -that passed over. They therefore determined to dispose of their small -cargo at once—lay in a return one, make their remaining preparations, -and with a telescope examine the works of the castle, to decide on which -point they could with least danger approach, until near enough to -execute the stratagem they had devised. - -The south front of the castle, facing the city, was 223 varas, or four -hundred and forty yards, including the south-west and south-east -bastions. Along this front were 34 guns mounted en barbette, i. e., -without embrasures. The south-west curtain was the nearest, directly -facing, and half a mile distant from the town. Toward the north east, -protecting the sea front, was a tower bastion, which mounted a heavy gun -on a pivot. This tower bastion, nearly triangular in shape, was -completely isolated—its base line being fifty yards distant from the -north-east, or outside curtain of the castle, with the water flowing -between them—as also between the north-east and north-west faces of the -tower bastion and the outwork—in a space forty-two feet in width. The -outwork itself was very strongly fortified—indeed the strongest part of -the fortification, as defending the point which, at the time of its -construction, was deemed most likely to be attacked—as the engineer had -not foreseen that before an attack, the castle and the town might be -separately held by belligerents. The adventurers determined to make -direct for a postern in the south-east front, where there was a landing -of 2 or 3 steps, leading to a narrow platform, also of stone, which -opened into a covered way. Along the wall, between the south-west -bastion and the postern, were three or four rings inserted, to which, in -time of peace, vessels were ordinarily made fast, to ride under the lee -of the castle during the terrific gales so prevalent in the winter -months. - -At an early hour the next morning they started, and a number of the -inhabitants who had heard of their intention to sail, were gathered on -the sea-wall to see if they could escape both the fire from the castle -and the pursuit of the corvette, then getting under way from her -anchorage at Sacrificios. They cheered the boat as she left the harbor, -and the loud vivas being heard by the garrison of the castle, several -shot were fired from the south-west bastion, which dispersed the -assemblage. A moment after the little felucca was seen standing boldly -out, and a signal was made from the castle to the corvette, while -several guns were brought to bear upon the daring little vessel—for -hitherto all attempts to pass had been made at night. The gunner stood -by one of the guns on the ramparts, and was about to apply the lighted -match, when his movement was arrested by an officer calling out, “Hold! -it is a friend.” - -As soon as the felucca was well outside the pier, she hoisted the -Spanish ensign, and with a loud hurra from Talbot and Gonzalez, stood -directly for the castle. From the ramparts of the town were instantly -heard shouts of execration, and several muskets were discharged, but -without effect, and before one of the heavy guns could be prepared and -trained, the felucca was close under the walls of the castle. As -supposed deserters, they were received with apparent cordiality mingled -with distrust, and were conducted forthwith before the commandant, who -interrogated them long and closely. They represented themselves, Talbot -as a merchant whose property had been confiscated in consequence of his -inability to meet his portion of a forced loan, and subsequently sent to -Xalapa for some remarks he had made on the tyrannical course of the -government. Gonzalez professed to have been a resident of the latter -town, and that he had long been placed in surveillance for his political -opinions. That with his companion he had concerted and carried into -execution their plan of escape. The tale seemed plausible, but the -commandant was not thoroughly satisfied, and although he let them go at -large, directed that they should be strictly watched. - -The boat was made fast to one of the ring-bolts secured in the wall in -the south-east face of the castle near the postern, and kept in her -position by a line fastened to a light kedge astern. Her bow was about -two fathoms or twelve feet from the landing. From the surface of the -water to the summit-level of the parapet was about thirty-five feet. - -The two friends had feigned to be anxious to get away, but the -commandant withheld his consent, intending first more thoroughly to -satisfy himself of their character. They rejoiced at the delay, even -while they knew that it exposed them to increased hazard of detection. - -Availing themselves of the privilege to wander about the works, they -looked anxiously in every direction for Frank. In every direction but -one they had looked in vain, and at last, almost in despair, Talbot -approached the quarters of the commandant. Here, in the last place to -have been expected, he found the object of his search in a kind of open -office, employed in converting into intelligible English some documents -written by an illiterate translator. At the sight of him Frank started -up, and was about to rush toward him, but resumed his seat when he saw -Talbot place his finger on his lip, and by a gesture indicated that the -sentry who stood near by, was observing them. On a small shelf just -within the door, stood a can of water, with a drinking-cup beside it. -Talbot stepping quickly within the door-way, asked the youth in Spanish -for a drink of water. The latter, understanding him, handed the cup, at -the same time closely watching every movement of his friend. The sentry -had in the meantime advanced to the door, and stood looking in. Talbot -drank with seeming thirst, and returning the cup with a simple -“_gratias_,” contrived to slip a bit of paper, unseen, into the hands of -Frank. - -That night, Frank, complaining of the heat, obtained permission of the -officer of the day to sleep on the south-east bastion, or bastion of St. -Crispin, upon which the land-breeze blew, provided that he did so under -the eye of the sentinel posted there. - -Gonzalez laid himself down at the foot of the stone stairway or ramp, -which led from the court of the castle below to the parapet above. - -Between 2 and 3 o’clock in the morning, shortly after the sentinels had -been relieved, when the moon had set, and the light of the stars was -intercepted by masses of clouds wafted over from the land, Talbot, with -his cloak thrown around him, and a cap on his head, such as were worn by -the officers, ascended the stairway, mounted the parapet, and advanced -directly toward the sentinel near whom Frank had laid down. - -The sentinel, taking it for granted that it was the officer of the day -who approached, (for Talbot had observed, and now closely imitated his -gait,) did not challenge until the latter was almost within the point of -his bayonet. As he brought his musket to a charge, demanding the -watchword, Talbot pushed the point of the weapon suddenly aside, and -rushing upon, threw over and fell upon the sentinel. Frank now sprung -up, and found that Talbot held the soldier by the throat with so much -force that he was nearly strangled. Together they soon securely tied and -gagged him. At a motion from Talbot, who, putting on the soldier’s cap, -and shouldering his musket, resumed the round, Frank fastened a cord -(which the former threw to him) to one of the barbette-guns, and let -himself down the face of the wall, landing upon the narrow stone ledge a -short distance from the boat. While he was doing this, Gonzalez had -stealthily crawled up the ramp or stairway, and creeping along the -parapet, in like manner, lowered himself down beside the youth. Talbot -then placing the musket by the gun, with the soldier’s cap upon, and his -cloak around it, followed their example, and reached his companions in -safety. One of them then swam out and cut the rope which held the boat -by the stern, but, on his return, found his companions in consternation. -A padlock had been put upon the chain, and in vain they strove to part -the bolt. At this moment the clouds had swept by, and they were thrown -into despair by hearing the sentinel on the south-west bastion call out, -“_Qui viv_.” In desperation they all sprung into the boat as the -sentinel discharged his musket, and gave the alarm. With the strength -which despair alone can give, they seized the chain, and with one mighty -effort tore the bolt from the stern of the boat with a crash. The alarm -was now general, and there was not an instant to be lost. Pushing boldly -from the landing, they hoisted their sail with expedition, and stood -diagonally across toward the main land, carefully keeping themselves in -a line with the angle of the south-east bastion. There was great -confusion in the garrison, several of the large guns were discharged, -and volleys of musketry were fired in the direction they pursued. The -balls flew wide of the mark, and as the felucca was now under rapid -headway, they began to congratulate themselves that they were out of -danger, when, by a discharge of the heavy pivot-gun on the -tower-bastion, loaded with grape, Gonzalez was struck down, mortally -wounded. - -The felucca reached Sisal in safety, but Talbot and Mary deeply and -unceasingly mourned the loss of their true and invaluable friend. And -Frank bitterly grieved that his freedom should have been purchased at -such a sacrifice. He was, indeed, worthy of all regret—but a cloud had -overshadowed his sun of life. He would have brooded over his sister’s -shame until existence had become a burthen, and his impulsive nature -might by unlawful means have sought relief in the cold embrace of death. -He perished in a work of charity, and it is to be hoped that He who, - - “When all our souls were forfeit, - Could the advantage best have took, - Found out the remedy,” - -in His abounding mercy, forgave one act of passion for the redeeming -merits of the cause wherein the unhappy Gonzalez met his death. - -There was only one vessel at Sisal, bound at an early day to the United -States, and her destination was New Orleans. Frank, his sister and -Talbot, accordingly took passage in her, and reached the south-west pass -of the Mississippi just as a gale was coming on. The country above had -been overflowed by recent heavy rains, and what between the current from -within, and the swell without, they were greeted with a magnificent -spectacle. The waves of the gulf, driven before the gale, which had soon -become terrific, encountered the onward sweep of the waters of the -mighty river. The sight forcibly reminded them of Rebecca’s exclamation -in Ivanhoe, “God of Jacob! it is like the meeting of two oceans moved by -adverse tides!” - -Nearly the whole period of their stay was embraced in one uninterrupted -storm, but the magnificence of the scenery compensated for the -inclemency of the weather. Vegetation was still in full luxuriance, and -the moss, pendent from the trees, and saturated with incessant rain, -like dripping garments swayed to and fro in the wind, while low, rugged -clouds trailed along but a short distance overhead, and a gray -semi-transparent mist floated above the surface of the ground. The -“Mississippi,” unusually turbid, and swollen to the utmost capacity of -its banks, with its mighty whirls and eddies, rushed impetuously on, -bearing on its surface many a vestige of the devastation it had caused. -Nor were the works of art, clumsy and unsymmetrical though they were, -wanting to the scene, spreading no sail to the breeze, but drifting idly -with the current, the arks and the broad-horns were whirled by with a -rapidity that seemed to defy management. Wafted over the water -frequently came the wild and not unmelodious sound of the bugle, while -in the stillness of the night were heard the manly and sonorous voices -of the boatmen singing, - - “The boatman dance, the boatman sing, - The boatman up to every thing. - When the boatman gets on shore, - He spends his money and works for more. - Dance, boatman, dance— - Dance, boatman, dance—dance all night till broad daylight, - And go home with the girls in the morning.” - -Steam was just beginning to be introduced, and the soothing solitudes of -nature to be disturbed by the monotonous clank of machinery. Our party -availed themselves of an upward-bound steamboat, and slowly ascended the -Mississippi, whose turbid and swollen waters rolled far and wide beyond -their usual boundaries. The river was filled with broken rafts, drift -logs, and half-sunken and floating trees. The danger of running upon a -snag, or encountering a sawyer, was great and impending. The current was -so strong that their boat, although striving to keep in shore, would -frequently be caught by a whirl or an eddy, and like a stray leaf upon a -rivulet, would be turned round and round until striking against a tree, -it would be sent into the mid current and again be carried for miles -among the trees, from whose verdant tops the birds that had remained -undisturbed by the rush and the roar beneath, flew at the boat’s -approach, as if aware that their only enemy was man. They also ascended -the Ohio, whose limpid waters, gliding with a strong but not impetuous -current, have won for it the name of beautiful. When they stood upon the -crest of the Alleghany, and saw mountains, “hills and plains as graceful -in their sweep as the arrested billows of a mighty sea, and recollected -that more boundless than the view, that verdant sweep is uninterrupted -until the one extreme is locked in the fast embrace of thick-ribbed ice, -and the other is washed by the phosphorescent ripple of the tropic, -while on either side is heard the murmuring surge of a widespread and -magnificent ocean,”[2] their hearts bounded with exultation as they -thought of the unrivaled destinies of their country. As if on the high -altar of the land of his nativity, Talbot, who had wandered far and -wide, could not withhold his pledge of devotion, and the heartfelt -exclamation escaped him, - - “By travel taught, I can attest - I love my native land the best.” - -The commissioned officer, not unknown to fame, met with none of the -obstacles which the friendless orphan had encountered, and Talbot’s -estate was settled without difficulty. - -When the chastening hand of time had hallowed the memories of the dead, -and substituted a Christian resignation for the bitterness of early -grief, Edward and Mary were united, and through a since much checkered -life, neither time nor circumstance, nor prosperity, nor distress, has -for one instant abated a feeling which is fixed and unalterable as their -future destinies. - ------ - -[2] From a speech of the author’s, 1844. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE RUSTIC SHRINE. - - - BY GEO. W. DEWEY. - - - Their names were found cut upon a rural bench, overgrown with - vines, which proved to be at once Love’s shrine and - cenotaph. _Legends of the Rhine._ - - A shadow of the cypress bough - Lies on my path to-day— - A melancholy—which in vain - I strive to chase away. - - The angel Memory hath flown - To old and cherished things, - To bring the light of early years - Around me on her wings; - - And where the love-lorn birds complain - Within their green abode, - Between two elms, a rustic seat - Invites her from the road. - - There shall she sit, as oft before, - And sigh as oft again, - O’er names engraved, which long have braved - The sunshine and the rain. - - And one—it is the dearest name - On Love’s unnumbered shrines:— - So dear, that even envious Time - Hath guarded it with vines; - - And wreathed it with his choicest flowers. - As if the bridal claim, - Which Fate denied unto her brow, - Should still adorn her name! - - Ah, well do I remember yet - The day I carved that name! - The rattle of the locusts’ drum - Thrills o’er me now the same; - - Adown the lane the wayward breeze - Comes with a stealthy pace, - And brings the perfume of the fields - To this deserted place:— - - Unto her blushing cheek again - It comes—the blessèd air! - Caressing, like a lover’s hand, - The tresses of her hair. - - The brook runs laughing at her feet, - O’erhead the wild-bird sings, - The air is filled with butterflies, - As though the flowers had wings:— - - But this is Fancy’s pilgrimage, - And lures me back in vain! - The brook, the bench, the flowers and vines - I ne’er may see again; - - For this is but an idle dream - That mocks me evermore— - And memory only fills the place - My loved one filled of yore! - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: - J. Dill, Sc. - -TORTOSA, FROM THE ISLAND OF RUAD.] - - * * * * * - - - - - LUNA.—AN ODE. - - - BY H. T. TUCKERMAN. - - - _Casta Diva, che inargenti_ - _Questi sacri antiqui piante_ - _A noi volge il bel sembianti_ - _Senza nube e senza vel!_ NORMA. - - The south wind hath its balm, the sea its cheer, - And autumn woods their bright and myriad hues; - Thine is a joy that love and faith endear, - And awe subdues: - The wave-tost seamen and the harvest crew, - When on their golden sheaves the quivering dew - Hangs like pure tears—all fear beguile, - In glancing from their task to thy maternal smile! - The mist of hill-tops undulating wreathes, - At thy enchanting touch, a magic woof, - And curling incense fainter odor breathes, - And, in transparent clouds, hangs round the vaulted roof. - Huge icebergs, with their crystal spires - Slow heaving from the northern main, - Like frozen monuments of high desires - Destined to melt in nothingness again,— - Float in thy mystic beams, - As piles aerial down the tide of dreams! - A sacred greeting falls - With thy mild presence on the ruined fane, - Columns time-stained, dim frieze, and ivied walls, - As if a fond delight thou didst attain - To mingle with the Past, - And o’er her trophies lone a holy mantle cast! - Along the billow’s snowy crest - Thy beams a moment rest, - And then in sparkling mirth dissolve away; - Through forest boughs, amid the withered leaves, - Thy light a tracery weaves, - And on the mossy clumps its rays fantastic play. - With thee, ethereal guide, - What reverent joy to pace the temple floor, - And watch thy silver tide - O’er statue, tomb and arch its solemn radiance pour! - Like a celestial magnet thou dost sway - The untamed waters in their ebb and flow, - The maniac raves beneath thy pallid ray. - And poet’s visions glow; - Madonna of the stars! through the cold prison-grate - Thou stealest, like a nun on mercy bent. - To cheer the desolate, - And usher in grief’s tears when her mute pang is spent! - I marvel not that once thy altars rose - Sacred to human woes, - And nations deemed thee arbitress of Fate, - To whom enamored virgins made their prayer, - Or widows in their first despair, - And wistful gazed upon thy queenly state, - As, with a meek assurance, gliding by, - In might and beauty unelate, - Into the bridal chambers of the sky! - And less I marvel that Endymion sighed - To yield his spirit unto thine, - And felt thee soul-allied, - Making his being thy receptive shrine! - A lofty peace is thine!—the tides of life - Flow gently when thy soothing orb appears, - And passion’s fevered strife - From thy chaste glow imbibes the calmness of the spheres! - O twilight glory! that doth ne’er awake - Exhausting joy, but evenly and fond, - Allays the immortal thirst it cannot slake, - And heals the chafing of the work-day bond; - Give me thy patient spell!—to bear - With an unclouded brow, the secret pain, - (That floods my soul as thy pale beams the air,) - Of hopes that Reason quells, for Love to wake again! - - * * * * * - - - - - FROM BUCHANNAN. - - - BY RICHARD PENN SMITH. - - - IN ZOILUM. - - Frustra ego te laudo; frustra me Zoile lædis - Nemo mihi credit, Zoile, nemo tibi. - - TO ZOILUS. - - Zoilus, in vain thy praise I spread; - And vainly thou hast slandered me! - No one believed a word I said, - No one on earth would credit thee. - — - Qui te videt beaties est; - Beatior qui te audiet - Qui basiat—semi deus est! - - - TRANSLATION. - - He who beholds thy charms is blest; - More blest is he thy voice who hears; - But he thy ruby lip that pressed, - To me a demi-god appears. - -The above was unquestionably suggested by the lines of Catullus to -Lesbia, beginning— - - Ille mi par esse Deo videtur - Ille, si fas est, superare Divos - Qui sedens adversus identidem te - Spectat, et audit, etc. - -This poem of Catullus is nothing more than a translation from the Greek -of Sappho, which has been rendered familiar by Ambrose Phillips’ -version. - - “Blest as the immortal gods is he; - The youth who fondly sits by thee: - Who hears and sees thee, all the while, - Softly speak and sweetly smile, etc.” - -It would seem that Horace when composing his beautiful ode of “Integer -Vitæ,” had these verses of Sappho in mind, when he exclaims— - - Dulce ridentem, Lalagen amabo - Dulce loquentem. - -The “_Dulce ridentum_” is also beautifully applied in the translation by -Catullus. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE RECLUSE. NO. II. - - - BY PARK BENJAMIN. - - - IV. - -From Paris, on the 28th of February last, about four o’clock in the -afternoon, a rainbow was distinguished in the heavens. “Bravo!” cried a -workman of the Faubourg Saint Antoine—“See how le bon Dieu (the good -God) also acknowledges the French Republic—he hangs out the tricolored -flag.” - -This anecdote, though singularly French, who are noted for irreligion, -does not strike me as betraying any lack of reverence. Could not the -poor _ouvrier_ in his ignorance really have presumed the rainbow to be a -providential token? Instances of greater blindness might be recounted, -which have happened at our own doors. Who does not know the stories of -Millerite fanaticism? Are not the impostures of Matthias too recent not -to be remembered in detail? The miracles which they pretended, and which -were not too monstrous for the capacious maw of respectable credulity, -were much more marvelous than the tricolored flag of the poor Paris -laborer. - - - V.—TO AN OLD FLAME. - - _Written on one of the bitterest days of Winter._ - - Ah, Mary, thou art far away, - And never dost thou think of me, - But unto thee my visions fly - Like birds across the sea. - - I loved thee once with such a love - As manhood only knows and feels, - Less shown by actions and by words - Than what the eye reveals. - - Within the warm and sunny South - Thy form is folded like a rose, - While I, in Northern realms afar, - Am wrapt in wintry snows. - - Perhaps a husband’s arms enclose - The treasure I’d have died to win, - So that desire for thy sweet face - Is very like a sin. - - But I’ll not think it—let me dream— - Since dreams alone such bliss bestow— - That, ere we meet in climes above, - We yet may meet below. - - And I again may feel a thrill - Of rapture as I sit and gaze - Into thine eye’s delicious depth - Till all my heart’s ablaze. - - And I can hear thy tuneful voice, - With melody almost divine, - Sing the sweet songs I joyed to hear - In days of auld lang syne. - - But all in vain I strike my lyre, - In vain my burning thoughts unfold, - For, though my heart is warm with love, - My hands are numb with cold. - - - VI.—SHIPWRECK. - -There is no event, by which sorrow is brought to mankind, which arouses -in the mind of old and young a livelier horror than “shipwreck.” There -is something so terrible in the loneliness and obscurity of the sea, -something so deplorable in the utter helplessness of the sailors, that -there is scarcely any danger which we would not rather encounter. When -we read of one, either near at hand or afar off, we involuntarily close -our eyes, as if to shut out the awful scene; the noble ship helplessly -reeling and tumbling on the billows, the pall of clouds, the driving -rain, the white spray and foam drifting like ghosts over the water, some -boat perhaps crowded with human beings, some broken mast or spar to -which cling drowning wretches, and alone, all alone on the ocean-desert, -with no hope of aid or succor. Vainly do we strive to shut our ears to -the cries of misery and despair, to the wail of the wind, the loud -lamenting of the surge, the deep groans of the vessel as her timbers -part, and the noblest fabric of human skill is about to be torn to -fragments and utterly destroyed. - -Lord Byron, describing a ship under full sail, uses the forcible -expression, - - “She walks the water like a thing of like.” - -There is as much truth as beauty in this. Indeed it is difficult to -imagine so proud and glorious an object, moving obedient to reason and -command, to be nothing more than an inanimate mass. Behold her, as she -sets out upon her voyage, with a fair sky and favoring breeze! How -gracefully she parts the waters and sweeps onward! Is not that form -instinct with feeling and endowed with intellect? No! she is but a -wonderful piece of mechanism; but the dullest fancy might imagine her a -being, an intelligence, capable of volition, powerful in deed. Observe -her, too, when overmastered by the tempest and made subject to the -waves, she drifts powerless along! Does she not seem to suffer human -pangs in her struggles, and to die with all of mortal agony? - -The attachment, I might say friendship, which seamen entertain for -particular vessels is not to be wondered at. The deck is the home of the -mariner: here the greater number of his days are spent: the masts, -sails, rigging are to him familiar objects, the objects of his constant -care and solicitude, and he feels for them a species of paternal love. -When these are destroyed, lost, wrecked, he mourns them with a real -sorrow. - -It is my lot to live within constant sight of the sea. I am on one of -the grand highways from Europe to New York. Ships of all nations pass my -door. Many a noble vessel has been wrecked within a mile from my -dwelling. My mind therefore often reverts to this most fearful calamity, -and it is difficult for me to expel even from my dreams visions of -shipwreck. - - - VII.—DR. SYNTAX. - -Will nobody republish “A Tour in Search of the Picturesque?” Will nobody -print it and give us the original pictures, colored engravings of the -richest sort—none of your meager outlines—your skeletons of -sketches—but the rotund figures in full of the veritable hero of that -glorious poem, and all the scenes and adventures through which he -passed? - -Darling old Dr. Syntax! How many a sad, long year has droned away since -I, a merry boy, used to read thy most fascinating of Tours! Nothing ever -so captivated my young imagination as thy solitary rambles on thy -faithful steed through town and hamlet—now taking up thy abode with -some lordly proprietor, and now sleeping contentedly beneath the roof of -some sturdy yeoman—now kissing the squire’s wife and sister, and now -giving sympathizing advice to the dairy-maid, who was, like poor -Ophelia, disappointed in love. Oh, Doctor! thou wast never above -humanity. Though never frail thyself, yet wast thou no inexorable judge -over the frailties of others. - -I long, most patient and peculiar of travelers, I long sincerely to -accompany thee once more in thy rambles. Most charitable of divines, -most lenient of pedagogues, “take thee for all in all, I shall not look -upon thy like again!” _Interestingest_ of all authors, I would enter -into thy feelings once more. I would feel the joy thou feltest in -quitting thy spouse (no _dulcis uxor_) and mounting thy famous mare, -Grizzle, and setting forth on thy most speculative and picturesque -expedition. You were a creature of the brain, Doctor, I suppose—but to -me you are a reality. I remember you perfectly. I loved you when a boy -at school with all my heart. Orthography, Etymology and Prosody I -hated—but I loved Syntax. - -Which of you generous and gentlemenly booksellers will immediately send -me a copy (bound or unbound, but it must have the pictures,) of Dr. -Syntax’s Tour in Search of the Picturesque? Speak not all at once! I -will promise you “a first-rate notice in the Boston Post.” It would -afford me “a wonderful sight” of fun, as they say in Androscoggin, to -read that book. I should be _rejuvenesced_. Kind Mr. Hart, be so -obliging as to ransack your shelves and transmit an old English copy, -directed TO THE RECLUSE, _aux soins du redacteur en chef de_ -GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE. - - - VIII.—A CHARACTER. - -My friend, Ralph Willinton, is a man of adventures. More strange things -have happened to him than to any dozen people I ever heard of, in what -are called “the common walks of life.” Ralph is by no means an -extraordinary individual. If the North River waited for him to set it on -fire, it might flow on through the Highlands unscorched forever. He was -not born to greatness; he will never achieve greatness, nor will -greatness be thrust upon him. But do not misunderstand me: Ralph, as the -gentleman felicitously remarked of Shakespeare, “is no fool.” On the -contrary, he is a fellow of parts. He never dazzled in conversation by a -coruscation of mother-wit; but when he has heard a happy rejoinder, he -remembers it, and has the skill to use it to advantage. - -Ralph is the happiest mimic in these _Untied_ States, as they may sooner -or later be called. There never appeared an actor in any one of our -theatres whose voice and manner he cannot imitate with marvelous -verisimilitude. Moreover he sings a very good song, though with no very -powerful or melodious voice. He can write Magazine articles on music, -composes occasionally himself, and writes love ditties, such as they -are. Add to these accomplishments a manner irresistibly winning, and -tones in speaking as sweet as those which the author of Guy Mannering -gives to Rashleigh Osbaldistone, and you are possessed of the sum total -of Ralph’s recommendations. The sum total do I say? when I have but -obscurely hinted at his extraordinary gift or faculty of story-telling, -by which, like Hamlet’s Yorick, he can set the whole table on a roar. In -sooth, he is the most diverting of dinner-table companions. He richly -earns his invitations, of which no man has more. You can bear to listen -to those stories of his (which are nothing when any one else tells them) -a hundred times. They are “ever charming, ever new.” Age cannot mar nor -custom stale his infinite variety. His profession is the law, and his -practice is amusement. - -Ralph is, in fine, a capital fellow. It is a pity that he should have a -capital propensity. He is the hero of all his romances. Had he been -Macbeth, he never would have exclaimed, “Thou canst not say _I_ did it!” -He would rather have had the _credit_ of murdering Duncan himself than -have been thought to have no hand in the “bloody business.” Ralph is the -most ubiquitous of mortals. To have effected an iota of what he -attributes to his own talents, valor and industry, to have done one in -fifty of those deeds of which he asserts “_quorum pars magna fui_,” he -must have been in a very considerable number of places at once. -Nevertheless and notwithstanding Ralph Willinton is a glorious good -fellow. Reader, did you ever meet with Ralph Willinton? - - * * * * * - - - - - A VOICE FROM THE WAYSIDE: - - - ABOUT A GENIUS. - - - BY CAROLINE C——. - - - We wither from our youth, we waste away, - Sick, sick, unfound the boon—unslaked the thirst. - BYRON. - -In summer time there are few things more delightful than an occasionally -wet day to “out-of-towners.” - -Then we of the country, in our almost noiseless homes, may delight and -rejoice in the strange and pleasant quietness attending a still, -steadily-falling rain; we can watch with admiring eyes how the fields -and the well-draperied woods grow bright and cleanly, ’neath the hand of -that pattern housekeeper, Dame Nature; we can listen undisturbed by the -multitudinous noises which infest a city, to the dear wild-birds, who, -impatient of the long-continued weeping of the skies, occasionally break -forth into the merriest songs, as if questioning each other as to how -they stand the charges of the elements. - -And then there is the generous Sun King, (I acknowledge, however, he -does not shine for country-people _only_,) glancing out at intervals -from between the heavy clouds, smiling upon us joyously, and looking for -all the world as though he would say if he could, “never mind, children, -the storm will soon be passed!” And then the after-part of a summer -shower! the freshened fragrance of the flowers—the purified -atmosphere—the bright blue sky—the increased glory of the -setting-sun—the rainbow in the east—the drops of water glistening on -the flowers and on the grass, so pure and bright, that one might almost -imagine them the tears of spirits—the glad songs of innumerable -birds—the groups of children exhibiting in various ways their nautical -daring on and about the newly-formed lakelets in the roads and -fields—the many evidences of life awakened out of doors—then the holy -calmness of the ensuing summer night—the soft light of the stars—and -after that the trembling glory of the new moon! Oh, beautiful, beautiful -summer! with thy rain-storms and thy sunshine, hasten to us again! - -But—a rainy day in winter! its horrors encircle me at this moment; I -forbear entering into its details. However much _you_ may delight in a -day like unto this, oh, listen to the humble voice now emerging from the -way-side, _I_ have no courage to speak even of the stubborn, -hard-headed, cheerless figure Nature presents when she stands gazing in -such mute dismay upon her domicil. - -It is in human nature, at least in mine, and I claim to be human, to be -always looking for _a something better_, and despite all this dreariness -without, my heart is even now continually singing, “Spring is coming! -spring is coming!” but a few weeks! and then, instead of the dismal -trappings of winter, how beautiful and bright all without and around us -will be! the very thought is enough to make every soul shout, “Hasten -the time! Amen!” - -There is such a desolateness in the court of the white-headed old king -which people very naturally shrink from as they grow older in years! - -Looking back into childhood, these stony-hearted months when frost and -snow reign king and queen over earth, seem, indeed, the most joyous—and -not without reason. For then the “Christman” and the youth so full of -promise, the bright New Year, are never-failing guests by the mid-winter -fire-side. There is joy for the child on the ice-bound hill, on the -glassy, frozen lake, in the gurgling, merry sound of the sleigh-bells, -in the sight of the cheerful home-fire, in the bracing out-door air, in -the huge snow-drifts—everywhere, everywhere there is joy for the child! - -And why? Because of bounding hopes and joyous dreams, and the careless -yielding up of oneself to every passing enjoyment—because of freedom -from labor—because of ignorance of the worth and supremacy of -gold—because of utter innocence of the strict “proprieties” of life! -There is joy for the child, because he has not yet learned much of -disappointments; he does not know how uncomfortable is the close-fitting -garment of manhood. He is not wise enough to see in the winter storms, -in the driving blasts in which he so much delights, the type of what -assuredly awaits him. He does not know that the life-storms with which -he will have to struggle, will come suddenly and furiously upon -him—that he will, perforce, then fling aside his mittens and grapple -open handed with his foes. And it must certainly be at the warm and -genial hearth-fire of truth and honesty, and no stifling stove-heat by -which he must keep his heart, and its hopes and affections warm and in -health, else they will die away suddenly and utterly, even as the fire -of the “patent air-tight” dies! - -Hark! now I hear the flapping of wings; and lo, here, almost close -beside my window, are passing pigeons—snow-white pigeons; and, where -_could_ it have streamed from, there is a ray of sunlight on their -wings! and since I have begun writing, the clouds seem to have “spent -their fury,” they are less dull and dreary—they are slowly breaking -away. - -The view from the window by which I am writing is not especially -charming. In one direction there are sheds, and barns, and barren trees, -and a little farther on, the spire of an unpretending church, and sundry -chimney-tops, together with the roofs of a few loftier buildings meet my -eye. These are all certainly very _suggestive_ scenes, and might make so -many important heads of a very interesting discourse; but, in another -direction from this same window there are great fields, and farther on, -woods and hills, and between them and me, there are two points in the -landscape on which very often my eyes rest, and many are the -recollections, bitter and sweet, they awaken. One is a village -school-house, the other a thickly-populated grave-yard. - -Over those hills, and through the woods, and by the sandy shores of our -beautiful lake, I was once a frequent wanderer, and with me invariably -in all those rovings, was a child of somewhere near my own age, to whom, -good reader, you may now consider yourself introduced. - -When the week, with its disappointments, and hopes and joys has passed, -and Saturday afternoon, the child’s holyday the world over, comes round -again, how often my thoughts have turned back to her, and to the time -when _we_ also were young; oh, how much of meaning there is in that -word, _youth_! - -But looking back into the past is not an over-pleasant business at any -time. There are very many reasons why people, for the most part, dread -the rolling up of that curtain within which lies buried much of -destroyed confidence, and happiness that died of fearful wounds; but I -am willing to trespass on my own feelings at this present, that you may -know something of Lily Reeve. - -People said she was a genius. They said rightly—she was. And to -complete the interest attachable to her therefor, Lily was poor—_very_ -poor, and had been all the days of her life. - -When the Reeve family moved among us they had no acquaintance or -relative in our village—and their circumstances and business were not -such as attached any importance or attracted any notice to them. Had it -not been for Lily they would probably have remained long enough in our -midst, unknown and uncared for. The mother was a middle-aged woman, a -widow; of the children I knew not much, save that with much -appropriateness their name might have been “legion.” Lily was the eldest -child—not beautiful—and far from being even interesting, personally. - -Why her parents had bestowed on her so decided a name as Lily was always -a mystery—for very far from a resemblance, even the slightest, to that -graceful flower, was she. Neither was she a brunette, but of complexion -rather dark, hair _very_ black, and always curled, which gave her a -decidedly Mrs. Hemanish look at times. Her features were irregular—oh, -certainly, she was _far_ from beautiful, and yet there was much -sweetness of expression in the mouth, and much of vigor and -determination perceivable in her dark eyes. - -It was a good many years ago, but I remember distinctly the first time I -ever saw Lily. With a number of juveniles I was returning from a _very_ -long walk—all our foot-jaunts were long in those days—when, on passing -by an old-fashioned frame-house, brown with age, and poor and -disconsolate in its outward appearance, one of the group said, “Let’s go -into that house; there’s a girl living there who paints.” - -And we went in. One of the more confident of our number said to the -woman who received us, “Will you show us some of the pictures your -daughter has painted?” - -With a smile of satisfaction, as though she were pleased that even we -children should have heard of her daughter, the woman bade us sit down; -and then she brought from an old chest a handful of papers, and spread -them on the table before us. Some of these were pictures of warriors on -their steeds, others landscapes, and some were heads. There was one -which more than all the others attracted my attention—it was a portrait -of a sleeping child. We asked if this were one of her children, or only -a fancy sketch. - -“That was her little brother who died,” replied the woman, with a sigh. -“Lily drew it when he was dead.” There was something so sad in the -mother’s voice as she said this, that it checked our gay spirits, and -tended to subdue our loud expressions of admiration. While we yet stood -there turning over the papers, and gazing in wonder on the productions -of a girl no older than the youngest among us, the subject of our -thoughts and curiosity came into the room. - -When she saw what was our object there, she came up to the table, and -putting her arm around me, as though confident she was with friends, she -asked if we liked her drawings. I remember well the thrill which passed -over me at this simple act of hers, for I had begun to regard the girl -as something quite extraordinary, and almost more than human. From that -day I date a friendship I am proud to have formed, one which, while it -lasted, delighted me more than any similar tie I have ever known. - -It was very easy to see that the heart of the mother in those days was -full of hope—that the mind of the daughter teemed with ambitious -desires, and a determination, apparently invincible, to accomplish great -things. About that time there were many people who turned prophets, and -looking into the future, they saw a great name added to America’s -illustrious daughters of song—the name of Lily Reeve. Do you think -their prophecy has proved true? - -In the old school-house, (which I heartily regret to say has been of -late abandoned, and its former inmates have taken possession of a more -stately edifice up-town,) in that little old brick building, _we_ in the -years long, long gone by, were wont to assemble—and Lily joined us -there. And although on the humdrum route of _learning_ we were quite in -the advance, she soon very far outstripped us, and moved on with most -rapid strides through all the first branches of education. It was -impossible for us dullards to see her strange advancement, and not feel -a little envious of her ability, notwithstanding we liked Lily so well. -In one short year she had acquired nearly all the instruction it was -possible for our teacher to impart, and as may be supposed for his part, -he was watching her progress with somewhat of anxiety. But his honor as -a teacher was not destined to be sacrificed to the young girl’s genius. - -One afternoon, when school was dismissed, Lily said to me, “You and I -will go home by the other street. I have something to tell you, and the -way will be longer. Besides, I want to be away from these rough boys and -girls.” - -So we crossed the road, and entered a path which led us by a long way -home. When we had reached the bridge, which crossed a deep, rapidly -running brook, we sat down on the bench, placed in the shade of an old -tree, which from “time immemorial” has stood there, with the most of its -tangled roots buried in the water; then Lily spoke again, for the first -time since we went out from the school-house. - -“Do you know they are going to send me to the other school—they think I -can learn more there, and have teachers in the higher branches, and in -the languages. Oh, dear!” - -“But why that ‘oh, dear!’ Lily? I only wish I were ready to go there -too, but I am such an ignoramus, and you know every thing!” - -“Not quite every thing. I _should_ be glad to go—and there are a great -many reasons why. I have the greatest desire to learn, and I’m sure if I -have a little more education, I can make my way easily in the world; -but—but—in short, they are rich people who are going to send me, and -they will expect miracles from me, you may depend upon it—_I_ know. -Because I am poor, and can write pretty well, and paint, and sketch -likenesses, they have taken an interest in me; but I tell you before -hand, and you will see before long I speak rightly; I shall have to work -like a slave to keep up with their expectations. Isn’t it enough to make -any body say, ‘oh, dear?’” - -“No—I don’t think so, Lily. You _can’t help_ equaling their -expectations, and they have such nice teachers at the other school, and -no great rude boys go there.” - -“That makes no difference at all. One can learn as well in one place as -another. If it were not that mother felt so glad when the ladies made -her the offer to send me there, I’d never go. You don’t know any thing -about what it means to be dependent; you can’t think what a heavy load -seems resting on me, ever since so many people have seemed to take an -interest in me. I really begin to doubt my own powers. It seems to me as -though I ought not to be forced like a plant in a hot-bed. I almost wish -I never had any particular gifts.” - -“And you say this, Lily Reeve, when all the girls in town are envying -you! Now just be firm, for I’m sure if you only make up your mind you -_will_ do a thing, you _can_ do it!” - -“Do you believe it?” she asked, so suddenly, that I was startled and -began in some trepidation to bethink my words. - -“Certainly,” I answered at last; “I heard our minister say the other day -your verses were excellent; and you know your pictures sold well at the -fair. How can you doubt yourself so?” - -“I don’t know,” said Lily, thoughtfully, “perhaps they are nearer right -than I dare to think them—but I cannot explain it to you. I am never -satisfied with any thing I do. My verses always sound so rough when -compared with the melody in my brain—and my pictures, when I begin -them, my fingers almost fly, I think I will surpass myself—and when -they are finished, they always look so rude and rough, that I am tempted -often to burn them every one.” - -“Never mind,” said I, confidently, “you will see the day yet when all -will be brighter to you—and you know the teacher says every day -‘practice makes perfect;’ and he always looks at you when he says -it—you ought to have learned that by this time.” - -“I’ll learn it now from you,” said Lily; “we’ll go now to the woods, I -want to get some flowers to take to mother.” - -Just beyond the woods to which we then bent our steps, there was a large -field, in the upper portion of which, early in the season, we always -found multitudes of purple flowers and white lilies; our first business -that night was to fill our aprons with these treasures, and then we went -into the woods, and sat down by a stream in a most romantic place, and -began to arrange our huge bunches of flowers. Lily made hers into small -bouquets, one for each of her family, while I twined mine into a wreath, -and laid it on her head. But soon the fast increasing shade in the woods -warned us it was time to be returning home. The thought of the -obligation she was about to incur evidently still troubled my -companion’s mind, for she spoke but little, and her words, when she did -speak, were desponding, and even the bright flowers with which her hands -were filled, failed to attract her usual attention, or awaken the -delight they were wont to. - -We were about crossing the stile that was placed at the entrance of the -wood, when Lily suddenly flung the beautiful green moss she had gathered -in a damp place, with violence from the bosom of her dress, where she -had laid it. And when I looked with amazement at the excited girl, she -exclaimed, “Look there! I had a snake in my bosom!” Truly enough, there -was a tiny, striped, infant snake, creeping out leisurely from the bunch -of moss she had flung upon the ground. A thought darted through my -mind—I grasped her arm and said, - -“You shall hear the moral of this before you go a step further, Lily -Reeve. I’m no genius, but I’ll teach you a plain lesson. You have thrown -the snake away from you; don’t, don’t ever take it back again. Don’t -doubt those who mean to do you kindness; only just do what nature -intended you should, and all who know you will be satisfied! When you -come to be very famous, the people who help you now will think you did -them a favor in letting them aid you. Mother says perseverance will work -wonders, and I believe it—_you_ can prove it.” - -When I had finished my oration, I stood somewhat astonished at my own -audacity, but after a moment’s silence Lily said, - -“Thank you—thank you, for you have learned me two lessons—I’ll not -forget them; no, I will never take the serpent back, you may depend on -that.” - -A few days after Lily was established at the larger school, dwelling -with other boarders in the family of the principal, the wonder of all -the scholars, and the pet pupil with the teachers. - -The hopeful expectations of her family were kept up by her progress, and -by her own increasing courage and cheerfulness. And in reality it seemed -no unfounded expectation, that which they cherished, that the young girl -would soon be able to support them all by dint of her genius. Her -efforts became daily more worthy and more promising, now that she -possessed these superior advantages; fortune seemed really determined to -work good things for the rich peoples’ _protégé_. - -Lily was not yet seventeen, but her poems had many of them attracted -much attention; injudicious praises were lavished upon her; by their -attentions and flattery, the proud, and the rich, and the learned seemed -to have conspired to spoil a girl—a school-girl—poor “from her youth -up.” They did not take it into consideration that it was quite possible -for them to raise her hopes and self-appreciativeness too high; they did -not give heed to the fact that it might require years of struggling and -disappointment for her to produce any thing worthy the reward and honor -they would fain believe were rightfully hers even then. - -But soon enough they had cause to regret this course they adopted. - -“A change came o’er the spirit of her dream.” Self-confidence rapidly -usurped the place of a befitting humility, which had once characterized -her. Instead of comparing herself with the great masters of song and -painting, Lily seemed to think that in outstripping all her schoolmates, -and in being considered a prodigy among teachers, she was rapidly -filling the measure of her greatness; and the laudations which good-will -prompted others to speak, instead of being listened to and valued at -their worth, came at last to be considered as quite true and -well-deserved. - -It is said that more strength of mind is requisite to bear composedly a -sudden _favorable_ turn of fortune than is necessary calmly to endure -reverses. Having never had occasion to test the truth of the -proposition, I, of course, have only a right to _suppose_ there is -somewhat “more of truth than poetry” in the idea; at all events, that is -a very easy way to account for Lily’s derelictions. - -It was the wish of her “patrons,” as well as of the kind lady teacher to -whose care she was chiefly commended, that Lily should finish the course -of studies apportioned to each scholar previous to graduating. But there -was a growing willfulness, an increasing confidence in her own -attainments, that tempted her to set at naught these desires. Her -impulsive nature longed to be free from restraint; she would fain throw -aside all bondage, together with the loathed idea of dependence, and -labor for herself in the way she was best fitted to labor. She wished to -begin _at once_ to reap the reward of her years of study, and thus to -alleviate the wants of her home. Alas! the serpent had crept back into -Lily’s breast! - -So, despite all the remonstrances and the pleadings of those who began -to see their mistake in their dealings with the young girl, Lily left -the school, and returned to her own home. I shall never forget her as -she was at that time; the passions, hopes, desires and resolution of -mature years seemed to have even then a full development in her. In -feeling she had grown too old, in will too decisive, to submit patiently -to the judgment of other minds. But soon enough the lesson was forced -upon her that poetic efforts are rarely capable of being changed at once -for food, and fuel, and raiment. - -“I have sent a poem of some length to —— ——,” she said to me one -day, naming a distinguished writer and editor, “and you know I am -superstitious—if he accepts it, and will pay me for it, I shall take it -as a good omen for my future; but if he does not—” she hesitated. - -“Well, if he does not, Lily?” - -“Then those horrid doubts will come back to me with renewed force! Oh, -they tormented me so once!” - -When I saw my friend again there was no need to ask her what her -reception at the “editor’s table” had been. It was a freezing cold -winter night, and feeling somewhat disconsolate on my own account, as -well as rather curious in regard to Lily’s progress, I sought her in her -own home. - -I found Lily there seated at the centre-table—yes, it was such, for it -did occupy the central portion of the apartment—but it was not of -polished mahogany, or marble-surfaced, gentle reader, but a miserable, -old, broken affair, that had seen its best days long before it came into -the possession of its then owners. Scattered about the room were the -numerous boys and girls of the family; there was little temptation even -for the boys without that night, it was so cold and stormy. The room in -which they lived was the upper story of a small building, the first -floor of which was occupied as a mechanic’s shop; it was partitioned by -a curtain of cloth, which was all the separation between the sleeping -apartments and the place where they cooked, and ate, and lived. - -There was a deep silence in the room when I entered. Lily was occupied -with her drawing, lighted by two tapers burning in a cup half-filled -with oil. There was none of that cheerful hope beaming in her fine eyes -that usually filled them when she welcomed me. And all the faces in the -room looked doleful enough—some rebuff they had certainly met with from -some quarter. - -“I am drawing this for you,” she said, when I sat down beside her and -looked at her work, “it is for a parting gift.” - -“Parting!” I exclaimed; “what are you going to do now, were you -successful in your letter to Mr. ——?” - -“Read it and see,” she said, producing a letter, - -And I read as follows: - - “MISS REEVE.—Dear Madam,—Your favor was many days ago - received, and now, at my first leisure, I hasten to reply. I - regret that an answer similar to that given to many applicants - during every week must also be returned to you. I regret this - the more, because your communications show talent, but—you need - much practice; and, permit me to say, a writer must usually have - acquired _some reputation_ before he can receive any ‘golden - rewards.’ If you are necessitated to labor, I would advise you - that there are many ways less vexatious, and more certain as to - their issue, in which you might successfully employ yourself. - - “I retain the MS. subject to your orders. - - “Respectfully, etc., - - “—— ——.” - -It was with difficulty I could repress my grief, as I looked about that -cheerless room, and on the young girl whose disappointment I knew must -be so keen; but calmly, and apparently undisturbed, Lily continued her -drawing. - -“What will you do now, Lily?” I asked, anxious to at least break the -embarrassing silence. - -“We are going west next week!” - -“West! where—how?” - -“To Illinois. I have borrowed the money—we cannot stay here and starve. -I am going there to take a school. If I cannot get a living by writing, -there _are_ many other ways—and I will try them at least.” - -Had she told me her immediate intention of taking a journey to the South -Pole, I should have felt my powers of credulity very little more taxed -than they were at that moment, so wild and perfectly impracticable -seemed the scheme. But Lily had spoken so seriously, and with so much -determination, I was constrained to believe her. - -The picture she was engaged upon—I have it yet—was an imaginative and -a striking one. It was a moonlight scene. Beside the water’s edge, among -wild rocks, a girl was standing alone—the figure was a likeness of -herself—and a very perfect one it was, too. The _expression_ of the -sketch was touching in the extreme. - -“She is looking for peace and rest there,” said Lily, in explanation. -“She has sought it so often, but has not found it—and she never will.” - -“Does she seek it in the right way, Lily?” - -“I don’t know. Every thing seems changed to me of late. I am bewildered. -It seems to me as though I had lost myself. Since that letter came I -doubt my powers more than ever. To think of one in my situation having -to _practice_ before I can work successfully! There is little time to -practice, I think, when eight human beings are wondering where their -next meal is to come from—when their wood-yard is in such a state of -depression and emptiness as ours is!” - -The mother sighed heavily as Lily said this, but did not speak. - -“But you certainly can do something here,” I cried. “Don’t go and bury -yourself in the back-woods. I’m sure you can be a teacher in our school -if you’ll only ask. It’s perfectly wild in you to think of going this -winter! traveling, you know, at this time of year is a very costly -business, dear Lily, besides being so cheerless!” - -“There is no use talking about it; I should have loved to live here, for -my own part, all my life, but I have engaged a school in the town we are -going to, and they wish it to be opened early in the spring. There’s no -help for it—we must go.” - -And they went. - -From that day until within a few months I heard nothing in regard to the -Reeve Family. Lily had promised to tell us her experience in the west, -of her success in this new attempt at securing a livelihood; but her -promise was unfulfilled, and we could not but fear lest despondency had -utterly crushed all the aspirations of her genius, that if she yet -lived, poverty and hopelessness had come to be her only portion. - -Still, though her name had never reached us through the medium talents -like hers choose for their utterance—the press—there was always with -me a lingering hope and belief that Lily had, under some assumed name, -made herself famous. Knowing so well her ability, the more I thought of -this the more I became strongly convinced that it was so. At last, when -I had dreamed of her night after night, and thought much of her in my -waking hours, it became absolutely necessary to my own peace of mind -that I should write to her once more—a thing I had not done in many -years—in order to discover if she were actually dead or alive—famous -or unknown to the world. It was with much anxiety, as all my lady -readers will believe, I awaited her reply—for an answer I felt -convinced I should receive. It came at last; and as people such as she -are regarded by the world as a species of public property, as regards -their thoughts, words, and deeds, I have little scruples in laying -Lily’s epistle open for public inspection, knowing that her words will -awaken the hope and renewed efforts of the despairing, and excite the -admiration and commendation of all good people. - -“I have but just received your letter, dear friend of by-gone days, and -believe me, it has given me no little satisfaction to think that you -remember me, and with interest still. I am inclined to laugh, and weep, -and wonder, when I think of myself as I was in the days long ago, when -we lived among you so very poor and dependent; but there is a feeling of -gratitude living in my heart stronger than every other emotion now -excited in my breast by the freshened remembrance of my old home. - -“You ask me to tell you what I have been doing, and wish to know under -what name I have immortalized myself. You will not believe I left behind -me all my ambitious desires when we made our abode here in the west! -Have you ever chanced to hear of ——? It is the name I chose to adopt -in my appearance before the public. Perhaps you may have seen it, and -read verses accompanying it, but I am confident you never recognized in -those merry strains the voice and the heart-tune of your once -poverty-stricken and desponding friend.” - -(The reader may imagine my astonishment and amaze on reading these -words—for my correspondent, Lily Reeve, was none other than one of the -most beloved and popular of writers!) - -“I feel conversational to-day, besides, I know it is but just to assure -those who were so generous in my days of adversity, that their money and -sympathy were not altogether thrown away. I was very far from being -forgetful of those who in my earlier years rendered me such efficient -and valuable aid; but I thought it better even at the risk of being -esteemed ungrateful, to be unknown to them and to you, until I should be -able to reflect some little credit upon them. I shall soon publish a -book which is dedicated to those friends of former days, through that I -hope to relieve myself from any charge of forgetfulness or coldness they -may have justly brought against me. - -“It is only ten years since we first made our home in this western -world; but I have grown gray in feeling since then, and looking back -into my childhood, the road to it seems to be one of interminable -length. Decidedly as our fortunes have brightened, we have had our -struggles and heart-sorrows here also; and we have had much of sickness -too, which seems to await almost every settler in the west; but there is -so much more for which we have occasion to be thankful, that it seems -almost a sin even to revert to our first trials and vexations. My -mother, thank Heaven! now that she is old, may rest; her latter years -are not harassed with the thoughts of a dependent, impoverished family; -my brothers are in a way, all of them, to support themselves, and my -young sisters are being educated in such a way that they will never have -to rely on others for their support. And for all this I pray we may be -ever thankful as we ought. - -“When we first came to this place all things were decidedly _new_. The -inhabitants, men, women and children, truly seemed to us to have -reflected in their own natures the marvelous greenness and freshness of -the close surrounding forests; the village was poor, like all new -places, and not one quarter its present size. Indeed, we call it a city -now. - -“But you never can think what a house of refuge it was to us poor -people! I was glad from my heart that there were none rich, none -powerful here; that all was one grand level, above which wisdom and -strength of mind, and superior goodness alone might rise. I was glad, I -say, for despise it as you may, I am bold to acknowledge there was -something awfully repelling to me in the thought of looking _up_ to -people because they happened to be rich, or occupy by birth a high -station. Even the notice taken of me in my young days, in the place -where I sojourned, was galling to me. It savored too much of -condescension, which, child as I was, even then I despised and hated. -There were many children here even in those days; for some years mine -was the only school—how well it was patronized I need not say. I -prospered, and was contented. Oh, it was such a joy to look on our own -comfortable home; to know what a cheerful fire and plenty of food meant -in one’s own house! There is something so exhilarating in the thought of -independence and reliance on one’s own exertions, that for a whole year -after our removal here I altogether abandoned my pencil and my pen; I -thought I would never labor with them again. But I was mistaken in -myself, as many times before I had been. I knew not the wants and -necessities of my own nature. - -“The second winter I had continually a restless yearning for higher and -nobler pursuits than the mere business of school-teaching; that supplied -our natural wants and necessities admirably, it is true, but there were -longings of my mind that it became as necessary for me to supply. And so -once more in the long winter evenings I resumed my pencils and pen, and -I worked with them. It is impossible for me to express to you the -intense satisfaction following these labors; it seemed as though I had -found suddenly an Aladdin’s lamp, and that it dispelled the darkness and -gloom of undefined yearning, and showed me a true and a great end that I -could accomplish! I did not then immediately force my new productions -upon the editors, but remembering well that one salutary lesson I -received long ago, I strove hard to perfect myself. It would be -wearisome for you to listen to the narration of my progress till I had -gradually mounted up into the notice of the noble people of the west; -how kindly and charitably they hailed my writings; how encouraging were -the letters which, from many sources unexpected and unsought, I -received, I will leave you to imagine—I felt then as though I were -truly working out my destiny. Words crowded to my lips for utterance; -thoughts pleaded in my brain to be heard; I longed to speak words of -encouragement and strength to others—such words as from my own -experience I knew full well many an overburdened soul needed. I spoke -them, and I humbly hope they found acceptance and regard in many a -heart. - -“You will ask if I then was wholly satisfied? You will ask if notoriety -pleased me? If I cared for no other and humbler good after I had -attained that—in short, if I did not yearn for other love than that -lavished on me by my own kin. In all calmness and confidence now, I can -answer, yes! there were hopes unsatisfied, desires unfulfilled. -Admiration was not _all_ I craved—commendation not all I coveted. But -years passed on, and with them the time when I could have rejoiced in -loving and in being loved. The wild dream that haunted my mind of a -perfect happiness on earth, of another kind of affection than I had yet -received or given, went by. Coldness, and I am almost constrained to -think at times, heartlessness, have usurped the place once occupied by -the winged god; the altar which needed but a word to be enkindled and -wrapped in flame, is torn away—a calm, immovable spirit occupies its -place. I am not lonely or unhappy, only I feel strangely changed. I feel -old in spirit; there may be no cloud, but there certainly is no -sunshine; passionless now, and without the least craving for human love, -my years glide on. I am satisfied in having helped to make the happiness -of those for whom I have labored, and yet, true to woman’s belief, I -must say, I am well aware that I have missed life’s highest good; I have -passed by, in my eager search for a something that has not satisfied, -that bright possession which the poorest of earth’s children, equally -with the most exalted have extended to them by the hand of our -beneficent Father. Do you think I am strangely confiding with one whom -for ten years I have not known by thought, or word, or deed? But we were -children together; and I remember how that you more than all I left -behind me knew the thoughts and desires of my inner life. Doubtless, -since we have come to be _women_, we have both much changed, but at this -hour I will believe you sympathize with me as in the days of old. - -“Not long ago there came one to me, a man gifted with noble intellectual -faculties, and rich in heart-wealth; he has wished me to be his wife; -but knowing as I do what a very pauper I am in all that is best -calculated to make his a happy home—you will understand I am not -speaking of fortune or beauty _now_—I have declined his suit. I cannot -regard him as I could have a few, _but_ a few short years ago. I do not -love him as my imagination tells me that woman _can_ and _should_ love. -For a moment when I read his words, my heart beat wildly—I was happy; -but that passed quickly; I distrust myself; I do not wish _now_ that any -one should intrust to me a charge of their happiness through life; it -would be madness, and no less than foul wrong in me to wed with one -whose affection I could make but such a paltry return. I give to you the -answer I sent him; it is the sum total of my thoughts on this -subject—and I would ask you as you read them, do you not think that -there is but little to envy in one who has flung away a diamond, for a -trifling but more brilliant gem? - - TO —— ——. - - It is too late; once, once I could have loved thee, - Before my heart grew passionless and cold; - My years are few, but trials have out-worn me— - In thought and struggle I am old—am old! - I had not _once_ been deaf to thy fond pleading— - My soul had throbbed to hear thy ardent words; - But now no inward voice is interceding, - Thy finger touches upon tuneless chords! - - There _was_ a time when, hadst thou breathed of love, - A fire had swiftly kindled in my heart; - I would have coveted then, far, far above - All earthly good—all that is set apart - For the strong soul to labor for—a tone - A look, such as thou gavest now to me, - I would have gloried then to be thine own; - That time is past—it never more can be! - - Once, when my heart beat strong with youth and hope, - Once, when the future held a glorious prize, - Through the surrounding gloom I strove to grope, - And to close-thronging dangers shut my eyes. - I fought for honor—fame. I thought that these - Would _buy_ for me that other, nobler good, - For which I prayed upon my bended knees, - The boon of love—but fate my prayer withstood! - - Too many years have passed since that sweet dream— - Too hard and ceaseless has my striving been; - Through the calm twilight now there comes no gleam - Of that wild hope—it cannot live again. - It cannot be—thou wouldst not prize a gift - So worthless as is all I have to give; - Thou wouldst not care from my cold heart to lift - The burden ’neath which I am doomed to live! - - Seek for a younger mind—a lighter soul; - Seek one who has not been what I have been. - I would not that around thy home should roll - A cloud surcharged with gloominess and pain; - Seek one who hath not from her childhood seen - Her inmost thoughts—the best and brightest gold; - Seek one who smiles—one who yet dares to dream— - Who has not ‘hardened to a crystal cold!’ - -“And now, being quite sure that I have outwearied you, and believing -that you will gladly let the remainder of your interrogatories to-day -pass unanswered, I will conclude, with the earnest hope that _you_ may -never be tempted to barter the sacred affections of your heart for any -more alluring, but less, oh, far less satisfying prize—in the name of -our childhood. - - “Always yours, - - “LILY REEVE.” - - * * * * * - -Dear reader, it may be proper to state, that despite this most emphatic -disclaimer on the part of Lily, a western paper I have recently -received, contains a notice of the marriage of the distinguished -poetess, Lily Reeve, with the Hon. —— ——. Had it not been for this, -one other proof of what is called the fickleness of woman’s nature, you -perceive I should have been enabled to end my story without a marriage; -but you will bear in mind that this repetition of the almost invariable -climax, is not _my_ fault! - - * * * * * - - - - - A SONNET. - - - BY FAYETTE ROBINSON. - - - [SEE ENGRAVING OF MAY MORNING.] - - Read on, young maiden. I will gage a kiss - The page so earnestly thou porest o’er, - To be the record of the ecstasies - Of some great bard, or it may be the lore - Of wild adventure by Armida’s shore— - Or how Diana wooed the Hunter-boy, - Or how to Dido erst Æneas swore - Unmeasured love. Read while thou may’st enjoy, - For certainly as this bright morn of May - Will lose its zest, thy happiness will fade. - As Orient smiles of Spring too soon decay, - As clouds o’ershadow all the happy glade, - Now smiling in the early morning’s ray, - Thy peerless beauty e’en will pass away. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: _DRAWN BY PASTORINI_ - -MAY MORNING.] - - * * * * * - - - - - PASSAGES OF LIFE IN EUROPE. - - - By J. BAYARD TAYLOR. - - - I.—HEIDELBERG IN SEPTEMBER. - -The sun was just setting on the last day of August, when the ponderous -_eilwagen_, in which I had journeyed from Frankfort, rounded the foot of -the Holy Mountain into the Valley of the Neckar, and Heidelberg—the -brave, romantic, beautiful old electoral city—was stretched out before -me on the opposite side of the river. Far above it rose the wooded -Kaiserstuhl, midway down whose side hung the granite bastions, terraces -and roofless halls of the famed Castle. Heavy masses of ivy hung from -its arches, and overran the quaint sculpture of its walls, while the -foliage of its gardens was visible behind, deep in the shadow of the -mountain. A faint yellow glow trembled over the pines and birches on the -top of the Kaiserstuhl, and kept the clear blue on the distant hills up -the Neckar. Down the steep paths of the Holy Mountain, on my left, came -the peasant-girls, with baskets on their heads, laden with the purple -clusters of the Muscatel, and talking to each other gayly over -garden-walls, and under arbors, which made a “green twilight” even at -noon. Careless students, pipe in hand, sauntered along the river bank, -listening to the sweet evening chimes, rung first in the towers of the -Hauptkirche, and taken up like an echo, from village to village, among -the hills. - -Looking forward to Heidelberg as a place for rest and quiet study, there -was something peculiarly grateful and tranquilizing in the scene. To my -eyes the scenery presented a mingling of the wild with the -cultivated—of the pastoral with the grand—a combination so inspiring -that I found it difficult to keep my enthusiasm within reasonable -bounds. From the river bank, above the bridge, cannon began firing a -closing salute for the Grand Duke’s birth-day, and my heart never kept -more bounding time to the minute-guns on a Fourth of July at home. The -German passengers in the _eilwagen_ were highly gratified by my delight, -for all Germans are proud of Heidelberg. - -By a piece of good fortune the friends who had left me at Mayence and -arrived the day before, happened to be passing up the main street when -the vehicle stopped, and I was spared the risk of searching for them, -which, to one ignorant of the language, was no slight task. - -In a day or two, by the help of a _valet de place_, who spoke half a -dozen words of English, we obtained rooms in a large house overhanging -the Neckar. From one side we looked upon the Heiligenberg, so near that -we could hear the girls singing among the vines every morning, and all -day long the rapid river below us was noisy with raftsmen, guiding the -pines they had felled among the Suabian hills down to the Rhine. On the -other side the Kaiserstuhl stood between us and the eastern sky, and we -always saw the sunrise first on the opposite mountains. In the cool, -cloudless autumn mornings, the air was full of church-chimes and merry -voices, which came echoed back from the hills, so that our first waking -sensation was one of pleasure, and every day brought us some new form of -enjoyment. - -The valley of the Neckar is narrow, and only the little slopes which -here and there lie between the feet of its wooded mountains are capable -of cultivation. Higher up, there are glens and meadows of luxuriant -grass, to which the peasants drive their cattle, further still, it is -barren and rocky, and upon the summits dwells a solitude as complete as -upon the unsettled prairies of the far West. An hour’s walk takes one -from the busy streets of the little city to this beautiful and lonely -region, and the stranger may explore the paths he finds leading far away -among the hills, for weeks together, without exhausting their store of -new scenes and influences. The calm impressiveness of these mountain -landscapes disposes the mind to quiet thought, and one who has felt them -till their spirit grew familiar, is at no loss to comprehend the -inspiration from which Schiller, Uhland and Hauff have sung. - -It is a favorite habit with the Heidelbergers, and one into which the -traveler willingly falls, to spend the last hour or two of daylight in a -walk by the Neckar, in the gardens of the castle, or off in the forests. -At spots of especial beauty rustic inns have been erected, where, at -tables in the shade, the visiter is furnished with beer, cool from its -underground vaults, and thick curds, to which a relish is given by sugar -and powdered cinnamon. The most noted of these places is the -Wolfsbrunnen, about a mile and a half from the city, in a lonely glen, -high up on the mountain. A large stone basin, two centuries old, stands -there, pouring out a stream of the coldest and purest water, dammed up -below to form a small pool, in which hundreds of trout breed and grow -fat from the benevolence of visiters. A wooden inn, two stories high, -with balconies on all sides, is nestled among the trees, and farther -down the stream a little mill does its steady work from year to year. - -A party was once formed by our German friends, and we spent a whole -Saturday afternoon in this delicious retreat. Frau Dr. S——, who was -always ready for any piece of social merriment, had the management of -the excursion, and directed us with the skill of a general. Fräulein -Marie, her niece, a blooming maiden of eighteen, and Madame Louise ——, -a sprightly little widow from Mannheim, with Dr. S——, one or two -students, and we Americans, were her subjects. Every thing was arranged -with precision before we started. The books, the cards, the music -(including a most patient guitar) were distributed among those best able -to carry them, and we finally started, without any particular order of -march. German etiquette forbids a lady to take the arm of a male friend, -unless she is betrothed to him; talking is allowed, fortunately. - -As we climbed to the terraces of the castle, we could see the thread of -the Rhine, in the distance, sparkling through the haze. The light air -which came down the Neckar was fragrant with pine and the first falling -leaves of summer trees. The vineyards below us were beginning to look -crisp and brown, but hanging from stake to stake the vines were bent -down by blue clusters, with the bloom still upon them. Troops of -light-hearted students, children, blue-eyed and blond-haired, and -contented citizens, were taking the same path, and like them, we forgot -every thing but the sense of present happiness. - -We had a table spread upon the upper balcony of the inn, after our -scattered forces returned from many a long ramble up the glen and out on -the meadows. Frau Dr. S—— ordered a repast, and the “landlady’s -daughter”—not the sweet maid of Uhland’s song, but a stout-armed and -stout-waisted damsel—brought us a jar of curds, dripping with the cool -water in which it had stood. A loaf of brown bread next made its -appearance, followed by a stone jug of foaming beer, and two or three -dishes of those prune-tarts peculiar to Germany, completed the fare. On -the porch below us, two or three musicians played waltzes, and the -tables around the fountain were filled with students, laughing, clinking -their beer-glasses, or trolling some burschen chorus. Our own table did -not lack the heartiest spirit of mirth; this could not be otherwise so -long as Frau Dr. S—— sat at the head of it. The students were gay and -full of life, and even Dr. S——, the most earnest and studious of the -party, was so far influenced by the spirit of the time, that he sang the -“King of Thule” with more warmth than I had thought possible. - -The afternoon sped away like a thought, and Heidelberg was forgotten -until the faint sound of its evening chimes came up the valley. We -returned in time to see a glowing sky fade over the mountains of -Alsatia, and then first, as the twilight gathered, came the remembrance -of home—a remembrance which did not chide the happiness of the day. - -One of these excursions was accompanied by a different and less -agreeable finale. A small party had been arranged to visit the ruins of -St. Michael’s Chapel, on the summit of the Holy Mountain. I had ascended -it previously, after an hour’s climbing, directly up the side, but as -ladies were to accompany us, it was necessary to take a winding road, -two or three miles in length, to reach the chapel. We mounted, by -flights of steps through the terraced vineyards, to the Philosopher’s -Walk, followed it to a retired glen called the Angels’ Meadow, and then -entered a forest-road. The wind roared loudly among the trees, and the -sky grew darker as we ascended, but we took little heed of these signs. -Finally, however, on reaching a rocky point whence we could look down on -the Rhine-plain, we were somewhat alarmed to see a heavy rain-cloud -approaching from the west. The chapel was still half a mile distant, and -its open walls and dismantled towers could afford us no protection, so -there was nothing left but to turn about and descend with all speed. - -The rain had just crossed the Rhine, and would probably be half an hour -in reaching us, and as we could trace its misty advance on the sheet of -landscape below us, we hoped to time our rate of walking so as to reach -some shelter before it struck the mountain. Vain hope!—before we -reached the Angels’ Meadow the wind fairly howled among the trees, and -swept over us, laden with dust and showers of leaves. The rain followed, -and as our path led over the exposed ridge of the mountain, the arrows -of the storm smote pitilessly in our faces. The ladies shrieked, the men -groaned, and, like Norval’s barbarians, we “rushed like a torrent,”—and -with a torrent—“upon the vale.” When we arrived at the village of -Neuenheim the shower was nearly over, but it might have continued all -day, without more effect upon us. - -The village of Ziegelhausen, up the Neckar, with its grim old convent, -gardens and cascades, and the delightful arbors of vine, reaching down -to the very brink of the river, is another favorite place of resort. The -pastor of its church, who was familiar with our German friends, would -frequently join us in an afternoon walk, followed by a cup of tea in the -garden of the inn, and frequently by a share in the games of the village -children. The pastor was a most jovial, genial character; he sang very -finely—indeed, he was brother to the _primo tenore_ in the Opera at -Brunswick—and his wit was inexhaustible. His religion was as genuine as -his cheerfulness; it was no gloomy ascetism, which looked on mirth as -sin, but a joyous, affectionate and abounding spirit, bright as God’s -sunshine and as unconscious of its blessing. How happily passed those -September afternoons, warmed by such true social feeling, and refreshed -by all the kindly influences of nature! If a return like this to the -simple joys of the child’s heart be but obtained by the mature age of a -nation, I could almost wish this country might grow old speedily. The -restless energy of Youth is still upon us. The nation overflows with -active impulses, which fear nothing, and yield to nothing. We have not -yet felt the need of Rest. - -I have said nothing of my struggles with the perverse German -language—my daily sieges, advancing from trench to trench, till the -strong fortress was stormed and all its priceless stores in my -possession. I have not spoken of my blunders arising from ignorance and -inexperience, nor the novelty of customs and life so different from -ours. These would be tedious, nor are they necessary to give some -impression of Heidelberg in its most delightful season. The most -romantic and picturesque of all German cities, and therefore most -thronged by romance-hunting tourists, its good old social character is -still happily preserved. The last Revolution has fortunately spared it, -and in spite of railroads beside its mountains, and steamboats on the -Neckar, it will be for many years to come one of the pleasantest spots -in Europe. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE GRASS OF THE FIELD. - - - BY CAROLINE MAY. - - - The grass of the field shall be now my theme, - For when winter is past, and the snow - Has melted away from the earth like a dream, - No flowers that in loveliness grow - More dear, or more beautiful ever can be - Than the simple grass of the field to me. - - It springs up so quick, when showers call aloud - For every thing glad to come forth; - And when the sun bursts from his rainbow-cloud, - As the rain passes off to the north— - It shines in his glory, and laughs in his light, - The green grass of the field, so glistening and bright. - - Happy children love in the grass to play, - Thick and soft for their dancing feet; - And there the wild bees gather honey all day - From the clover so blushing and sweet, - And find no stores that the garden can yield - Are richer than those from the grass of the field. - - The lark makes his nest in the twining grass, - And methinks when he soars to the skies, - And sings the clear notes that all others surpass, - His gladness must surely arise - From the lowly content of that innocent breast, - Which finds in the grass of the field a safe nest. - - There are few who notice the delicate flower - That blooms in the grass at their feet, - Yet the proudest plant in the greenhouse or bower - Is not fairer, or more complete; - And to those who observe—it is clearly revealed - That God clothes with beauty the grass of the field. - - The mower comes out so busy and blythe, - At the dawn of a summer’s day, - And the tall waving grass at the stroke of his scythe - Is cut down and withers away: - But the fragrance it sends over valley and hill - Makes the grass of the field loved and lovely still. - - And while on the perishing grass we look, - A soft voice in the summer wind - Will whisper the words of the Holy Book - To the humble and thoughtful mind. - “All flesh is as grass,” it will seem to say— - “Like the flower of the grass ye shall pass away.” - - But oh! we will hope with a faith secure— - Through the years of this mortal strife— - On the words of the Lord, which forever endure, - For in them is eternal life: - Thus lessons of truth all our pleasures will yield, - And wisdom we’ll learn from the grass of the field. - - * * * * * - - - - - TO AN ABSENT SISTER. - - - BY MRS. MARY G. HORSFORD. - - - Thy natal morn hath dawned again - With pure and cloudless ray; - May Peace and Hope attend thy steps, - Sweet sister, on this day. - - It is the first that ever found - Me severed from thy side, - And tears will mingle with my prayer - At morn and eventide. - - For I have yearned to lay my hand - In blessing on thy brow, - And speak the earnest words of love - That stir my spirit now; - - Have longed, but longed in vain, to meet - The dark and sunny eye, - That has from childhood been to me - A star in every sky. - - Have sought amid a stranger band - The smile I loved so well, - And lived in spirit o’er again - A sorrowful farewell! - - And thou hast missed a warm caress, - And wept its loss, I know, - For we were joined as flowers that spring - From the same root below; - - The early sunbeam as it stole - Across our quiet room, - Seemed to thy tearful eyes to wear - An all unwonted gloom. - - And low winds seemed with mournful wail - The forest leaves to thrill, - As memory whispered that thou hadst - A vacant place to fill. - - But we have loved as few can love, - For years, through storm and shine, - And though our paths lie separate now, - Thy heart still clings to mine. - - By childhood’s smiles and youth’s gay dreams, - By memories of the dead, - By the stern discipline of grief, - My soul to thine is wed: - - Links as eternal as the prayer - We used to breathe at even, - As ever-during as the vow - That binds us unto Heaven. - - Then blessings on thee, dearest one, - My heart leaps o’er the sea; - I feel thy breath upon my cheek, - May God watch over thee. - - * * * * * - - - - - TASTE. - - - BY MISS AUGUSTA C. TWIGGS. - - -This seems a little word, while we repeat it less than one second of -time is consumed, yet in its signification it is a great word—a word of -vast and unmeasured import: - -By it we understand a just appreciation of the good, the beautiful, the -pleasant, the worthy and the useful: - -Still it is not alike to all: Tastes differ with characters, and -characters with men. By an all wise Creator was this so ordained, and in -every thing we see the wisdom and the beauty of His system. - -Suppose, for instance, we pass in fancy around this vast globe, as we -progress onward, countries, climates, men and characters undergo every -conceivable grade of change. Gradually we pass from regions inhabited by -enlightened men—men of learning and deep research, men to whom Science -seems to have lent her very self, until we come to a race of beings -between whom and the brute creation there is scarcely a demarcation: Yet -each and every one of these thousands upon thousands of countless beings -has his own peculiar sphere of action, and his own especial tastes, -adapted to his position and circumstances. - -Taste may, however, be improved or debased, elevated to the highest -appreciations, the noblest conceptions, or lowered to the most sordid -views, the most groveling level, and this is left to man himself—to -rise or fall, to sink or soar, is left to his own choice, and is within -his own power. - -Of course this remark is not unqualified, it is not intended that the -natives of Central Africa, or of the inhabited regions around the Poles, -can improve their moral condition, and rise to the same high standard as -may the enlightened nations of Europe or of our own loved country. To -assert such a thing would be preposterous, to expect it ridiculous. Our -resources are not their resources, our advantages not theirs, but there -is implanted in the breast of every man a frame-work and basis, with -which, and upon which, he may build something that shall make him better -than he now is. And the greater his advantages, the vaster the amount of -material furnished him wherewith to work, the more will be expected of -him, and higher and higher will the eyes of men rise, seeking for the -pinnacles of that temple of the mind which they of a right expect him to -rear. - -To ensure without fail the meeting of their views, (perchance to surpass -them,) it is not sufficient to seize indiscriminately and pile block -upon block, and stone upon stone. It is not sufficient to heap up a vast -mountain of brick and mortar, jumbled together without taste or -elegance, and then write upon it—This is Parian marble—these are -classic proportions. This will not do, the cheat will be found out, and -Ridicule will mingle her laughter with the shouts and jeers of the -multitude as they mock and scan the shallow attempt at imposition. - -What then is to be done? - -This—let us seek Taste, let us acquaint ourselves with her, coax her, -court her, make her our own, and we are safe. But we must be sure it is -no impostor, no false being who assumes the name, for there are such, -and they are to be shunned. We must “be sure we are right, then” onward, -right onward. - -True taste will teach us to select the choice blocks, the finely grained -and unflawed marble, she will bid us to reject the huge, coarse, -glittering rocks with which some will strive to dazzle our eyes and -mislead our judgment, and cause us to turn aside from those brittle and -perishing kinds which will scarce bear handling. - -Having chosen our materials, now let us build. Up go the blocks one -after another, and high the temple grows. Day by day it increases in -height, but why is it men stand and gaze with mortified and disappointed -looks upon the structure? Why do no sounds of encouragement, no -acclamations and shouts of admiration reach the ear? Hear the reason—we -sought Taste—we courted her, we bid her aid us seek our materials, and -teach us how to judge of them. She did so—that done we scorned her aid, -we forgot her, and trusting in ourselves we reared a vast work of folly. - -But “_nil desperandum_,” there is yet time. Tear down the monument of -heedlessness and call Taste to teach us once again. Faithful she returns -at our bidding. Now hark to the sound of the mallet and chisel as they -ring against the stone, chip by chip of superfluous material is worked -away, piece by piece which is unneeded is broken off and thrown aside -until some other work shall call them into use. - -Now seems to become exhumed, as from a grave of stone and rubbish, the -massive pedestal, the firm base, the graceful column, the sculptured -capital and the rich cornice. Day by day, and hour by hour, these -multiply in true and classic beauty, and higher and higher skyward soars -the now elegant structure, until, amid the shouts and admiration of the -world, the voice of Reason proclaims that Taste has fashioned it. - -This, then, is an edifice, a work worthy of the mind, formed from -materials the choicest within man’s reach, wrought out and builded by -the hand of Taste; it is worthy to be gazed upon, to be admired and -copied by all. - -Age after age will go by, but still it will stand firm, and beautiful, -and admired as when the artist gave the last stroke, and proclaimed it -to the world as finished. - -Are proofs required, among the names of the ancients may be found those -time-honored and long worshiped ones of Lysippus, Polycletus, -Praxiteles, Timanthes, Appelles, Zeuxis, Parrhasius, Plato, Aristotle, -Pliny, Ovid, Pollio, Catullus, Demosthenes, Thucydides, Xenophon, -Aristophanes, Orpheus, Archilocus and Timotheus, together with many, -many of their cotemporaries, for whose names I have no space, but whose -memories are still, and still are to be, revered. - -Following in the path which these have hewn through the thickets of -prejudice and ignorance comes a long bright train. Amidst the stars of -this latter day firmament gleam conspicuous the names of Banks, Young, -Cole, West, White, Vandyck, Tasso, Titian, Rittenhouse, Mozart, Milton, -Crabbe, Gallileo and Godfry, and ever and anon new and brilliant planets -flash forth and shed their glad effulgence around. - -Could this be without Taste? - -It could not. Glorious and rich and varied as are the works of those -whose efforts and the productions of whose minds have tended to elevate -and improve our condition, they never could have been without Taste to -suggest—Taste to aid, and Taste to accomplish the mighty, the -stupendous, the gigantic works they have wrought. - -What was it, let us inquire, that induced the ancient Egyptians to build -the city of Thebes in such glorious magnificence that even its ruins -produced effects upon historians to cause them to be immortalized? Homer -tells of her hundred gates, from each of which two hundred chariots and -ten thousand warriors could issue at a time. To her palaces painting and -sculpture had lent all their art, combining to render this city one of -the glories of the world. Was not this Taste? - -What, too, induced them to erect those monuments of the strength of man -and tyranny of kings—the Obelisks and Pyramids, to erect them in such -huge size and vast strength that still they stand, as through long ages -they have stood, firm and immovable as the “everlasting hills?” - -Taste. - -Need we ask Astronomy, that grand and elevating science, the -contemplation of which forces upon us our own insignificance, and raises -us from “Nature up to Nature’s God”—that science which teaches us to -admire and wonder, to gaze and fear, to glorify and adore the _Great -Being_ who formed “Arcturus, Orion and the Pleiades.” Need we ask to -what considerations upon the part of man we are indebted for the -important and immense researches which all lie open to us, which teach -us to trace out the constellations, and “call the stars by their -names”—which drew Phytheas from his home and caused him to wander -unsatisfied with the observations he was able to make in his own -country, from the Pillars of Hercules to the mouth of the Tanais—which -made Egypt, Rome, Spain, France, Germany and Denmark the cradles of the -then infant science? - -Is it necessary to reply it is Taste? - -Turn we then to Philosophy, and in the deep researches of Thales, the -moral reasoning of Socrates, the eloquence of Plato, and the -disinterestedness of Zenocrates read of Taste. - -Chemistry, with all its brilliant discoveries, and Rhetoric, in its -elegance, speak of it. - -Music, Oratory, History, Geography, Grammar and Physic are each and all -of them proofs of Taste in its truth and purity; and Poetry shouts forth -with glad and eager pride Eureka! we have found it. - -The beauty, delicacy and usefulness of Botany, the rich and varied hue -of the flowers, those “gems of earth,” whisper softly to us of Taste; -and the importance of Anatomy proves it. - -Metaphysics and Geometry demonstrate its truth; while the wild bird’s -carol hymns forth its notes of praise and gladness to the Creator of it -and of that element of man’s happiness, Taste. - -It is here, it is there, it is everywhere, one grand, pervading -principle, one first element, one chief ingredient of all things. - -It was implanted in the mind by _Him_ who formed us, and it is as much -the duty of man to cultivate and improve his taste, as it is his duty to -improve and cultivate any other talent lent him to keep; and he will be -considered no more excusable for wrapping this precious deposit in a -napkin and hiding it away than was the servant of old, who buried the -talent until the coming of his lord. Let us then cultivate Taste, each -according to the kind and portion given us. - -It has been said that “every man is born to excel in something, and the -only reason so many fail is they mistake their calling.” Be this as it -may, it sounds marvelously like sense, and it would be well for every -one to examine strictly, that he may discover wherein it is intended he -shall excel, and what the peculiar Taste or Tastes may be which, to -himself, to society at large, and to a _higher power_ than either, it is -his duty to cultivate. - -Yet although Taste has been given us, and we are required to improve and -use it to the best advantage, it is not intended there are no other -gifts bestowed on man which can equal it. That would be to assume for it -more than could well be proven. It is intended that Taste shall act as a -means of enjoyment and happiness, as a means whereby we can investigate -causes, and admire and apply effects—a means whereby we can dive into -the very depths of science and open the sealed treasure-house of -knowledge—a means of searching out the beauties and glories of -creation, and comprehending, as far as the mind of man is capable of -comprehending, the wonderful omnipotence of the Deity. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE MAN OF MIND AND THE MAN OF MONEY. - - - BY T. S. ARTHUR. - - -At nineteen, Silas Loring left college and went into a store to be -educated for a merchant. At the same time, a school-companion, named -Alfred Benedict, with whom he had been intimate, was placed by his -parents in the counting-room of a large shipper. The two young men had -enjoyed equal advantages, so far as education was concerned; but they -had improved these advantages differently. The father of Loring early -impressed upon his mind the idea that wealth gave a man all power and -influence in the world; that it was the greatest good that could be -sought; while the father of Benedict urged his son to gain knowledge as -the highest and best possession. The two young men had been influenced, -as well by their natural tastes and feelings as by the opinions and -advice of their parents. On leaving college, Loring left behind him all -affection for literature or scientific pursuits, and took with him only -an ardent desire to become wealthy, accompanied by a confident assurance -that he possessed the ability required to attain the summit of his -wishes. Benedict, on the contrary, entered the world with his love of -knowledge as active as ever, and his desire for its attainment more -ardent than when he passed at first over the threshold of Wisdom’s -temple. - -Equal as to external advantages, the two young men started in the world. -Neither of their parents were rich, though both were able to give their -children a good education, that surest guaranty of success. But -difference of purpose in a few years made a great difference in their -relative positions. When Loring was twenty-five years of age he was a -partner in the house where he had served his apprenticeship, and the -most active and really intelligent business man in the firm; while -Benedict was merely a book-keeper, receiving a salary of twelve hundred -dollars a year. All the energies of the active mind of Loring, inspired -by his love of money, were given to business; while the no less active -mind of Benedict was as deeply absorbed in literary pursuits and -scientific investigations. As a book-keeper, the latter was faithful, -attentive and accurate, and valued by his employers; but beyond his -journal and ledger his thoughts never penetrated the arcana of trade. He -had no affection for it. His mind loved rather to explore the arcana of -knowledge, and gather in from fields that were ever opening before him, -rich harvests of intelligence. - -In the manners and appearance of the two young men there was also a -noticeable change. Loring had an air of self-importance, and an -off-hand, dashing sort of manner, that bespoke a mind well satisfied -with itself, and conscious of having done something. But Benedict had -become more quiet and unobtrusive. He looked like a man who did not -entertain a very high opinion of himself, as being of consequence in the -community. - -As men appear in society, so are they usually estimated by the mass. -Loring was bowed to across the street a dozen times in every square; was -met in company by a hearty shake of the hand, and treated wherever he -went as an individual of some importance. And such he really felt -himself to be. Benedict, on the contrary, might walk a dozen squares -without receiving a nod, or mingle in society and be almost unnoticed -and alone. But he did not feel this. In fact he was hardly conscious of -it; for he rarely, if ever, thought any thing about the estimation in -which others held him. His mind was in a higher and purer region. - -The intimate friendship that had existed between Loring and Benedict, -did not continue very long after they left college, although they -remained friends and acquaintances, and were interested in each other -for some years. But, after Loring had changed from a clerk to a -merchant, he began to feel that he was no longer on a level with a mere -book-keeper, who was likely to remain a book-keeper for life. Merchants -were now his associates. Men who used to bow to him with distant -formality, _now_ took him cordially by the hand, and were as familiar -with him as he had been with mere clerks before. He likewise received -invitations to the houses of these merchants, and was introduced into a -new and higher circle. In this circle he never met his old friend -Benedict. Is it any wonder that he looked down upon him as an inferior? -None. We see by means of the atmosphere by which we are surrounded, -whether naturally or spiritually. The atmosphere in which the mind of -Loring breathed and saw, was so different from the one that gave life -and vision to the mind of Benedict, that he was unable to see by it the -true quality and character of his friend. He could see in his own -atmosphere, but that which surrounded the humble book-keeper was -darkness to his eyes. - -Thus the years went by, Loring accumulating gold, and Benedict treasures -of knowledge, that neither moth nor rust could corrupt, nor thieves -break through and steal. As these treasures increased, he began to feel -a desire to impart something of what he possessed to others. This desire -prompted him to write out his reflections, experiences, and the new -views that were constantly pressing in upon his mind, and send them to -the various literary and scientific journals for publication. It was not -long before this brought him into honorable notice, and made his name -familiar to men of intelligence throughout the country, with many of -whom he gradually came into correspondence. - -“What has become of Benedict?” asked Mr. Loring, one day of the merchant -whose book-keeper he had been for many years. “I have missed him from -your store for some time.” - -“He left me several months ago,” was the reply. - -“How came that? But I suppose his mind got so lost in his literary -pursuits that he was no longer good for any thing as a clerk.” - -“He was faithful and correct to the last,” promptly answered the -individual to whom this remark was made. “I never had and never expect -to have a more valuable clerk than Benedict. But he has obtained a -better place, and one more suited to his tastes and abilities.” - -“Ah, where has he gone?” - -“To Bowdoin College. The Professorship of —— was offered to him, and -he accepted it.” - -“I didn’t know that he had any friends away off there. Isn’t it rather -singular that he should be appointed to such a chair? Do you think him -capable of filling it?” - -“I presume those who appointed him knew his ability.” - -“Did he apply for it?” - -“No. He knew nothing of the vacancy until he was notified of his -appointment.” - -“That is a little singular,” remarked Loring, wondering for the moment -how a man of so little importance, and no very distinguished ability, -should be voluntarily tendered a high professorship in Bowdoin College. -But the wonder did not occupy his mind very long. It passed away with -the thought of his old school-friend. - -Great activity and energy in a business already firmly established, in -which was ample capital, made Loring the possessor, in a few years, of -quite a handsome property. Ambitious of a more rapid increase of -fortune, and believing that he ought to have the entire benefit of his -activity, energy, and capacity for trade, he withdrew from the house in -which he was a partner, and commenced business alone. He did not err in -his calculations. The results was as favorable as he had expected. Money -came in more rapidly, and with its accumulation rose his ideas of his -own importance, until he looked down upon every man whose coffers were -not quite as full as his own, at the same time that he felt himself to -be as good as any millionaire in the land. - -It is a little singular how the mere possession of money raises a man’s -ideas of his own importance, and causes him to think meanly of all who -are not favored with any considerable portion of this world’s goods. -Upon what a slender basis of real worth do men sometimes build a -towering structure of self-conceit! Wealth is very rarely the -correspondent of solid virtue and sterling merit in those who possess -it; not that men of wealth are less virtuous or meritorious as a class, -but wealth, upon which most persons value themselves, is not the true -standard for estimating the man. It never gives quality to the heart, -principles to the mind, nor to the understanding rational intelligence. - -As Mr. Loring continued to grow richer, his ideas of his own importance -continued to rise, until he felt himself quite an “exclusive” in -society. At the age of forty, he determined to take a trip across the -Atlantic, and see the world abroad. He must spend some time in London, -Paris and Italy. In order to be prepared for this journey, he brushed up -his French, and spent his leisure time in reading about the places he -proposed to visit. So far as his knowledge of matters and things in his -own country, out of the mercantile sphere, was concerned, it was very -limited. Even in politics he was not very well posted up. As to what was -doing in literature and science, he was altogether ignorant. He was a -successful merchant, and that was about all that could be said of him. - -All things ready, Mr. Loring took passage in a steamer for Liverpool. -The ship had cast off her moorings, and was gliding swiftly along the -smooth waters of the bay, when the merchant, in turning his eyes from -the diminishing city to the nearer and more palpable objects on board -the vessel that was bearing him on to the ocean, noticed a familiar -face. At first he was at a loss where to place its owner. But soon his -memory was clear upon that subject. His old friend, Benedict, was a -fellow-passenger! The eyes of the latter were upon him, and his -countenance about expressing a pleasurable recognition, when Loring -turned away and glanced back again upon the dim and distant city. He did -not wish to renew the acquaintance. When he next looked around upon his -companions for the voyage, Benedict was not to be seen. - -There were one hundred passengers on board, and among them several men -of high reputation in the United States. A former Governor of -Massachusetts, whose name and fame were familiar to every one, was among -the number; also two men from the South, who had distinguished -themselves during many years in the national legislature. One of them -had held the office of Secretary of State. Besides these, there were -many men of standing and character both from the mercantile class and -the learned professions. In looking over the list of passengers, Mr. -Loring was well satisfied to find himself in such good company. The only -drawback was the presence of so obscure an individual as Mr. Benedict, -with whom he had once been acquainted, but toward whom he must now, in -justice to his own character and position, conduct himself as a -stranger. - -Such were the reflections of Mr. Loring, as he turned from the vessel’s -side and went below, late in the afternoon of the day on which they had -sailed. On entering the cabin, the first objects that met his eyes were -the ex-governor of Massachusetts and Mr. Benedict engaged in -conversation. This surprised him at first, but on reflection, he -explained the circumstance by supposing that Benedict had intruded -himself upon the individual with whom he was conversing, and that the -latter submitted to the intrusion from mere politeness. He sat down at -some distance from them, expecting to see their interview quickly -terminated. But he was disappointed in this, for the parties grew more -and more interested. Whenever Benedict spoke, he observed that the other -listened with deep attention, and that his manner toward him was always -respectful, and sometimes even deferential. The conversation was -prolonged until tea-time, and then the two men separated. - -There was something in this that the man of wealth could not understand. - -On the next day Mr. Loring sought an opportunity to make the formal -acquaintance of Mr. ——, from the Bay State, through the introduction -of a friend on board, who presented him as “one of our first merchants,” -going out to visit Europe. Mr. —— was very polite, and made some -commonplace remarks to the merchant, who replied with a self-importance -in his manner that did not make the impression he designed. The -ex-governor knew just how much money was worth as a standard by which to -estimate the man. The words, “one of our first merchants,” made no -impression upon him whatever. In fact, he scarcely noticed it. After -talking a short time with Mr. Loring, with a polite bow he moved away -and joined Mr. Benedict, who was standing on the opposite side of the -vessel. He was soon again in close conversation with this obscure -individual. - -Loring was not only surprised at this, but chafed. It puzzled as well as -annoyed him. He could not but remark that Mr. Benedict was perfectly at -his ease with the distinguished individual who had just left him, and -that there was nothing in the manner of Mr. —— approaching to -condescension. Not many minutes elapsed before they were joined by a -third person, to whom Mr. —— presented Loring’s old friend in a formal -introduction. This individual was from the South. He had formerly held -the office of Secretary of State at Washington. At the mention of Mr. -Benedict’s name he shook him warmly by the hand, and treated him with -marked attention. The three men then went below, where Loring saw them, -about an hour afterward, in the centre of a group of five or six, all -men of standing and character in the United States. Benedict was -speaking, and all were listening to him with deep attention. - -“Can it be possible that his fortunes have changed—that he has become -wealthy?” the merchant said to himself; and a feeling of respect for his -old acquaintance arose in his mind. - -Day after day went by, and still Mr. Benedict continued to be on terms -of intimacy with these men, while they treated Mr. Loring, who was -introduced to them by a friend, with reserved and distant politeness. - -“Who is that man?” asked the merchant, affecting not to know Benedict. -The question was put to a fellow-passenger. - -“That’s Professor Benedict,” replied the person addressed, manifesting -surprise at the question. “Are you not acquainted with him?” - -Loring shook his head. - -“You have heard of him, of course?” - -“I can’t say that I have.” - -“Not heard of Professor Benedict!” The passenger looked into the face of -Loring with a broad stare. “Why he is known from one end of our country -to the other as a distinguished scholar and man of science. His articles -in the Quarterly Review, and his essays on Political and Social Economy, -‘Wealth and Labor,’ ‘The Times,’ etc., have won for him an enviable -reputation. There are few abler men in our country than Professor -Benedict.” - -Mr. Loring asked no further questions. He felt rebuked and mortified. -Rich as he was, and highly as he valued himself, he felt that the man of -intellect was ranked higher than the man of money. In the small compass -of that steam-vessel were clustered together men of wealth, eminence, -and political distinction. There were few on board whom even Mr. Loring -would think beneath him; and yet he was treated by them with no -particular deference. When he spoke, he was listened to with the -politeness that always accompanies good-breeding; but that was all. None -gathered around him; none sought his company; none treated him as a man -distinguished from the rest. Wealth! that was a common possession; but -strong intellect was the god-like gift of the few; and men bowed before -it and yielded freely their homage. - -The proud man was deeply humbled during the brief period occupied in -sweeping across the broad Atlantic, and he felt relieved and breathed -more freely the moment he set his foot on shore at Liverpool. Shame had -kept him from renewing his acquaintance with Benedict, who continued to -be an object of interest to almost every one during the voyage. - -In the great world of London, Mr. Loring quickly recovered his balance -of mind. He took letters of introduction to eminent merchants and -bankers there, by whom he was received and treated with the greatest -attention. He was again conscious of the fact, that wealth was power, -and that the possessor of wealth ranked highest of any. - -In Paris he did not feel quite so much at ease. He brought letters to -the American Minister, the Hon. Mr. ——, who had represented our -country at the palace of St. Cloud for some five years with honor to -himself and the nation; and was received with the courtesy and attention -which always marked that gentleman’s conduct toward his countrymen. Mr. -Loring had only been in Paris a couple of days when the American -Minister said to him, - -“A distinguished countryman of ours is now in Paris. He is to dine with -me day after tomorrow, in company with about fifty of the most -celebrated scientific and literary men in the city. Your arrival is -quite opportune, Mr. Loring, I shall, of course, have the pleasure of -your company.” - -Mr. Loring bowed in acquiescence, and then inquired who the -distinguished American was. - -“Professor Benedict,” replied the minister. “He is an honor to our -country, and I feel proud of the opportunity I shall have of presenting -him to men of a like spirit with himself, to whom his name has long been -familiar.” - -Mr. Loring was confounded. - -“He has been for some years a member of the Philosophical Society here,” -continued the minister, “and his communications, published in their -annual report of proceedings, are among the finest papers that emanate -from that body. They cause honorable notice of our countryman to be made -in all the scientific journals of Europe. I need not ask you in what -estimation he is held at home, as I see by Silliman’s Journal, the North -American Review, and the transactions of the various learned societies -there, that his worth is fully known and appreciated. Have you ever had -the pleasure of meeting him?” - -“Oh, yes,” was the reply. “He is an old college-mate of mine.” - -“Indeed!” - -“Yes. We were quite intimate as young men; but our pursuits in life were -so different that, in the very nature of things, this intimate -acquaintance could not continue. But I had the pleasure of meeting him -again in crossing the Atlantic. We came over in the same steamer.” - -“Did you? That must have been a very pleasant voyage. Fair weather the -whole time, and the company of so many men eminent for their talents. -Mr. Benedict says that the two weeks he spent upon the ocean he shall -number as the most agreeable of his whole life.” - -Mr. Loring now felt himself to be in a very awkward position indeed. How -to act he did not know. He had accepted the American Minister’s -invitation to dine with him, and at his table he would meet the man whom -he had for years considered beneath him, and whose very acquaintance he -had dropped as discreditable to one in his position. And this man was to -be the honored guest! Mr. Loring retired to his hotel with his mind -bewildered and his feelings at a lower range in the thermometer of his -self-esteem than they had been for a very long time. If it had not -happened that Benedict came over in the same steamer with him, and that -he had cut his acquaintance before he knew that he had become an -individual of some note, the way would have been plain enough before -him. He could have gone to the dinner and renewed his old friendship, -and felt honored in being his countryman. But this he felt to be out of -the question now. Benedict might refuse to know him, or might treat him -in such a manner as to wound and mortify him severely, and expose him to -the just contempt of men whose good opinion he was the very man to -value. - -The exceeding smallness of the foundation upon which he had built a -towering structure of self-importance, was brought, by the circumstances -in which he was placed, with painful clearness to his mind. He saw and -felt, almost for the first time in his life, that money was not every -thing, and that it would not make a man worshiped every where, and by -all classes of men. - -For a long time the mind of Mr. Loring was in debate as to the best -course to be pursued. At one time he resolved to send a note to the -American Minister, on the day the dinner was to take place, regretting -his inability to make one of his guests, on account of indisposition. -But this intention was after a while abandoned, and he determined to -leave Paris for Italy on the next day. Like the first resolution, this -was also given up, and his mind was all in confusion again. At length he -decided, though with much reluctance, that he would call upon Mr. -Benedict, and formally renew his acquaintance. There was something, he -felt, humiliating in this; but it was a step greatly to be preferred to -any that he had yet thought of taking. He did not wish to lie direct to -the American Minister, by saying that he was indisposed; nor did he wish -to leave Paris for at least a month. - -By little and by little, since the day the steamer left New York, the -man of money had felt increasing respect for the man of mind. He saw -that he was honored by those who were themselves honorable; that he was -known and highly esteemed by distinguished men in Paris and throughout -Europe, while his name had scarcely been heard of beyond his own city. -There was no mistake about this. It was all plain as daylight. The -humble book-keeper was a greater man than the purse-proud merchant. - -The severest conflict between pride and necessity that ever took place -in Mr. Loring’s mind, was that which ended in a determination to call -upon Mr. Benedict. What his reception would be he knew not, nor could he -fix upon any mode of address, on meeting him, that was satisfactory. - -At length, after hours of hesitation and debate, and a re-consideration -of the whole matter, the merchant left his hotel and proceeded to that -of the old friend whom he had cast off years before as beneath him in -social rank and real worth. Gradually his respect for him had been -rising, until now he rather looked up than down upon him, as the -possessor of something far more intrinsically excellent than any thing -of which he could boast. Known throughout all Europe! The honored guest -of the American Minister! Courted by men of learning and distinction in -Paris! His very name a passport into the first circles, and an -introduction to the most eminent men of the day! What had he been -thinking about? Where were his eyes, that he had not before seen this -rising star, now suddenly revealed to him, shining in beauty and -splendor? Respect was easily changed into a feeling of deference. As -distinctly as he could, Mr. Loring endeavored to recall to his mind the -appearance and manner of Mr. Benedict, during the voyage across the -Atlantic. This he could not do very distinctly, as he had kept out of -his way as much as possible. Still he could recollect that there was -ease, self-possession, dignity of manner, and the consciousness of -power. These were the visible marks of a great man about him—not so -much perceived at the time at recognized, now that they were remembered. - -This was the state of mind, and such were the thoughts that oppressed -Mr. Loring, as he started on his humiliating errand. He, of course, -expected to be received with coldness and dignity, if received at all. -It might be that Mr. Benedict would decline renewing the acquaintance -that he had almost rudely dropped, which, under the circumstances, would -be mortifying in the extreme, and compel him to decline the invitation -to dine with the American Minister. - -His card sent up, the merchant awaited the return of the porter with -serious misgivings at heart. When that functionary returned, and -signified that Mr. Benedict would be happy to receive him, he proceeded -toward his apartments in a state of mind such as he had never before -experienced, and certainly never wished to experience again. A door was -thrown open by the porter, and a man, in the prime of life, stood near -the centre of the room. His quiet, thoughtful face, and calm, steady -eye, so well remembered, and so little changed by time, was lit up -instantly by a warm, frank smile, so natural and familiar, that it -seemed the smile of years before, when they met as intimate friends. He -stepped forward quickly, and grasped Mr. Loring’s extended hand. - -The merchant was subdued and humbled. He could hardly utter the words -that rose to his tongue. He stood in the presence of one who was -superior to himself, and who yet assumed no consequence. The beauty and -true nobility of this he clearly saw, because it affected himself. He -felt that Benedict possessed a generous, manly spirit and a true heart, -of the real worth of which he had never before had any conception. - -In the interview that followed this meeting, no allusion was made to the -voyage across the Atlantic by either party. The conversation mostly -referred to former years and events. - -When they separated, Mr. Loring was in some doubt as to the real -greatness of his old friend. He saw nothing in him that he had not seen -before. Not a brilliant sentence was uttered; nothing out of the common -order was apparent in his conversation. He even permitted the query to -arise in his mind whether or no he had not been overrated? Whether -distance had not lent enchantment to the view? This was his state of -mind when he met him again at the American Minister’s, surrounded by -some of the most celebrated men of learning in Paris; but it changed -after Benedict had been toasted, and he replied in an address of great -beauty, force, and originality, that enchained the attention of every -one. Loring was lost in astonishment and admiration; nor was he less -surprised at the apparent unconsciousness of being more than an ordinary -man manifested by his every act and word during the five hours that he -observed him in the midst of these eminent men, with the best of whom he -could not but acknowledge him, from what he then saw, to be equal. - -The man of money did not again come in contact with the man of mind -during his tour in Europe; nor has he met him since his return home. But -now, and he cannot but wonder why it was not so before, he hears the -name of Professor Benedict frequently mentioned, and often meets with it -in the public journals. Whenever he does so, the feeling of purse-proud -superiority that has grown with his growth, and strengthened with his -strength, has a leaf withered, a flower blighted, or a branch riven from -the stem. But the roots of that feeling are vigorous, and strike deeply -into a rich soil. Although its very luxuriant growth is at times -checked, yet we cannot hope to see the plant destroyed. It is too well -matured, and its aliment too abundant. - - * * * * * - - - - - A MAY SONG. - - - BY S. D. ANDERSON. - - - Hurrah! for sweet May, it is here with its brightness, - The songs of the birds, and the breath of the flowers, - The sighs of the zephyrs, that woo with their lightness, - And hasten the steps of the Summer’s glad hours; - The earth is all gladness—the sky is all beaming - With rose-tinted shadows of beauty and light, - As rich as those insects whose golden wings gleaming - Are twined in the hair of the maidens at night. - - The soft balmy air through the casement is singing - In tones of delight to the bud and the bee— - Like the laughter of girlhood in ecstasy ringing, - When the first star of evening has bidden them free— - In the depths of the forest the wild vine is creeping - Around the huge oak with its blossoms of gold— - And, curtained with leafiness, flowerets are sleeping, - Surrounded with perfume and beauty untold. - - Come out with the sunrise!—all Nature is glowing— - Each hill-top is bathed in the morn’s early beams; - In the valley the fragrance of spring-time is blowing, - To scatter the mists from the flower-margined streams; - On the greensward the footsteps of children are straying, - As free as the gambols of Summer’s pure air, - As, ladened with health, from the mountain ’tis playing, - And tossing each ringlet of gold-colored hair. - - With an echo of music the river is laving - Its white pebbled shore, as it dances along; - Now sunshine, now shade o’er its clear bosom waving, - Like the world’s beaten pathway, half sorrow, half song, - Far, far in the distance, the ocean is lying, - As calm and as tideless as infancy’s breast; - While the last lingering rays of the purple light dying - Is shed on its face ere it sinks into rest. - - And then comes the _eve_ with its moonlight and dreaming, - When melody floats on each whisper and sigh. - When eyes are as bright as the stars that are gleaming, - And hearts are as free as the breeze passing by. - In the wildwood the song of the night-bird is blending - With the light tread of dancers, and shoutings of mirth, - Whilst all round are the _rosy boy’s_ arrows descending, - And _love_, like our joys, has a star-lighted birth. - - The Summer’s young Ganymede’s cup is o’erflowing - With dew-drops, distilled from the Spring’s early morn, - As pure as the breath of the west wind that’s blowing, - Or wishes deep down in a maiden’s heart born; - Then a health for sweet May! what heart is not swelling - As the mild air of Summer comes soft o’er the brow, - And a thousand bright tokens all round us are telling - That the May-day of _Youth_ and _Affection_ is now. - - * * * * * - - - - - FIFTY SUGGESTIONS. - - - BY EDGAR A. POE. - - - 1. - -It is observable that, while among all nations the omni-color, white, -has been received as an emblem of the Pure, the no-color, black, has by -no means been generally admitted as _sufficiently_ typical of Impurity. -There are blue devils as well as black; and when we think _very_ ill of -a woman, and wish to _blacken_ her character, we merely call her “a -_blue_-stocking” and advise her to read, in Rabelais’ “_Gargantua_,” the -chapter “_de ce qui est signifié par les couleurs blanc et bleu_.” There -is far more difference between these “_couleurs_,” in fact, than that -which exists between simple _black_ and white. Your “blue,” when we come -to talk of stockings, is black in _issimo_—“_nigrum nigrius -nigro_”—like the matter from which Raymond Lully first manufactured his -alcohol. - - 2. - -Mr. ——, I perceive, has been appointed Librarian to the new —— -Athenæum. To him, the appointment is advantageous in many respects. -Especially:—“_Mon cousin, voici une belle occasion pour apprendre à -lire!_” - - 3. - -As far as I can understand the “loving our enemies,” it implies the -hating our friends. - - 4. - -In commencing our dinners with gravy soup, no doubt we have taken a hint -from Horace. - - —— Da, he says, si _grave_ non est, - Quæ prima iratum ventrem placaverit isca. - - 5. - -Of much of our cottage architecture we may safely say, I think, -(admitting the good intention,) that it _would_ have been Gothic if it -had not felt it its duty to be Dutch. - - 6. - -James’s multitudinous novels seem to be written upon the plan of “the -songs of the Bard of Schiraz,” in which, we are assured by Fadladeen, -“the same beautiful thought occurs again and again in every possible -variety of phrase.” - - 7. - -Some of our foreign lions resemble the human brain in one very striking -particular. They are without any sense themselves and yet are the -centres of sensation. - - 8. - -Mirabeau, I fancy, acquired his wonderful tact at foreseeing and meeting -_contingencies_, during his residence in the stronghold of _If_. - - 9. - -Cottle’s “Reminiscences of Coleridge” is just such a book as damns its -perpetrator forever in the opinion of every gentleman who reads it. More -and more every day do we moderns _pavoneggiarsi_ about our Christianity; -yet, so far as the _spirit_ of Christianity is concerned, we are -immeasurably behind the ancients. Mottoes and proverbs are the indices -of national character; and the Anglo-Saxons are disgraced in having no -proverbial equivalent to the “_De mortuis nil nisi bonum._” -Moreover—where, in all statutory Christendom, shall we find a _law_ so -Christian as the “_Defuncti injuriâ ne afficiantur_” of the Twelve -Tables? - -The simple _negative_ injunction of the Latin law and proverb—the -injunction _not to do ill_ to the dead—seems at a first glance, -scarcely susceptible of improvement in the delicate respect of its -terms. I cannot help thinking, however, that the sentiment, if not the -idea intended, is more forcibly conveyed in an apophthegm by one of the -old English moralists, James Puckle. By an ingenious figure of speech he -contrives to imbue the negation of the Roman command with a spirit of -active and positive beneficence. “When speaking of the dead,” he says, -in his “Grey Cap for a Green Head,” “_so fold up your discourse that -their virtues may be outwardly shown, while their vices are wrapped up -in silence_.” - - 10. - -I have no doubt that the Fourierites honestly fancy “a nasty poet fit -for nothing” to be the true translation of “_poeta nascitur non fit_.” - - 11. - -There surely can_not_ be “more things in Heaven and Earth than are -dreamt of” (oh, Andrew Jackson Davis!) “in _your_ philosophy.” - - 12. - -“It is only as the Bird of Paradise quits us in taking wing,” observes, -or should observe, some poet, “that we obtain a full view of the beauty -of its plumage;” and it is only as the politician is about being “turned -out” that—like the snake of the Irish Chronicle when touched by St. -Patrick—he “awakens to a sense of his _situation_.” - - 13. - -Newspaper editors seem to have constitutions closely similar to those of -the Deities in “Walhalla,” who cut each other to pieces every day, and -yet got up perfectly sound and fresh every morning. - - 14. - -As far as I can comprehend the modern cant in favor of “unadulterated -Saxon,” it is fast leading us to the language of that region where, as -Addison has it, “they sell the best fish and speak the plainest -English.” - - 15. - -The frightfully long money-pouches—“like the Cucumber called the -Gigantic”—which have come in vogue among our belles—are _not_ of -Parisian origin, as many suppose, but are strictly indigenous here. The -fact is, such a fashion would be quite out of place in Paris, where it -is money _only_ that women keep in a purse. The purse of an American -lady, however, must be large enough to carry both her money and the soul -of its owner. - - 16. - -I can see no objection to gentlemen “standing for Congress”—provided -they stand on one side—nor to their “running for Congress”—if they are -in a very great hurry to get there—but it would be a blessing if some -of them could be persuaded into sitting still, for Congress, after they -arrive. - - 17. - -If _Envy_, as Cyprian has it, be “the moth of the soul,” whether shall -we regard _Content_ as its Scotch snuff or its camphor? - - 18. - -M——, having been “used up” in the —— Review, goes about town lauding -his critic—as an epicure lauds the best London mustard—with the tears -in his eyes. - - 19. - -“_Con tal que las costumbres de un autor sean puras y castas_,” says the -Catholic Don Tomas de las Torres, in the Preface to his “Amatory Poems,” -“_importo muy poco qui no sean igualmente severas sus obras_:” meaning, -in plain English, that, provided the personal morals of an author are -pure, it matters little what those of his books are. - -For so unprincipled an idea, Don Tomas, no doubt, is still having a hard -time of it in Purgatory; and, by way of most pointedly manifesting their -disgust at his philosophy on the topic in question, many modern -theologians and divines are now busily squaring their conduct by his -proposition exactly _conversed_. - - 20. - -Children are never too tender to be whipped:—like tough beefsteaks, the -more you beat them the more tender they become. - - 21. - -Lucian, in describing the statue “with its surface of Parian marble and -its interior filled with rags,” must have been looking with a prophetic -eye at some of our great “moneyed institutions.” - - 22. - -That poets (using the word comprehensively, as including artists in -general) are a _genus irritabile_, is well understood; but the _why_, -seems not to be commonly seen. An artist is an artist only by dint of -his exquisite sense of Beauty—a sense affording him rapturous -enjoyment, but at the same time implying, or involving, an equally -exquisite sense of Deformity of disproportion. Thus a wrong—an -injustice—done a poet who is really a poet, excites him to a degree -which, to ordinary apprehension, appears disproportionate with the -wrong. Poets _see_ injustice—_never_ where it does not exist—but very -often where the unpoetical see no injustice whatever. Thus the poetical -irritability has no reference to “temper” in the vulgar sense, but -merely to a more than usual clear-sightedness in respect to Wrong:—this -clear-sightedness being nothing more than a corollary from the vivid -perception of Right—of justice—of proportion—in a word, of το καλου. -But one thing is clear—that the man who is _not_ “irritable,” (to the -ordinary apprehension,) is _no poet_. - - 23. - -Let a man succeed ever so evidently—ever so demonstrably—in many -different displays of _genius_, the envy of criticism will agree with -the popular voice in denying him more than _talent_ in any. Thus a poet -who has achieved a great (by which I mean an effective) poem, should be -cautious not to distinguish himself in any other walk of Letters. In -especial—let him make no effort in Science—unless anonymously, or with -the view of waiting patiently the judgment of posterity. Because -universal or even versatile geniuses have rarely or never been known, -_therefore_, thinks the world, none such can ever be. A “therefore” of -this kind is, with the world, conclusive. But what is the _fact_, as -taught us by analysis of mental power? Simply, that the _highest_ -genius—that the genius which all men instantaneously acknowledge as -such—which acts upon individuals, as well as upon the mass, by a -species of magnetism incomprehensible but irresistible and _never -resisted_—that this genius which demonstrates itself in the simplest -gesture—or even by the absence of all—this genius which speaks without -a voice and flashes from the unopened eye—is but the result of -generally large mental power existing in a state of _absolute -proportion_—so that no one faculty has undue predominance. _That_ -factitious “genius”—that “genius” in the popular sense—which is but -the manifestation of the abnormal predominance of some one faculty over -all the others—and, of course, at the expense and to the detriment, of -all the others—is a result of mental disease or rather, of organic -malformation of mind:—it is this and nothing more. Not only will such -“genius” fail, if turned aside from the path indicated by its -predominant faculty; but, even when pursuing this path—when producing -those works in which, certainly, it is _best_ calculated to -succeed—will give unmistakeable indications of _unsoundness_, in -respect to general intellect. Hence, indeed, arises the just idea that - - “Great wit to madness nearly is allied.” - -I say “_just_ idea;” for by “great wit,” in this case, the poet intends -precisely the pseudo-genius to which I refer. The true genius, on the -other hand, is necessarily, if not universal in its manifestations, at -least capable of universality; and if, attempting all things, it -succeeds in one rather better than in another, this is merely on account -of a certain bias by which _Taste_ leads it with more earnestness in the -one direction than in the other. With equal zeal, it would succeed -equally in all. - -To sum up our results in respect to this very simple, but much _vexata -questio_:— - -What the world calls “genius” is the state of mental disease arising -from the undue predominance of some one of the faculties. The works of -such genius are never sound in themselves and, in especial, always -betray the general mental insanity. - -The _proportion_ of the mental faculties, in a case where the general -mental power is _not_ inordinate, gives that result which we distinguish -as _talent_:—and the talent is greater or less, first, as the general -mental power is greater or less; and, secondly, as the proportion of the -faculties is more or less absolute. - -The proportion of the faculties, in a case where the mental power is -inordinately great, gives that result which _is_ the true _genius_ (but -which, on account of the proportion and seeming simplicity of its works, -is seldom acknowledged to _be_ so;) and the genius is greater or less, -first, as the general mental power is more or less inordinately great; -and, secondly, as the proportion of the faculties is more or less -absolute. - -An objection will be made:—that the greatest excess of mental power, -however proportionate, does not seem to satisfy our idea of genius, -unless we have, in addition, sensibility, passion, energy. The reply is, -that the “absolute proportion” spoken of, when applied to inordinate -mental power, gives, as a result, the appreciation of Beauty and horror -of Deformity which we call sensibility, together with that intense -vitality, which is implied when we speak of “Energy” or “Passion.” - - 24. - -“And Beauty draws us by a single hair.”—Capillary attraction, of -course. - - 25. - -It is by no means clear, as regards the present revolutionary spirit of -Europe, that it is a spirit which “moveth altogether if it move at all.” -In Great Britain it may be kept quiet for half a century yet, by placing -at the head of affairs an experienced medical man. He should keep his -forefinger constantly on the pulse of the patient, and exhibit _panem_ -in gentle doses, with as much _circenses_ as the stomach can be made to -retain. - - [_Conclusion in our next._ - - * * * * * - - - - - HISTORY OF THE COSTUME OF MEN, - - - DURING THE EIGHTEENTH AND THE BEGINNING OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. - - - BY FAYETTE ROBINSON. - - - (_Concluded from page 266._) - -When Parisian society had passed the dread ordeal which bears the name -of the Reign of Terror, through continual scenes of blood and tears, it -seemed by a strange and almost unaccountable impulse to be impelled to -mirth and festivity. On the day after the disappearance of the -guillotine French frivolity resumed its sway with a thousand whims and -vagaries, to which the stern muse of history would pay no attention, but -to which, in this sketch of the follies of humanity, we may aptly -attend. One of the whimsicalities peculiar to the day is that in memory -of the sad toilette of the guillotine, when the hair was cropped by the -shears of the executioner, a similar _coiffure_ was the _mode_. Women -laid aside their luxuriant locks for a _coiffure à la victime_, and wore -a band of blood-red velvet around the neck, as if in derision of the -fall of the axe. This fashion, emanating in France, where recklessness -had been produced by the constant presence of danger, went the round of -the world, and the _coiffure à la victime_ was worn by both sexes in -quiet neighborhoods, which had learned only by report of the fearful -atrocities committed in the capital of civilization. Balls _à la -victime_ also became the vogue, and none were at first admitted to them -except those who had lost relations on the scaffold. To some of these -balls it was requisite not to have lost collaterals only, but a parent, -or brother, sister, husband or wife. There were exclusives even there, -and a new nobility of the scaffold was created. This was the era of -corsets _à la justice_ and bonnets _à la humanité_. - -Away with care! Bring in the violin and minstrels! was the cry. A mania -for the dance pervaded all society. High and low, aristocrats and -people, antiques and moderns all danced. The chapel of the old Carmelite -convent became a ballroom, and the Jesuits’ college a place of -festivity, as did also the convents of _Saint-Sulpice_ of the _Filles de -Saint-Marie_. In the _guinguettes_ and in the most elegant society all -danced. “If the traces of crime and degradation were seen every where -else,” says a writer of that age, “a man of taste had at least the -consolation to find in these brilliant assemblages society not unlike -that which made Paris once the wonder of the world. The winter-balls are -the asylum of good taste, elegance and propriety. In them a young man -may purify himself by the spectacle of triumphant VIRTUE.” Yet the only -requisite to admission to these balls was a subscription of 96 francs, -(about $19.20.) A cotemporary thus describes one of the most celebrated -of these reunions, that at the Hotel Richelieu, in a manner to make us -skeptical about the virtue. “It is,” says he, “an arch of _transparent -robes_ of lace, head-dresses of gold and diamonds. A subscription is -required, and the visiter is ushered into the society of perfumed -goddesses, crowned with flowers, who float about in Athenian robes, and -receive the lisping flattery of the _incroyables_, who prate of their -_parole d’honneur_.” It need not be said this is a mere _phase_ of -Parisian society, fortunately not reflected by the rest of the world. - -The ball of the Opera was revived, and to it we must look for the most -striking specimens of costume. The plain black domino exclusively worn -at such places during the monarchy had disappeared, and was replaced by -a similar garment of the most striking colors. Turks, Chinese and the -old traditional characters were exiled to the places of popular -amusement, and the great room of the Opera was filled with Caius Marius, -Dentatus, Cicero, Mutius Scævola, Pericles, Lycurgus, Cymon and -Herodotus. The charm, however, was gone; the new society had no -traditions; the people composing it were almost ignorant of each other, -and the playful badinage of which the old balls had been the scene was -lost forever. The _Jeunesse Dorée_, as the courtiers of the Directory -and Consulate were called, frequented these balls most faithfully, but -the old prestige was destroyed, and families were not seen as they had -been in the days of old. - -It is strange with what rapidity from the epoch of the Directory a taste -for luxury and pleasure sprung up in the minds of the people. Music -again resumed its sway, and a hundred places of public amusement were -opened. One of the most significant evidences that the late or present -French Revolution is not yet over, is the fact that as yet public -amusements do not thrive, and that the people look elsewhere for -excitement than to the stage and concert. The most curious of all -spectacles is the stormy deliberation of the Assembly, and the artistes -of the Executive power the most attractive of all performers. - -Gradually a disposition _to make a figure_ inoculated society. As the -Revolution became distant luxury increased. Yet it was not the _faste_ -of old monarchy, but a new splendor, which the persons left on the -surface of society by the _bouleversement_ of all orders threw around -them. The women in the lowness of the bosoms of their dresses descended -below even the modesty required by the Regency, and the _incroyables_ -became more fantastic than the _marquis_. The following was the costume -they adopted, and a more tasteless one can scarcely be conceived: - -[Illustration] - -They were not so richly dressed as their predecessors, nor were they so -elegant and graceful, but their manners were quite as affected. Then -came again the taste for gallant acrostics and love songs, which caused -the poetry of the Cheniers to be forgotten for _fantasies_ addressed to -the popular actresses. This prodigality was the more criminal because it -had a contrast in alarming want. The Revolution did not make France more -rich, nor did the hecatombs slain in defence of the liberty of the -country make the cornfields and vineyards more fruitful. French -prodigality was imitated everywhere, and to this recklessness may we -attribute the fact of the great increase of the expense of dress in -every grade of society over all the civilized world. - -The mode of wearing the hair for men had long become fixed; it was -cropped and _au naturel_, and has thus remained to our own day. The male -costume became every day more and more inelegant. Frocks were worn -short, loose and broad; pantaloons loose as a sailor’s lasted to a late -day of the empire. This costume had but one merit, simplicity, a quality -inspection of the following engraving will show it to have possessed in -a great degree. - -[Illustration] - -All embroidery was abandoned. In 1803 the coat had taken its definite -form, where there is every prospect that it will remain permanent. It -had an immense collar and was very short before, but it was yet a coat. -Pantaloons were by no means what they are now, yet still the garment is -unchanged. The hat had become round, and the cravat was stationary. - -This brings us to the end of our subject. From the doublet of Louis XIV. -costume has been traced to our time, and an impartial observer will be -satisfied we have lost nothing by the change; for none who compare the -garments of the _schneiders_ of our own era with those of the Latours or -Justins of old, will think good taste has retrograded, or dream of -comparing the bucket-like things which once were worn on the head, with -the tasteful and artistic hats of Oakford. Thus ends this disquisition -on dress, which, believe me, is no trifle; and the evidence of it is, -that nothing more ridiculous can be conceived, than would be a -President, a Senate, or a Supreme Court _in puris naturalibus_. - - * * * * * - - - - - WILD-BIRDS OF AMERICA. - - - BY PROFESSOR FROST. - - -[Illustration] - - - THE CAT-BIRD. - -The Cat-Bird is one of our earliest morning songsters, beginning -generally before break of day, and hovering from bush to bush with great -sprightliness when there is scarcely light sufficient to distinguish -him. His favorite note is the one from which he takes his name, and is -known to every farmer’s boy in the United States. It so exactly -resembles the mewing of a kitten as to be invariably taken for it by the -uninitiated; and when a number of these birds get together it is -difficult to resist the impression that all the feline residents of an -entire village are gravely discussing some important subject. But in -addition to this rather singular tone, the Cat-Bird has a variety of -others, made up, it is true, mostly of imitations, but blended together -with considerable strength and melody. The Cat-Bird is indeed no mean -songster, and when listened to attentively is capable of at once -pleasing and interesting. He is one of the most familiar of the -feathered race, seeming to have very little dread of man, and building -his nest in every garden hedge. His confidence is but too often repaid -with death; and notwithstanding his friendly habits he is persecuted -with singular and unrelenting prejudice by every inmate of the -farm-house. It must be acknowledged that he sometimes revenges himself -by drafts upon the strawberry-beds and cherry-trees. - -The Cat-Bird is one of the most prolific of the feathered race, and were -he to fly in flocks would darken the air. He probably winters in -Florida, from whence he reaches Georgia early in March. In the following -month he appears in Pennsylvania. His nest is generally finished by the -beginning of May. The place is usually a hawthorn fence, a small tree, -briers, brambles or a thick vine. The female lays four eggs, of a -greenish blue color, and sometimes raises three broods in a season. In -affection and attention to their young the Cat-Bird is unsurpassed. The -cry of man imitating their brood will frequently throw her apparently -into fits; and in their defence both male and female often risk their -lives. He boldly attacks the black-snake, striking him on the head with -his bill, until the baffled reptile is glad to withdraw from the coveted -nest. It is rare that the female forsakes her eggs, even after they have -been handled by man. If one or two be broken she continues to sit upon -the others; and if strange eggs are put in she, with the assistance of -her mate, turns them out. If the nest be removed to another situation -she follows it and continues to sit as before. - -The Cat-Bird is nine inches long, of a deep slate color above, which -fades into a lighter tint on the breast and throat. The legs, bill and -tail are black, with some red about the latter. He is sometimes -domesticated, and in the cage will eat fruit, insects, bread, cakes, and -nearly every kind of vegetable. He is fond of the water, and, when wild, -frequently dashes through it with great velocity. The species is said to -reach as far north as Kamschatka. - -The author of the American Ornithology thus philosophizes on the -ungrounded antipathy against this harmless and interesting bird: - -“Even those by whom it is entertained, can scarcely tell you why; only -they ‘hate Cat-Birds;’ as some persons tell you they hate Frenchmen, -they hate Dutchmen, etc., expressions that bespeak their own narrowness -of understanding and want of liberality. Yet, after ruminating over in -my own mind all the probable causes, I think I have at last hit upon -some of them; the principal of which seems to me to be a certain -similarity of taste, and clashing of interest, between the Cat-Bird and -the farmer. - -“The Cat-Bird is fond of large, ripe garden-strawberries; so is the -farmer, for the good price they bring in the market; the Cat-Bird loves -the best and richest early cherries; so does the farmer, for they are -sometimes the most profitable of the early fruit; the Cat-Bird has a -particular partiality for the finest, ripe mellow pears; and these are -also particular favorites with the farmer. But the Cat-Bird has -frequently the advantage of the farmer, by snatching off the first -fruits of these delicious productions; and the farmer takes revenge by -shooting him down with his gun, as he finds old hats, wind-mills, and -scare-crows are no impediments in his way to these forbidden fruits; and -nothing but this resource—the ultimatum of farmers as well as -kings—can restrain his visits. The boys are now set to watch the -cherry-trees with the gun; and thus commences a train of prejudices and -antipathies, that commonly continue through life. Perhaps, too, the -common note of the Cat-Bird, so like the mewing of the animal whose name -it bears, and who itself sustains no small share of prejudice, the -homeliness of its plumage, and even his familiarity, so proverbially -known to beget contempt, may also contribute to this mean, illiberal and -persecuting prejudice; but with the generous and the good, the lovers of -nature and rural charms, the confidence which the familiar bird places -in man, by building in his garden, under his eye, the music of his song, -and the interesting playfulness of his manners, will always be more than -a recompense for all the little stolen morsels he snatches.” - -[Illustration] - - - THE CHICADEE. - -This bird is also known as the Black-capt Titmouse. It is an active, -hardy animal, abounding in the Northern and Middle States, Canada, and -as far north as the 60th parallel. It is a familiar and amusing bird, -often making its appearance in our cities in fall or winter, and -approaching near to man, in order to glean from his bounty or -carelessness a supply of food. During the same seasons large flocks -scour the fields and woods in search of insects, larvæ, seeds and -berries. Kernels containing oil, and the fat of animals are greedily -devoured by them. When all these fail, they enter barns, sheds, and the -roofs of houses, clearing them of moths, eggs of insects, spiders and -wood-worms. They appear to be very little affected by extreme cold, -being provided with thick downy feathers, and a constitution naturally -robust. In winter, numbers collect on a snow-bank, and swallow small -pieces, either to slake thirst or for pleasure. On such occasions, and -generally when collecting food, they keep up a continual chattering, -which renders their places of haunt easy of discovery. - -The Chicadee builds in the hollows of trees, the nest being constructed -of moss, feathers, and similar soft materials. The eggs are from six to -a dozen in number, white, speckled with red. They rear two broods in a -season. The young are strong and lively, requiring little assistance -from the old ones, but living with them, as one family, through the fall -and winter. - -Beside the usual chicking note of this bird, from whence its name, it -has a harsh angry tone, to express anger or fright, and a kind of -melancholy wail, approaching a song. Sometimes its voice is said to -resemble the noise produced by sharpening a saw. “These birds,” says -Wilson, “sometimes fight violently with each other, and are known to -attack young and sickly birds that are incapable of resistance, always -directing their blows against the skull. Being in the woods one day, I -followed a bird for some time, the singularity of whose notes surprised -me. Having shot him from off the top of a very tall tree, I found it to -be the Black-Headed Titmouse, with a long and deep indentation in the -cranium, the skull having been evidently at some former time drove in -and fractured, but was now perfectly healed. Whether or not the change -of voice could be owing to this circumstance, I cannot pretend to -decide.” The unnatural practice of destroying their sick is however -denied of these birds by late writers. - -The Chicadee is five and a half inches in length, and six in extent. The -whole upper part of the head and neck is black, and the body a -mouse-color. It has often been confounded with the European Marsh -Titmouse, but there seems good reason to consider this as an error. The -foreign bird is never seen in flocks, frequents streams or -water-courses, and has a note quite different from that of the Chicadee. -It is also an inch shorter. - - * * * * * - - - - - ARIEL IN THE CLOVEN PINE. - - - BY BAYARD TAYLOR. - - - Now the frosty stars are gone: - I have watched them, one by one, - Fainting on the shores of Dawn. - Round and full the glorious sun - Walks with level step the spray, - Through his vestibule of Day, - While the wolves that howled anon - Slink to dens and coverts foul, - Guarded by the demon owl, - Who, last night, with mocking croon - Wheeled athwart the chilly moon, - And with eyes that blankly glared - On my direful torment stared. - - The lark is flickering in the light; - Still the nightingale doth sing— - All the isle, alive with Spring, - Lies, a jewel of delight - On the blue sea’s heaving breast: - Not a breath from out the West, - But some balmy smell doth bring - From the sprouting myrtle buds, - Or from meadows wide, that lie - Each a green and dazzling sky, - Paved with yellow cowslip-stars, - Cloud-like, crossed by roseate bars - Of the bloomy almond woods, - And lit, like heaven, with fairest sheen - Of the sun that hangs between. - All is life that I can spy, - To the farthest sea and sky, - And my own the only pain - Within this ring of Tyrrhene main. - - In the gnarled and cloven Pine - Where that hell-born hag did chain me, - All this orb of cloudless shine, - All this youth in Earth’s old veins - Tingling with the Spring’s sweet wine, - With a sharper torment pain me. - Pansies, in soft April rains - And April’s sun, from Thea’s lap - Fill their stalks with honeyed sap, - But the sluggish blood she brings - To the tough Pine’s hundred rings, - Closer locks their cruel hold, - Closer draws the scaly bark - Round my prison, lightning-riven; - So when Winter, wild and dark, - Vexes wave and writhing wold - And with murk vapor swathes the heaven, - I must feel the vile bat creep - In my narrow cleft, to sleep. - By this coarse and alien state - Is my dainty essence wronged; - The fine sense that erst belonged - To my nature, chafes at Fate, - Till the happier elves I hate, - Who in moonlight dances turn - Underneath the palmy fern, - Or in light and twinkling bands - Follow on with linked hands - To the Ocean’s yellow sands. - - The primrose-bells each morning ope - In their cool, deep beds of grass; - Violets make the airs that pass - Tell-tales of their fragrant slope. - I can see them where they spring - Never brushed by fairy wing. - All those corners I can spy - In the island’s solitude, - Where the dew is never dry, - Nor the miser bees intrude. - Cups of rarest hue are there, - Full of perfumed wine undrained— - Mushroom banquets, ne’er profaned, - Canopied by maiden-hair. - Pearls I see upon the sands, - Never touched by other hands, - And the rainbow bubbles shine - On the ridged and frothy brine, - Tenantless of voyager - Till they burst in vacant air. - O the songs that sung might be - And the mazy dances woven, - Had that witch ne’er crossed the sea - And the Pine been never cloven! - - Many years my direst pain - Has made the wave-rocked isle complain. - Winds, that from the Cyclades - Came, to ruffle with foul riot - Round its shore’s enchanted quiet, - Bore my waitings on the seas; - Sorrowing birds in Autumn went - Through the world with my lament. - Still the bitter fate is mine, - All delight unshared to see, - Smarting in the cloven Pine, - While I wait the tardy axe - Which, perchance, shall set me free - From the damned witch, Sycorax. - - * * * * * - - - - - REMINISCENCES; - - - OR AUNT ABBY’S PINCUSHION. - - - BY EMMA C. EMBURY. - - -Reader, do you love old houses, old books, old pieces of furniture, old -chairs, in short, all the relics of antiquity which fashionable people -usually discard and despise? If so, there is a bond of sympathy between -us, and I shall not be afraid to rake among the cold ashes of the past -for some unconsumed remnant of other days, even though I find only -trifles to reward my search. The very table on which I write, black with -age, and wearing a polish which nothing but years and years of manual -labor could have given it, owes its peculiar favor in my eyes to the -fact of its being more than a century old. What stories could it not -tell of days gone by; what reminiscences of tea-drinkings, and -christenings, and weddings, and funerals must be imbedded in every pore -of the old mahogany! - -But for real hearty enjoyment of such a taste for homely antiquities, -commend me to an old-fashioned secretary, (_that_ is the true -name—_bureau_ is but a modern Gallicism,) with its desk, and -pigeon-holes, and secret-drawers, especially if it have been an heirloom -in possession of a maiden aunt, who died a spinster of seventy-two, or -thereabouts. What stores of relics it contains—locks of hair taken from -the heads of pretty children, whom we only recollect as wrinkled old -bodies that seemed never to have been young; mourning-rings, with -obituary inscriptions of persons whose existence we should never have -known but for this record of their death; golden knee-buckles and -sparkling paste shoe-buckles, reminding us of the days when the dress of -a gentleman was hopelessly inimitable to the rowdies and loafers of the -period; fragments of wedding-gowns, carefully rolled in bits of linen, -yellow with age—preserved in order to impress the next generation with -due respect for some wizened-up, childish old lady, who was once a -belle, and was married in a dress of silver brocade. - -Perhaps, too, there are more tender memorials hidden in the secret -drawer. Let us touch the spring, and lo! what trophies of love’s power -are there. Shall we pause to read these verses? The ink is almost faded -out, the paper is falling to pieces in its folds, and he who wrote, and -she who with fluttering heart first read those tender lines, have long -since been dirt and ashes. Here is a quaint old ring—two hands clapped -together, and within the circle an inscription in old English -characters—the single word, “_Forever_.” She who once wore that ring -was an angel upon earth, and he who placed it there, lived and died “as -the beasts that perish;” will their union be, indeed, _forever_? Look at -that bracelet, woven of soft, silken hair, its golden clasps are dimmed -with age, but the hair still wears its rich sunshiny lustre, though she -who bestowed it as a parting gift to a sister, has been long a tenant of -the tomb. What is this, folded so carefully and so closely, like one of -the mummied mysteries of the pyramids? A curl, a thick, dark curl—not -the long flowing tress that might have floated over woman’s graceful -neck; these crisped and glossy tendrils tell of the strength and beauty -of manhood. A faint perfume rises from the inner folds of the -envelope—the ashes of a rose are there enclosed. And this is all! But -what a tale do these scanty memorials of a by-gone love impart to the -beholder! What matters it that the details of the story are forgotten? -What matters it whether the lady or her lover were to blame? It was a -love tender and true, but yet unhappy, else wherefore the curl of raven -hair so carefully cherished, and the dead rose so reverently buried -beside the more life-like memento? The love which brings happiness -becomes diffusive in its expression, and the love-tokens of the youth -and maiden are hidden, in after-days, beneath the accumulation of -affection’s later offerings. But when one flower becomes the treasure of -a life-time; when one lock of hair is guarded like the heart’s pearl of -price, then be sure that the hallowing touch of sorrow has been there. -It is only when grief and love go hand in hand, that trifles become holy -relics wherever they tread. Alas! do we not all wear upon our hearts a -reliquary, in which, impearled with tears, and adorned with the fine -gold of our best affections, we have enshrined some fragment of the -past, whose value we alone can tell? - -But I am growing sad, serious, and, of course, dull; yet the object -which led me into this train of thought was certainly not calculated to -inspire any especial exhibition of sentiment. I was rummaging in such a -secretary as I have described, when I accidentally pulled out a round -pincushion, banded with silver about the middle, and attached to a -substantial silver chain, which terminated in a broad hook, for the -purpose of fastening it to the girdle of some thrifty housewife. On the -heavily-wrought circlet which made the equinoctial line of the purple -velvet globes which had been doomed to do duty in so humble a capacity, -were the initials “_A. L._,” and I at once recognized it as the constant -appendage of my respected and venerated relative, Aunt Abby. - -I had just been reading a paragraph respecting the female clubs in -Paris, and the sight of this relic of old times, reminded me of the fact -that poor Aunt Abbey had lived just half a century too soon, for to the -day of her death the old lady’s favorite topic of conversation was the -“equality of the sexes.” How would she have rejoiced in the modern -attempts to enfranchise woman from her thraldom! how would she have -gloried in the idea of woman’s equal rights of property! how would she -have delighted in the prospect of political privileges for her sex! how -she would have expatiated upon the benefits of a female House of -Representatives! Aunt Abby (my _great_ aunt, by the by) was emphatically -an advocate for woman’s “_standing alone_,” (I believe that is the -phrase among the reformers,) and certainly, though she had a father, -uncles, cousins, to say nothing of a husband, she succeeded in -“_standing alone_,” to a certain extent, all her life. - -But what, you will say, had a disciple of progress, a defender of -woman’s rights, a declaimer against woman’s slavery, to do with a -_pincushion_? Let me sketch her portrait at full length, and then you -will see how curiously she blended the duties and prerogatives of both -sexes in her own proper person. - -Abigal, or, as she was usually called, Abby Leyburn, was the only child -of a learned and eccentric clergyman, who, being disappointed in his -hope of exercising his theories of education on a son, chose to educate -his daughter after the manner of a boy. Fortunately for him, the little -girl possessed a singularly strong and quick mind. She grasped at -knowledge as most children would at playthings, and imbibed wisdom with -as much zest as others would have sucked an orange. Latin, Greek and -Hebrew, mathematics, moral philosophy, to say nothing of the lighter -accomplishments of botany, geology, and natural history, were _among_ -the young lady’s acquirements. Her father had determined to make her a -second Madame Dacier, and he really seemed likely to find her a sort of -female _Crichton_. Nor were these all her acquisitions. The details of -housekeeping, the thrift, management, and tidiness necessary to the -comfort of American homes, was as easy as the alphabet to Abby. She -could knit, and spin, and sew; she could bake, and brew, and cook; she -could milk, and churn, and make cheese; and nobody could so effectually -and rapidly “set things to rights.” - -Beside all this, Abby Leyburn, at twenty years of age, was one of the -handsomest girls in the country. She was like nothing so much as the -effigy of Britannia on an English penny. Don’t laugh, reader, the -comparison is a highly complimentary one, but lest you should not -recollect the stately Mrs. Bull, I will describe my heroine. Abby was -just six feet high, but magnificently proportioned, a perfect Juno in -form, with large black eyes, a high forehead, full red lips, and a chin -as massive and as despotic in its expression as Napoleon’s. Her profile -was superb—bold, strongly-marked, but beautifully classical. Her -abundant hair, usually worn back from her brow, and gathered into a knot -at the back of her head, was black as the crow’s wing. Her teeth were -white, strong, and somewhat pointed in shape, a peculiarity which rather -impaired the softness of her smile, inasmuch as it was always associated -with the beholder’s remembrance of a somewhat similar conformation in -the dental perfections of the only wild animal who has ever been accused -of laughing—I mean the hyena. Not that Abby bore the slightest -resemblance to the disagreeable creature just named. But her smile -certainly lacked that indefinable charm which usually belongs to such -pleasant demonstrations of good humor. - -As a specimen of the human animal Abby was perfect. The superb -proportions of her well-rounded figure, her complexion, pure, fresh, and -radiant with health, her firm step, quick, active motions, and great -strength of frame, combined to make her a model of “_le grande et beau -physique_.” Add to these personal attractions, her learning, and her -domestic accomplishments, and one might almost fancy that Aunt Abby, in -her younger days at least, came near being - - “That faultless monster which the world ne’er saw.” - -What did she lack? you will ask. Certainly not virtues, for she abounded -in them. No; her defects were of a very different character. She had -every thing that one would consider desirable; but Aunt Abby lacked “one -sweet weakness.” There was the difficulty. She had no _weaknesses_. That -magnificent person of hers was brimful of strong, stubborn intellect. If -she had a heart, it was only a piece of mechanism, necessary to the -workings of the human machine. The brain—the strong, massive, abundant -brain, which lay behind that immense forehead, was the only motive power -which she acknowledged. Had she no benevolence, no kindly impulses, no -yearning tenderness of soul, no sentiment? Not an atom of either; yet -she did the most benevolent things in the world, lavished kindness upon -all who deserved it, was full of gentleness toward little children, and, -if judged by her deeds, would have seemed overflowing with the milk of -human kindness. But still it was the dictates of that cold despotic -intellect which she obeyed. “People must be in want, and must be -relieved by those who had means. Humanity was full of suffering—the -healthy must look after the sick. Little children are incipient men and -women, therefore must be taken care of. Sentiment was but the -_penumbra_, the shadow of a shadow as unsubstantial as itself.” Such -were among the apothegms of this singular woman. Reversing the -established axiom, that “there is nothing in the intellect which does -not come by the senses,” she seemed to assert that “there was nothing in -the senses which did not come by the intellect.” - -As Mr. Leyburn held the office of president over one of the few -institutions of learning then in America, Abby had ample opportunity for -displaying her talents and beauty to the admiring eyes of sundry young -students. But Abby had no personal vanity; she knew she was handsome, -just as she knew she was strong and robust, and she would have scorned -the idea of being a belle. The young men, although belonging to that -peculiarly inflammable species known by the name of “College Boys,” -would as soon have thought of falling in love with the stone image of -Minerva on the college-green, as with the president’s learned daughter. -There was something in her sturdy good sense which everybody rather -liked, yet the want of softness and pliability in her character excited -a certain dread in all who came near her. Gifted with peculiar powers -both of mind and body, she had no compassion for feebleness of frame or -infirmity of purpose, for she had no clear perception of such things. -Her intellect was like a telescope through which she could examine the -grand and the remote, but she could not use it as a microscope to -examine the littlenesses of humanity. It is only through the sympathies -of the heart that we learn respect for the sufferings, or compassion for -the weaknesses of our fellows—and Abby Leyburn had no sympathies, -except those of the brain. - -Perfectly self-possessed, because thoroughly conscious of her own vast -superiority, and utterly indifferent as to the impression she was likely -to make, Abby’s manners in society had all the elegance and nonchalant -ease which fashion tries so hard to teach. She conversed exceedingly -well on all subjects, and possessed the gift (most rare among talented -women) of making herself as agreeable to her own sex, as to the men. -Everybody admired her, yet everybody feared her; everybody acknowledged -her rare powers, yet everybody kept at a certain distance. “He comes too -near who comes to be denied,” so says one of the wits and demi-reps of a -past age; but Abby never suffered any one to reach the confines of -_Love-Land_, and, of course, none ever attained to _Declaration Point_. - -It is difficult to imagine a character like that of Aunt Abby. A woman -without softness, and tenderness, and sentiment, seems such an anomaly, -that we are tempted to doubt the probability of her possessing any of -the qualities we seek in woman. But Abby had all the necessary knowledge -of womanly duties, all the considerateness we look for in woman, all the -attention to detail which is a woman’s peculiar province, and withal was -possessed of the most indomitable good humor. She was sententious, -because every truth became, in her mind, an axiom, to be stowed away in -the smallest possible space; she was dogmatic, because her opinions were -made up by her own unaided reflection, and were not to be changed or -modified by words. Her self-esteem was prodigious; it was not the puny -vanity which is so often dignified with such a title, it was rather a -magnificent _Johnsonesque_ self-appreciation, precisely like that which -looms so grandly beside the vain pettinesses of the biographer of the -great lexicographer. - -She was certainly a great puzzle to every one. A woman who could quote -Longinus, read Homer, expound a disputed text in the Hebrew Bible, chop -logic with the most caviling acuteness, and talk of the Differential -Calculus as if it were the last new poem, was certainly something of a -wonder; but when that same woman was seen seated on the milking-stool, -or standing at the churn, or presiding over a blazing oven, or, broom in -hand, raising motes in the sunbeams by her vigorous attack upon the -“dust of the schools,” or displaying the beauty of her Juno-like figure, -as she paced to and from the huge spinning-wheel; she was certainly a -_world’s_ wonder. There is a half-remembered story of Aunt Abby’s -spirit, which no one dares to talk of openly; but it is believed that a -certain gentleman, now high in civic honors, received, when a youth of -twenty, a severe _caning_ from the lady, in consequence of some -impertinence, offered when under the influence of a deep potation. But -this may be only a piece of scandal. - -The circumstances of Aunt Abby’s marriage were as peculiar as were her -own traits of character. Among the students of the college was a young -gentleman of large fortune and fine talents, who was afflicted with a -constitutional timidity and nervousness that paralyzed all his powers. -He was the only child of a widowed mother, who had foolishly resisted -the boy’s wish to go to school. He had therefore remained at home under -the charge of tutors, and when the death of his mother released him from -her affectionate tyranny, he entered college only to find himself -inferior in attainments to every one else, and a perfect butt, from his -timid shyness. He was full of poetry and sentiment. Among realities he -was lost and bewildered, but in the world of fancy he was a hero even to -himself. - -To a gay set of frolicksome students nothing could offer better game -than the mental and personal peculiarities of the rich young Southerner, -who rejoiced in the name of Sampson Terricott, (a name soon transmuted -into Sampson Tear-your-coat) by his companions. Nothing could be more -ludicrous than the association of such a name with such a person. The -redoubtable Sampson was some five feet four inches in height, with an -exceedingly slight figure, small features of the style usually -designated as “_snub-faced_,” with a skim-milk complexion, and hair of -that _sun-burned_ flaxen color, so common among hatless country urchins. -His voice was a piping treble, with an occasional tone in it like that -of a cracked penny-trumpet. His hands and feet were ridiculously small, -and when attired in his college-gown, it required but little -caricaturing to draw his portrait in a style decidedly feminine, yet -decidedly like. He received all kinds of nicknames for his personal -peculiarities, but, perhaps, none annoyed him more than the _soubriquet_ -of “Miss Dalilah,” which was generally bestowed upon him. Yet a mind -filled with images of beauty was hidden beneath this unpromising -exterior. He had no force of character, no iron strength of intellect, -but he had an unbounded imagination, and an unlimited reach of vision -into spiritualities. He was a poet, but lacking the key to a poet’s -harmonies of utterance, he expended his strength in the beautiful -cloud-land of metaphysics and became a moral philosopher. - -Like all diminutive men Sampson had a decided partiality for large -women. The colossal beauty of Abby Leyburn had struck him when he first -beheld her, and he loved nothing so well as to contemplate her from a -distance, being quite too timid to address himself to her. Now there was -in Abby a certain propensity that might almost be called compassion -toward little people. She regarded them as a huge Newfoundland dog often -looks upon a poodle—their very insignificance and feebleness seemed a -claim upon her protection. It had often been remarked that Miss Leyburn -showed especial favor to those whom she denominated “the _poor little_ -fellows,” and no one was surprised, therefore, to find her taking a -great fancy to Sampson Terricott. There was something so appealing in -his manner, such a tacit acknowledgment of inferiority in his humble -demeanor, such an irresistible claim to tender treatment in his timid -little voice and stammering speech, that Abby at once took to him as to -one of those “incurables” for whom the world is a hospital, and every -charitable person ought to be a nurse. To the gentle Sampson the lady -became “like the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.” She -overshadowed him so completely that he could find repose and refreshment -in her presence. Instead of attempting to be any thing, or do any thing, -or say any thing, he gave himself up to the enjoyment of a consciousness -of perfect insignificance as compared with the splendid creature, who -could excel any and every body. It was a comfort to see everybody look -small in her presence, but to the nervous student it was a positive -luxury to _feel small_, without being mortified and disgraced. - -Sampson was not in love with his Minerva, he had no sentiment, no -passionate longings for any thing which the world of reality could -afford. His loves were all idealities, and could not be prisoned in -flesh. But with the same weak fondness that had once tied him to his -mother’s apron-string, he submitted to the guidance of Abby Leyburn. -What were Abby’s motives for troubling herself with little Sampson no -one knew or cared; but when it was known that she was soon to become -Mrs. Terricott, everybody thought that the large fortune of the tiny -lover would account for the whole affair. - -As usual, the world was mistaken. Abby was as free from all mercenary -feelings as she was from all other frailties. But she had her own -notions about doing good. She saw in Sampson Terricott a highly -imaginative and gifted man, wasting mental power in immature schemes -which his timidity thwarted in their very outset, and suffering a fine -fortune to be idle in his hands for want of energy to take up his -stewardship. He was weak in health, and subject to attacks of morbid -spirits which sometimes threatened his reason. In a word, Abby saw that -he wanted some one to take care of him, and she fixed upon herself as -the fittest person. She was now nine-and-twenty, in the full bloom of -health and beauty, and, as she argued, “if society provides no other -resource for destitute females than marriage, I must marry, or at my -father’s death find myself a beggar.” Having come to this conclusion, -she decided that, as the giving herself a master was out of the -question, and the idea of possessing a slave in her husband was equally -disagreeable, she had better divide the difference, and unite herself to -one who needed a stronger nature on which to rest. - -How the courtship was managed no one ever knew. I am inclined to think -there was not much love-making, and from the kind of dreamy surprise -which Sampson exhibited when questioned about his engagement, it is -presumed he was scarcely conscious of his own happiness. People said -that Miss Leyburn, reversing the usual order of things, had popped the -question to Sampson, who stammered out, “Yes,” through sheer fright. The -probability is that he did exactly as she directed him. She gave him to -understand she meant to marry him, and if he offered no resistance, -feeling rather pleased at being relieved from responsibility for the -rest of his life. - -They were married in the chapel of the college, and the half-suppressed -glee of the saucy students may be imagined. All the blank walls about -the college were filled with caricatures, illustrative of the one idea, -“_paired, not matched_.” One of these charcoal libels was particularly -annoying, it represented a nondescript and beautiful winged animal—a -Hippogriff—with the face of a woman, curving her proud neck beneath a -rein held in the hands of Apollo, while directly beneath was a second -representation of the same magnificent creature tamely yoked with an ox -to the plough. - -But Abby cared little for these things, and she would not suffer her -husband to pay any attention to them. She made him one of the best wives -in the world, and though she was ten years his elder, and thrice as big -as he, nobody ever believed that he repented the step he had taken. -Their home was at the South, and, during her husband’s lifetime, Abby -never paid a visit to her early friends. But she was visited by her -family connections, and we younger members of the circle were often -entertained in childhood by the accounts of Aunt Abby’s splendid service -of gold-plate, her massive silver ewers and basins in every -dressing-room, her Turkey carpets and rich hangings of Gobelin tapestry, -and all the paraphernalia of great wealth and magnificent tastes. - -When Terricott died, she exhibited her peculiarities of character still -more strikingly. She knew people had accused her of marrying for money, -and she therefore induced him to make a will, bestowing all his large -property upon his own relatives, with the exception of a life-annuity of -a thousand dollars to his widow. “I don’t want his money,” she said, “I -took good care of him while he lived, and if he did not become a great -man, it was no fault of mine. He was rich, and I used his money freely, -because he liked to see fine things and good things around him; but now -I have no occupation here, and so I shall go back to my old home, and -‘live along.’ I dare say something will be given me to do.” - -So she buried her poor little Sampson, handed over his property to the -heirs, and with the first instalment of her annuity in her pocket, came -to take up her abode in ——. But her father had been dead for many -years, and the place was filled with new people who knew little of her -history or of her character. She soon became disgusted with her new -home, and removing to New York, established herself there for the rest -of her life. In her later years she gave up taking exercise daily, and -in consequence of this she grew immensely large. I have the faintest -shadow of a reminiscence respecting her personal appearance at that -time. I was a child of perhaps five years old, and had a dear old aunt, -who was as little as a fairy, and almost as benevolent. This kind little -old body once took me to see our great Aunt Abby; but my head was -crammed full of fairy legends and nursery tales, and when I saw an -immensely large, fat woman sitting in a chair from which she could not -lift her ponderous form, and met the full stare of her great black eyes, -I thought of the Ogress who always devoured little children, and -immediately set up such a howl of terror that I was sent away in -disgrace. She died not long afterward, having lived to count her -_ninetieth_ birthday. Her disinterestedness left her no fortune to -bestow on her relatives, and but for her profile, (which, cut in black -paper, hangs in an attic room,) her pincushion, and the traditions which -remain in the family respecting her, all trace of her has vanished from -the earth. - -Poor Aunt Abby! she used to shock the women of her time by talking of -women’s rights, and was guilty once of the enormity of wishing to be -Pope of Rome, in order to carry out some scheme for the advancement of -woman’s social position. She talked of _freedom_ until some pious prudes -really suspected she meant _license_, and she predicted that the time -would come when the genius of woman would rise superior to the imposed -trammels of sex. She should have lived in the present age, when she -would have seen woman’s struggles for emancipation, as exhibited in the -French female clubs, and the German free associations, to say nothing of -the free inquirers and declaimers against female slavery in this -country. She should have lived till now to exhibit a rare and peculiar -instance of masculine power submitting itself cheerfully to feminine -duties; and perhaps the knowledge that Aunt Abby, with all her mental, -moral, and physical perfections, lived and died unloving and unloved, -might go far toward settling the question of _woman’s rights_, and make -her quite satisfied with her easily accorded _privileges_. - - * * * * * - - - - - PARTING. - - - INSCRIBED TO MY SISTER ADELA M. WADSWORTH. - - - BY MRS. LYDIA JANE PEIRSON. - - - Parting! Oh, is it not the bitterness - Of life, and death? It were small agony - If we and those we love—heart pressed to heart— - With loving words, and blended prayers, could die. - - ’Tis not the rending of the strings of life - That makes death terrible. The mental pain - Is parting from our dear and beautiful, - Who weep, and pray—and bid us live in vain. - - It is not that we fear to close our eyes, - And rest from life’s long labor, that we cling - To pain and weakness. ’Tis fond human love - Which binds our soul with many a quivering string. - - To know that we shall never look again - Into those loving eyes—shall never hear - Again those sweet-toned voices—never clasp - Again those forms, so tender, and so dear. - - Yes—parting is the bitterness of death— - And life is full of parting. Day by day - We see the cherished of our homes depart, - As fledglings from the bird-nests flit away. - - The cherished ones, whom we have called our own, - And loved so many years, that they have grown - Into our hearts, and so become a part - Of all that we have felt, or done, or known. - - The ever-present with us, who were wont - To greet us every morning, with a smile,— - To answer to our voices all day long,— - And cheer us with love’s sunlight all the while. - - Each hath a separate mission to fulfill, - And when their path diverges from our own, - And they have said farewell! and turned away - From our embrace—oh, then, we are _alone!_ - - We miss them in all places, everywhere, - And feel a shadow, and an emptiness - Forever by our side—but most of all - In the departed one’s accustomed place. - - We turn to speak to them—they are not there— - The thought we would have uttered curdles back - Upon our heart, a stifling agony— - We turn our tearful gaze along the track - - By which the dear one went—’tis desolate— - Our home—our heart—our world is desolate— - In all the places where our joy has been - Dark shades, and weeping memories, congregate. - - But when our only one—the dearest, best, - The angel of our household, bids good-bye - And goes forth weeping—then the tortured heart - Reels with the anguish of the broken tie. - - Yes—parting is the bitterness of life— - The agony of death—the ban of earth— - The inevitable doom—to love—to part— - Is the condition of our human birth. - - Thank God! there is a world where loved ones meet - In perfect beauty, and unclouded joy, - Where all is love—where parting never comes - The everlasting rapture to destroy. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration] - - * * * * * - - - - - MONTGOMERY’S HOUSE. - - - THE HEAD-QUARTERS OF GENERAL JACKSON AT THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. - - - [SEE ENGRAVING.] - -By the courtesy of Mr. J. R. Smith, the artist, we are permitted to -present our readers with another view of a remarkable place. It is -Montgomery’s House, occupied by General Jackson as his headquarters at -the time of the celebrated Battle of New Orleans, January 8, 1815. It is -surrounded by a splendid garden and grounds, and a beautiful grove of -cedars, which in this latitude grow to an immense size. The line of -intrenchments running up the lane by Montgomery’s House back to the -cedar swamp can still be distinctly traced. Farther down on the banks of -the river Mississippi are four live-oak trees, of immense size, forming -a square, and hanging with Spanish moss. Beneath these trees the British -commander, General Packenham, expired and was laid out. The spot is a -favorite resort of curious visiters from the city, who go to examine the -battle-ground. Below this is a splendid building, called the -Battle-Ground Sugar Refinery, on the rear of which is a group of -willows, with a mound in the centre, and surrounded by water. Here are -buried the 2000 British warriors who were slain in the battle of the 8th -of January. A planter’s house near the spot was occupied, previously to -the action, by General Packenham as his head-quarters. All these objects -form very suitable subjects for the pencils of our artists; and we are -only surprised that they have not been drawn, engraved and familiarized -to the public long ago. - - * * * * * - - - - - EDITOR’S TABLE. - - - GOING AROUND THE HORN. - -[Illustration: THE DIRECT ROAD TO FORTUNE.] - -The search after the philosopher’s stone, after having vexed the -crucibles, and puzzled the brains of alchemists for ages, is about to be -rewarded with success. The New Eldorado promises wonders as great, and -riches as abundant, as the most vigilant of dreamers could imagine. The -phrase “untold gold” is meaningless now, for nothing but gold is talked -of, and the wealth, which was significant of immensity, when coupled -with “iron chests,” and “bank vaults,” is sicklied over, and feeble, -when contrasted with the fields of gold which glitter over thousands of -square miles. The very idea of “10,000 a year” has become paltry—it is -but the cost of a dish of bean-soup in California—suggestive of utter -poverty—the daily scrapings of the poorest and most indigent digger, -self-sold into slavery at the mines. The man who owns a square of brick -houses is nobody; an empty braggart, beside him who sits upon golden -rocks, with a cigar in his mouth, overlooking acres of the shining -metal. The very millionaire who used to strut about consequentially, -with his hands thrust into his pockets significantly, may be hooted now -by the veriest sweep in California, as a vulgar ragamuffin, who would -scarce have money enough to pay his board there on Saturday night, and -would be utterly at the mercy of his landlady. - -Girard College, as a building, is very well, too, in its way, as -reminding us of an old gentleman who spent half a century in picking up -gold flakes, one at a time, with his fingers; a plodding, careful old -chap, who lacked the creative faculty altogether, and had no idea of -cradles and basins. His school-house on the Ridge Road will do very well -as a specimen of primitive architecture, and might answer very well as a -sort of outhouse to the palaces that we _will have_ in California—a -very good stable for the Master of Hounds to Col. Mason, or some other -grandee—but as it stands, it is _now_ a shocking evidence of parsimony, -utterly disgraceful to the spirit of the age. A sort of lame and -impotent conclusion to a long life foolishly spent. - -The far-famed Genoese must have been a dull fellow, or he would have -cast anchor in the Pacific, near San Francisco, instead of sailing about -to no purpose. It is a wonder, too, how he could have been so stupid, -when there are so many routes to this desirable haven. He certainly must -have been a bad navigator, too, or he would have got around the Horn, -some how, at some time. But it was reserved for the adventurous sons of -Jonathan to make the successful voyage, and with _the sword_ to cut the -way to fortune; and instead of diverging like radii from a common -centre, to take the outermost limit, and to claim as his own all that he -walked around and into. Showing conclusively that instead of bothering -one’s brain about getting on the right side of a question, the safest -plan is to get around it, and capture it by force of arms, as the Irish -policeman did with the mob. It saves a vast deal of hair-splitting, in -argument, and of irrelevant discussion, first to knock down your man, -and then pinion him. Or like the Cockney sportsman, who winged the -farmer’s goose, to say that you “only came out for the sport, and now -that you have hit the bird, you have no objection to _buy him_.” -Jonathan in this case, and in this way, seems to have bagged the one -that laid the golden eggs, which we used to read of in the nursery, and -a whole army of his sons are now rifling her nest. She must have left -behind her a prolific brood if she satisfies the whole of them. The -veriest “madness of the moon,” must impart a feeble pulse, compared with -the fever which Jonathan’s lucky hit has created in the whole family. -Homeopathy is totally at fault in this disease. Nothing but very violent -depletion will answer. - -The whole body of family physicians, and nurses of the body politic, -have their hands full, and the multifarious practice sets at naught the -popular idea of perfection, as a necessary consequence. It is gratifying -to know, however, that in the absence of consistent and regular -treatment, the popular remedy applied in its early stages is conducive -to longevity and temperance—those who suffer severely from the fever -here, and become exceedingly dry in consequence, are cured effectually -by GOING AROUND THE HORN. Lying water-logged under the -Tropics being rather a different thing from “getting up a breeze” at -home, and being eminently suggestive of sobriety of thought, and of -taking their cue from facts, and not from “Q Brandy” continually. Young -gentlemen whose systems were here so relaxed, that nothing but taking a -horn two or three times before dinner could impart to them sufficient -energy to attend to out-of-door business, go around it, and give it a -wide berth in the hot latitudes—shut their ears to all hints about the -nervous system, and with a hardihood and self command, acquired within -view of sharks and yellow fever, brave danger without stimulus, and -fatigue without “having a gale.” - -Under the tropics, too, young men, who have at home found no difficulty -in getting three sheets in the wind, have rather an aerial difficulty in -getting a flowing sail, and with plenty of steam on board, in the -absence of propellers, decline all invitation to steam it, “to drive -dull care away”—the trouble greatest, for the time, being to get away -themselves. The boys who often declared in the hours of midnight that -they were the particular individuals who feared no noise, and who would -not go home till morning, wish themselves very quietly dozing there, and -are perfectly subdued and indolent under the Equator in a three days’ -calm, and do not insist upon “three more—and again,” so that they have -an opportunity of candid inquiry and sober reflection, which may be -serviceable—promotive of a thirst for cold water, and an abhorrence of -dark brandy, in a “_sun_ny” clime. We do not see why something cannot be -done for Temperance in this way, as well as not. People talk very -disparagingly about “whipping the devil round the stump,” but so that -the old scoundrel gets soundly thrashed at last, I never could see that -the _modus operandi_ is so particularly important. - -Now, without pursuing this question, or glancing at the disappointment -of the adventurer—the long days of toil in unhealthy waters—the -burning heat of the sun—the chilling nights on a dreary soil—the -fevers of the mind as well as of the body—the hope deferred—the horror -of being mixed with such society—the desolation of all good that he -must see around him, mingling with the memory of the calm delights, the -peaceful repose, the joys and purity of home—the glad eyes of sister or -mother left behind, but now seemingly looking out sadly upon the -scene—the longings for that paradise once more, where in boyhood he put -up a prayer at the parental knee:—Without speaking of all this, is the -reward, reader, worthy of your sacrifice or of mine, of present comforts -and present friends. I think not. The road to fortune, to honorable -advancement, is open and plainly marked here, and beaten as it is, with -the tread of many feet, it offers far greater chances of success than -all the sparkling sands of California, mixed as they are with all that -is vile and unworthy. In that immense crowd of adventurers, which is -pouring in from every clime, virtue and goodness will be but as pearls -dropped into the sea—selfishness unmitigated, vice unabashed, and even -red-handed murder, will rear aloft their hideous forms, overawing all -decency, and setting at naught “all law, all precedent, all right.” The -very absence of all female restraint, their tender charities, and gentle -generosities and affections, and noble self sacrifices, which knit the -bands of society together and render man human, will there cause to be -let loose all the savage passions and instincts of our natures, and a -vast army of unprincipled men, fierce in the pursuit of wealth, -unrelenting in their towering selfishness as the grave, will make -California a second Pandemonium. What is all the gold of the earth, in a -land of wrong and violence, and that smells of blood heaven-high, with -the whole atmosphere below tainted with its appalling odor? - -No! let _us_ stay at home, and cultivate habits of industry, economy and -temperance. With a vigilant eye and a steady step pursue the path which -has been marked out for us to tread through life—never swerving from -our duty to the allurements of pleasure—or by the discouragements of -defeat—but up and on! fearless, determined, brave; looking all danger -manfully in the face; grappling with all difficulties, if not with the -strength, with the determination of giants to overcome; never growing -faint or weary in well doing—and my life for it, in ten years you will -not exchange places with the proudest aristocrat in California, whose -heart and brain have been seared in the acquisition of wealth. Above all -things, let those of us who stay behind imitate the self command of the -adventurers who have gone, and go boldly and resolutely “AROUND THE -HORN” here, and depend upon it, we shall find that the true -philosopher’s stone—the real Eldorado—the place where we may truly -enjoy the horn of Plenty and the cup of Peace, IS AT HOME—AROUND OUR -OWN HEARTH-STONE—where the light of kind eyes, and the prayers of warm -and true hearts ascend to heaven with our own, for guidance and -protection. - - G. R. G. - - - THE PHILADELPHIA DAILY PRESS. - -THE NORTH AMERICAN.—The very head and front of the offending party -journals, oracular, dignified, and eminently solemn. Doctor Bird’s -leaders have a stately look in solid column, and his political articles -read as if they had been subjected to a very patient drill before -showing themselves to the public eye; but his fine genius flashes out -the moment he touches a congenial subject. Of all American writers we -look upon him as the best qualified to conduct a literary journal, or a -monthly review. But, alas! he is a martyr, who must groan under the -daily responsibilities of a party organ, with a hearty disrelish of its -duties. Why should two such men as Bird and Bryant be sold into slavery -in politics, and be thus comparatively lost to the lovers of polite -literature? “Independent,” the Washington correspondent of the journal, -dashes in like Saladin, and wo to the Christian who gets a full stroke -of his scimitar; he is cloven to the chin, or has something to nurse and -to remember. His egotism has been objected to by those who dislike his -slashing style, but that, as much as his correctness of information, has -given his correspondence character. He is at least fearless in the use -of his weapon, and strikes at high and low with equal strength and -temerity. Hennis gives us once in a while his touching little essays, -conceived in the quiet beauty of Mr. Chandler’s style—the Gamaliel at -whose feet he sat and learned. For the rest, we do not like the paper. -It is heavy, cautious, and cruelly cold and selfish. - -THE INQUIRER.—The model of a daily family paper, marked by continued -and unwearied industry, and beaming with the kindly nature of its -editor. Its ample pages are crowded with well-chosen selections and -active scissoring of news paragraphs; not, however, always carefully -pruned and clipped down. It is only once in a while that Mr. Morris -shows us that he can write, and his Saturday Readings are full of the -warm impulses and genuine kindness of the man, but are written more for -purposes of good than to display his powers. Occasionally he warms up in -his general articles, and lets out a spark or two, shows us a glimpse of -the wealth he hoards, and causes us to wish for continued examples of -the ability he possesses. In his political leaders he sometimes is -forced by unfair opponents into a little causticity at the opening of -his article, but he relents before he gets through, and will most likely -give his “friend” a chance to back out of his blunder. He has not the -heart, though he possesses the strength, to press his antagonist to the -wall, and to pin him there. Mr. Morris has an agreeable, ready and -devoted coadjutor in Mr. Crump, a man of various learning and diligent -application. This journal is shockingly “made up,” to our taste, and is -all over disfigured with staring black head-lines, which look to our eye -like the sable of a hearse—its “_postscript_” is our particular horror. - -THE DAILY NEWS.—The absence of Judge Conrad from the daily press seems -to have reinvigorated his powers, and has given additional force to his -pen, and fire to his thoughts; like an unprisoned eagle, with a spring -he darts to the skies and gazes in the sun. Some of the finest articles -he ever wrote have appeared in the News. Every subject that Judge Conrad -touches, seems to have been fused, as in a furnace, and the metal flies -off in lumps from his gigantic mind. His intellect illumes and pervades -every part of his subject, and when he drops it, there is nothing more -to be said. His compact, all-grasping sentences, may furnish subjects -for whole leaders to others, but the vitality has been extracted, and -any treatment of the topic is tame and impotent in contrast. He does -not, however, always seem to know the power of the words he uses, and -will give a whack with his sledge-hammer with a will at a fly, which -would effectually knock down an ox. Hence he should never write short -paragraphs upon unimportant topics—his style is too ponderous. The -News, as a political sheet, is well managed, barring some desire, -occasionally manifested, to pull, for personal ends, the strings of its -influence; but it is sadly deficient in mercantile news and facts. At -this writing, too, it is shamefully brought out, and is made up as if -the matter had been sifted over the form, and then locked-up and -printed, and very badly printed at that. Mr. Sanderson should look to -this, for the general editing of his News is too good to come before the -public under so great a disadvantage. - -THE PUBLIC LEDGER.—Unquestionably the best penny paper that has ever -been established—showing in all its appointments the very perfection of -mechanical execution, and in its news collection and collation, -sleepless enterprise and vigilance, as well as persevering ability. Its -leaders are unequal, for the most part written with great force and -adroitness, upon topics familiar or of practical utility, but -occasionally insufferably stupid and dull. On scientific topics it -affects the _ultra_-learned. We always drop the Ledger when it gets upon -“oligies.” Mr. Lane, whose quiet humor occasionally gleams out in his -short editorial articles, like lightning from the edge of a summer -cloud, is unquestionably the _best_ news man in our daily press; clear -and discriminative, you always find in his columns all that ought to be -said of any and every news fact, and no more. A nicety of judgment very -rarely attained, and never in our experience so fully, as in the case of -the late Mr. Holden of the Courier. - -THE SUN.—Graced by a good humor that no annoyance can ruffle, but -occasionally inclined to mischief. Carelessly giving a whack, regardless -of consequences, and forgetting it at the same instant. We regard Mr. -Wallace as a most able man in any paper; enduring, persevering, and -always on the alert. We know of no one in his department of a newspaper -who can for so long a time continue to perform downright hard, honest -good labor. His nerves and his temper are equally enduring. He appears -to have been born where they sing “Old Virginy never tire,” and to have -lived through life, the music, the temper, and the sentiment of the -song. The topmost bubble of his heart always sparkles. He is, too, what -we like, a pretty good hater, though with a good deal more philosophy -than is often practiced, in taking his revenges. With _his_ editorials, -his SON makes a capital newspaper, agreeable, gossipy and gay. The news -is filled in with the coolness of an experienced hand, and with the -uprightness and newspaper devotion of his father, he will one day stand -as _high_. - -THE PENNSYLVANIAN.—Col. Forney is the best political editor that his -party has ever had in Philadelphia—discerning, prompt and fearless. He -deals, however, too much in light skirmishing, and pops his enemy off -once in a while from an unsuspected cedar-bush, merely to show the -accuracy of his aim. But he is an able tactician, and when he _does_ -close fairly, his opponent finds him a tough and sinewy customer. His -articles seem for the most part to have been dashed off at a heat, and -lack the polishing touch. He often, too, uses a hard word for its sound -where another would be more effective. Occasionally he sits down in -earnest, blocks out his ground, and makes sore and steady advances; and -especially when he has occasion to defend Mr. Buchanan, his intellect is -fully aroused and on the alert—he then writes with his full vigor and -spirit, and writes well. His partner, Mr. Hamilton, is one of the most -capable business printers that we know, and every thing in his -department is marked by exactness and proficiency. The press-work of the -Pennsylvanian, on each issue, is what the magazines would call “a -specimen number.” - -THE TIMES.—A jaunty, crotchetty, impudent little sheet, filled with -quibs and quirks, and a sort of laughing philosophy that shouts over -seriousness. Its editor, would, if he could, go to his own funeral -dressed in ribbons, and wearing a look of rejoicing. He has the -happiness of never seeming for a moment anxious; and you might as well -punch at a wreath of smoke with a foil, as attempt to interest him in a -serious controversy. He will answer your arguments with a pun, your -serious reasoning with a laugh, and will set ridiculously on end your -most carefully rounded sentence, and go to hacking at its grammar. -Having got you out of humor, he will decline all controversy with you, -if you cannot observe the decencies and proprieties. So that the man who -urges a controversy with Du Solle, has his anger for his pains, and is -fuming while he is chatting and laughing unconcernedly upon some other -more agreeable topic. Yet the Times has never given him scope to show -the real ability and general information he possesses. He should be in -the Ledger with Lane, he would settle the “ologies” in short metre. - -THE BULLETIN.—Our only evening paper, but managed with great enterprise -and vigor. Mr. Peterson’s strong Saxon words and nervous style, combined -with his various and correct learning, make the leading articles of this -journal among the ablest that we read anywhere, and have stamped a high -value upon the leading column. There is a want of editorial tact in its -less imposing, but equally important digest of news and facts. It has -all the news, but it has it in bulk, and looks at times, with its heavy, -solid nonpareil, like a little man covered with black patches, or as if -part of the paper had gone into mourning for the absence of an itemizer. -It is always up, however, to the full requirements of the public in its -telegraphic despatches, and it _had_—what has become of him—the writer -of money articles that was most regarded here. For the rest, it affects -a very nice morality in regard to the theatres, which we do not like, -and do not pretend to understand. It is too deep for us. It _advertises_ -for the theatres, but does not _notice_ them. Are they wrong, or right, -or neither? We suppose there _must_ be a nice line, which casuists who -examine morals with a microscope have detected. - - G. R. G. - - * * * * * - -DEAR GRAHAM,—Poor Tom says, “Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the -rustling of silks, betray thy poor heart to women: keep thy hand out of -plackets, and thy pen from _lenders’ books_, and defy the foul fiend.” -Without misconstruing this text more than texts are usually -misinterpreted, I opine, that from those same “_lenders’ books_” of past -generations the current literature of our day is being manufactured. The -vast shapes of the Past have overshadowed the Present, and we are in the -umbra of the eclipse. Pray tell me if there is room left in the whole -length and breadth of the world for an epic, without trenching upon the -preëmption rights of Homer, Virgil, Dante, Tasso and Milton? Then as -regards dramatic poetry—“ahem! Shakspeare.” Wit and humor? What, after -Chaucer, Rabelais, Ben Jonson, Cervantes, Butler, Swift, Pope, Sterne, -the Spectator writers generally, Fielding and Smollet? Are there any new -Continents to be discovered? Our own Irving, to be sure, has been -cruising among beautiful summer islands, and returned with a wondrous -store of wealth—jewels and gold tissues, fragrant gums, Hesperidean -apples, painted Salvages, flowers and odorous spices, to the world -unknown before. The gentle Elia has embroidered incomparable tapestries, -and formed the school of the age. Scott gathers in his mighty arms the -banners of a hundred conquests, and for melodious versification (after -Spenser) Coleridge, Shelley and Moore, in - - “Numbers moving musically,” - -have filled the world with harmonies, to which no echoes answer. Who -shall sweep the strings of passion after Byron! Truly, with much -thankfulness for the kind intentions of those who have written for -Posterity, we might add that it is a pity they did not leave Posterity a -little chance to write for himself. But since it is so, let us, with due -credit, make free for a time with some of those same “lenders’ books,” -for as George Wither quaintly says— - - “We are neither just nor wise, - If present mercies we despise; - Or mind not how there may be made - A thankful use of what we had.” - -Room, then! for one of Dante’s Angels— - - “And now there came o’er the perturbed waves, - Loud-crashing, terrible, a sound that made - Either shore tremble, as if of a wind - Impetuous, from conflicting vapors sprung, - That ’gainst some forest driving all his might. - Plucks off the branches, beats them down, and hurls - Afar; then, onward passing, proudly sweeps - His whirlwind rage, while beasts and shepherds fly. - - . . . . . . . . - - As frogs - Before their foe, the serpent, through the wave - Ply swiftly all, till at the ground each one - Lies on a heap; more than a thousand spirits - Destroyed, so saw I fleeing before one - Who passed with unwet feet the Stygian sound, - He, _from his face removing the gross air_, - Oft his left hand forth stretched, and seemed alone - Of that annoyance wearied. I perceived - That he was sent from heaven; and to my guide - Turned me, who signal made that I should stand - Quiet and bend to him. Ah me! _how full_ - _Of noble anger seemed he_. To the gate - he came, and with his wand touched it, whereat - _Open without impediment it flew_!” - -Compare this with Milton’s Raphael— - - “Down thither prone in flight - He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky - Sailed between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, - Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan - Winnows the buxom air; till within soar - Of towering eagles, to all fowls he seems - A phœnix, gazed by all, as that sole bird, - When to enshrine his reliques in the sun’s - Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies.” - -Or the flight of Satan— - - “Sometimes - He scours the right hand coast, sometimes the left, - Now shaves with level wing the deep, then soars - Up to the fiery concave, towering high. - As when far off at sea a fleet descried - Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds - Close sailing from Bengula, or the Isles - Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring - Their spicy drugs: they on the trading flood - Through the wide Ethiopean to the Cape - Ply, stemming nightly toward the pole. So seemed - Far off the flying fiend.” - -Do you not think Dante’s angel the most spiritual? He says, - - “he wore - The semblance of a man by other care - Beset, and keenly pressed, than thought of him - Who in his presence stand.” - -And Milton— - - “——on some great charge employed - He seemed, or fixed in cogitation deep.” - -The thought here is evidently borrowed from the Italian “_lender’s -book_.” - -There is a strange propensity to follow these lofty flights; as when in -looking from an eminence we feel a temptation to breast the blue ether -below us. We are fairly in the wake of Satan when he - - “_Shaves with level wing the deep_, then soars - UP to the fiery concave—” - -And now since we are pinion-mounted, like Icarus or Daniel O’Rourke, let -us select a few more familiar specimens of flying. “Look you,” from -Coleridge— - - “Triumphant on the bosom of the storm - Glances the fire-clad eagle’s wheeling form.” - -And lo! from Shelly on eagle, - - “—— a winged form - On all the winds of heaven approaching ever - _Floated, dilating as it came_: the storm - Pursued it with fierce blasts and lightnings swift and warm.” - -The Viking’s war-ship, from Longfellow’s Saga of the Skeleton in Armor -is a brave picture, - - “As with his wings aslant, - Sails the fierce cormorant, - Seeking some rocky haunt, - With his prey laden: - So toward the open main, - Beating to sea again - Through the wild hurricane, - Bore I the maiden.” - -And Dryden, in his Annus Mirabilis, hath likewise a warship that -_flies_! - - “With roomy deck, and guns of mighty strength, - Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow laves, - Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length, - She seems a sea-wasp flying o’er the waves.” - -But of all winged things the sky-lark is the bird of the poets. Hear -Shakspeare— - - “Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings, - And Phœbus ’gins arise, - His steeds to water at those springs - On chaliced flowers that lies; - And winking May-buds begin - To ope their golden eyes: - With every thing that pretty bin, - My lady sweet, arise.” - -Or this from Shelley— - - “Higher still and higher - From the earth thou springest, - Like a cloud of fire! - The blue deep thou wingest, - And singing, still dost soar; and soaring, ever singest. - - “In the golden lightning - Of the sunken sun, - O’er which clouds are brightening, - Thou dost float and run; - Like an embodied joy, whose race has just begun. - All the earth and air - With thy voice is loud, - As, when night is bare, - _From one lonely cloud_ - _The moon rains out her beams and heaven it overflowed._” - -Coleridge, too, in his Ancient Mariner— - - “Sometimes adropping from the sky - I heard the sky-lark sing; - Sometimes all little birds that are, - Now they seemed to fill the sea and air - With their sweet jargoning! - And now ’twas like all instruments, - Now like a lonely flute; - And now it is an angel’s song, - That makes the heavens be mute.” - -And Wordsworth in that beautiful couplet— - - “Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam; - True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!” - -There is a sweet little bird in the description of a Summer’s morning, -by Thomas Miller, which I would fain add to this goodly company— - - “A little bird now hops beside the brook, - _Peeping about like an affrighted nun_, - And ever as she drinks _doth upward look_, - Twitters and drinks again; _then seeks her cloistered nook_.” - -But alas the prettiest part of it is borrowed from one of those same -“lenders’ books.” John Bunyan’s—no less. The Interpreter takes -Christiana into the “Significant Rooms,” where he shows her that “one of -the chickens went to the trough to drink, _and every time she drank she -lifted up her eyes toward heaven_. ‘See,’ said he, ‘what this little -chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge whence your mercies come, by -receiving them with looking up,’” And now, having winged our way from -angels to John Bunyan, let us lay these same lenders’ books upon the -shelves until a future period. - - Truly thine, - RICHARD HAYWARDE. - - * * * * * - - - - - REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. - - - _The Salamander: Found amongst the Papers of the late Ernest - Helfenstein. Edited by E. Oakes Smith. Second Edition. New York: - George P. Putnam. 1 vol. 12mo._ - -Mrs. Smith has written nothing so well calculated to convey to the -majority of readers a clear sense of the richness, originality, and -elevation of her genius, as this wonderful little story. It evinces a -high degree of creative power, being an organic product of the mind, -with a central principle of life, and vital in every part. The scenery, -events and characters have all a living connection with the leading idea -of the work, and illustrate each other. The form is the ever facile and -yielding instrument of the plastic spirit within, and varies with the -variations in the story and the changes in the thought or feeling -expressed. By a felicity of nature, Mrs. Smith appears instinctively to -subordinate the material to the spiritual; and thus by making the former -simply the symbol by which she expresses the latter, she spiritualizes -matter, and makes it the living body of the soul. She vivifies and -vitalizes the form until it becomes o’er informed with spirit. Natural -objects as used by the poet, derive all their effect from being the -pictorial language of impassioned thought, the visible image being but -the embodiment to the eye of the viewless force which penetrates and -animates it; and fitly to employ objects as exponents of thoughts, a -firm, decisive grasp of spiritual realities, of something lying back of -all expression, is necessary. The moment the material predominates over -or precedes the spiritual, it becomes so much dead matter, without -significance, because without life. A great excellence of the present -story is the constant dominion exercised by the soul over or through its -forms of expression, and the physiognomical character of the style and -imagery. When we thus speak of it as pre-eminently spiritual, we of -course imply that it is thoroughly alive. - -But the wonder of the book, and the quality which will give it a -permanent place in American literature, is the sure and fine audacity -with which it brings the supernaturally beautiful and the supernaturally -terrible into vital relations with human life, without any shock or jar -of the unnatural to disturb the exquisiteness of the combination; and -this is done in a manner purely original, awakening no reminiscences of -German or English supernaturalism, and giving unmistakable evidence of -being drawn from the writer’s own life and mental experience. Indeed, by -the very constitution of her mind, Mrs. Smith seems to see things in -their spiritual relations; consequently she not only looks at things and -into things, but she looks through them, and discerns the supernatural -region from which they proceed and on which they depend. This vision -into a sphere _above_ sense, is accompanied by an imagination of -sufficient force to shape what she sees into a form palpable _to_ sense, -and thus to reach the mystical elements in other minds through their -sensuous imagination. This vision and this faculty are possessed by all -high and powerful natures, and the test of the reality of the powers is -in the originality of the products. Similarity, even when it does not -approach plagiarism, indicates the intervention of another mind, and by -suggesting spectacles casts ominous conjecture on the soundness or reach -of the eyes. Now the supernatural, as it appears in this volume, is -strictly individual and peculiar, evidencing that the authoress has -herself contemplated, face to face, the spiritual truths she has -embodied. - -While the present story is thus eminently a work of creative -imagination, working in the region of the supernatural, and ranking -“strange combinations out of common things,” it is at the same time -intensely human, touching at every step on some affection or aspiration -of the human heart, and full of the glee and gloom of our common life. -As every thing is realized to the eye and imagination, and the vital -relation between the natural feeling and the preternatural agencies is -clearly represented, the reader is conscious of no unharmoniousness in -the general impression left on his mind by the whole work, but simply -feels as though he had been brought nearer to the life of things, and -discerned evil and good in their spiritual natures. With a power of -thought, as felicitous in its delicacy as in its strength, moral beauty -and moral deformity are both seized in their intrinsic principles, and -embodied in such a manner that the material form ceases to be the veil -and becomes the vehicle of the nature it encloses. - -To the shaping imagination which this work indicates, we must add that -form or expression of the imaginative faculty, by which things -inexpressible in images are suggested by cunning verbal combinations, or -which escape in the peculiar turn of a period, or which are breathed to -the inner ear of the mind in the rhythm of a sentence. This mystical -charm, this elusive, dreamy, ever vanishing and yet ever appearing -grace, gives to the whole work a character of strangeness almost -bewitching, and produces that fine and faint intoxication of the -imagination which makes it ready to receive and accredit wonders with as -much faith as it commonly awards to possibilities. It is this quality -also which makes it impossible to convey the moral of the story in any -didactic proposition. It has a profound moral, but it is a moral which -refuses to be comprehended in an ethical axiom, being felt in the brain -and “felt along the heart.” - -We have been so much engrossed by the merits of this story that we have -little space left to notice some faults. The notes should not be -retained at the bottom of the page, but should be transferred to an -appendix. Occasionally the imagination of the authoress stutters in its -sublime talk, and gives fragments of gigantic images instead of wholes. -Here and there the philosophic prevails over the imaginative, and -discourse monopolizes a sentence which should be strictly sacred to -representation. But the sweetness, the tenderness, the beauty, purity -and majesty, with which the work is so replete, hardly allow even the -critical reader to be captious; and to the uncritical, the absorbing -interest of the story would be sufficient to hide even prominent -defects. - - * * * * * - - _Poems. By James F. Fields. Boston: Wm. D. Ticknor & Co. 1 vol. - 16mo._ - -Book-writing and book-publishing, according to the most approved -doctrines of the division of labor, are to be kept strictly apart, and -commonly there yawns a natural gulf between the two, as wide and deep as -that which separated Lazarus and Dives. The present volume, however, -illustrates this seemingly impossible combination, the author being also -one of the publishers, and it must be confessed that the intellectual -and mechanical execution reflect credit on each other. Mr. Fields has a -mind of great flexibility and fertility, and occasionally he has -compressed within the limit of this volume a large variety of matter, -answering to the mirthful, the pathetic, the satirical, the tender, and -the impassioned. He not only does not repeat himself, but the work is -too small adequately to express the whole range of his poetic faculty. -The two longest poems in the collection are the “Post of Honor” and -“Commerce,” both of them originally pronounced before the Boston -Mercantile Library Association, and each including many topics under the -general subject. These evince a keen, shrewd eye for practical life and -character, and the satirical portions are characterized by a mingled wit -and humor unexcelled for general sharpness. “The Post of Honor” is by -far the best, and its pictures of life, both serious and mirthful, are -exceedingly vivid and true. The versification evinces a complete mastery -of the heroic couplet, in all its ease, energy and harmony of flow, and -it is spangled with fine felicities of fancy and original verbal -combinations. The passages relating to Lamb and Grey, are replete with a -quiet searching pathos, which touches the inmost nerve of sensibility. - -Many of the shorter poems have already had a wide circulation through -the newspapers. “Fair Wind,” originally published in “Graham,” and “The -Dirge,” we have seen in the poetical corner of at least a hundred -journals. The new ballads and lyrics, now first published, are among the -best in the whole collection. “The Ballad of the Tempest,” the “Pair of -Antlers,” and “Common Sense,” are very brilliant and beautiful. “Life at -Niagara,” and the “Alarmed Skipper,” are good specimens of mirthful -poetry as distinguished from versified mirth. “Children in Exile,” and -“A Bridal Melody,” have an intensity of deep and sweet feeling, which -wins its way into the very core of the heart. We might refer to others -as worthy of notice as these, but we must be content with quoting one -instead of naming many, and we accordingly present our readers with a -most beautiful specimen of blank verse, addressed to Rogers: - - ON A BOOK OF SEA-MOSSES, - - SENT TO AN EMINENT ENGLISH POET. - - To him who sang of Venice, and revealed - How Wealth and Glory clustered in her streets, - And poised her marble domes with wondrous skill, - We send these tributes, plundered from the sea. - These many-colored, variegated forms - Sail to our rougher shores, and rise and fall - To the deep music of the Atlantic wave. - Such spoils we capture where the rainbows drop, - Melting in ocean. Here are broideries strange, - Wrought by the sea-nymphs from their golden hair, - And wove by moonlight. Gently turn the leaf. - From narrow cells, scooped in the rocks, we take - These fairy textures, lightly moored at morn. - Down sunny slopes, outstretching to the deep, - We roam at noon, and gather shapes like these. - Note now the painted webs from verdurous isles, - Festooned and spangled in sea-caves, and say - What hues of land can rival tints like those, - Torn from the scarfs and gonfalons of kings - Who dwell beneath the waters. - Such our gift, - Culled from a margin of the western world, - And offered unto Genius in the old. - - * * * * * - - _Raphael; or Pages from the Book of Life at Twenty. By Alphonse - de Lamartine. New York: Harper & Brothers._ - -Lamartine, with many of the high qualities of genius, is deficient in -one of the most important—Common Sense. He is a fine and eloquent -singer of his own idealized and idolized self, but is gifted with very -imperfect powers of objective perception. He sees nothing as it is, but -every object is more or less a mirror of self. This is equally true -whether the object be Mont Blanc or a Paris mob. All his descriptions of -scenery, though often rising to a strain of rapturous eloquence and -beauty, are never accurate, even in an elevated poetical signification -of accuracy. Different scenes, in different climes, are all enveloped in -one atmosphere, and all stand for one tyrannizing class of emotions. -Lamartine is a sentimentalist, and no sentimentalist can celebrate any -nature but his own, or consider the universe as worth any thing in -itself. The excellence of the present volume consists in its subject -admitting of a strictly lyrical treatment, and it accordingly is full to -running over of Lamartine’s strong but narrow genius, and is resplendent -with glittering sentiment and decorative imagery. The work is not long -enough to tire by its egotism and fine writing, and is closed before -admiration has subsided from the interjection into the yawn of -satisfaction. A nature so rich as Lamartine’s might fill even a larger -book without exhausting its wealth of sentiment or thought. - - * * * * * - - _The Moral, Social, and Professional Duties of Attorneys and - Solicitors. By Samuel Warren, F. R. S. New York: Harper & - Brothers. 1 vol. 16mo._ - -Mr. Warren’s works on Law are almost as entertaining as his novels. The -present book is full of matter important to the young lawyer, and -interesting to the general reader. All who are accustomed to have -dealings with the profession, can obtain from this little volume many -useful and some lucrative hints. The two points on which Mr. Warren -expends his sense and his eloquence are knavery and incapacity, as those -qualities exist among lawyers. As many lives and more fortunes depend on -the existence of the opposite qualities in the profession, this volume -will be equally valuable if it succeed either in expelling rogues and -dunces from the law, or in enabling clients to detect them. - - * * * * * - - _Aurifodina; or Adventures in the Gold Region. By Cantell A. - Bigby. New York: Baker & Scribner. 1 vol. 16mo._ - -The author of this little volume has availed himself of the interest -excited by the late disclosures in California, to construct a story of -marvelous adventures in that region. In regard to probability the work -is half way between Gulliver’s Travels and the Arabian Nights. As every -thing wonderful relating to California is greedily devoured, the -disclosures of this work will undoubtedly receive their due attention. -They are nearly as much entitled to belief as many of the newspaper -accounts. - - * * * * * - - _A New Spanish Reader: Consisting of Passages from the Most - Approved Authors, in Prose and Verse. By Mariana Velasquez de la - Cadena. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ - -The editor of this volume is Professor of the Spanish Language and -Literature in Columbia College. He has so arranged his matter as to -remove all possible obstacles in the way of the learner, and to conduct -him, step by step, into the heart of the noble language of Castile. The -selections are admirably made. The volume is not only well adapted for -schools and colleges, but for the private student, and we trust it will -induce many to study a language which will give them a key to the -versatile and fertile genius of Lope de Vega, the mystical beauty of -Calderon, and the profound and genial humor of Cervantes. - - * * * * * - - _Essay on the Union of Church and State. By Baptist W. Noel, M. - A. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. 12mo._ - -This work has produced a considerable sensation in England, being a -well-written protest against the Church Establishment, supported by a -long array of facts and arguments. The author was for twenty-two years -an Episcopal clergyman, and was at last forced by his reason and -conscience into his present position. Mr. Noel does not attack the -doctrines of the Church, but its union with the State, and he attempts -to prove that this union is condemned by the letter and spirit of the -Bible, is unjust, inexpedient, and productive of a host of evils, from -which free churches are exempt. - - * * * * * - - _History of Hannibal the Carthagenian. By Jacob Abbott. With - Engravings. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. 16mo._ - -This is one of a series of historical books for the people, prepared by -Mr. Abbott with his usual felicity of condensation and simplification. -The series so far includes the Life of Mary, Queen of Scots, Alexander -the Great, Charles I. and the present volume, and others are to follow. -The author manages his matter with much art, and while few can read his -volumes without an addition to their information, they must be -invaluable to a large class of minds almost altogether deficient in -historical knowledge. - - * * * * * - - _A Catechism of the Steam Engine, Illustrative of the Scientific - Principles on which Its Operation Depends, etc. By John Bourne, - C. E. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 16mo._ - -Here, in the space of one small volume, is condensed a large amount of -available information on the steam engine, its principles, the practical -details of its structure, and its application to mines and mills, as -well as steam navigation and railways. The author evinces an intimate -practical acquaintance with his subject, and his work, while it is -invaluable to the engineer, possesses great interest to every reader -desirous of fathoming the mystery of the structure and operation of the -steam engine. - - * * * * * - - - - - VIRTUE’S EVERGREEN. - - - POETRY BY THEODORE A. GOULD. - - - MUSIC COMPOSED BY THEODORE VON LA HACHE. - - -[Illustration] - - The ilied brow, the rosy cheek, - Where beaming smiles of beauty play, - Are transient things, they but beguile, - As April’s bland and fickle smile, - They charm us with their light awhile, - Then - -[Illustration] - - fade, then fade at last away, - They charm us with their light awhile, - Then fade, then fade at last away. - ’Tis Virtue’s Virtue’s evergreen. - - - SECOND VERSE. - - They fade at last away! the form - So beautiful in youth’s gay prime, - Must shrivel up—the hair turn grey, - The eye abate its lustrous ray, - The smooth and pearly teeth decay, - Beneath the touch of Time. - - - THIRD VERSE. - - Beneath the touch of Time! a price - There is he cannot touch, I ween; - It bloometh always fair and bright - Through springs warm day or winter’s night, - A plant his hand can never blight; - ’Tis Virtue’s Evergreen, - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained as well as some -spellings peculiar to Graham’s. 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 used for preparation of the ebook. - -page 278, put into envelops with ==> put into envelopes with -page 279, Nous verrons, se que ==> Nous verrons, ce que -page 282, crop of whispers. ==> crop of whiskers. -page 291, most beautiful, all of the ==> most beautiful of all, the -page 291, many claim upon his ==> many claims upon his -page 292, drowned in the privater, ==> drowned in the privateer, -page 299, Orthrography, Etymology and ==> Orthography, Etymology and -page 306, of our benificent Father ==> of our beneficent Father -page 306, interrogatories to day pass ==> interrogatories to-day pass -page 307, widow from Manheim ==> widow from Mannheim -page 317, in all statutary Christendom ==> in all statutory Christendom -page 317, an apopthegm by one of ==> an apophthegm by one of -page 326, grande e beau physique ==> grande et beau physique -page 332, of his scimiter; ==> of his scimitar; -page 333, solid nonpariel, like ==> solid nonpareil, like -page 335, in images are sugguested ==> in images are suggested - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 5, -May 1849, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, MAY 1849 *** - -***** This file should be named 53960-0.txt or 53960-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/6/53960/ - -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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margin:0 auto 0 3em; } - .pindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:1.5em; } - .noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; } - .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-weight: bold; font-size: 1.3em; } - </style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 5, May -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. 5, May 1849 - -Author: Various - -Editor: George R. Graham - J. R. Patterson - J. B. Taylor - -Release Date: January 14, 2017 [EBook #53960] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, MAY 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> - -<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> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XXXIV.</span> May, 1849. No. 5.</p> - -<div class='literal-container'> -<p class='toch'>Table of Contents</p> -<div class='literal'> -<p class='toc'><a href='#jones'>Mr. and Mrs. John Johnson Jones</a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_1'></a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#h_2'>Lines to an Idea that Wouldn’t “Come.”</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#summ'>A Summer Evening Thought</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#nav'>The Naval Officer</a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_3'></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'><a href='#rust'>The Rustic Shrine</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#luna'>Luna.—An Ode.</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#buch'>From Buchannan</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#recl'>The Recluse. No. II.</a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_6'></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='#voice'>A Voice from the Wayside</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#sonn'>A Sonnet</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#pass'>Passages of Life in Europe</a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_11'></a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#grass'>The Grass of the Field</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#toan'>To an Absent Sister</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#taste'>Taste</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#mind'>The Man of Mind and the Man of Money</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#may'>A May Song</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#fif'>Fifty Suggestions</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#hist'>History of the Costume of Men</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#wild'>Wild-Birds of America</a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_12'></a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_13'></a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#ariel'>Ariel in the Cloven Pine</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#rem'>Reminiscences</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#part'>Parting</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#mont'>Montgomery’s House</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#edi'>Editor’s Table</a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_14'></a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_15'></a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#new'>Review of New Books</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#vir'>Virtue’s Evergreen</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='tbk100'/> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='foll'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i001f.jpg'><img src='images/i001.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:450px;height:auto;'/></a> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='it'>Anaïs Toudouze</span></span> </p> -</div> - -<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'> </p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Robes de M<sup>me</sup>.</span> Bara Bréjard, <span class='it'>r. Lafitte, 5—Coiffures de</span> Hamelin, <span class='it'>pass. du Saumon, 21</span>.</p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Fleurs de</span> Chagot 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'> </p> -<p class='line'><span class='bold'>Graham’s Magazine</span></p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<hr class='tbk102'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XXXIV.</span> PHILADELPHIA, May, 1849. <span class='sc'>No.</span> 5.</p> - -<hr class='tbk103'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='277' id='Page_277'></span><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='jones'></a>MR. AND MRS. JOHN JOHNSON JONES.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>A TALE OF EVERYDAY LIFE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY ANGELE DE V. HULL.</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='margin-bottom:1em;font-size:0.9em;'>“These are the spiders of society.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. and Mrs. John Johnson Jones were commonplace -people, but like him who cried because there -were no more worlds to conquer, they were ambitious. -There was one sphere within whose sacred -precincts they could not enter, and they wanted—to -be fashionable. They looked around—they beheld -others, who, like themselves, had once been excluded -from the “land of promise,” and with a mighty resolution, -determined to die or conquer—to overthrow -the <span class='it'>chevaux-de-frise</span> surrounding Japonicadom, with -“the impudence of wealth;” and at length—at length -the charmed gates at which Mrs. Jones had sat in an -agony of despair, burst open to her delighted gaze, -and she rose in public estimation high as the frothy -pyramids with which she ornamented her expensive -suppers and baited her guests.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After all, and in spite of the old copy that we have -written, about the root of all evil, money is a “great -invention;” especially here, where it bestows wit on -fools, beauty on beasts, and covering the blots on all -escutcheons, forces us to that promiscuous mingling -which out-democrats democracy. How magnanimous -it makes us! While the friends of the needy assist -them down the hill of fortune and bid them farewell, -they turn to help the lucky over its stepping stones, -and lifting the pedlar’s pack from his shoulders, rub -them down, and push him into what we call “our -first circle”. And a pretty circle it would be, were -the beginning known! But the shining gold that -glitters through a handsome purse, is the <span class='it'>passe partout</span>; -and like the princess in the fairy tale, nobody -looks behind for fear of hobgoblin discoveries of his -next door neighbor. Besides, reduced people are <span class='it'>so</span> -contemptible! Put them out! With each new reign -new peers arise, and so new houses should rear -their tops over the old ones, when the owners are -useless and the furniture tarnished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such a generation as we are! Such an age of -refinement! Who would sit down in the year 1849, -to a dinner on a square-table! Who would touch any -but a Westphalia ham—drink champagne from a -narrow glass—take a cup of tea from any but a silver -urn—sit in any but a Louis Quatorze—kiss a baby -that wore corals—notice an acquaintance with a -last winter bonnet, or a <span class='it'>visite</span> instead of a Jenny -Lind? Dear me! dear me! I have been thinking a -long time, and don’t know anybody that would!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones knew better for one—so did Mr. Jones; -and while they were as vulgar as pride and ignorance -could make them, learned to look upon themselves -as “glasses of fashion and moulds of form.” They -had to labor for the distinction with a zeal worthy a -better cause; and my readers shall have the benefit -of their attempts if they are not already too tired to -proceed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones canvassed among her female acquaintances -for popularity, by calling, flattering, cringing, -and sending them delicacies made by her own fair -hands; and Mr. Jones, who was very anxious to be -“genteel,” studied Chesterfield, and wondered what -it meant. He belonged to one of the first families of -a state, in which all the families were first—a universal -right of distinction. His connections would -have been titled in an aristocracy; but their respect -for the American government made them condescend -to be plain Misters, Madams, and Misses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Jones himself was a little finnikin man, with -sharp, black eyes, and high cheek bones, upon which -rested two red spots like the remains of a fly-blister. -He combed his hair into a stiff <span class='it'>toupet</span>, that made him -look like an inverted furniture-brush, with the usual -equivocal portrait of some very great individual -upon it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fortune particularly distinguished Mr. Jones and -saved him the trial of an impossibility—the one of -distinguishing himself. She gave him the key to -<span class='pageno' title='278' id='Page_278'></span> -every door when she made him wealthy, and in pure -gratitude he converted his soul into a cent, and his -heart into hard specie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, Fortune bestowed on him the would-be-elegant -Miss Pushaw, as high-born as himself; and -he was certainly a happy man when he stood up with -a bride whose dress was, like Margaret Overreach’s, -“sprinkled o’er with gold.” He was soon dazzled -by her manœuvering qualities, and touched by the -congeniality of feeling which existed between them. -An adoration of fine clothes, fine furniture, and -fashionable people, was the sacred link that bound -these loving hearts into one; and upon their removal -from the country to the city, no marble-cutter labored -harder, or struck more small pieces right and left, -than did Mr. and Mrs. John Johnson Jones, when -they fawned and flattered, and ran small errands for -the neighbors that surrounded them, “the great -Athenians.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones kept a small confectionary establishment -in her pantry, for all the ladies who fell sick; -and Mr. Jones was kind enough to open a cigar and -drinking establishment for the gentlemen who were -obliging enough to call. They progressed, however, -slowly in the affections of the proud ——ians, and -were somewhat discouraged, but recollecting the -pretty motto of “Hope on, hope ever,” they did not -despair, and contemplated taking larger strides toward -gentility.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones had been originally called Sally, but -changed the appellation for the softer one of Sara. -Spring came on, and she resolved to follow the -world of fashion to one of its favorite resorts, the -little village of Quiproquo. She persuaded her loving -spouse to rent one of its cottages; and covering some -old sofas and chairs with new chintz, furnished it -nicely and neatly enough to have satisfied the most -fastidious. But to every visiter the same apology -was made for its plainness; and Mrs. Jones informed -them all that “her house in town was furnished -<span class='it'>elegunt</span>, but she didn’t like to bring out her mahogany -cheers,” while her husband’s invariable rejoinder -was, “Why, Sara, there are plenty more where -them came from!” A mere playful allusion to the -amount of his fortune, a fact he never lost sight of, -and in time it had its due effect on his listeners.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This house became at length the <span class='it'>pied-à-terre</span> for -all the high-bred loungers that had nothing to do but -smoke, drink, and play Boston in the summer months; -the season of inevitable idleness for all Southerners -of all professions—doctors excepted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones talked very loud and very much <span class='it'>du -nez</span>; she took all the empty speeches she listened to -for witticisms, and was forever busy in the service -of others, running about shaking a little basket of -keys, to impress them with a due sense of her importance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Jones’s wine flowed freely, (so did his brandy -par parenthesis. Brandy-and-water drinking becomes -a solemn duty in the warm weather, among -the inhabitants of Quiproquo.) Then the boxes of -best Havanas were fast emptied, and clouds of smoke -arose from the front piazza, frightening the neighbors -into thinking the house was on fire until they -were used to it. And Boston! and whist! there was -no end to these favorite games, while the gossips of -the village whispered that it was a very profitable -amusement to Mr. Jones.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But there was still a Mordecai at the gate of poor -Mrs. Jones’s soul. Many had called to see her, -whose nod a few months previous was as great as -Jove’s from Mount Olympus; but like all who strive -for much, she wanted more. There was one card -whose reception would at once stamp her “a peer,” -give her the right to place the golden grasshopper in -her hair; for Mrs. Macfuss was one of the proud -Autochthones whose boast was that she had never -been but the first among the first. She had been -heard to say that she could not think of encouraging -such persons as the Joneses! And such a speech -from the cynosure of all eyes threw Mrs. Jones -into hysterics.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Macfuss’s house was the house par excellence; -her suppers were given in the Hall of Apollo, where -Lucullus supped with Lucullus. The dinners were -triumphs of culinary art, over which the very spirit -of Ude must have presided. Her toilette was ever in -the most exquisite taste. Her dresses gave the <span class='it'>ton</span>, -and her patronage decided the fate of a mantuamaker -for life. The entire race of milliners would have -credited her forever sooner than lose the honor of her -custom; and she it was for whose favor poor Mrs. -Jones pined in green and yellow melancholy. She -cried for very spite, while Mr. Jones swore that he -would trample on the d—n proud set after a while.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They determined to make a mighty effort, and -commenced preparations for a ball. Invitations were -written on scented paper, and put into <a id='env'></a>envelopes with -embossed vines and bouquets over the seal. These -were sent to her new acquaintances, and the “picked -and chosen” of her old ones; and breaking through -the charmed rules of etiquette, Mrs. Jones’s cards -were slipped into some of the invitations and left at -Mrs. Macfuss’s for herself and family. A band of -music was engaged, and every thing prepared on a -large scale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones was seen rushing in and out of the -house in an old loose gown looking like—herself; -sleeves up to her elbows, and said elbows covered -with eggs, sugar and butter; while behind her ran -Master Pushaw Jones, on a pair of hard fat, blue legs, -his face besmeared with the same sweet compound -that graced his mamma’s arms, enlivening the scene -with shrill screams for egg-shells, into which he concocted -sundry messes that defy description.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In every sunny spot around the house were tables -covered with cakes like pyramids of snow, so white -and smooth was the icing poured over them. In the -kitchen were fowls roasting and hams boiling; -turkeys innumerable in their tin houses, getting -basted and browned; and oysters getting plumped -and pickled, peppered and spiced. There was more -shuffling, running about, upsetting and breaking, than -can be imagined, and fussing, to Mrs. Jones’s content. -Baskets of champagne arriving from town; -blocks of ice; borrowed china and glass; lamps, -<span class='pageno' title='279' id='Page_279'></span> -candelabras, &c., &c. Servants rushing out to assist -the draymen, shouting, tumbling over one another -in an agony of amazement at “Miss Sally’s importance,” -and ransacking drawers and closets for cup-towels -and tumbler-towels that were insufficient for -all the wiping that was to be done.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The table was set out—and a magnificent one it -was, if profusion is beauty. There was nothing -wanting. Plenty of lights, too, were in readiness, -and nearly all was completed the evening before, to -poor Mrs. Jones’s relief. She went to bed, endeavoring -to think the fatigue a pleasure, and slept -soundly enough to feel recruited.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But, alas! a bad day and a worse night damped her -expectations, and she walked about, giving her directions -with less buoyancy than the evening previous. -<span class='it'>Then</span>, the fair moon was filling the earth with her -silver light, and covering the galleries (whereon -the guests were to have promenaded) with her radiance. -<span class='it'>Now</span>, the air was damp and chilly, the rain -was still dropping over the roof, and the roads were, -of course, almost impassable. The grandees shrugged -their shoulders at the idea of a wet drive to Mrs. -Jones’s party, and many who would have gone, remained -at home for want of comfortable equipages.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The musicians called the quadrilles in hoarse -voices, and their instruments were out of tune. The -wind blew out the lights, and great confusion prevailed -among the dancers. The icing ran down the -sides of the cakes, the Charlotte Russes flowed over -and the beautiful jelly, so perfectly moulded, melted -away like a dream. Mrs. Jones was ready to swoon, -but rallied, and talked louder than ever as she ran to -and fro, in great agony of mind. Her husband suffered -less; he was winning at cards, and the expenses -of the party were much lessened as some of -the guests pockets lightened. He even forgot the -absent Macfusses, and wondered that Sara “took on -so.” Supper was announced—the champagne foamed -and sparkled, the corks flew about like hail-stones, -and every body was pleased but poor Mrs. Jones, -who was glad when it ended, and lay down at length -with a terrible <span class='it'>migraine</span>. Then came the nightmare -in the shape of one of her own black cakes thrown at -her head by Mrs. Macfuss—and so ended the party -for her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had, however, the consolation of telling her -next door neighbor, who was too sick to accept her -invitation, what an “elegant supper she had, and -how much it had cost her.” She enumerated the -number of empty bottles that <span class='it'>had</span> been full, the loaves -of sugar that were broken up, and the hundreds of -pounds of ice that had been used for freezing, &c., -&c. The dozens of eggs, the ounces of gelatin! -She had followed Miss Leslie’s receipts, “and,” -added she, taking breath, “you know, Mrs. Hill, -that you <span class='it'>must</span> go to vast expense for that, as she -directs you to take the best of every thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Hill did not doubt it, and as she afterward -told her sister, heard an account so minute of the costs -of the entertainment, that she could easily have made -out the bills for the city confectioners and grocers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But she did not tell me who were her guests, -Eda; and I really had no opportunity of asking,” -said she, smiling. “Now I might have learned something -more interesting for your benefit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not for mine, Fanny,” returned Miss Seymour, -laughing. “Poor Mrs. Jones! she could not tell you -that Mrs. Macfuss did not accept her polite invitation, -and in <span class='it'>her</span> absence, she considered her rooms empty. -Is she not a host within herself?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like to have seen <span class='it'>her</span> reception of Mrs. -Jones’s envelopes and cards,” exclaimed young Seymour, -rising from the sofa, and seating himself at his -sister’s side. “It is certainly a bore to have such -vulgarians thrust themselves among us. Fancy your -compliance with the request I heard her make <span class='it'>you</span>, -Eda, to ‘Come over and be intimate!’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You may look as disdainful as you please, my -exclusive brother,” said Mrs. Hill, laying her white -hand upon his own, “but I prophecy Mrs. Jones’s -rise in the world of fashion as a thing of certain -occurrence, as much as we all now laugh at and -despise her vulgarity and ignorance. She will be as -well considered as you or I, and more, for she has -wealth, and we have only education and high-breeding.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell it not in Gath! What, Macfusses and all, -Fanny!” cried her brother. “Impossible! No one is -a prophet in his own country, my dear sister, and thus -I console myself for the shock you have given me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Nous verrons, <a id='nous'></a>ce que nous verrons</span>, Harry,” -said Mrs. Hill, smiling, “but I think I am right. -Human nature is the same all over the world, and I -have learned to study it of late years. Did not Lady -Montague write, that wherever she had gone in her -travels in Europe and the East, she met with ‘men -and women!’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very true, Fanny, but if what you predict comes -to pass, I shall play Timon of Athens, and fly to -Texas.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, lame and impotent conclusion!” said Eda, -rising and running her fingers over the harp-strings, -sending a full, clear strain through the apartment.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“‘If music be the food of love, play on;</p> -<p class='line0'> Give me excess of it, that surfeiting—’</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>I may forget Fanny’s shocking view of fashionable -human nature. She is a perfect old Diogenes, and -deserves no better than a tub! Play, Eda, that ‘music -for a time may change <span class='it'>her</span> nature.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, sing, sister,” said Fanny; “’twill soothe -his troubled spirit sooner. Sing something from Lucia -di Lammermoor, and I will promise not to repeat -my offence.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Mrs. Hill was right. She did not presume to -deny the title of every one in our own free country -to the equality it claims. She would exclude none -from the advantages of society, let their pedigree be -what it might. She respected honesty, and venerated -truth. She knew that wealth could not confer either, -and was too often acquired in their absence; to her -it covered no faults, mended no reputation, refined -no coarseness of mind, and looking upon it as affording -opportunities of relieving misery, ways of -making others happy, of giving to genius the advantages -of education and learning, it was no wonder -<span class='pageno' title='280' id='Page_280'></span> -that she sighed, as she witnessed its daily influence on -the minds and hearts of those with whom she mingled. -There was no bitterness in her contemplation of its -consequences, for she was too good and gentle to be -envious, too pious to repine. She had been in the -sunshine of the great world’s favor, and was now -beginning to see its clouds, as her means of affording -mere entertainment to its votaries began to decline. -But, although she felt privations, the want of -comforts to which she had ever been accustomed; -although she felt that wealth can bestow much happiness -on those who know its proper use, she murmured -not, nor thought more of those on whom -fortune was conferring her choicest favors. No -wonder, then, that she could foresee the success of -Mrs. Jones, when with <span class='it'>her</span> accomplishments and -fine, noble mind, the diminution of prosperity brought -her less consideration. The mortification to her -was, not the loss of fortune, but the mistake she -made in fancying that her real worth had been appreciated. -She knew that true hearts could not forsake -her, that true friends could not be changed, and the -rest passed from her mind as a dream that had lasted -too long.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Winter approached, and after giving dinners, suppers, -and picknicks innumerable in honor of her -new acquaintance, Mrs. Jones prepared to remove -into her house in town. At the same time Mrs. -Macfuss was ready to do the like, and as mortified as -the former felt at her palpable neglect, it was a comfort -to know that their furniture-wagons went side -by side for six good miles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so ended Mrs. Jones’s first year of climbing. -The ladder seemed not so steep, nor the ascent so -difficult; she could look up and smile on those at -the top, while hands were held out to help her as -she mounted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She dreamed of Paradise, and began to breathe and -hope. Who would not in her place? She talked -louder than ever, and began to patronize a few, offering -to chaperone very young ladies, or ladies of a -certain age. Her toilette was magnificent, and -began to be elegant. Mrs. Jones had improved decidedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The house continued to be thronged with her -usual visiters. Her parlors were a kind of club-room -for young men who staggered about, half-sober, -after having played cards all night, or rested -their weary heads upon the satin pillows of her sofas, -and dozed off the effect of the champagne. Mrs. -Jones declined all further communication with her -former friends, and wrote pompous notes to all who -took any liberty with her name. It was a thing she -could not think of allowing; she had certainly the -right of choosing her associates, and neither herself -nor Mr. Jones could permit any one to question their -conduct in any manner. Indeed, she was often upon -the point of requesting Mr. Jones to impress it upon -the minds of the silly creatures, that she could not -acknowledge the acquaintance of such a promiscuous -set. They had fastened upon her during her residence -at “the Creek,” and she could not shake them -off; she never dreamed of encouraging them, and -had resolved on her return from the North, not to -notice any calls paid her by such an obstinate set.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, indeed!” exclaimed the bosom-friend of -days gone by, upon hearing all this repeated; “she -don’t intend to know us! Perhaps she forgets how -glad she was when aunt invited her and her sister to -a party, and they mortified us so, by coming with -paper crowns on their heads, and little baskets filled -with artificial flowers on their arms?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And every one laughed so!” cried another. -“She came to see <span class='it'>me</span> once, with a colored dress on, -trimmed all over with broad white ruffles. Wasn’t -that a costume? I wonder who <span class='it'>she</span> is, to slight us! -She would do better to recollect what she springs -from. Indeed! the time was—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But we have not time to repeat the angry sayings -of Mrs. Jones’ friends. Some were told to her, but -she cared not a <span class='it'>sous</span>, since the old set and the new -would never meet to canvass her pedigree or her -paper wreaths of yore. So, bidding a long farewell -to them all, she left for New York, in all the glory of -traveling-dresses, trunks labeled “John Johnson -Jones,” and a white nurse for Master Pushaw.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_1'>CHAPTER II.</h2> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:0.9em;'>“I dressed myself from top to toe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you going out this morning, Sara?” said Mr. -Jones, as he saw an unusual quantity of finery on -the dressing-table, embroidered collars, cuffs, handkerchiefs -and gay ribbons.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes; I have some calls to make—no very important -ones to be sure; I intend dining out to Mrs. -Hill’s place at Summerfield. But as I think it a duty -to assist in putting down the pride of such people, I -wish to go with some eeclaw, and will take Pushaw -with me, to show off his handsome suit. Some of -my friends told me it was folly in me to put myself -to the trouble of calling, but I wish them to see how -mistaken they were, poor things! when they took -upon themselves to treat us with so much indifference -when we were neighbors. The Hills are of no -earthly use, everybody knows that! and I vow and -declare that I saw Mrs. Hill wear that shine silk of -hers two winters ago. I really must ask some of her -acquaintances; it is worth while to ascertain it. I -suppose I must go alone, for I could not ask any one -to be charitable enough to go with me; and after -this, I mean to cut the Seymour and Hill clique most -decidedly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones took breath, and laughed at her own -wit as though she relished it; and well she might, -for the idea of her being able to “cut people” was a -very funny one to be sure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hill is doing a bad business this winter,” said -her husband, buttoning his coat, and straightening -himself before the glass. “He’ll be ‘done up’ at -the end of it, I’ll wager any thing, for he sold his -beautiful horse a short time since, and a man must be -in a poor way to part with such an animal as that is. -Sinclair bought him, and hardly knows how to ride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’m sure <span class='it'>I</span> don’t care, for one,” remarked -Mrs. Jones, with great elegance of manner and tone, -<span class='pageno' title='281' id='Page_281'></span> -as she threw over her shoulders a Brussels cape that -had been sent up by her modiste for her inspection. -“This is splendid, I declare! I’m glad Mrs. Puff -thought of sending this; it is exactly like one Mrs. -Macfuss wore at the Ford’s fine dinner, and so it -must be the fashion. As I was saying, Mr. Jones, -the Hills were rather high with me last summer; I -never could get them to come over and be intimate. -Now there’s Marian Fawney, as sweet a girl as ever -lived, I had only to tell her once, and we’ve been -like sisters ever since.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes; a little <span class='it'>too</span> intimate for my good,” said Mr. -Jones, as he thought of the constant visits of all Miss -Fawney’s family. “It may all be very fine for you, -Sally, and she may be a very good girl, but I think -she loves rich folks, and no others.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, and who don’t?” replied his wife, who -felt herself subject to a similar weakness. “Besides, -Mr. Jones, her acquaintance has been an advantage, -consider that! I have no doubt but that through her -influence we shall have Mrs. Macfuss in our house -before the season is out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“D—n Mrs. Macfuss!” exclaimed Mr. Jones, forgetting -Chesterfield in his indignation at the heart-aches -she had given him and his helpmate. “You -expect the Saxons, too, I suppose! For they are as -proud as the others, and as grand in their notions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Saxons dine here on Monday,” said Mrs. -Jones, with a look of triumph. “They called this -week, and I immediately asked them, reserving the -news for one of your cross humors, and you were -just beginning one at the Macfusses.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Jones “unknit his threatening brow” and -congratulated his wife upon her cleverness. “And -never mind, Sally,” continued he, forgetting to use -the more musical name of Sara, “I’ll pull down -those Macfusses yet, with the fortune I’m making; -for I have sworn to be the wealthiest man in ——, -and I don’t think Macfuss can say as much. I have -the means before me, and if Will can help, ‘there’s -no such word as fail.’ Hurrah, Sally! hurrah!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Jones was like Richard, “himself again,” and -almost upset the chiffoniere in the middle of the -room. His wife smiled benignantly upon his playfulness, -but thought it time to end his exhilaration -where it began; “for,” said she to herself, “if any -one should hear him!” So she dismissed him by -reminding him of the hour, and Mr. Jones left his -Penates for his sanctuary, the counting-room. In -his mind, if mind it were, there was but one idea, -the one of amassing wealth, and he was as unlike -that being of superiority, man, as the sloth to the bee. -While his limbs moved, while his fingers marked -down the all-important figures, his mind lay dormant, -his soul stagnant; and forgetful of the treasures that -“neither rust nor moth doth consume, where thieves -do not break through nor steal,” he left uneared for -the harvest which we are bound to reap—the harvest -of a good and useful life. Where his treasure was, -there also was his heart; but such things pass away, -and will be like a drop in the ocean; where then -would lie the benefit of all this toil, these struggles -for the vain possessions of a passing world?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Equally heedless of <span class='it'>her</span> real fortune, his wife proceeded -to her duty of <span class='it'>une grande toilette</span>. Calling -her sable handmaid, she gave directions for Master -Pushaw’s outfit, upon this unusual occasion for -display.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dress him in the suit that came from the North, -Cilla,” said she, with an air of Zenobian authority. -“I wish to take him with me. Be prompt, and do -not cross him, for he would cry, and I cannot have -his face swollen. It will disfigure him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were few charms to destroy in Master -Jones’s little dish-face, but his mother descended to -the front parlor with a Gracchi perception of greatness -in embryo, and walked up and down before the -pier-glass until her father’s softened image followed -her. Sundry shrill screams had found their way below, -but as the injuries were entirely confined to -poor Cilla’s face and hands, Mrs. Jones was satisfied. -She surveyed him attentively, and the result was -satisfactory; although Master Pushaw looked very -much as if he were about to mount Miss Foote for a -race, or a circus pony for a ride around the ring. -His clothes were remarkable for their gay color, and -he wore a fools-cap, whose long gold tassel swung -to and fro as his motions grew animated. We have -seen little creatures dressed like, and resembling him—but -they were not children.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones was whirled off in triumph to Mrs. -Hill’s. A pretty cottage, elegantly but simply furnished, -stood unmoved as the splendid equipage -dashed up to the front door. A servant opened it, -at sound of the bell, and answered in plain English -that his mistress was “at home.” Mrs. Jones descended -the steps, and was ushered into the parlor. -Still there was no unusual stir about the place, the -pretty portraits kept in their frames on the wall, and -the flowers remained unwithered at her approach. -Mrs Jones’s astonishment redoubled, and when Mrs. -Hill entered the room, her smiling, blooming countenance -completed the disappointment of her guest. -Nay, her quiet manner, and indifference to the mass -of ribbons, flounces and embroidery that sat before -her, gave Mrs. Jones nervous twitches at the mouth, -and she at length asked for Mrs. Hill’s little boy, certain -of seeing him, as Master Pushaw looked when -he was not “dressed in the suit that came from the -North.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the nurse entered holding by the hand a beautiful -boy, whose smooth, fresh complexion was ornamented -with only the bloom “Nature’s cunning hand -had laid on.” His costume was as unlike a fancy -one as possible, and Mrs. Jones felt the thorn deeper -in her side, as his bright dark eye rested boldly and -scrutinizingly upon his visiter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a funny cap!” exclaimed he, as it swung -to and fro when Pushaw turned his head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And so it is funny, dear!” replied the nurse with -true Irish naiveté.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take the little boy with you, Charley, and get -him a nice biscuit,” said Mrs. Hill, and she felt relieved -as the children left the room. “A glass of -wine will refresh you after the drive, Mrs. Jones,” -continued she, hoping to direct her attention to a different -<span class='pageno' title='282' id='Page_282'></span> -channel; and pulling the bell, she ordered a -tray of refreshment for her fashionable guest, not -fearing to display the contents of her pantry to such -practiced eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones swallowed a sponge cake, and washed -it down with a mouthful or two of wine; but it almost -choked her, and she rose to go without having dazzled -Mrs. Hill with an account of her “elegant -dinner-service, and the splendid silver tea-set.” She -remained imperturbable during the enumeration of -the parties Mrs. Jones had attended, and the invitations -she had been forced to decline, so bidding her -hostess good morning, the lady stepped into her carriage -with a feeling of bitter disappointment, “for” -said she, “Mrs. Hill don’t look at all as though her -husband were doing a bad business. Mr. Jones must -be mistaken; no woman on the verge of poverty could -ever look as undisturbed as she did this morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No woman like Mrs. Jones <span class='it'>could</span> have been cheerful -under the sad reverses of the young creature whom -she chose to despise. <span class='it'>Her</span> aim was fashion—her -idol wealth. Mrs. Hill cared for neither; she struggled -to preserve in adversity the happiness that had -begun in prosperity. The object of the visit she received -was intelligible to her, and her only emotion -was one of pure amusement as she resumed her quiet -rational pursuits. Mrs. Jones would have disdained -pleasures that occasioned no display. Fanny felt -grateful to the Giver of all good for the resources that -supplied the place of the worldly amusements in which -she could no longer afford to participate; and felt that -however they may gratify for a time, they leave, -from their uselessness, a void in the heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That night, while she and her husband sat together -in animated, sprightly discourse over some work they -had been reading, four people were assembled around -the centre-table in one of Mrs. Jones’s handsome -parlors. The lady herself, her husband, and Miss -Fawney, with her brother, a little snub-nosed, purple-visaged -fellow, conceited, of course, and fond of -talking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones held a pencil in her hand. Before her -lay a <span class='it'>portfeuille</span> of unexceptionable shape and hue, -and on a sheet of satin paper she was writing a list -of the guests to be invited to a ball Miss Fawney -thought it advisable for her to give. It was a popularity -party, but as she catered for patronage that -needed notes from the élite, not from the vulgar, it -was a very exclusive affair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Every thing shall be perfectly <span class='it'>elegunt</span>, Marian—so -be as select as you please, my love, I fear no -rivalry in business like this; Mrs. Macfuss shall see -herself at home, if she accepts,” said Mrs. Jones, -raising her head proudly, and smiling as she concluded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s right, Sara!” said her husband, stroking -his small crop of <a id='whisk'></a>whiskers. “Go the whole hog, and -give us something out of the way.” (Mr. Jones was -forgetting Chesterfield, decidedly, but then he had -not so much need to learn refinement, since his rise -in the world.)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do mind him for once, Mrs. Jones, although you -ladies don’t love obedience to the conjugal yoke,” -observed Mr. Fawney, screwing up his face to refrain -from laughing at his own wit. “All the young -men in town are wishing that you would give a party. -They know what they may expect, I can tell you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do they, indeed?” said the lady, expanding. -“Then lose no time, Marian Fawney, I leave the -invitations to you, for you know none but the first -people here, and we can ask as many as you will -write down. I give you <span class='it'>coorte blonche</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you, dear Mrs. Jones,” cried she, embracing -that lady with great affection, and filled with delight -at the commission given her. “How kind of you to -leave every thing to me! But then you know how -much I feel—” Miss Fawney here wept a little, and -wiping her eyes and snuffling, resumed: “Now we’ll -begin with—the Macfusses, of course—then the -Fentons—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But none of them have called on Sara,” interrupted -Mr. Jones.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But they will—I know that they intend it. Mrs. -Macfuss told me the other day that Mrs. Jones entered -a room like a Parisian, and that her dress was perfect!” -said Marian.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This appeased Mr. Jones, and so enraptured his -wife, that it was a pity it was not true; but Miss -Fawney told an untruth so gracefully that falsehood -became in her <span class='it'>plus belle que la belle verité</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shall Mrs. Hill be invited?” asked she in a tone -that plainly demanded a negative.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Might as well,” said Mr. Jones, picking his teeth -with fashionable ease.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor thing!” sighed Miss Fawney, while her face -lengthened as she assumed a look of compassion, -“does she go out this winter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Jones says her husband does a bad business -this season,” observed Mrs. J. “She can’t get a -ball-dress, what’s the use of tempting her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ever principled, my dear Mrs. Jones!” cried -Miss Fawney, much affected a second time, but restraining -her tears. “However, she might borrow -one from her sister,” continued she, feeling that the -more she dwelt upon Mrs. Hill’s reverses, the less -inclined Mrs. Jones was to be polite to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“D—n it, let ’em come!” said the master of the -house, conscious of no reason for slighting people -who were never rude. “What’s the difference to -Sally how they dress! She don’t lose by it, does -she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have such a kind heart!” cried Marian, -taking his hand, and gazing upon him with a look of -two-fold approbation; but Mr. Jones turned away, -wondering inwardly “what in heaven’s name the -girl was forever crying about!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come, Sara, decide! shall the invitation be -written, or not?” said he, somewhat impatiently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No!” said the lady, positively, for she had just -remembered Mrs. Hill’s indifference to her costly -silk, her new carriage, and Pushaw’s fancy cap.</p> - -<hr class='tbk104'/> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fanny,” said Miss Seymour, as she stepped from -her carriage one evening at her sister’s door, “come -with me, wont you? I am going to drive on to the -city, having some <span class='it'>emplettes</span> to make, and we can call -<span class='pageno' title='283' id='Page_283'></span> -on Mrs. Jones as we return. The sound of her -silvery voice will re-animate you this evening, for -you do not look so well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Hill was not as cheerful as was her wont, for -her prospects did not brighten, and she had been -sitting on the steps, thinking, until a few tears rolling -over her sweet face, left their glaze, and did not -escape Eda’s eye of affection. Ever willing to oblige, -however, and anxious to resume her usual looks, -before her husband should return to mark and grieve -over her sadness, she assented.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must wait awhile, Eda, until I change my -dress; I must put on a more ceremonious costume, -for Mrs. Jones has ceased asking me to ‘come over -and be intimate’ since my fortunes are changing. -This satin de laine would be an insult after the magnificence -with which she assailed me two weeks -ago? Can you give me time to make <span class='it'>une toilette -soignée</span>?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly,” said Miss Seymour, seating herself -and taking her little nephew on her lap, “although you -require but a slight change in my humble opinion, to -present yourself at Mrs. Jones’s door.” Fanny smiled -and hastened in; but soon returned, looking pretty -enough to make the fine lady jealous, in despite of -her simple attire. She had that real elegance of -manner which Mrs. Jones so much admired in herself, -but could not see in others that failed to prosper -in the world’s estimation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was “at home,” the servant said, and they -were ushered in by an African damsel, in washing -attire. Her clothes were looped about her waist like -a <span class='it'>blanchisseuse</span>, and she displayed a pair of ebony -legs ending with wide, naked feet. Her drapery was -not like her mistress’s company, “select,” but -seemed to hold the accumulated dust and dirt of the -house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Seated in the parlors, the sisters had leisure to -contemplate the contents of the apartment they had -often heard described. Two portraits hung opposite. -One represented Mrs. Jones in ball costume, giving -the finishing touch to her toilette. On her lap was -a very work-box looking casket, out of which she -was taking a string of most unequivocal wax-beads, -supposed to resemble pearls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Jones sat bolt upright, with a book in his hand, -looking very learned, and very much puzzled about -some weighty question.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But what struck them most was, that on the -tables in the corners, stood cake-baskets, covered -with doilies, and candlesticks innumerable were -disposed about the room, with unlit candles, and -curled paper wound around them. Some of the -baskets contained cake that plainly looked, “don’t -touch me yet,” and we forgot to mention a tub of -rather muddy water that stood in the middle of the -folding-doors, on a large oil-cloth, as though the dark -damsel, with the very short garments, had been interrupted -in the act of scouring paint at this untimely -hour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Jones has scrubbing done at a strange time,” -said Eda, pointing to the implements before mentioned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Eda! I’m sure that we have called at a -very wrong hour,” said Fanny, pointing in her turn -to the cake and candles. “Does not that look like a -bidding of guests to the banquet hall?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It does, indeed. What have we done, Fanny? -How could we know of such preparations when the -stupid girl said her mistress was at home? The idea -of scouring at such an hour, too! Housekeeping -should be like the mechanism of the clock—we know -that it goes, but do not see the operation. When was -our house ever seen in such a trim by visiters?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In such an <span class='it'>un</span>trim, you mean to say,” said Fanny; -“but pray do not laugh, Eda, it is like hypocrisy to -do so now, that we have given ourselves the trouble -of coming to see Mrs. Jones.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are too good, Fanny; but if you keep your -face serious in that absurd way, striving to practice -what you preach, I shall shriek out,” replied her -sister. “Do laugh, if you feel like it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, Eda, no!” said Fanny, trying to look grave. -“Do not make me act rudely. <span class='it'>We</span> have made the -mistake, for we live in the country and hear none of -these ‘fine ladies’ doings.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pshaw! Mrs. Jones cannot give a party without -<span class='it'>my</span> hearing of it; she owes me the invitation, and -you also.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never shall expect one,” said Mrs. Hill, smiling, -and the servant entered to ask “if Miss Seymour -were in the parlor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Seymour and Mrs. Hill,” said Eda, wondering -what was to come next.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, then, marm, Miss Sarly say, (and I told -her it was you and Mrs. Hill, too,) that she’s been -busy all day, and can’t see no company. Here’s a -ticket for you to come to the party. Miss Sarly say -she never had no time to send it out in the country, -but long’s you are here, she told me to fotch it down. -They a’nt none for you marm,” turning to Fanny.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This new way of sending invitations was, in reality, -ignorance on the part of poor Mrs. Jones. She had -not yet been out as far as Mr. Seymour’s country-seat, -and thought it an excellent idea to take advantage -of Eda’s presence in the house. The neglect of -Mrs. Hill was intentional, as we have seen, but it was -<span class='it'>now</span> difficult to say which was most uncontrollable, -Eda’s indignation, or her sister’s amusement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have a mind to send it back to her,” cried Eda, -in French. “What gross impertinence!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ignorance, sister; she knew no better, and I told -you I expected nothing from Mrs. Jones,” said -Fanny. “Do let us go, dear Eda! I cannot help it -now, I must laugh! Come”—and she led the way -out, observing that she ought to forgive it, as Mrs. -Jones had not yet unlearned her <span class='it'>habitudes de chaumière</span>. -The door stood open, and behind it was Mrs. -Jones, intent upon hearing what comments were -passed by Mrs. Hill, when she found herself “neglected.” -She had the great satisfaction of knowing -that she was seen, for Fanny’s merry eyes rested full -upon her; and she was somewhat disappointed as she -heard the sweet, silver laugh that echoed behind them -as the carriage rolled away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was not pleasant, but Mrs. Jones remembered -<span class='pageno' title='284' id='Page_284'></span> -that Mrs. Hill saw no one now, “and, of -course, Miss Seymour wont come when her sister is -not invited. I wish I had not kept on this old gown, -since they spied me out; but, lor! it don’t make any -difference. I wonder what they said, too; I couldn’t -tell from here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She asked Cilla; but Cilla replied that “they didn’t -talk Merrican, and how could <span class='it'>she</span> understand? But -I tell you what, Miss Sarly, I didn’t like to invite -one ’thout tother; and I felt very oncomfortable ’bout -it, too!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Cilla had the advantage over her mistress in -good feeling at least, but she was told to hold her -tongue and go to her work, and no one was ever the -wiser by it. But as we wish to give only an account -of the rise of Mr. and Mrs. John Johnson Jones, we -must pay less attention to the little incidents of every-day -life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To have slighted Mrs. Hill, “whose husband did -a bad business,” was one triumph—to have secured -Eda’s non-attendance, another. But to receive Mrs. -Macfuss’s acceptance, was one worthy of the gods! -This joyful blow was too much for Mrs. Jones’s -nervous system! She had the paint rescoured, and -Cilla, much discomforted, observed (out of her lady’s -hearing, of course,) “that if cos Mrs. Makefuss is a -comin’ I has to do all my work over, I wish, (oh, my -sakes! if Miss Sarly could hear me!) she’d a kept -her ’ceptance to herself. Here’s Miss Sarly almost -out her head, and when the ’oman <span class='it'>do</span> come, she’ll -be crazy as a coot—and coots is bad off for sense.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cilla was not far wrong. When Miss Fawney -communicated the intelligence that an acceptance -was to be sent on the morrow, Mrs. Jones ran about -in playful bewilderment and relieved herself a little -by adding some extra-artificials to her dress. She -borrowed more candlesticks and lamps, and had some -idea of illuminating the house from attic to cellar, -ordering lanterns to be hung at the gate, that Mrs. -Macfuss might not mistake. “And now, Marian, -my dear child,” continued she, turning to her convenient -friend, “do tell me what Mr. and Mrs. -Macfuss like best to eat. What more <span class='it'>can</span> I have on -my table that they would relish? I know they always -have the finest of every thing—think well now, and -let me know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Fawney was a little puzzled at first, but -suddenly recollected what she liked most herself, so -informed Mrs. Jones that Mr. Macfuss was very fond -of <span class='it'>pâté de foie gras</span>, and also of oyster gumbo.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The gumbo I have prepared, my love, of course; -but the potty dee foy graws I had almost forgotten. -Gourmand has quantities of potties, as he is a Frenchman, -and imports those articles from Paris direct. -I think you said Mrs. Macfuss liked sherbet and -lemon ice cream?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No; Miss Fawney liked vanilla best, and affirmed -that Mrs. Macfuss was very partial to it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is she, indeed! Oh, Marian, I had ordered -lemon!” cried Mrs. Jones, in dismay. “Come, -we’ll go to Praline’s this instant and reverse it. And -those pine apples. They must be rich. Smith! have -the carriage round immediately; I’ll go up and put -on my bonnet, Marian;” and when Mrs. Jones -arrived at Praline’s her heart dilated as she saw in -how much consideration she was held by her confectioner -and his wife. They were all smirks and -smiles, particularly as she constantly repeated “you -know now, Mrs. Praline, that I mind no expense -whatever.” And Miss Fawney called her an extravagant -creature! “But I knew, Mrs. Jones, that -when you did give a party, it would be a magnificent -affair!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so, indeed, it proved. The weather was fine -and everybody came. Mrs. Macfuss meeting her -own set, and seeing so much display, was reconciled -to her new acquaintance. Mr. Macfuss, seeing a -magnificent supper and drinking the finest of wines, -shook hands with his host, and asked him to come -and see him sociably.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a pleasant combination of things. The -host and hostess said they never would regret the -ball, and Miss Fawney was profuse in her congratulations. -At length they had reached the goal, and -began to feel with Mr. and Mrs. Vincent Crummles, -the sweets of popularity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones who heard soon after to say that she -had scarcely time to take her meals, people so -thronged the house; and before she was quite aware -of it, she had asked Mrs. Macfuss to come over and -be intimate!</p> - -<hr class='tbk105'/> - -<p class='pindent'>One evening, as Mrs. Hill and her brother stood -together at the gate of her pretty cottage, a handsome -equipage dashed by, filling with dust the mouths -of the plebeian pedestrians on either side of the -smooth road through Summerfield.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two ladies were on the back seat, while in front -sat two little boys, looking very gravely at one -another. The driver had on a coat filled with brass -buttons—and this was called a livery; so the whole -effect was very grand and imposing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who was that, Fanny?” said young Seymour; -“whose carriage is that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The carriage belongs to Mrs. John Johnson Jones, -brother. Did you not see her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not recognize her—she bowed, did she not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not she, my good sir; she never bends so low. -Could you not see how stiff the lady was?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then who did bow to you just now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Macfuss,” said Fanny, smiling archly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whew! Whose little innocents were those in -front?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Master Pushaw Jones and Master Johnny Macfuss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Seymour paused.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fanny,” said he at length, “I’ll go to Texas. -I see that Mrs. Macfuss has been over, and is -intimate!”</p> - -<hr class='tbk106'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='285' id='Page_285'></span><h1 id='h_2'>LINES TO AN IDEA THAT WOULDN’T “COME.”</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 FRANCES S. OSGOOD.</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' style='text-align:left;margin-left:2em;font-size:0.9em;'>“Why thus longing, thus forever sighing</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:2em;font-size:0.9em;'>For the far off, unattained and dim?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:2em;font-size:0.9em;'>“Has Hope like the bird in the story,</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:2em;font-size:0.9em;'>That flitted from tree to tree,</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:1em;font-size:0.9em;'>With the talisman’s glittering glory.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:2em;font-size:0.9em;'>Has Hope been that bird to thee?”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Oh! fondly wished for, why delay?</p> -<p class='line'>  This virgin page awaits thee—</p> -<p class='line'>It’s waited since the dawn of day—</p> -<p class='line'>  What can it be belates thee?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Thou ne’er wilt find a nicer couch,</p> -<p class='line'>  A softer or a fairer?</p> -<p class='line'>Thou ne’er wilt find a desk to which</p> -<p class='line'>  Thy coming could be rarer.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Oh! airy rover, rainbow-winged!</p> -<p class='line'>  Oh! coy and cold deceiver!</p> -<p class='line'>Alight upon this beggar leaf,</p> -<p class='line'>  And blessèd be forever!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Alight and shut your gleaming wing,</p> -<p class='line'>  And let my verse be amber,</p> -<p class='line'>To make for you, while glad you sing,</p> -<p class='line'>  A fitting, fairy chamber!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Whether around the dainty tip</p> -<p class='line'>  Of Whitman’s pen you hover,</p> -<p class='line'>Or rest on Greenwood’s rosy lip,</p> -<p class='line'>  To greet some poet-lover;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Or hide in glorious Hewitt’s heart</p> -<p class='line'>  Until you’re robed divinely,</p> -<p class='line'>Or lend impassioned Eva’s line</p> -<p class='line'>  The glow she paints so finely.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Oh! fly them all, and fly to me!</p> -<p class='line'>  I’ll entertain ye rarely;</p> -<p class='line'>My happy pen your host shall be,</p> -<p class='line'>  And introduce you fairly.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>I’ll dress you in the prettiest words</p> -<p class='line'>  You possibly can think of,</p> -<p class='line'>I’ll let you sip the purest ink</p> -<p class='line'>  That e’er you tried to drink of.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Your rich <span class='it'>relations</span> throng to <span class='it'>them</span>,</p> -<p class='line'>  While I’m alone and needy;</p> -<p class='line'>And though I cannot sing, my gem,</p> -<p class='line'>  In tones so rich and reedy.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Be sure I’ll make the most of thee!</p> -<p class='line'>  While throned in state and glory,</p> -<p class='line'>Oh! think what pride alone to be</p> -<p class='line'>  <span class='it'>Unrivaled</span> in my story!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Oh! fairy treasure, fine and fleet,</p> -<p class='line'>  Oh! subtle, rare creation!</p> -<p class='line'>Whatever obstacles you meet,</p> -<p class='line'>  Accept my invitation!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>I’ll give you welcome warm and true,</p> -<p class='line'>  However strange you be;</p> -<p class='line'>And take what route it pleases you,</p> -<p class='line'>  It’s all the same to me.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Oh! come by telegraph from Maine,</p> -<p class='line'>  Or by a junk from China,</p> -<p class='line'>By steamboat from the shores of Spain,</p> -<p class='line'>  Or cars from Carolina!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But <span class='it'>come</span>—at all events—without</p> -<p class='line'>  Another doubt or fear;</p> -<p class='line'>Fly, fly to this devoted heart,</p> -<p class='line'>  And be—“my own Idea!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk107'/> - -<div><h1><a id='summ'></a>A SUMMER EVENING THOUGHT.</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 COUSIN MARY.</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'>See the fire-flies brightly sparkling,</p> -<p class='line'>While the night around is darkling;</p> -<p class='line'>See, above, the star-light streaming,</p> -<p class='line'>Part of Heaven’s own radiance seeming.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Brighter than the stars’ far beaming</p> -<p class='line'>Is the nearer fire-flies’ gleaming;</p> -<p class='line'>This, a moment shall endure,</p> -<p class='line'>That, forever, calm and pure.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>To our world-bound hearts are given</p> -<p class='line'>Joys of earth and hopes of Heaven—</p> -<p class='line'>Flitting in the path before us,</p> -<p class='line'>Star-like, beaming calmly o’er us.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Shame such choice to deathless spirits,</p> -<p class='line'>Who <span class='it'>some</span> god-like traits inherit!</p> -<p class='line'>Groveling still, we turn our eyes</p> -<p class='line'>Earthward from the distant skies,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And to our benighted vision</p> -<p class='line'>Brighter earth than “fields Elysian;”</p> -<p class='line'>Dearer are the joys here given</p> -<p class='line'>Than the promised joys of Heaven!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk108'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='286' id='Page_286'></span><h1><a id='nav'></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:1em;font-size:1em;'>(<span class='it'>Continued from page 230.</span>)</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_3'>CHAPTER IV.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the morning of the fifth day after the escape -of Talbot and his companion. The land breeze, like -the breath of expiring humanity, had become more -and yet more faint, until it ceased entirely, and the -flag that was wont to wave over the ramparts of the -Moro Castle hung listless beside the staff which supported -it. Into the cavernous recesses worn by the -friction of the water, in the foundations of the massive -structure, the sluggish waves tumbled with a -dull and deafening sound. In the near offing lay the -frigate, rolling slowly on the unbroken surface of a -light ground swell, while the sails flapped against the -masts, as if impatient for the breeze. In various directions, -a number of vessels, differing in size and -appearance, like the frigate awaited a wind to waft -them to their various destinations. Beyond them, -and until it blended with the distant horizon, save -here and there a sea-gull noiselessly skimming its -surface, there was nothing visible on the far-stretching -and pellucid sea. Like a slumbering giant, the -very heavings of that sea told of the latent power -that dwelt within it, and conveyed a forcible idea of -the might and majesty of the Great Being that -made it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the after part of the deck of the frigate, screened -from the sun by an awning overhead, sat Miss Gillespie -and her brother. She, with an air of unmitigated -sadness; he, chafing at a captivity which he -deemed illegal, and impatient to reach the shore and -obtain his freedom. He had never understood for -what purpose the soporific incense had been burned, -or, boy as he was, he would have attempted the life -of their insidious foe. He had imagined that it was -an attempt on their lives, (for the disaster of the count -had been carefully concealed from them,) and his -sister had shrunk from undeceiving him. Her pure -nature could itself with difficulty comprehend such -baseness, but was absolutely incapable of conveying -an idea of it to another, particularly one whose disposition -was naturally as unsuspecting as her own. -She therefore determined to avoid exciting his suspicions, -and even forbore to interfere further than by -advice, when the steward, at the instance of his -master, now able to sit up, represented that so far -from designing injury, the object was to soothe their -nerves, those of the lady in especial, after the -anxiety and alarm of the evening previous. He also -persuaded Frank that the count would exert himself -to obtain their speedy liberation when they reached -the port; and, that having found them on board of a -privateer of the enemy, a class of vessels not in the -habit of conveying passengers, he was, by the strict -tenor of his orders, bound, although most reluctantly, -to detain them. These representations so far operated -upon the youth, that he was several times prevailed -upon to visit the designing count. But his -sister pertinaciously refused to see, or receive any -message from her persecutor, and might have departed -from her resolution and told Frank sufficient -to prevent him from leaving her alone, but that in her -fears for Talbot she had forgotten every thing else.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Although a prisoner, confined apart and denied all -intercourse, the mere presence of her lover in the -same vessel gave her a sense of security. But now -he was gone, whither and wherefore she could not -tell, and she felt as if she were abandoned to the -dreadful fate which so long had threatened her. To -do her justice, too, her bitterest source of grief was -in anxiety for the safety of Talbot. Had she heard -nothing of him, she would have concluded that he -was still among the prisoners, and by the strict vigilance -of his guards denied the opportunity of communicating -with her. But her persecutor was too -malignant, was also too shrewd not to know that if -he could persuade her of her lover’s desertion, he -might more reasonably hope for success. She was -therefore but too soon informed of the escape, of -which the missing boat was sufficient proof; and -through others every representation was made, calculated -to impair her confidence and weaken her -attachment. But, like a mail of proof, her own integrity -protected her, and the malicious shafts fell -harmless, creating no pain, and scarce attracting -notice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Although young and inexperienced, scarce more -than a nestling that had for the first time fledged its -wing, this girl possessed the noblest attributes of her -sex, and hers was more than the ordinary love of -woman. True, deep, fervent love, such as that sex -alone can feel, cannot harbor a doubt. Undying and -unchangeable in itself, it cannot comprehend that, of -the existence of which it is unconscious. Often -placed unhappily, often denied the communion for -which it yearns, it looks beyond the grave for the -fruition of its hopes.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“They sin who tell us love can die.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>She had listened to the soft and hesitating whisper -of proffered love, and her gushing eye and mantling -cheek and throbbing breath had confessed that love -to be requited. Her soul had mingled with another’s -in the dearest and the noblest union which adorns -and irradiates existence—the union of manly strength -with shrinking beauty; of the clear eye to look upon, -and the bold heart to encounter peril, with the step -hesitating and timid as a fawn! of skill to do and -will to dare, with affection to sustain and fortitude to -endure; of man, fashioned in comeliness and radiant -<span class='pageno' title='287' id='Page_287'></span> -with virtue, with woman, the celestial link that binds -him to a purer state! With a pledge as dear as it -was enduring, they had sworn to preserve that union -until it should be merged into that most glorious, -holiest and most beautiful of all, which is effected in -death—when their souls, stripped of the mortal coils -which encumbered them, and wafted on the wings -of love, should soar upward and onward, until side -by side, inseparable as in life, and inseparable forever, -they intoned their hymns of praise with the -choir which surrounds the Eternal!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Could a woman capable of conceiving such a -pledge ever falter, much less prove unfaithful? -Never. And Miss Gillespie was as unmoved by the -insinuations of those around her, as is the calm and -placid moon by the howlings of a hungry wolf.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the two orphans sat apart, occasionally exchanging -a few words, and then relapsing into -silence, the first lieutenant, an old and worthy officer, -who, from the want of family influence, had long -been denied promotion, touched by the sadness of the -fair captive, approached and respectfully accosted -them. He first confined himself to inquiries respecting -their health and comfort, and made some cheering -observations on their prospects of liberation. -He then, after musing a few moments, left them -and whispered a few words to the officer of the deck. -The latter nodded intelligence, and immediately gave -an order which required those of the crew hovering -about to go forward to aid in its execution. The -lieutenant then returning said, “Young lady, may I -speak a few words with you?” and leading her a -few steps from where her brother sat, continued, “I -have two daughters at home, one of them about your -age, and when I think how I should feel if either of -them were in your almost unprotected situation, I -sympathize deeply with you. Indeed I am not the -only one. There is a general feeling among the officers -to protect you if need be. You may rely upon -our disposition to serve you—and now answer me -frankly—Does your extreme sadness proceed solely -from your detention here, and the escape and apparent -desertion of your friend?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh no, sir!” cried she, immeasurably relieved -by his words, “whatever may have induced Mr. -Talbot to leave us, I am sure that he has acted for -the best. You judge rightly,” she added, “in supposing -that I have other cause of anxiety than what -proceeds from our detention, which, if we be not -most unjustly dealt by, must terminate so soon. I -have not dared to tell my brother what horrid fears -distract me, for I know he would attempt something -violent, that would most probably separate us, and I -love my only protector.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our fears then are not unfounded, and the mystery -of that night is partly solved,” said the lieutenant, -in a soliloquizing tone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What night? Of what mystery do you speak?” -exclaimed the lady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of the night you came on board. But is it possible -you are ignorant of what I allude to?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have not the most remote idea; Frank and I -slept soundly the whole night, and did not awake -until late the next morning. I remember that at first -we thought that an attempt was being made to stupefy -or smother us with something that was burned, -but, as we were not molested, we concluded that we -had been mistaken. For God’s sake, tell me what -happened?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Young lady,” he answered, “I have ever since -sought an opportunity to speak to you; why is it -that you have confined yourself below?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We often wished to come up,” she replied, “but -were told that the count was too ill to be consulted, -and that without his permission we could not leave -the cabin. But do tell me all about that night, I implore -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lieutenant then informed her of the condition -in which the count was found the next morning, and -the general belief of the officers that his villainous -design had been frustrated by Talbot or Gonzalez, -who must have been concealed in the cabin. They -conversed for some time, and before leaving her, he -advised her, as the count was nearly well, to keep -always near her brother, and to write a note to the -American Consul in Havana, claiming his protection, -promising that if she would send her note to him he -would forward it at once to its destination.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With diminished fear, and in a comparatively -cheerful mood, Miss Gillespie returned to the cabin, -and repeated to her brother such parts of her conversation -with the lieutenant as she thought she could -safely confide to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About the usual hour the breeze set in, and sailing -“majestically slow,” by the towering fortress on the -one hand, and the gay and beautiful structures of the -town, with its crowded wharves and numerous shipping -on the other, the frigate, early in the afternoon, -had anchored in the upper harbor of Havana.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Frank Gillespie, who was no longer restricted to -the cabin, watched his opportunity and slipped into -the old lieutenant’s hand the note with which his -sister had entrusted him. Soon after the ship had -cast her anchor, the Captain of the Port came on -board to pay his official visit. The lieutenant, who -was on intimate terms with him, invited him down -to his state-room, and there giving him the note, with -the assurance that it was of very great importance, -exacted a promise that he would transmit it without -delay to the American Consul. The officer promised -to attend punctually to the commission, and the kind-hearted -lieutenant with great satisfaction saw him, a -short time afterward, take his departure for the shore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Quite late in the afternoon, when the ship was -moored, the count, unable to go himself, sent the -first lieutenant to wait upon the admiral and report -the ship. About dusk, and before he returned, a boat -came alongside for Miss Gillespie and her brother. -The person who came in charge stated that the American -Consul was absent and would not return for a -day or two, but that his wife had prepared a room -for, and would gladly welcome them. The message -ended with an entreaty that they would come at -once. They needed no persuasion, and with alacrity -making their brief preparation, and without meeting -obstructions, which to the last they feared, with indescribable -<span class='pageno' title='288' id='Page_288'></span> -joy they took their seats in the boat and -bade adieu to their late floating prison.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Talbot and Gonzalez, representing themselves as -having escaped from a wreck, were kindly received -at the little settlement where they landed, but instead -of accepting the hospitalities which were freely tendered, -they merely asked for a guide to conduct them -into the interior, so fearful were they of being pursued. -With much toil and privation, and at one time -exposed to imminent peril, they reached the Reglos, -a settlement opposite to the city of Havana, the very -day on which the frigate arrived.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Afraid to venture out before night-fall, one of them -feigned to be sick, and the other remained as if to -keep him company, in the small room of an obscure -fonda, which they occupied. They had remained -for a very long time without seeing or hearing any -one, when, about an hour after the ship had anchored, -they heard footsteps on the creaking staircase, and -one called out, “Is there any one above, Marguerita?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There were two sailor-looking men there this -morning,” replied a female voice, “but they must -have gone out, for I have heard nothing of them since -dinner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We will see,” said the first voice. But Gonzalez -was too quick for him. He had started at the -first word, and rising from the bed, which was at the -side of the room, placed himself by the door, and -quietly turning the bolt of the lock, withdrew the -key. He then bent his head and listened attentively, -taking care not to place it in a line with the key-hole.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The party, consisting of three, came up in the -meantime, and two of them proceeded to an adjoining -room, while one stopped and tried the door. In -a few moments he rejoined his companions, saying, -“All safe, they are out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Gonzalez started up and hurried to the door, -Talbot was struck as much by the expression of his -countenance as by the movement itself, and he had -continued to watch him in silent amazement. But he -was soon convinced that his friend was not insane. -When the person who tried the door had retired, -Gonzalez, stepping lightly to the bed, whispered, -“Don’t speak or make the slightest noise, it is the -rascally steward, with some of the cut-throats who -resort to this side of the harbor. The count has some -design afoot, and Providence has sent us just in time -to save that unfortunate young lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Talbot needed no more, and with their faculties on -the full stretch, they listened intently, and gathered -almost every word of the conversation in the next room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a festival day in Havana. The clang of -the bells had been incessant since noon, and the air -reverberated with the almost uninterrupted discharge -of artillery from the forts and men-of-war. There -was no diminution of light with the setting of the -sun, for the clouds which slowly floated along the sky, -threw back the blaze of the illuminated city, while, -like an undulating mirror, the harbor reflected the -myriads of lights interspersed among the spars and -rigging of the men-of-war. Along the shore, in each -direction, bonfires were blazing, and from every point -as well of the waters as the land, was heard the -whizzing sound of the sinuous and beautiful rocket, -which, exploding above and around with an unceasing -feu de joie, filled the air with its fiery flakes. The -sound of music and the shouts of merriment commingled, -and wafted by the breeze, fell gratefully -upon the ear of the boatmen reclining upon their -oars, and the distant sentinels making their solitary -rounds on the ramparts of the castle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the boat with Frank and his sister pushed off -from the frigate, another, and much smaller one, that -had hovered within the shadow of the ship, noiselessly -pursued the same direction. The first pulled -for some distance up the river, until it had passed -the city, and then stopped at one of the neat villas -that lined its banks. The smaller boat, which, as the -reader must have surmised, contained Talbot and -Gonzalez, had been obliged to keep close within the -other shore, to avoid observation. When the larger -boat was turned toward the shore, the two friends, -unseen themselves, distinctly saw all that passed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not understand this movement,” said Gonzalez. -“They have stopped at a Posada, to which -the citizens, in their evening rides, usually resort for -refreshment. There must be some change in their -plans since we heard them discuss it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the meantime, the party, (with the exception of -one who remained by the boat,) had landed, and -ascending the bank, opened the little wicker-gate and -proceeded through the garden toward the house. -Talbot and Gonzalez were about to pull across, and -had nearly reached the line of light when the latter -cried, “Hush! back, back your oars quickly, they -are returning!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They again retreated within the shadows of the -opposite bank, and saw two men, followed by a third, -hurrying the lady rapidly toward the boat, into which -they forced her, for it was evident that she was struggling. -The moment she was placed in the boat, they -again shoved off from the shore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I now understand it all,” whispered Gonzalez to -his companion. “They have decoyed the brother -into the house, and run off and left him. I am sure, -too, that the lady is gagged, for she does not cry out, -although she yet struggles desperately. Stop, stop! -What are you about?” he cried, as he saw Talbot -begin to ply his oars with all his might.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you ask me, with such a sight before us,” -replied the latter, indignantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, lay on your oars, I beg, I entreat you. -Your precipitation will ruin all. They are four, and -well armed—we are defenceless. They would slay -us before we could cope with them, and then farewell -to all hopes of the lady’s rescue.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What shall we do, then?” said Talbot, as he despairingly -rested his oar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Follow them, as we at first proposed, and concert -our plan after we have seen the place in which -they mean to place her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gonzalez,” said Talbot, “you have not so much -at stake as I in this matter, and you are therefore -less agitated and better qualified to adopt the course -we should pursue. I will not be rash if I can help -<span class='pageno' title='289' id='Page_289'></span> -it; but, come what may, I will not again lose sight of -Mary. She has no father; her brother is torn from -her. I am her sole protector. I will die before I -desert her for an instant.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have told you of my sister, Talbot,” said Gonzalez, -“and you must know I have a motive that -impels me, which is as powerful as your own. -Love is your incentive, and revenge is mine. -Yours is the most impetuous, but mine, as the more -cautious, is more certain to effect its object. I pray -you be moderate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will, Gonzalez, with the condition I have -named.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While they were speaking, they had not ceased to -watch the movements of the larger boat, which -pulled about half a mile farther up, and landed on the -same side. The smaller boat following their motions -with the utmost caution, was run ashore a short -distance below, and the two friends crept along under -cover of the thick brush that lined the bank, to within -a few paces of the ruffians. A carriage was in -waiting, the driver standing beside it. As soon as -the latter saw them, he opened the door, let down -the steps, and then ascended his box. Two of the -gang forced the lady into the carriage, and followed -after; the third closed the door and mounted beside -the driver. While this was taking place, Talbot was -endeavoring to free himself from the grasp of Gonzalez, -who tried to detain him. With a violent -effort he succeeded, and springing forward, leaped -upon the foot-board of the carriage just as the driver -had applied the lash, and the horses started off at half -speed. The remaining ruffian, seeing Talbot rush -by, turned to pursue him and give the alarm, when -Gonzalez sprung upon him, and violently struggling, -they fell to the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The patriot, on the eve of a battle which is to decide -the fate of his country; the secreted lover, impatient -for the footfall of the mistress of his affections; -the young mother, beside the sick couch of an only -child, are all less vigilant in their watchfulness, than -the specious villain who seeks to hold a fair character -with the world, while he covertly gives full indulgence -to his depraved and licentious appetites.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The count had every reason to believe his plot -well matured, and in a fair train for execution, and -yet he felt restless and uneasy. The critical period -between the conception and consummation of any -conspiracy, even when the judgment sanctions and -the true heart approves it, is the most trying of all the -situations in which human nature can be placed; but -when the object is detestable, the means base and -treacherous, and the agents employed unprincipled, -then, the suspense is torturing—for the slightest accident, -the most trivial carelessness may frustrate, and -the faithlessness of the least trusted agents betray the -best concerted plot that was ever laid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For some days the count had feigned to be weaker -than he really was, and no sooner had Frank and his -sister left than he jumped up and leaned out of one -of the ports to see them embark, and to satisfy himself -that no one from the ship accompanied them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is said that the Evil One favors his own, and in -this instance the adage was verified. No one had -yet descended the side, and as the count cast his -scrutinizing glance in every direction, his quick ear -detected the light splash of an oar. Withdrawing -instantly, he extinguished the lamp and excluded -as well as he could, the light of the illumination -which streamed through the opposite ports. Returning -then to his first position, in a few moments, -as his eye became accustomed to the obscurity, he -saw indistinctly the small boat which contained -Talbot and Gonzalez. The outlines of the boat were -alone visible, and he could not make out how many -persons it contained. It was, he thought, most probably, -the boat of some poor fisherman, compelled to -forego present enjoyment in order to procure tomorrow’s -subsistence for himself and family. Guilt, -however, is always suspicious, and without being -able to assign to himself a reason for his misgivings, -he summoned his steward and gave him a few hurried -instructions. The latter, immediately leaving -the apartment, slipped through one of the gun-deck -ports as Talbot and Gonzalez had done before him, -and, unseen from the upper-deck, descended into the -boat just before it shoved off. The fears awakened -(wherefore he could not tell) by the sight of the tiny -boat, had induced the count to change his entire plan. -It was therefore that Talbot, when he found that the -preconcerted plot they had heard discussed was not -adhered to, determined not to lose sight of his mistress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the large boat stopped at the posada, the -orphans were conducted to a private room, the -steward and two of the gang remaining without, soon -after a servant-maid entered, and said that the consul’s -lady was indisposed, and had sent her to beg -that Miss Gillespie would come to her chamber. -With unsuspecting alacrity the poor girl rose up and -followed the maid. At a turn in the passage, she -was seized, a gag instantly applied to her mouth, and -then hurried to the boat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Frank, who, unsuspecting as his sister, sat in -patient expectation, started up as he heard a stifled -scream. At the same moment he was felled to the -floor by a blow of the ruffian, who, with a heavy -cudgel, had crept behind him. The miscreant then -dragging the body into a closet opening from the -room, hastened after his companions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The steward, as soon as the party landed at the -posada, had dispatched a sure messenger to direct -the carriage to proceed from the place where he -knew it was in waiting, to the spot designated by -the count in his last instructions. It was not distant, -and, as we have seen, was at the appointed place before -the boat arrived.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The steward and his party, warned by the count, -had kept a vigilant look out, to ascertain if they were -followed by another boat; but, themselves in the -broad glare of light, they could not catch the slightest -glimpse of the one, which, much smaller and screened -by the obscurity, hovered sufficiently near to observe -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The carriage, with the ruffians, the victim of their -toils, and that victim’s determined champion, was -driven at a rapid rate along the road which ran -<span class='pageno' title='290' id='Page_290'></span> -parallel with the stream for a mile or more, when it -turned into one of the bye-roads on the right, which, -as it was less frequented, they pursued at increased -speed for nearly two hours. Overcome by terror -and exhaustion, Miss G. had swooned away some -time, and lay unnoticed on the back seat of the carriage. -At length they stopped at a gate on the left, -and the driver’s companion got down to open it. -Heretofore Talbot had remained at little risk, for the -carriage was closed behind, but, as the man who dismounted -would certainly wait until the carriage had -passed through, in order to close the gate, he was -exposed to certain peril of detection if he remained. -The road was clear where it passed, and there was a -slight ascent from it on the left, at the summit of -which stood the gate. There was no bush or cover -to conceal him, and to descend was out of the question. -Beside the gate, on the right, was a large tree, -that stood just within the inclosure. While Talbot -hesitated what to do, the carriage ascended the slope, -and as it passed through the gateway, one of the -branches of the tree swept its roof. On the instant, -quick as thought, Talbot caught hold of the limb, and -swung himself into the tree. The rustling noise he -made startled the man who stood beside the gate, -and who had certainly been drinking freely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo! what’s that?” he cried, and springing up -to the box, called out, “Drive on! drive on! It’s a -wild beast! But I’ll have a shot at it,” he added, as -the carriage rolled on, and turning partly round, he -discharged his pistol into the tree.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The driver, with an imprecation, had called out to -his companion not to fire; but he was too late, and -at the report the horses affrighted, ran off at full speed. -The ruffians within the carriage, as well as the one -without, were instantly awakened to a full sense of -their danger. They were all acquainted with the -place, and knew that a short distance ahead, certainly -not more than a third of a mile, the road inclined -short to the left, to avoid an old quarry, which had a -precipitous fall of 15 or 16 feet. As cowardly as -base, each one thought only of his own safety. The -ruffian in front clambered over the roof and leaped -off from behind; the others forced open a door and -precipitated themselves, one after the other, and all -fell with violence and more or less injured to the -ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beside Miss Gillespie within the carriage, the -driver alone remained, and he, with his feet pressed -hard upon the foot-board, and with his body bent -forward, bore his whole weight upon the reins. -Although they passed with breathless velocity, he -accurately noted every object along the road, and -was prepared, at the critical moment, to turn the -horses from the direction of the perilous chasm. -With a quick eye and ready hand the instant that he -saw the turn, with all his might he pulled upon the -left hand rein. This over exertion ensured defeat, -the rein snapped asunder with the strain, and the -horses rushing headlong, were with the carriage precipitated -over the bank. The driver fell upon some -fragments of rock, and laid senseless and immoveable. -The horses, by their moans, and the faint -efforts they made to extricate themselves, showed -that they were severely bruised. Miss Gillespie laid -on the battered side of the carriage, partially revived -from her swoon by the shock she had sustained and -the excruciating pain she felt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Talbot, unharmed by the discharge of the pistol, -sprung to the ground, and hurried at his utmost -speed after the carriage, as soon as he saw that the -horses had run away. He passed the bodies of the -ruffians on the road without heeding them, although -one, rising up, called out and limped after him, and -reached the spot a few minutes after the accident -occurred. In his excited state, it was but the work -of a moment to extricate his mistress, to press her -to his bosom, to examine her hurts, and to hurry -with her yet scarce animate body into the neighboring -wood. His first anxiety was for water, and pursuing -the declivity of the ground in a direction leading -from the road, he soon heard the trickling of a -rivulet. He laid his load gently beside it, and on -examination discovered that Mary had received a -severe cut in her head, which bled profusely, and -that her left arm was broken. The loss of blood, the -cooling effects of the water, which he freely applied, -and the pain she endured, all accelerated her return -to consciousness, and in a little while, was enabled -to thank her lover in expressions, brief, indeed, but -touching, and which, like the stamp of the mint on -standard coin, are treasured by the heart that receives -them in imperishable remembrance. They had no -time, however, for interchange of feeling. They -were strangers, and upon the grounds of a powerful -and persevering enemy. It was necessary, therefore, -that they should leave the place as soon as possible, -in order that if overtaken, it might be on land -not peopled with the myrmidons or subject to the jurisdiction -of the count. With the simple means at his -disposal, the water which babbled at their feet, a few -splints, made of the twigs which grew around them, -and the bandages torn from his own garments, Talbot -soon dressed the wounds, and temporarily assuaged -the anguish which his mistress endured. She laid -for some time without a movement or a murmur. -The heavy air was laden with fragrance, and now -and then the pattering on a leaf would tell how abundantly -the dew had fallen. He watched her closely, -in the hope that she was in a slumber, but he soon -perceived that her features were occasionally flushed -by intensity of pain. In truth, her arm had now -begun to swell, and was exceedingly stiff and sore. -He saw that it was necessary to procure shelter and -medical attendance without delay. But whither -should he proceed? The night was now far advanced. -The pall of darkness was just lifting in the east; -faint, tremulous lines of light began to stream along -the sky, revealing a succession of ridges of vapor, -through which, with lessening ray, the morning star -occasionally glimmered. The laborers would soon -be abroad, and it was indispensably necessary to proceed. -Prevailing upon Mary to make an effort, he -was with the greatest difficulty enabled to support -her, while they slowly threaded their way through -the thick undergrowth of the woodland. After wandering -<span class='pageno' title='291' id='Page_291'></span> -a short time, they came to a hedge of cactus, -some of the plants in full bloom, the brilliant tints of -their gorgeous flowers heightened and suffused by the -golden rays of the now rising sun. They turned into -a path which led along the hedge toward the high-road. -On their right, towering above the tangled brushwood, -were many trees, mostly large, and some of them -magnificent. The most conspicuous were the assumah, -the ya yati, and the robla,<a id='r1'/><a href='#f1' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[1]</span></sup></a> but the grandest and most -beautiful <a id='ofall'></a>of all, the lordly frangipan, with its deep-green -leaves and thickly studded scarlet blossoms. On the -other side of the hedge was an extensive field of sugar-cane, -in all the rich luxuriance of a matured and -abundant crop. An immense mass of foliage, of the -liveliest green, thick and impenetrable in its growth, -its tops waved gracefully in the wind with a rustling -sound that was borne onward until it died away in -the distance. On the opposite side, visible through -the hedge, the field was skirted by a forest, which, -ascending a slope behind it, and becoming thinner as -it ascended, left only a few trees scattered here and -there along the ridge which bounded the western -horizon. But Mary, striving to conceal her weakness -and suppress the moans that were every instant -rising to her lips, and Talbot, who was wholly engrossed -by anxiety for her, could neither of them -enjoy the natural beauties of the scene.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When they had proceeded a few hundred yards, -they came to a small gate set in an opening in the -hedge. Talbot soon forced it open, and they emerged -upon a wagon-road which ran between the hedge and -the cane. But Mary could proceed no farther, and -seating her on the road-side, Talbot, himself in a -state of indescribable anxiety, endeavored to cheer -her with hopes of speedy relief.</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'>Spelt as they are pronounced.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_4'>CHAPTER V.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The first lieutenant returned to the frigate about -half an hour after Frank and his sister had left, and -was delighted to hear that the American consul had -sent for them. Soon after he had made his report, -the count ordered his boat, and left the ship. Supposing -that he was summoned ashore by some of the -letters he had received, the old lieutenant little -dreamed that the departure of his commander, in any -manner, had reference to the orphans. He believed -them safe, and with many <a id='claims'></a>claims upon his attention, -dismissed them readily from his mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The count steered his boat to the usual landing-place, -and hiring a caleche, proceeded directly to the -western gate. Here he was detained but a moment, -for the officer immediately coming out, recognized -his rank, and he was allowed to pass. Impatient of -delay he took the reins himself, and drove with a -speed proportioned to the ardor of his licentious -passion, and his vindictive yearning, by its gratification, -to wreak vengeance upon her lover—whose -hand he felt sure had before frustrated him. There -was a near cut through a neighboring plantation, -which struck a road leading to the rear of his hacienda, -and saved upward of two miles in distance. As he -was well acquainted with the owner of the plantation, -without hesitation he took the road through it. -Once or twice he thought that he heard the sound of -horses’ hoofs at a rapid pace ahead of him, but the -rattling of the vehicle he was in rendered the sound -uncertain, and he took it for granted that he was -mistaken. When he reached the rear of the building -he alighted, and liberally recompensing the driver, -opened the postern gate with a key he carried, and -proceeded directly to the house. To the attendant -who obeyed his summons, he said impatiently,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The young lady, where is she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In her chamber,” was the reply, and in obedience -to a gesture of the count, the servant proceeded -along the corridor and approached an apartment -at its extremity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fools! Why have they put her there?” muttered -the count.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Señor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stand aside, sir!” and pushing by, he threw -open the door and entered the apartment. As he did -so, he started back appalled and terrified. Propped -on a bed, catching her breath with difficulty, was a -dying woman. The blood was streaming from her -mouth, and at each respiration gurgled in her throat. -It was the young, the once pure and lovely Esperanza, -the sister of Gonzalez. By the bedside stood -the brother, regarding him with a look of fixed and -deadly hatred. But he moved not his arm from the -sinking form it supported. The unhappy girl with -staring eyes and outstretched hands, uttering inarticulate -and guttural sounds, strove in vain to speak -to them. In the effort the attenuated chords of life -were snapped asunder, and she fell back a corpse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Conde de Ureña,” said Gonzalez, “behold your -work! I came here to protect the victim of your -present plot—little dreaming of the sight that awaited -me. That poor girl must be avenged! You or I, -one or both, must bear Esperanza company.” As he -looked toward the bed his voice softened with emotion, -but recovering himself instantly, he advanced -to the door and bolted it; then drawing a pair of pistols -from his bosom, he sternly added as he presented -them, “take your choice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not now! not here! to-morrow! any time! any -where else!” said the count, his cheek blanched and -his brow beaded with perspiration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here! Upon this spot! This very instant!” -shouted Gonzalez. “Vile seducer and murderer,” -he added, “you have killed your man! Where is -your vaunted courage? Will that arouse you?” -and he struck him a fierce blow. The count’s face -flushed, he clutched the weapon, and turning to Gonzalez -with a look as vindictive as his own, sternly -motioned him to take his position. How corroding -is the effect of vice! Time was when the unhappy -nobleman would have shrunk in horror from the -contaminating touch of one guilty of a crime, the -dreadful consequences of which, in all the appalling -majesty of death, were then before him. And yet, -more fiend-like than such a wretch, he stood in all -the concentrated hatred of a duelist, prepared to take -the life of the brother of his victim. By a career of -<span class='pageno' title='292' id='Page_292'></span> -vice, the once honorable man had been converted -into a demon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The combatants confronted each other, leveled -their weapons, and fired so simultaneously that the -reports sounded as one. The pistol of Gonzalez was -struck from his hand and one of his fingers shattered. -Heedless of the pain, as the reverberation ceased, he -bent forward to see if his adversary were unhurt. -Partially concealed by a spiral wreath of smoke, the -count stood seemingly unscathed before him. But -the moment after his weapon dropped, he pressed his -hand to his side, and casting a look of anguish and -despair upon the corpse of the woman he had ruined, -tottered, reeled, and fell heavily upon the floor! -The threat of Gonzales was verified. Almost instantaneously, -two souls were summoned to their dread -account.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Gonzalez sprung upon the boatman from -behind, he took him so much by surprise that he had -hurled him over and pointed a dagger to his throat -before he could muster presence of mind enough to -defend himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Villain,” said Gonzalez, “lie still, and answer -me truly, or I pin you to the earth. I already know -enough to tell if you deceive me. As you value -your life, say where has that carriage gone?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A la hacienda Frangipina, señor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why doesn’t it go to Mariel, as first intended?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yo no say, señor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you swear that what you tell me is true?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Si, señor, por mi alma.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pshaw! Your soul is forfeit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Por la Señora Nuestra.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll believe you, for my countrymen never -deceive when they swear ‘by our Lady.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He then permitted him to rise, and proceeded to -question him further. He soon found that the ruffian -could be as readily employed to defeat as to forward -a nefarious plot. Gonzalez knew the hacienda well, -and with the aid of the boatman procured a horse and -was enabled to reach it some ten minutes before the -count. Like the latter, he too had asked for la señorita, -(the young lady,) and by a similar mistake of the -servant, who knew nothing of the plot, he was shown -to his sister’s chamber. He had heard of her ruin, -but knew not that she had been decoyed from their -father’s roof. He found her very ill, and her agitation -at seeing him brought on a profuse and fatal -hemorrhage. All this, let it be borne in mind, occurred -before the carriage had entered the grounds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Frank recovered his consciousness in the -closet where he was confined, he could not conceive -where he was, or what had befallen him. By slow -degrees the events of the night were recalled to his -recollection, and in great alarm he began to grope -about in the darkness. When he found the door, -and vainly tried to open it, he knocked and shouted -loud and vehemently. The landlord and several -others, astonished at the uproar, hurried to the parlor -and threw open the closet-door. To their rapid and -noisy questioning he could only reply in his own -tongue, which was to them unintelligible. When, -however, by his gestures, the landlord understood -that he complained of ill treatment in his house, he -swore that the stranger must be some robber, who -had concealed himself in the closet, and that some -one in passing had locked the door. Improbable as -was this supposition, in face of the mark of the blow -which Frank exhibited, all present concurred in professing -that they believed it true. A police officer -was accordingly sent for, and the unhappy youth -taken to the guard-house. The next morning he was -summoned before the alcalde, who, too indolent to -send to the frigate to identify the prisoner, and, to do -him justice, wholly discrediting the latter’s statement -of being thrust into the closet, condemned him to be -transported for six months to the Castle St. Juan de -Utloa, off Vera Cruz, the last place held by Spain on -the eastern shore of North America, and next to the -last held by her on the continent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Frank was taken immediately on board of a transport -filled with troops and convicts, the first to recruit -the garrison, the last to assist in repairs of the -old, and the construction of additional fortifications. -The youth, although well-grown, it was evident was -not accustomed to, and could not perform manual -labor. The alcalde had therefore sent a message to -the commander of the detachment, recommending -that he should be assigned to some light employment. -The magistrate saw that the youth was a foreigner, -he believed him to be a vagrant if nothing else, and -he knew that hands of all descriptions were needed -at that fortress. He therefore made no inquiries. -That afternoon the transport sailed.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_5'>CHAPTER VI.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Talbot and Mary were successful in reaching the -city unpursued, and had been four days in the American -Consul’s house, before, through his exertions, -they discovered the departure and destination of -Frank Gillespie. The sister was grievously distressed, -and mourned her brother as dead, but Talbot -pledged himself to follow and attempt his rescue, and -although the fractured bone of her arm was not well -knit together, she determined to accompany her -lover as far as she could. Talbot was provoked to -the resolution, to say nothing of a more generous -impulse, by the refusal of the Spanish authorities to -take cognizance of the subject. And Mary felt that -without impropriety she could proceed to some one -of the small ports on the route to Vera Cruz, if not to -the latter place itself. She hired a servant to supply -the place of the one drowned in the <a id='priv'></a>privateer, and -felt more reconciled to the peril to which Talbot -would be exposed, from the assurance of Gonzalez -that he would share the enterprise. The latter, dreading -more assassination by some of the connections of -the late count, than any legal investigation, kept -himself secreted in the city, but was frequently -visited by Talbot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The only vessel in port bound in the direction of -Vera Cruz was an American brig, advertised for -Sisal. In her they engaged their passage, and after -night-fall Gonzalez, in disguise, accompanied them -on board. At break-of-day the next morning, they -sailed with a fair wind, and had gained some distance -<span class='pageno' title='293' id='Page_293'></span> -by sunset, when it fell calm, and with the land upon -one side, and an expanse of water on the other, -the vessel rode with graceful ease upon a prolonged -but gentle undulation. The golden rays of the setting -sun mingled in the zenith with the soft and silvery -light of the moon in her meridian, and a long -and lovely twilight followed. Seated on deck, apart -from their companions, (for Gonzalez was too considerate -to intrude,) Mary and her lover mused long -and deeply. The hour and the scene were calculated -to dispel their anxieties and to soothe their cares. -When either was depressed—he, with the sad thought -that of all his race he stood alone—she, that she was -an orphan, and that her brother was perhaps lost to -her forever, a glance around and above would give -their thoughts a holier and more soothing direction; -for the works of the Great Architect, the teeming -earth, the slumbering sea, the brilliant sky, all proclaimed -in language unheard but <span class='it'>felt</span> that mercy is -His great and most peculiar attribute. It was indeed -a lovely scene! Directly overhead, the moon shone -forth in serene and unclouded lustre; a little lower, -the fiery Mars peered forth; then the resplendent orb -of Jupiter, and in the same direct line, but just above -the horizon, the beautiful Venus sunk to rest, enveloped -in a mantle yet rich with the gorgeous rays -of the sun which had preceded her. They remained -on deck until a late hour of the night, for whenever -they went below they were annoyed with the hum -and fretted with the sting of the mosquito. At last -they parted, Talbot throwing himself upon the deck, -and Mary retired to her berth and soon fell asleep. -If the waking hours of that pure-minded girl had -been those of endurance, the visions of that night -were ample compensation. Reclined upon her narrow -bed, with the folds of the mosquito-net tucked -closely around her, while, like the Cossacks before -Ismael, the multitudinous insects strove to enter, she -was either in fancy communing with the man she -loved, or with Frank and her father knelt beneath -the cotton-tree which shaded the grave of her mother, -and listened to the gentle wave as it rippled upon -the beach, while from the jeweled sky, fit canopy, -for such a scene, the Omniscient eye seemed to look -down approving.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the crew there was a dandy sailor who -took especial pride in his flowing locks, and evidently -sought to attract the notice of the lady passenger. -The day before they reached Sisal, seizing an opportunity -when Talbot and Gonzales were below, he -passed once or twice by the place where she sat on -deck, and at length catching her eye, with a meaning -look dropped a letter at her feet, and immediately -retired. Mary had been beset with so many dangers -of late; had been so often nearly ensnared by plots, -that she at once imagined the letter to contain a -friendly warning. She therefore hastily picked it -up and ran below. It proved to be a genuine love-letter, -and despite her sadness and the anxiety of her -position, she laughed outright as she read it. Her -unusual merriment drew Talbot to her side, and after -exacting a promise from him that he would in no -manner notice, or betray a knowledge of its contents, -she placed the letter in his hands, saying, “Don’t be -jealous—I will be true, although the offer is a tempting -one.” Verbatim et literatim, it ran thus:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“dear Mary is a name so sweet,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“i loves to spell it as i loves to eat. i kiles the -ropes to spell it, i scratches it with a marlingspike -on the rale, charming Miss Mary i addores you when -you walkes the deck so gracefull as a swan a swimming -of a Rivver, i looks down upon you from the -top as you moves backards and forrards so musically, -i wishes that I was a hauk to pounce down upon you -and carry you of like a Duv in my Arms to sum luvly -ileand in the sea. Sweetest Miss Mary i isent a -Lofer, for my Parrents is respectible and my father -ones a Large factory in New Jersy, whar he makes -a Grate quontity of paper, not your common Rapping -paper, but big sheets for the Nusepapers, and -sum a grate deal Finer for Riting upon than this, -which is the best i can gett. i is unfortunit Miss -Mary but i isent a imposter for my Father is ever so -Rich and will give plenty of munny if i will cum -home and help him in his bizziness, but i cant go -home nor no whars els onless you will smile upon -me i offers you all my prospicts. if you will eccept -my sute if your charming buzzom feels any pitty for -a poor Retch who loves you to dispare, and you will -cast them sweet killing ise on me, as you aires the -deck, you will liten my hart of its hevvy lode and -make it swim in Blis. Yours furever until deth.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>“<span class='sc'>Cirus Lambert.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Poor Lambert!</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>                        “It were all one,</p> -<p class='line0'>That he should love a bright particular star,</p> -<p class='line0'>And think to wed it.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>But love, like faith, comes by inspiration, and -whether it be a milk-maid or a goddess, a man has a -right to worship the object of his affections. As we -have seen, the maiden’s first impulse was to merriment; -but she soon perceived that the man was in -earnest, and from motives of delicacy and compassion -she remained below the remainder of the passage. -The confinement was a brief one. The next -afternoon they reached Sisal, and were hospitably -welcomed by an American merchant, to whom Talbot -had letters from our consul in Havana. Mary -was immediately taken to the gentleman’s house and -cordially greeted by his wife, who insisted upon her -becoming an inmate of the family during her stay. -An offer most gratefully accepted. When the merchant -was told of their contemplated adventure he -became a zealous coadjutor; chartered for them a -small, fast-sailing felucca, and purchased a cargo of -salt, in order that it might be supposed she was on -one of her usual trading voyages. He also procured -for Talbot and Gonzalez, dresses such as are worn -by the crews of these vessels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Determined not to lose a moment, as soon as the -arrangements were completed our adventurers set -sail, Talbot with difficulty tearing himself from his -mistress, who clung to him in all the reckless abandonment -of grief. Coasting along the shore, they -passed Alvarado and anchored the second evening -under Anton Lizardo, until the moon went down. -<span class='pageno' title='294' id='Page_294'></span> -They then lifted their anchor, and passing between -Sacrificios Island (where a Spanish corvette lay) and -the main land, they entered the port of Vera Cruz -unobserved.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Although necessary for the prosecution of their -plan, yet coming to Vera Cruz, in one contingency, -very much increased their difficulties. It was indispensable -that tidings of their arrival should not -reach the castle, and yet they would certainly be -communicated by the first flag of truce that passed -over. They therefore determined to dispose of their -small cargo at once—lay in a return one, make their -remaining preparations, and with a telescope examine -the works of the castle, to decide on which -point they could with least danger approach, until -near enough to execute the stratagem they had -devised.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The south front of the castle, facing the city, was -223 varas, or four hundred and forty yards, including -the south-west and south-east bastions. Along this -front were 34 guns mounted en barbette, i. e., without -embrasures. The south-west curtain was the nearest, -directly facing, and half a mile distant from the town. -Toward the north east, protecting the sea front, was -a tower bastion, which mounted a heavy gun on a -pivot. This tower bastion, nearly triangular in shape, -was completely isolated—its base line being fifty -yards distant from the north-east, or outside curtain -of the castle, with the water flowing between them—as -also between the north-east and north-west faces -of the tower bastion and the outwork—in a space -forty-two feet in width. The outwork itself was -very strongly fortified—indeed the strongest part of -the fortification, as defending the point which, at the -time of its construction, was deemed most likely to -be attacked—as the engineer had not foreseen that -before an attack, the castle and the town might be -separately held by belligerents. The adventurers -determined to make direct for a postern in the south-east -front, where there was a landing of 2 or 3 steps, -leading to a narrow platform, also of stone, which -opened into a covered way. Along the wall, between -the south-west bastion and the postern, were -three or four rings inserted, to which, in time of -peace, vessels were ordinarily made fast, to ride -under the lee of the castle during the terrific gales so -prevalent in the winter months.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At an early hour the next morning they started, and -a number of the inhabitants who had heard of their -intention to sail, were gathered on the sea-wall to -see if they could escape both the fire from the castle -and the pursuit of the corvette, then getting under -way from her anchorage at Sacrificios. They cheered -the boat as she left the harbor, and the loud vivas -being heard by the garrison of the castle, several shot -were fired from the south-west bastion, which dispersed -the assemblage. A moment after the little -felucca was seen standing boldly out, and a signal -was made from the castle to the corvette, while -several guns were brought to bear upon the daring -little vessel—for hitherto all attempts to pass had -been made at night. The gunner stood by one -of the guns on the ramparts, and was about to -apply the lighted match, when his movement was -arrested by an officer calling out, “Hold! it is a -friend.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As soon as the felucca was well outside the pier, -she hoisted the Spanish ensign, and with a loud -hurra from Talbot and Gonzalez, stood directly for -the castle. From the ramparts of the town were -instantly heard shouts of execration, and several -muskets were discharged, but without effect, and before -one of the heavy guns could be prepared and -trained, the felucca was close under the walls of the -castle. As supposed deserters, they were received -with apparent cordiality mingled with distrust, and -were conducted forthwith before the commandant, -who interrogated them long and closely. They represented -themselves, Talbot as a merchant whose -property had been confiscated in consequence of his -inability to meet his portion of a forced loan, and -subsequently sent to Xalapa for some remarks he had -made on the tyrannical course of the government. -Gonzalez professed to have been a resident of the -latter town, and that he had long been placed in surveillance -for his political opinions. That with his -companion he had concerted and carried into execution -their plan of escape. The tale seemed plausible, -but the commandant was not thoroughly satisfied, and -although he let them go at large, directed that they -should be strictly watched.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The boat was made fast to one of the ring-bolts -secured in the wall in the south-east face of the -castle near the postern, and kept in her position by a -line fastened to a light kedge astern. Her bow was -about two fathoms or twelve feet from the landing. -From the surface of the water to the summit-level of -the parapet was about thirty-five feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two friends had feigned to be anxious to get -away, but the commandant withheld his consent, -intending first more thoroughly to satisfy himself of -their character. They rejoiced at the delay, even -while they knew that it exposed them to increased -hazard of detection.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Availing themselves of the privilege to wander -about the works, they looked anxiously in every -direction for Frank. In every direction but one they -had looked in vain, and at last, almost in despair, -Talbot approached the quarters of the commandant. -Here, in the last place to have been expected, he -found the object of his search in a kind of open office, -employed in converting into intelligible English some -documents written by an illiterate translator. At the -sight of him Frank started up, and was about to rush -toward him, but resumed his seat when he saw -Talbot place his finger on his lip, and by a gesture -indicated that the sentry who stood near by, was observing -them. On a small shelf just within the door, -stood a can of water, with a drinking-cup beside it. -Talbot stepping quickly within the door-way, asked -the youth in Spanish for a drink of water. The latter, -understanding him, handed the cup, at the same time -closely watching every movement of his friend. -The sentry had in the meantime advanced to the door, -and stood looking in. Talbot drank with seeming -thirst, and returning the cup with a simple “<span class='it'>gratias</span>,” -<span class='pageno' title='295' id='Page_295'></span> -contrived to slip a bit of paper, unseen, into the -hands of Frank.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That night, Frank, complaining of the heat, obtained -permission of the officer of the day to sleep -on the south-east bastion, or bastion of St. Crispin, -upon which the land-breeze blew, provided that -he did so under the eye of the sentinel posted -there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gonzalez laid himself down at the foot of the stone -stairway or ramp, which led from the court of the -castle below to the parapet above.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Between 2 and 3 o’clock in the morning, shortly -after the sentinels had been relieved, when the moon -had set, and the light of the stars was intercepted by -masses of clouds wafted over from the land, Talbot, -with his cloak thrown around him, and a cap on his -head, such as were worn by the officers, ascended -the stairway, mounted the parapet, and advanced directly -toward the sentinel near whom Frank had laid -down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sentinel, taking it for granted that it was the -officer of the day who approached, (for Talbot had -observed, and now closely imitated his gait,) did not -challenge until the latter was almost within the point -of his bayonet. As he brought his musket to a charge, -demanding the watchword, Talbot pushed the point -of the weapon suddenly aside, and rushing upon, -threw over and fell upon the sentinel. Frank now -sprung up, and found that Talbot held the soldier by -the throat with so much force that he was nearly -strangled. Together they soon securely tied and -gagged him. At a motion from Talbot, who, putting -on the soldier’s cap, and shouldering his musket, -resumed the round, Frank fastened a cord (which the -former threw to him) to one of the barbette-guns, and -let himself down the face of the wall, landing upon -the narrow stone ledge a short distance from the boat. -While he was doing this, Gonzalez had stealthily -crawled up the ramp or stairway, and creeping along -the parapet, in like manner, lowered himself down -beside the youth. Talbot then placing the musket -by the gun, with the soldier’s cap upon, and his cloak -around it, followed their example, and reached his -companions in safety. One of them then swam out -and cut the rope which held the boat by the stern, -but, on his return, found his companions in consternation. -A padlock had been put upon the chain, and -in vain they strove to part the bolt. At this moment -the clouds had swept by, and they were thrown into -despair by hearing the sentinel on the south-west -bastion call out, “<span class='it'>Qui viv</span>.” In desperation they -all sprung into the boat as the sentinel discharged his -musket, and gave the alarm. With the strength -which despair alone can give, they seized the chain, -and with one mighty effort tore the bolt from the -stern of the boat with a crash. The alarm was now -general, and there was not an instant to be lost. -Pushing boldly from the landing, they hoisted their -sail with expedition, and stood diagonally across toward -the main land, carefully keeping themselves in -a line with the angle of the south-east bastion. There -was great confusion in the garrison, several of the -large guns were discharged, and volleys of musketry -were fired in the direction they pursued. The balls -flew wide of the mark, and as the felucca was now -under rapid headway, they began to congratulate -themselves that they were out of danger, when, by a -discharge of the heavy pivot-gun on the tower-bastion, -loaded with grape, Gonzalez was struck -down, mortally wounded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The felucca reached Sisal in safety, but Talbot and -Mary deeply and unceasingly mourned the loss of -their true and invaluable friend. And Frank bitterly -grieved that his freedom should have been purchased -at such a sacrifice. He was, indeed, worthy of all -regret—but a cloud had overshadowed his sun of -life. He would have brooded over his sister’s shame -until existence had become a burthen, and his impulsive -nature might by unlawful means have sought -relief in the cold embrace of death. He perished -in a work of charity, and it is to be hoped that -He who,</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“When all our souls were forfeit,</p> -<p class='line0'> Could the advantage best have took,</p> -<p class='line0'> Found out the remedy,”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>in His abounding mercy, forgave one act of passion -for the redeeming merits of the cause wherein the -unhappy Gonzalez met his death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was only one vessel at Sisal, bound at an early -day to the United States, and her destination was New -Orleans. Frank, his sister and Talbot, accordingly -took passage in her, and reached the south-west pass -of the Mississippi just as a gale was coming on. -The country above had been overflowed by recent -heavy rains, and what between the current from -within, and the swell without, they were greeted -with a magnificent spectacle. The waves of the -gulf, driven before the gale, which had soon become -terrific, encountered the onward sweep of the waters -of the mighty river. The sight forcibly reminded -them of Rebecca’s exclamation in Ivanhoe, “God of -Jacob! it is like the meeting of two oceans moved by -adverse tides!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nearly the whole period of their stay was embraced -in one uninterrupted storm, but the magnificence -of the scenery compensated for the inclemency -of the weather. Vegetation was still in -full luxuriance, and the moss, pendent from the trees, -and saturated with incessant rain, like dripping garments -swayed to and fro in the wind, while low, -rugged clouds trailed along but a short distance overhead, -and a gray semi-transparent mist floated above -the surface of the ground. The “Mississippi,” unusually -turbid, and swollen to the utmost capacity of -its banks, with its mighty whirls and eddies, rushed -impetuously on, bearing on its surface many a vestige -of the devastation it had caused. Nor were the -works of art, clumsy and unsymmetrical though -they were, wanting to the scene, spreading no sail -to the breeze, but drifting idly with the current, -the arks and the broad-horns were whirled by -with a rapidity that seemed to defy management. -Wafted over the water frequently came the wild and -not unmelodious sound of the bugle, while in the -stillness of the night were heard the manly and sonorous -voices of the boatmen singing,</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>  “The boatman dance, the boatman sing,</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='pageno' title='296' id='Page_296'></span></p> -<p class='line0'> The boatman up to every thing.</p> -<p class='line0'> When the boatman gets on shore,</p> -<p class='line0'> He spends his money and works for more.</p> -<p class='line0'> Dance, boatman, dance—</p> -<p class='line0'> Dance, boatman, dance—dance all night till broad daylight,</p> -<p class='line0'> And go home with the girls in the morning.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Steam was just beginning to be introduced, and the -soothing solitudes of nature to be disturbed by the -monotonous clank of machinery. Our party availed -themselves of an upward-bound steamboat, and slowly -ascended the Mississippi, whose turbid and swollen -waters rolled far and wide beyond their usual boundaries. -The river was filled with broken rafts, drift -logs, and half-sunken and floating trees. The danger -of running upon a snag, or encountering a sawyer, -was great and impending. The current was so strong -that their boat, although striving to keep in shore, -would frequently be caught by a whirl or an eddy, -and like a stray leaf upon a rivulet, would be turned -round and round until striking against a tree, it would -be sent into the mid current and again be carried for -miles among the trees, from whose verdant tops the -birds that had remained undisturbed by the rush and -the roar beneath, flew at the boat’s approach, as if -aware that their only enemy was man. They also -ascended the Ohio, whose limpid waters, gliding with -a strong but not impetuous current, have won for it -the name of beautiful. When they stood upon the -crest of the Alleghany, and saw mountains, “hills -and plains as graceful in their sweep as the arrested -billows of a mighty sea, and recollected that more -boundless than the view, that verdant sweep is uninterrupted -until the one extreme is locked in the fast -embrace of thick-ribbed ice, and the other is washed -by the phosphorescent ripple of the tropic, while on -either side is heard the murmuring surge of a widespread -and magnificent ocean,”<a id='r2'/><a href='#f2' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[2]</span></sup></a> their hearts bounded -with exultation as they thought of the unrivaled destinies -of their country. As if on the high altar of the -land of his nativity, Talbot, who had wandered far -and wide, could not withhold his pledge of devotion, -and the heartfelt exclamation escaped him,</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'> “By travel taught, I can attest</p> -<p class='line0'>I love my native land the best.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The commissioned officer, not unknown to fame, -met with none of the obstacles which the friendless -orphan had encountered, and Talbot’s estate was -settled without difficulty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the chastening hand of time had hallowed -the memories of the dead, and substituted a Christian -resignation for the bitterness of early grief, Edward -and Mary were united, and through a since much -checkered life, neither time nor circumstance, nor -prosperity, nor distress, has for one instant abated -a feeling which is fixed and unalterable as their -future destinies.</p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<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'>From a speech of the author’s, 1844.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk109'/> - -<div><h1><a id='rust'></a>THE RUSTIC SHRINE.</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 GEO. W. DEWEY.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='blockquote35em'> - -<p class='pindent'>Their names were found cut upon a rural bench, overgrown with vines, which proved to be at once Love’s shrine -and cenotaph. <span class='it'>Legends of the Rhine.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>A shadow of the cypress bough</p> -<p class='line'>  Lies on my path to-day—</p> -<p class='line'>A melancholy—which in vain</p> -<p class='line'>  I strive to chase away.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The angel Memory hath flown</p> -<p class='line'>  To old and cherished things,</p> -<p class='line'>To bring the light of early years</p> -<p class='line'>  Around me on her wings;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And where the love-lorn birds complain</p> -<p class='line'>  Within their green abode,</p> -<p class='line'>Between two elms, a rustic seat</p> -<p class='line'>  Invites her from the road.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>There shall she sit, as oft before,</p> -<p class='line'>  And sigh as oft again,</p> -<p class='line'>O’er names engraved, which long have braved</p> -<p class='line'>  The sunshine and the rain.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And one—it is the dearest name</p> -<p class='line'>  On Love’s unnumbered shrines:—</p> -<p class='line'>So dear, that even envious Time</p> -<p class='line'>  Hath guarded it with vines;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And wreathed it with his choicest flowers.</p> -<p class='line'>  As if the bridal claim,</p> -<p class='line'>Which Fate denied unto her brow,</p> -<p class='line'>  Should still adorn her name!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Ah, well do I remember yet</p> -<p class='line'>  The day I carved that name!</p> -<p class='line'>The rattle of the locusts’ drum</p> -<p class='line'>  Thrills o’er me now the same;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Adown the lane the wayward breeze</p> -<p class='line'>  Comes with a stealthy pace,</p> -<p class='line'>And brings the perfume of the fields</p> -<p class='line'>  To this deserted place:—</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Unto her blushing cheek again</p> -<p class='line'>  It comes—the blessèd air!</p> -<p class='line'>Caressing, like a lover’s hand,</p> -<p class='line'>  The tresses of her hair.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The brook runs laughing at her feet,</p> -<p class='line'>  O’erhead the wild-bird sings,</p> -<p class='line'>The air is filled with butterflies,</p> -<p class='line'>  As though the flowers had wings:—</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But this is Fancy’s pilgrimage,</p> -<p class='line'>  And lures me back in vain!</p> -<p class='line'>The brook, the bench, the flowers and vines</p> -<p class='line'>  I ne’er may see again;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>For this is but an idle dream</p> -<p class='line'>  That mocks me evermore—</p> -<p class='line'>And memory only fills the place</p> -<p class='line'>  My loved one filled of yore!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk110'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i045f.jpg'><img src='images/i045.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0002' style='width:550px;height:auto;'/></a> -<p class='caption'> <span style='font-size:smaller'>J. Dill, Sc.</span><br/> <br/><span class='bold'>TORTOSA, FROM THE ISLAND OF RUAD.</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk111'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='297' id='Page_297'></span><h1><a id='luna'></a>LUNA.—AN ODE.</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 H. T. TUCKERMAN.</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' style='text-align:left;margin-left:7em;font-size:0.9em;'><span class='it'>Casta Diva, che inargenti</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:7em;font-size:0.9em;'><span class='it'>Questi sacri antiqui piante</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:7em;font-size:0.9em;'><span class='it'>A noi volge il bel sembianti</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:7em;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:0.9em;'><span class='it'>Senza nube e senza vel!</span> <span class='sc'>Norma.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The south wind hath its balm, the sea its cheer,</p> -<p class='line'>  And autumn woods their bright and myriad hues;</p> -<p class='line'>    Thine is a joy that love and faith endear,</p> -<p class='line'>          And awe subdues:</p> -<p class='line'>The wave-tost seamen and the harvest crew,</p> -<p class='line'>  When on their golden sheaves the quivering dew</p> -<p class='line'>    Hangs like pure tears—all fear beguile,</p> -<p class='line'>In glancing from their task to thy maternal smile!</p> -<p class='line'>  The mist of hill-tops undulating wreathes,</p> -<p class='line'>    At thy enchanting touch, a magic woof,</p> -<p class='line'>  And curling incense fainter odor breathes,</p> -<p class='line'>And, in transparent clouds, hangs round the vaulted roof.</p> -<p class='line'>  Huge icebergs, with their crystal spires</p> -<p class='line'>    Slow heaving from the northern main,</p> -<p class='line'>  Like frozen monuments of high desires</p> -<p class='line'>    Destined to melt in nothingness again,—</p> -<p class='line'>      Float in thy mystic beams,</p> -<p class='line'>  As piles aerial down the tide of dreams!</p> -<p class='line'>      A sacred greeting falls</p> -<p class='line'>  With thy mild presence on the ruined fane,</p> -<p class='line'>Columns time-stained, dim frieze, and ivied walls,</p> -<p class='line'>  As if a fond delight thou didst attain</p> -<p class='line'>      To mingle with the Past,</p> -<p class='line'>And o’er her trophies lone a holy mantle cast!</p> -<p class='line'>    Along the billow’s snowy crest</p> -<p class='line'>    Thy beams a moment rest,</p> -<p class='line'>And then in sparkling mirth dissolve away;</p> -<p class='line'>  Through forest boughs, amid the withered leaves,</p> -<p class='line'>      Thy light a tracery weaves,</p> -<p class='line'>And on the mossy clumps its rays fantastic play.</p> -<p class='line'>    With thee, ethereal guide,</p> -<p class='line'>  What reverent joy to pace the temple floor,</p> -<p class='line'>    And watch thy silver tide</p> -<p class='line'>O’er statue, tomb and arch its solemn radiance pour!</p> -<p class='line'>  Like a celestial magnet thou dost sway</p> -<p class='line'>    The untamed waters in their ebb and flow,</p> -<p class='line'>  The maniac raves beneath thy pallid ray.</p> -<p class='line'>      And poet’s visions glow;</p> -<p class='line'>Madonna of the stars! through the cold prison-grate</p> -<p class='line'>  Thou stealest, like a nun on mercy bent.</p> -<p class='line'>      To cheer the desolate,</p> -<p class='line'>And usher in grief’s tears when her mute pang is spent!</p> -<p class='line'>    I marvel not that once thy altars rose</p> -<p class='line'>        Sacred to human woes,</p> -<p class='line'>  And nations deemed thee arbitress of Fate,</p> -<p class='line'>    To whom enamored virgins made their prayer,</p> -<p class='line'>      Or widows in their first despair,</p> -<p class='line'>  And wistful gazed upon thy queenly state,</p> -<p class='line'>    As, with a meek assurance, gliding by,</p> -<p class='line'>      In might and beauty unelate,</p> -<p class='line'>    Into the bridal chambers of the sky!</p> -<p class='line'>    And less I marvel that Endymion sighed</p> -<p class='line'>      To yield his spirit unto thine,</p> -<p class='line'>    And felt thee soul-allied,</p> -<p class='line'>  Making his being thy receptive shrine!</p> -<p class='line'>    A lofty peace is thine!—the tides of life</p> -<p class='line'>  Flow gently when thy soothing orb appears,</p> -<p class='line'>      And passion’s fevered strife</p> -<p class='line'>From thy chaste glow imbibes the calmness of the spheres!</p> -<p class='line'>  O twilight glory! that doth ne’er awake</p> -<p class='line'>    Exhausting joy, but evenly and fond,</p> -<p class='line'>  Allays the immortal thirst it cannot slake,</p> -<p class='line'>    And heals the chafing of the work-day bond;</p> -<p class='line'>  Give me thy patient spell!—to bear</p> -<p class='line'>    With an unclouded brow, the secret pain,</p> -<p class='line'>  (That floods my soul as thy pale beams the air,)</p> -<p class='line'>Of hopes that Reason quells, for Love to wake again!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk112'/> - -<div><h1><a id='buch'></a>FROM BUCHANNAN.</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 RICHARD PENN SMITH.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>           IN ZOILUM.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>Frustra ego te laudo; frustra me Zoile lædis</p> -<p class='line0'>Nemo mihi credit, Zoile, nemo tibi.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>           TO ZOILUS.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>Zoilus, in vain thy praise I spread;</p> -<p class='line0'>  And vainly thou hast slandered me!</p> -<p class='line0'>No one believed a word I said,</p> -<p class='line0'>  No one on earth would credit thee.</p> -<p class='line0'>              —</p> -<p class='line0'>      Qui te videt beaties est;</p> -<p class='line0'>      Beatior qui te audiet</p> -<p class='line0'>      Qui basiat—semi deus est!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>         TRANSLATION.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>He who beholds thy charms is blest;</p> -<p class='line0'>  More blest is he thy voice who hears;</p> -<p class='line0'>But he thy ruby lip that pressed,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To me a demi-god appears.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The above was unquestionably suggested by the lines -of Catullus to Lesbia, beginning—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Ille mi par esse Deo videtur</p> -<p class='line0'>Ille, si fas est, superare Divos</p> -<p class='line0'>Qui sedens adversus identidem te</p> -<p class='line0'>    Spectat, et audit, etc.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This poem of Catullus is nothing more than a translation -from the Greek of Sappho, which has been rendered -familiar by Ambrose Phillips’ version.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Blest as the immortal gods is he;</p> -<p class='line0'>The youth who fondly sits by thee:</p> -<p class='line0'>Who hears and sees thee, all the while,</p> -<p class='line0'>Softly speak and sweetly smile, etc.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>It would seem that Horace when composing his beautiful -ode of “Integer Vitæ,” had these verses of Sappho -in mind, when he exclaims—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Dulce ridentem, Lalagen amabo</p> -<p class='line0'>              Dulce loquentem.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The “<span class='it'>Dulce ridentum</span>” is also beautifully applied in the -translation by Catullus.</p> - -<hr class='tbk113'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='298' id='Page_298'></span><h1><a id='recl'></a>THE RECLUSE. NO. II.</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> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_6'>IV.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>From Paris, on the 28th of February last, about -four o’clock in the afternoon, a rainbow was distinguished -in the heavens. “Bravo!” cried a workman -of the Faubourg Saint Antoine—“See how le -bon Dieu (the good God) also acknowledges the -French Republic—he hangs out the tricolored flag.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This anecdote, though singularly French, who are -noted for irreligion, does not strike me as betraying -any lack of reverence. Could not the poor <span class='it'>ouvrier</span> -in his ignorance really have presumed the rainbow -to be a providential token? Instances of greater -blindness might be recounted, which have happened -at our own doors. Who does not know the stories -of Millerite fanaticism? Are not the impostures of -Matthias too recent not to be remembered in detail? -The miracles which they pretended, and which were -not too monstrous for the capacious maw of respectable -credulity, were much more marvelous than -the tricolored flag of the poor Paris laborer.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_7'>V.—TO AN OLD FLAME.</h2> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Written on one of the bitterest days of Winter.</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Ah, Mary, thou art far away,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And never dost thou think of me,</p> -<p class='line0'>But unto thee my visions fly</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like birds across the sea.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>I loved thee once with such a love</p> -<p class='line0'>  As manhood only knows and feels,</p> -<p class='line0'>Less shown by actions and by words</p> -<p class='line0'>  Than what the eye reveals.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Within the warm and sunny South</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy form is folded like a rose,</p> -<p class='line0'>While I, in Northern realms afar,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Am wrapt in wintry snows.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Perhaps a husband’s arms enclose</p> -<p class='line0'>  The treasure I’d have died to win,</p> -<p class='line0'>So that desire for thy sweet face</p> -<p class='line0'>  Is very like a sin.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>But I’ll not think it—let me dream—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Since dreams alone such bliss bestow—</p> -<p class='line0'>That, ere we meet in climes above,</p> -<p class='line0'>  We yet may meet below.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>And I again may feel a thrill</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of rapture as I sit and gaze</p> -<p class='line0'>Into thine eye’s delicious depth</p> -<p class='line0'>  Till all my heart’s ablaze.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>And I can hear thy tuneful voice,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With melody almost divine,</p> -<p class='line0'>Sing the sweet songs I joyed to hear</p> -<p class='line0'>  In days of auld lang syne.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>But all in vain I strike my lyre,</p> -<p class='line0'>  In vain my burning thoughts unfold,</p> -<p class='line0'>For, though my heart is warm with love,</p> -<p class='line0'>  My hands are numb with cold.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_8'>VI.—SHIPWRECK.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>There is no event, by which sorrow is brought to -mankind, which arouses in the mind of old and young -a livelier horror than “shipwreck.” There is something -so terrible in the loneliness and obscurity of -the sea, something so deplorable in the utter helplessness -of the sailors, that there is scarcely any danger -which we would not rather encounter. When -we read of one, either near at hand or afar off, we -involuntarily close our eyes, as if to shut out the -awful scene; the noble ship helplessly reeling and -tumbling on the billows, the pall of clouds, the driving -rain, the white spray and foam drifting like -ghosts over the water, some boat perhaps crowded -with human beings, some broken mast or spar to -which cling drowning wretches, and alone, all alone -on the ocean-desert, with no hope of aid or succor. -Vainly do we strive to shut our ears to the cries of -misery and despair, to the wail of the wind, the loud -lamenting of the surge, the deep groans of the vessel -as her timbers part, and the noblest fabric of human -skill is about to be torn to fragments and utterly -destroyed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lord Byron, describing a ship under full sail, uses -the forcible expression,</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“She walks the water like a thing of like.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>There is as much truth as beauty in this. Indeed it -is difficult to imagine so proud and glorious an object, -moving obedient to reason and command, to be nothing -more than an inanimate mass. Behold her, as -she sets out upon her voyage, with a fair sky and -favoring breeze! How gracefully she parts the -waters and sweeps onward! Is not that form instinct -with feeling and endowed with intellect? No! -she is but a wonderful piece of mechanism; but the -dullest fancy might imagine her a being, an intelligence, -capable of volition, powerful in deed. Observe -her, too, when overmastered by the tempest -and made subject to the waves, she drifts powerless -along! Does she not seem to suffer human pangs -in her struggles, and to die with all of mortal agony?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The attachment, I might say friendship, which -seamen entertain for particular vessels is not to be -wondered at. The deck is the home of the mariner: -here the greater number of his days are spent: the -masts, sails, rigging are to him familiar objects, the -objects of his constant care and solicitude, and he -feels for them a species of paternal love. When -these are destroyed, lost, wrecked, he mourns them -with a real sorrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is my lot to live within constant sight of the sea. -I am on one of the grand highways from Europe to -New York. Ships of all nations pass my door. -Many a noble vessel has been wrecked within a -mile from my dwelling. My mind therefore often -reverts to this most fearful calamity, and it is difficult -<span class='pageno' title='299' id='Page_299'></span> -for me to expel even from my dreams visions of -shipwreck.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_9'>VII.—DR. SYNTAX.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Will nobody republish “A Tour in Search of the -Picturesque?” Will nobody print it and give us -the original pictures, colored engravings of the richest -sort—none of your meager outlines—your skeletons -of sketches—but the rotund figures in full of -the veritable hero of that glorious poem, and all the -scenes and adventures through which he passed?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Darling old Dr. Syntax! How many a sad, long -year has droned away since I, a merry boy, used to -read thy most fascinating of Tours! Nothing ever -so captivated my young imagination as thy solitary -rambles on thy faithful steed through town and hamlet—now -taking up thy abode with some lordly proprietor, -and now sleeping contentedly beneath the -roof of some sturdy yeoman—now kissing the -squire’s wife and sister, and now giving sympathizing -advice to the dairy-maid, who was, like poor -Ophelia, disappointed in love. Oh, Doctor! thou -wast never above humanity. Though never frail -thyself, yet wast thou no inexorable judge over the -frailties of others.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I long, most patient and peculiar of travelers, I -long sincerely to accompany thee once more in thy -rambles. Most charitable of divines, most lenient of -pedagogues, “take thee for all in all, I shall not -look upon thy like again!” <span class='it'>Interestingest</span> of all -authors, I would enter into thy feelings once more. -I would feel the joy thou feltest in quitting thy -spouse (no <span class='it'>dulcis uxor</span>) and mounting thy famous -mare, Grizzle, and setting forth on thy most speculative -and picturesque expedition. You were a -creature of the brain, Doctor, I suppose—but to me -you are a reality. I remember you perfectly. I -loved you when a boy at school with all my heart. -<a id='orth'></a>Orthography, Etymology and Prosody I hated—but -I loved Syntax.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Which of you generous and gentlemenly booksellers -will immediately send me a copy (bound or unbound, -but it must have the pictures,) of Dr. Syntax’s -Tour in Search of the Picturesque? Speak not all -at once! I will promise you “a first-rate notice in -the Boston Post.” It would afford me “a wonderful -sight” of fun, as they say in Androscoggin, to -read that book. I should be <span class='it'>rejuvenesced</span>. Kind Mr. -Hart, be so obliging as to ransack your shelves and -transmit an old English copy, directed <span class='sc'>To the Recluse</span>, -<span class='it'>aux soins du redacteur en chef de</span> <span class='sc'>Graham’s -Magazine</span>.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_10'>VIII.—A CHARACTER.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>My friend, Ralph Willinton, is a man of adventures. -More strange things have happened to him -than to any dozen people I ever heard of, in what -are called “the common walks of life.” Ralph is -by no means an extraordinary individual. If the -North River waited for him to set it on fire, it might -flow on through the Highlands unscorched forever. -He was not born to greatness; he will never achieve -greatness, nor will greatness be thrust upon him. -But do not misunderstand me: Ralph, as the gentleman -felicitously remarked of Shakespeare, “is no -fool.” On the contrary, he is a fellow of parts. -He never dazzled in conversation by a coruscation -of mother-wit; but when he has heard a happy rejoinder, -he remembers it, and has the skill to use it -to advantage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ralph is the happiest mimic in these <span class='it'>Untied</span> States, -as they may sooner or later be called. There never -appeared an actor in any one of our theatres whose -voice and manner he cannot imitate with marvelous -verisimilitude. Moreover he sings a very good song, -though with no very powerful or melodious voice. -He can write Magazine articles on music, composes -occasionally himself, and writes love ditties, such as -they are. Add to these accomplishments a manner -irresistibly winning, and tones in speaking as sweet -as those which the author of Guy Mannering gives -to Rashleigh Osbaldistone, and you are possessed of -the sum total of Ralph’s recommendations. The -sum total do I say? when I have but obscurely -hinted at his extraordinary gift or faculty of story-telling, -by which, like Hamlet’s Yorick, he can set -the whole table on a roar. In sooth, he is the most -diverting of dinner-table companions. He richly -earns his invitations, of which no man has more. -You can bear to listen to those stories of his (which -are nothing when any one else tells them) a hundred -times. They are “ever charming, ever new.” Age -cannot mar nor custom stale his infinite variety. -His profession is the law, and his practice is amusement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ralph is, in fine, a capital fellow. It is a pity -that he should have a capital propensity. He is the -hero of all his romances. Had he been Macbeth, -he never would have exclaimed, “Thou canst not -say <span class='it'>I</span> did it!” He would rather have had the <span class='it'>credit</span> -of murdering Duncan himself than have been thought -to have no hand in the “bloody business.” Ralph -is the most ubiquitous of mortals. To have effected -an iota of what he attributes to his own talents, -valor and industry, to have done one in fifty of those -deeds of which he asserts “<span class='it'>quorum pars magna -fui</span>,” he must have been in a very considerable -number of places at once. Nevertheless and notwithstanding -Ralph Willinton is a glorious good -fellow. Reader, did you ever meet with Ralph -Willinton?</p> - -<hr class='tbk114'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='300' id='Page_300'></span><h1><a id='voice'></a>A VOICE FROM THE WAYSIDE:</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>ABOUT A GENIUS.</p> - -<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;'>We wither from our youth, we waste away,</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Sick, sick, unfound the boon—unslaked the thirst.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:0em;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:0.9em;'><span class='sc'>Byron.</span></p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>In summer time there are few things more delightful -than an occasionally wet day to “out-of-towners.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then we of the country, in our almost noiseless -homes, may delight and rejoice in the strange and -pleasant quietness attending a still, steadily-falling -rain; we can watch with admiring eyes how the fields -and the well-draperied woods grow bright and cleanly, -’neath the hand of that pattern housekeeper, Dame -Nature; we can listen undisturbed by the multitudinous -noises which infest a city, to the dear wild-birds, -who, impatient of the long-continued weeping -of the skies, occasionally break forth into the merriest -songs, as if questioning each other as to how they -stand the charges of the elements.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then there is the generous Sun King, (I acknowledge, -however, he does not shine for country-people -<span class='it'>only</span>,) glancing out at intervals from between -the heavy clouds, smiling upon us joyously, and -looking for all the world as though he would say if -he could, “never mind, children, the storm will soon -be passed!” And then the after-part of a summer -shower! the freshened fragrance of the flowers—the -purified atmosphere—the bright blue sky—the increased -glory of the setting-sun—the rainbow in the -east—the drops of water glistening on the flowers -and on the grass, so pure and bright, that one might -almost imagine them the tears of spirits—the glad -songs of innumerable birds—the groups of children -exhibiting in various ways their nautical daring on -and about the newly-formed lakelets in the roads and -fields—the many evidences of life awakened out of -doors—then the holy calmness of the ensuing summer -night—the soft light of the stars—and after that -the trembling glory of the new moon! Oh, beautiful, -beautiful summer! with thy rain-storms and thy sunshine, -hasten to us again!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But—a rainy day in winter! its horrors encircle -me at this moment; I forbear entering into its details. -However much <span class='it'>you</span> may delight in a day like unto -this, oh, listen to the humble voice now emerging -from the way-side, <span class='it'>I</span> have no courage to speak even -of the stubborn, hard-headed, cheerless figure Nature -presents when she stands gazing in such mute dismay -upon her domicil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is in human nature, at least in mine, and I claim -to be human, to be always looking for <span class='it'>a something -better</span>, and despite all this dreariness without, my -heart is even now continually singing, “Spring is -coming! spring is coming!” but a few weeks! and -then, instead of the dismal trappings of winter, how -beautiful and bright all without and around us will -be! the very thought is enough to make every soul -shout, “Hasten the time! Amen!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is such a desolateness in the court of the -white-headed old king which people very naturally -shrink from as they grow older in years!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Looking back into childhood, these stony-hearted -months when frost and snow reign king and queen -over earth, seem, indeed, the most joyous—and not -without reason. For then the “Christman” and the -youth so full of promise, the bright New Year, are -never-failing guests by the mid-winter fire-side. -There is joy for the child on the ice-bound hill, on -the glassy, frozen lake, in the gurgling, merry sound -of the sleigh-bells, in the sight of the cheerful home-fire, -in the bracing out-door air, in the huge snow-drifts—everywhere, -everywhere there is joy for the -child!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And why? Because of bounding hopes and joyous -dreams, and the careless yielding up of oneself to -every passing enjoyment—because of freedom from -labor—because of ignorance of the worth and supremacy -of gold—because of utter innocence of the -strict “proprieties” of life! There is joy for the child, -because he has not yet learned much of disappointments; -he does not know how uncomfortable is the -close-fitting garment of manhood. He is not wise -enough to see in the winter storms, in the driving -blasts in which he so much delights, the type of what -assuredly awaits him. He does not know that the -life-storms with which he will have to struggle, will -come suddenly and furiously upon him—that he will, -perforce, then fling aside his mittens and grapple open -handed with his foes. And it must certainly be at the -warm and genial hearth-fire of truth and honesty, and -no stifling stove-heat by which he must keep his heart, -and its hopes and affections warm and in health, else -they will die away suddenly and utterly, even as the -fire of the “patent air-tight” dies!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hark! now I hear the flapping of wings; and lo, -here, almost close beside my window, are passing -pigeons—snow-white pigeons; and, where <span class='it'>could</span> it -have streamed from, there is a ray of sunlight on -their wings! and since I have begun writing, the -clouds seem to have “spent their fury,” they are -less dull and dreary—they are slowly breaking away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The view from the window by which I am writing -is not especially charming. In one direction there -are sheds, and barns, and barren trees, and a little -farther on, the spire of an unpretending church, and -<span class='pageno' title='301' id='Page_301'></span> -sundry chimney-tops, together with the roofs of a few -loftier buildings meet my eye. These are all certainly -very <span class='it'>suggestive</span> scenes, and might make so -many important heads of a very interesting discourse; -but, in another direction from this same window there -are great fields, and farther on, woods and hills, and -between them and me, there are two points in the -landscape on which very often my eyes rest, and -many are the recollections, bitter and sweet, they -awaken. One is a village school-house, the other a -thickly-populated grave-yard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Over those hills, and through the woods, and by -the sandy shores of our beautiful lake, I was once a -frequent wanderer, and with me invariably in all -those rovings, was a child of somewhere near my -own age, to whom, good reader, you may now consider -yourself introduced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the week, with its disappointments, and -hopes and joys has passed, and Saturday afternoon, -the child’s holyday the world over, comes round -again, how often my thoughts have turned back to -her, and to the time when <span class='it'>we</span> also were young; oh, -how much of meaning there is in that word, <span class='it'>youth</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But looking back into the past is not an over-pleasant -business at any time. There are very many -reasons why people, for the most part, dread the -rolling up of that curtain within which lies buried -much of destroyed confidence, and happiness that -died of fearful wounds; but I am willing to trespass -on my own feelings at this present, that you may -know something of Lily Reeve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>People said she was a genius. They said rightly—she -was. And to complete the interest attachable -to her therefor, Lily was poor—<span class='it'>very</span> poor, and had -been all the days of her life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the Reeve family moved among us they had -no acquaintance or relative in our village—and their -circumstances and business were not such as attached -any importance or attracted any notice to them. -Had it not been for Lily they would probably have -remained long enough in our midst, unknown and -uncared for. The mother was a middle-aged woman, -a widow; of the children I knew not much, save that -with much appropriateness their name might have -been “legion.” Lily was the eldest child—not -beautiful—and far from being even interesting, -personally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Why her parents had bestowed on her so decided -a name as Lily was always a mystery—for very far -from a resemblance, even the slightest, to that graceful -flower, was she. Neither was she a brunette, -but of complexion rather dark, hair <span class='it'>very</span> black, and -always curled, which gave her a decidedly Mrs. -Hemanish look at times. Her features were irregular—oh, -certainly, she was <span class='it'>far</span> from beautiful, and yet -there was much sweetness of expression in the -mouth, and much of vigor and determination perceivable -in her dark eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a good many years ago, but I remember -distinctly the first time I ever saw Lily. With a -number of juveniles I was returning from a <span class='it'>very</span> -long walk—all our foot-jaunts were long in those -days—when, on passing by an old-fashioned frame-house, -brown with age, and poor and disconsolate in -its outward appearance, one of the group said, “Let’s -go into that house; there’s a girl living there who -paints.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And we went in. One of the more confident of -our number said to the woman who received us, -“Will you show us some of the pictures your -daughter has painted?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With a smile of satisfaction, as though she were -pleased that even we children should have heard of -her daughter, the woman bade us sit down; and then -she brought from an old chest a handful of papers, -and spread them on the table before us. Some of -these were pictures of warriors on their steeds, others -landscapes, and some were heads. There was one -which more than all the others attracted my attention—it -was a portrait of a sleeping child. We asked -if this were one of her children, or only a fancy -sketch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was her little brother who died,” replied the -woman, with a sigh. “Lily drew it when he was -dead.” There was something so sad in the mother’s -voice as she said this, that it checked our gay spirits, -and tended to subdue our loud expressions of admiration. -While we yet stood there turning over the -papers, and gazing in wonder on the productions of a -girl no older than the youngest among us, the subject -of our thoughts and curiosity came into the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she saw what was our object there, she -came up to the table, and putting her arm around -me, as though confident she was with friends, she -asked if we liked her drawings. I remember well -the thrill which passed over me at this simple act of -hers, for I had begun to regard the girl as something -quite extraordinary, and almost more than human. -From that day I date a friendship I am proud to have -formed, one which, while it lasted, delighted me more -than any similar tie I have ever known.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was very easy to see that the heart of the mother -in those days was full of hope—that the mind of the -daughter teemed with ambitious desires, and a determination, -apparently invincible, to accomplish -great things. About that time there were many -people who turned prophets, and looking into the -future, they saw a great name added to America’s -illustrious daughters of song—the name of Lily -Reeve. Do you think their prophecy has proved -true?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the old school-house, (which I heartily regret to -say has been of late abandoned, and its former inmates -have taken possession of a more stately edifice -up-town,) in that little old brick building, <span class='it'>we</span> in the -years long, long gone by, were wont to assemble—and -Lily joined us there. And although on the -humdrum route of <span class='it'>learning</span> we were quite in the -advance, she soon very far outstripped us, and -moved on with most rapid strides through all the -first branches of education. It was impossible for us -dullards to see her strange advancement, and not -feel a little envious of her ability, notwithstanding -we liked Lily so well. In one short year she had -acquired nearly all the instruction it was possible for -our teacher to impart, and as may be supposed for -<span class='pageno' title='302' id='Page_302'></span> -his part, he was watching her progress with somewhat -of anxiety. But his honor as a teacher was -not destined to be sacrificed to the young girl’s -genius.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One afternoon, when school was dismissed, Lily -said to me, “You and I will go home by the other -street. I have something to tell you, and the way -will be longer. Besides, I want to be away from -these rough boys and girls.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So we crossed the road, and entered a path which -led us by a long way home. When we had reached -the bridge, which crossed a deep, rapidly running -brook, we sat down on the bench, placed in the shade -of an old tree, which from “time immemorial” has -stood there, with the most of its tangled roots buried -in the water; then Lily spoke again, for the first -time since we went out from the school-house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you know they are going to send me to the -other school—they think I can learn more there, and -have teachers in the higher branches, and in the -languages. Oh, dear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But why that ‘oh, dear!’ Lily? I only wish I -were ready to go there too, but I am such an ignoramus, -and you know every thing!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not quite every thing. I <span class='it'>should</span> be glad to go—and -there are a great many reasons why. I have the -greatest desire to learn, and I’m sure if I have a -little more education, I can make my way easily in -the world; but—but—in short, they are rich people -who are going to send me, and they will expect -miracles from me, you may depend upon it—<span class='it'>I</span> know. -Because I am poor, and can write pretty well, and -paint, and sketch likenesses, they have taken an -interest in me; but I tell you before hand, and you -will see before long I speak rightly; I shall have to -work like a slave to keep up with their expectations. -Isn’t it enough to make any body say, ‘oh, dear?’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—I don’t think so, Lily. You <span class='it'>can’t help</span> -equaling their expectations, and they have such nice -teachers at the other school, and no great rude boys -go there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That makes no difference at all. One can learn -as well in one place as another. If it were not that -mother felt so glad when the ladies made her the -offer to send me there, I’d never go. You don’t -know any thing about what it means to be dependent; -you can’t think what a heavy load seems resting -on me, ever since so many people have seemed to -take an interest in me. I really begin to doubt my -own powers. It seems to me as though I ought not -to be forced like a plant in a hot-bed. I almost wish -I never had any particular gifts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you say this, Lily Reeve, when all the girls -in town are envying you! Now just be firm, for -I’m sure if you only make up your mind you <span class='it'>will</span> -do a thing, you <span class='it'>can</span> do it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you believe it?” she asked, so suddenly, that -I was startled and began in some trepidation to bethink -my words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly,” I answered at last; “I heard our -minister say the other day your verses were excellent; -and you know your pictures sold well at the -fair. How can you doubt yourself so?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know,” said Lily, thoughtfully, “perhaps -they are nearer right than I dare to think them—but -I cannot explain it to you. I am never satisfied with -any thing I do. My verses always sound so rough -when compared with the melody in my brain—and -my pictures, when I begin them, my fingers almost -fly, I think I will surpass myself—and when they are -finished, they always look so rude and rough, that -I am tempted often to burn them every one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind,” said I, confidently, “you will -see the day yet when all will be brighter to you—and -you know the teacher says every day ‘practice -makes perfect;’ and he always looks at you when -he says it—you ought to have learned that by this -time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll learn it now from you,” said Lily; “we’ll -go now to the woods, I want to get some flowers to -take to mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Just beyond the woods to which we then bent our -steps, there was a large field, in the upper portion of -which, early in the season, we always found multitudes -of purple flowers and white lilies; our first -business that night was to fill our aprons with these -treasures, and then we went into the woods, and sat -down by a stream in a most romantic place, and -began to arrange our huge bunches of flowers. Lily -made hers into small bouquets, one for each of her -family, while I twined mine into a wreath, and laid -it on her head. But soon the fast increasing shade -in the woods warned us it was time to be returning -home. The thought of the obligation she was about -to incur evidently still troubled my companion’s -mind, for she spoke but little, and her words, when -she did speak, were desponding, and even the bright -flowers with which her hands were filled, failed to -attract her usual attention, or awaken the delight -they were wont to.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We were about crossing the stile that was placed -at the entrance of the wood, when Lily suddenly -flung the beautiful green moss she had gathered in a -damp place, with violence from the bosom of her -dress, where she had laid it. And when I looked -with amazement at the excited girl, she exclaimed, -“Look there! I had a snake in my bosom!” Truly -enough, there was a tiny, striped, infant snake, -creeping out leisurely from the bunch of moss she -had flung upon the ground. A thought darted through -my mind—I grasped her arm and said,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You shall hear the moral of this before you go a -step further, Lily Reeve. I’m no genius, but I’ll -teach you a plain lesson. You have thrown the snake -away from you; don’t, don’t ever take it back again. -Don’t doubt those who mean to do you kindness; -only just do what nature intended you should, and all -who know you will be satisfied! When you come -to be very famous, the people who help you now -will think you did them a favor in letting them aid -you. Mother says perseverance will work wonders, -and I believe it—<span class='it'>you</span> can prove it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When I had finished my oration, I stood somewhat -astonished at my own audacity, but after a moment’s -silence Lily said,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you—thank you, for you have learned -<span class='pageno' title='303' id='Page_303'></span> -me two lessons—I’ll not forget them; no, I will never -take the serpent back, you may depend on that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few days after Lily was established at the larger -school, dwelling with other boarders in the family of -the principal, the wonder of all the scholars, and the -pet pupil with the teachers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hopeful expectations of her family were kept -up by her progress, and by her own increasing courage -and cheerfulness. And in reality it seemed no unfounded -expectation, that which they cherished, that -the young girl would soon be able to support them -all by dint of her genius. Her efforts became daily -more worthy and more promising, now that she -possessed these superior advantages; fortune seemed -really determined to work good things for the rich -peoples’ <span class='it'>protégé</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lily was not yet seventeen, but her poems had -many of them attracted much attention; injudicious -praises were lavished upon her; by their attentions -and flattery, the proud, and the rich, and the learned -seemed to have conspired to spoil a girl—a school-girl—poor -“from her youth up.” They did not take -it into consideration that it was quite possible for -them to raise her hopes and self-appreciativeness -too high; they did not give heed to the fact that it -might require years of struggling and disappointment -for her to produce any thing worthy the reward and -honor they would fain believe were rightfully hers -even then.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But soon enough they had cause to regret this -course they adopted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A change came o’er the spirit of her dream.” -Self-confidence rapidly usurped the place of a befitting -humility, which had once characterized her. -Instead of comparing herself with the great masters -of song and painting, Lily seemed to think that in -outstripping all her schoolmates, and in being considered -a prodigy among teachers, she was rapidly -filling the measure of her greatness; and the laudations -which good-will prompted others to speak, -instead of being listened to and valued at their worth, -came at last to be considered as quite true and well-deserved.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is said that more strength of mind is requisite to -bear composedly a sudden <span class='it'>favorable</span> turn of fortune -than is necessary calmly to endure reverses. Having -never had occasion to test the truth of the proposition, -I, of course, have only a right to <span class='it'>suppose</span> -there is somewhat “more of truth than poetry” in -the idea; at all events, that is a very easy way to -account for Lily’s derelictions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the wish of her “patrons,” as well as of the -kind lady teacher to whose care she was chiefly commended, -that Lily should finish the course of studies -apportioned to each scholar previous to graduating. -But there was a growing willfulness, an increasing -confidence in her own attainments, that tempted her -to set at naught these desires. Her impulsive nature -longed to be free from restraint; she would fain throw -aside all bondage, together with the loathed idea of -dependence, and labor for herself in the way she -was best fitted to labor. She wished to begin <span class='it'>at once</span> -to reap the reward of her years of study, and thus to -alleviate the wants of her home. Alas! the serpent -had crept back into Lily’s breast!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So, despite all the remonstrances and the pleadings -of those who began to see their mistake in their -dealings with the young girl, Lily left the school, and -returned to her own home. I shall never forget her -as she was at that time; the passions, hopes, desires -and resolution of mature years seemed to have even -then a full development in her. In feeling she had -grown too old, in will too decisive, to submit patiently -to the judgment of other minds. But soon -enough the lesson was forced upon her that poetic -efforts are rarely capable of being changed at once -for food, and fuel, and raiment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have sent a poem of some length to —— ——,” -she said to me one day, naming a distinguished -writer and editor, “and you know I am superstitious—if -he accepts it, and will pay me for it, I shall take -it as a good omen for my future; but if he does not—” -she hesitated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, if he does not, Lily?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then those horrid doubts will come back to me -with renewed force! Oh, they tormented me so -once!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When I saw my friend again there was no need -to ask her what her reception at the “editor’s table” -had been. It was a freezing cold winter night, and -feeling somewhat disconsolate on my own account, -as well as rather curious in regard to Lily’s progress, -I sought her in her own home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I found Lily there seated at the centre-table—yes, -it was such, for it did occupy the central portion of -the apartment—but it was not of polished mahogany, -or marble-surfaced, gentle reader, but a miserable, -old, broken affair, that had seen its best days long -before it came into the possession of its then owners. -Scattered about the room were the numerous boys -and girls of the family; there was little temptation -even for the boys without that night, it was so cold -and stormy. The room in which they lived was -the upper story of a small building, the first floor of -which was occupied as a mechanic’s shop; it was -partitioned by a curtain of cloth, which was all the -separation between the sleeping apartments and the -place where they cooked, and ate, and lived.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a deep silence in the room when I -entered. Lily was occupied with her drawing, -lighted by two tapers burning in a cup half-filled with -oil. There was none of that cheerful hope beaming -in her fine eyes that usually filled them when she -welcomed me. And all the faces in the room looked -doleful enough—some rebuff they had certainly met -with from some quarter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am drawing this for you,” she said, when I sat -down beside her and looked at her work, “it is for a -parting gift.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Parting!” I exclaimed; “what are you going to -do now, were you successful in your letter to -Mr. ——?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Read it and see,” she said, producing a letter,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And I read as follows:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='sc'>Miss Reeve.</span>—Dear Madam,—Your favor was -many days ago received, and now, at my first leisure, -<span class='pageno' title='304' id='Page_304'></span> -I hasten to reply. I regret that an answer similar to -that given to many applicants during every week -must also be returned to you. I regret this the more, -because your communications show talent, but—you -need much practice; and, permit me to say, a -writer must usually have acquired <span class='it'>some reputation</span> -before he can receive any ‘golden rewards.’ If you -are necessitated to labor, I would advise you that -there are many ways less vexatious, and more certain -as to their issue, in which you might successfully -employ yourself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I retain the MS. subject to your orders.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:6em;margin-top:0.5em;'>“Respectfully, etc.,</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>“—— ——.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>It was with difficulty I could repress my grief, as -I looked about that cheerless room, and on the young -girl whose disappointment I knew must be so keen; -but calmly, and apparently undisturbed, Lily continued -her drawing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What will you do now, Lily?” I asked, anxious -to at least break the embarrassing silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are going west next week!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“West! where—how?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To Illinois. I have borrowed the money—we -cannot stay here and starve. I am going there -to take a school. If I cannot get a living by -writing, there <span class='it'>are</span> many other ways—and I will try -them at least.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Had she told me her immediate intention of taking -a journey to the South Pole, I should have felt my -powers of credulity very little more taxed than they -were at that moment, so wild and perfectly impracticable -seemed the scheme. But Lily had spoken so -seriously, and with so much determination, I was -constrained to believe her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The picture she was engaged upon—I have it yet—was -an imaginative and a striking one. It was a -moonlight scene. Beside the water’s edge, among -wild rocks, a girl was standing alone—the figure was -a likeness of herself—and a very perfect one it was, -too. The <span class='it'>expression</span> of the sketch was touching in -the extreme.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is looking for peace and rest there,” said -Lily, in explanation. “She has sought it so often, -but has not found it—and she never will.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does she seek it in the right way, Lily?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know. Every thing seems changed to -me of late. I am bewildered. It seems to me as -though I had lost myself. Since that letter came I -doubt my powers more than ever. To think of one -in my situation having to <span class='it'>practice</span> before I can work -successfully! There is little time to practice, I think, -when eight human beings are wondering where their -next meal is to come from—when their wood-yard -is in such a state of depression and emptiness as -ours is!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mother sighed heavily as Lily said this, but -did not speak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you certainly can do something here,” I -cried. “Don’t go and bury yourself in the back-woods. -I’m sure you can be a teacher in our school -if you’ll only ask. It’s perfectly wild in you to think -of going this winter! traveling, you know, at this -time of year is a very costly business, dear Lily, -besides being so cheerless!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is no use talking about it; I should have -loved to live here, for my own part, all my life, but -I have engaged a school in the town we are going to, -and they wish it to be opened early in the spring. -There’s no help for it—we must go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And they went.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From that day until within a few months I heard -nothing in regard to the Reeve Family. Lily had -promised to tell us her experience in the west, of -her success in this new attempt at securing a livelihood; -but her promise was unfulfilled, and we could -not but fear lest despondency had utterly crushed all -the aspirations of her genius, that if she yet lived, -poverty and hopelessness had come to be her only -portion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still, though her name had never reached us through -the medium talents like hers choose for their utterance—the -press—there was always with me a lingering -hope and belief that Lily had, under some assumed -name, made herself famous. Knowing so well her -ability, the more I thought of this the more I became -strongly convinced that it was so. At last, when I -had dreamed of her night after night, and thought -much of her in my waking hours, it became absolutely -necessary to my own peace of mind that I -should write to her once more—a thing I had not -done in many years—in order to discover if she -were actually dead or alive—famous or unknown to -the world. It was with much anxiety, as all my -lady readers will believe, I awaited her reply—for an -answer I felt convinced I should receive. It came -at last; and as people such as she are regarded by -the world as a species of public property, as regards -their thoughts, words, and deeds, I have little scruples -in laying Lily’s epistle open for public inspection, -knowing that her words will awaken the hope and -renewed efforts of the despairing, and excite the admiration -and commendation of all good people.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have but just received your letter, dear friend -of by-gone days, and believe me, it has given me no -little satisfaction to think that you remember me, and -with interest still. I am inclined to laugh, and -weep, and wonder, when I think of myself as I was -in the days long ago, when we lived among you so -very poor and dependent; but there is a feeling of -gratitude living in my heart stronger than every other -emotion now excited in my breast by the freshened -remembrance of my old home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ask me to tell you what I have been doing, -and wish to know under what name I have immortalized -myself. You will not believe I left behind -me all my ambitious desires when we made our -abode here in the west! Have you ever chanced to -hear of ——? It is the name I chose to adopt in my -appearance before the public. Perhaps you may -have seen it, and read verses accompanying it, but I -am confident you never recognized in those merry -strains the voice and the heart-tune of your once -poverty-stricken and desponding friend.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>(The reader may imagine my astonishment and -amaze on reading these words—for my correspondent, -<span class='pageno' title='305' id='Page_305'></span> -Lily Reeve, was none other than one of the most -beloved and popular of writers!)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I feel conversational to-day, besides, I know it -is but just to assure those who were so generous in -my days of adversity, that their money and sympathy -were not altogether thrown away. I was very far -from being forgetful of those who in my earlier years -rendered me such efficient and valuable aid; but I -thought it better even at the risk of being esteemed -ungrateful, to be unknown to them and to you, until -I should be able to reflect some little credit upon -them. I shall soon publish a book which is dedicated -to those friends of former days, through that I hope -to relieve myself from any charge of forgetfulness -or coldness they may have justly brought against me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is only ten years since we first made our home -in this western world; but I have grown gray in -feeling since then, and looking back into my childhood, -the road to it seems to be one of interminable -length. Decidedly as our fortunes have brightened, -we have had our struggles and heart-sorrows here -also; and we have had much of sickness too, which -seems to await almost every settler in the west; but -there is so much more for which we have occasion -to be thankful, that it seems almost a sin even to -revert to our first trials and vexations. My mother, -thank Heaven! now that she is old, may rest; her -latter years are not harassed with the thoughts of a -dependent, impoverished family; my brothers are in -a way, all of them, to support themselves, and my -young sisters are being educated in such a way that -they will never have to rely on others for their support. -And for all this I pray we may be ever thankful -as we ought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When we first came to this place all things were -decidedly <span class='it'>new</span>. The inhabitants, men, women and -children, truly seemed to us to have reflected in their -own natures the marvelous greenness and freshness -of the close surrounding forests; the village was poor, -like all new places, and not one quarter its present -size. Indeed, we call it a city now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you never can think what a house of refuge -it was to us poor people! I was glad from my heart -that there were none rich, none powerful here; that -all was one grand level, above which wisdom and -strength of mind, and superior goodness alone might -rise. I was glad, I say, for despise it as you may, -I am bold to acknowledge there was something -awfully repelling to me in the thought of looking <span class='it'>up</span> -to people because they happened to be rich, or occupy -by birth a high station. Even the notice taken of me -in my young days, in the place where I sojourned, -was galling to me. It savored too much of condescension, -which, child as I was, even then I despised -and hated. There were many children here -even in those days; for some years mine was the -only school—how well it was patronized I need not -say. I prospered, and was contented. Oh, it was -such a joy to look on our own comfortable home; to -know what a cheerful fire and plenty of food meant -in one’s own house! There is something so exhilarating -in the thought of independence and reliance on -one’s own exertions, that for a whole year after our -removal here I altogether abandoned my pencil and -my pen; I thought I would never labor with them -again. But I was mistaken in myself, as many -times before I had been. I knew not the wants and -necessities of my own nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The second winter I had continually a restless -yearning for higher and nobler pursuits than the mere -business of school-teaching; that supplied our natural -wants and necessities admirably, it is true, but there -were longings of my mind that it became as necessary -for me to supply. And so once more in the long -winter evenings I resumed my pencils and pen, and -I worked with them. It is impossible for me to express -to you the intense satisfaction following these -labors; it seemed as though I had found suddenly an -Aladdin’s lamp, and that it dispelled the darkness and -gloom of undefined yearning, and showed me a true -and a great end that I could accomplish! I did not -then immediately force my new productions upon -the editors, but remembering well that one salutary -lesson I received long ago, I strove hard to perfect -myself. It would be wearisome for you to listen to -the narration of my progress till I had gradually -mounted up into the notice of the noble people of the -west; how kindly and charitably they hailed my -writings; how encouraging were the letters which, -from many sources unexpected and unsought, I received, -I will leave you to imagine—I felt then as -though I were truly working out my destiny. Words -crowded to my lips for utterance; thoughts pleaded -in my brain to be heard; I longed to speak words of -encouragement and strength to others—such words -as from my own experience I knew full well many -an overburdened soul needed. I spoke them, and I -humbly hope they found acceptance and regard in -many a heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will ask if I then was wholly satisfied? You -will ask if notoriety pleased me? If I cared for no -other and humbler good after I had attained that—in -short, if I did not yearn for other love than that -lavished on me by my own kin. In all calmness and -confidence now, I can answer, yes! there were hopes -unsatisfied, desires unfulfilled. Admiration was not -<span class='it'>all</span> I craved—commendation not all I coveted. But -years passed on, and with them the time when I could -have rejoiced in loving and in being loved. The -wild dream that haunted my mind of a perfect happiness -on earth, of another kind of affection than I -had yet received or given, went by. Coldness, and -I am almost constrained to think at times, heartlessness, -have usurped the place once occupied by the -winged god; the altar which needed but a word to be -enkindled and wrapped in flame, is torn away—a -calm, immovable spirit occupies its place. I am -not lonely or unhappy, only I feel strangely changed. -I feel old in spirit; there may be no cloud, but there -certainly is no sunshine; passionless now, and without -the least craving for human love, my years glide -on. I am satisfied in having helped to make the happiness -of those for whom I have labored, and yet, -true to woman’s belief, I must say, I am well aware -that I have missed life’s highest good; I have passed -by, in my eager search for a something that has not -<span class='pageno' title='306' id='Page_306'></span> -satisfied, that bright possession which the poorest of -earth’s children, equally with the most exalted have -extended to them by the hand of our <a id='ben'></a>beneficent Father. -Do you think I am strangely confiding with one whom -for ten years I have not known by thought, or word, -or deed? But we were children together; and I remember -how that you more than all I left behind me -knew the thoughts and desires of my inner life. -Doubtless, since we have come to be <span class='it'>women</span>, we -have both much changed, but at this hour I will believe -you sympathize with me as in the days of old.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not long ago there came one to me, a man gifted -with noble intellectual faculties, and rich in heart-wealth; -he has wished me to be his wife; but knowing -as I do what a very pauper I am in all that is -best calculated to make his a happy home—you will -understand I am not speaking of fortune or beauty -<span class='it'>now</span>—I have declined his suit. I cannot regard him -as I could have a few, <span class='it'>but</span> a few short years ago. I -do not love him as my imagination tells me that -woman <span class='it'>can</span> and <span class='it'>should</span> love. For a moment when -I read his words, my heart beat wildly—I was happy; -but that passed quickly; I distrust myself; I do not -wish <span class='it'>now</span> that any one should intrust to me a charge -of their happiness through life; it would be madness, -and no less than foul wrong in me to wed with one -whose affection I could make but such a paltry return. -I give to you the answer I sent him; it is the sum -total of my thoughts on this subject—and I would -ask you as you read them, do you not think that -there is but little to envy in one who has flung away -a diamond, for a trifling but more brilliant gem?</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;'>TO —— ——.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>It is too late; once, once I could have loved thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Before my heart grew passionless and cold;</p> -<p class='line0'>My years are few, but trials have out-worn me—</p> -<p class='line0'>  In thought and struggle I am old—am old!</p> -<p class='line0'>I had not <span class='it'>once</span> been deaf to thy fond pleading—</p> -<p class='line0'>  My soul had throbbed to hear thy ardent words;</p> -<p class='line0'>But now no inward voice is interceding,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy finger touches upon tuneless chords!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>There <span class='it'>was</span> a time when, hadst thou breathed of love,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A fire had swiftly kindled in my heart;</p> -<p class='line0'>I would have coveted then, far, far above</p> -<p class='line0'>  All earthly good—all that is set apart</p> -<p class='line0'>For the strong soul to labor for—a tone</p> -<p class='line0'>  A look, such as thou gavest now to me,</p> -<p class='line0'>I would have gloried then to be thine own;</p> -<p class='line0'>  That time is past—it never more can be!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Once, when my heart beat strong with youth and hope,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Once, when the future held a glorious prize,</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the surrounding gloom I strove to grope,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And to close-thronging dangers shut my eyes.</p> -<p class='line0'>I fought for honor—fame. I thought that these</p> -<p class='line0'>  Would <span class='it'>buy</span> for me that other, nobler good,</p> -<p class='line0'>For which I prayed upon my bended knees,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The boon of love—but fate my prayer withstood!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Too many years have passed since that sweet dream—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Too hard and ceaseless has my striving been;</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the calm twilight now there comes no gleam</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of that wild hope—it cannot live again.</p> -<p class='line0'>It cannot be—thou wouldst not prize a gift</p> -<p class='line0'>  So worthless as is all I have to give;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou wouldst not care from my cold heart to lift</p> -<p class='line0'>  The burden ’neath which I am doomed to live!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Seek for a younger mind—a lighter soul;</p> -<p class='line0'>  Seek one who has not been what I have been.</p> -<p class='line0'>I would not that around thy home should roll</p> -<p class='line0'>  A cloud surcharged with gloominess and pain;</p> -<p class='line0'>Seek one who hath not from her childhood seen</p> -<p class='line0'>  Her inmost thoughts—the best and brightest gold;</p> -<p class='line0'>Seek one who smiles—one who yet dares to dream—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Who has not ‘hardened to a crystal cold!’</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“And now, being quite sure that I have outwearied -you, and believing that you will gladly let the remainder -of your interrogatories <a id='today'></a>to-day pass unanswered, -I will conclude, with the earnest hope that -<span class='it'>you</span> may never be tempted to barter the sacred affections -of your heart for any more alluring, but less, -oh, far less satisfying prize—in the name of our -childhood.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:6em;margin-top:0.5em;'>“Always yours,</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>“<span class='sc'>Lily Reeve</span>.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk115'/> - -<p class='pindent'>Dear reader, it may be proper to state, that despite -this most emphatic disclaimer on the part of Lily, a -western paper I have recently received, contains a -notice of the marriage of the distinguished poetess, -Lily Reeve, with the Hon. —— ——. Had it not -been for this, one other proof of what is called the -fickleness of woman’s nature, you perceive I should -have been enabled to end my story without a marriage; -but you will bear in mind that this repetition -of the almost invariable climax, is not <span class='it'>my</span> fault!</p> - -<hr class='tbk116'/> - -<div><h1><a id='sonn'></a>A SONNET.</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> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>[SEE ENGRAVING OF MAY MORNING.]</span></p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>Read on, young maiden. I will gage a kiss</p> -<p class='line'>  The page so earnestly thou porest o’er,</p> -<p class='line'>To be the record of the ecstasies</p> -<p class='line'>  Of some great bard, or it may be the lore</p> -<p class='line'>  Of wild adventure by Armida’s shore—</p> -<p class='line'>Or how Diana wooed the Hunter-boy,</p> -<p class='line'>  Or how to Dido erst Æneas swore</p> -<p class='line'>Unmeasured love. Read while thou may’st enjoy,</p> -<p class='line'>  For certainly as this bright morn of May</p> -<p class='line'>Will lose its zest, thy happiness will fade.</p> -<p class='line'>  As Orient smiles of Spring too soon decay,</p> -<p class='line'>As clouds o’ershadow all the happy glade,</p> -<p class='line'>  Now smiling in the early morning’s ray,</p> -<p class='line'>  Thy peerless beauty e’en will pass away.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk117'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i068f.jpg'><img src='images/i068.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0003' style='width:500px;height:auto;'/></a> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='it'>DRAWN BY PASTORINI</span></span><br/> <br/><span class='bold'>MAY MORNING.</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk118'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='307' id='Page_307'></span><h1><a id='pass'></a>PASSAGES OF LIFE IN EUROPE.</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> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_11'>I.—HEIDELBERG IN SEPTEMBER.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The sun was just setting on the last day of August, -when the ponderous <span class='it'>eilwagen</span>, in which I had journeyed -from Frankfort, rounded the foot of the Holy -Mountain into the Valley of the Neckar, and Heidelberg—the -brave, romantic, beautiful old electoral -city—was stretched out before me on the opposite -side of the river. Far above it rose the wooded -Kaiserstuhl, midway down whose side hung the -granite bastions, terraces and roofless halls of the -famed Castle. Heavy masses of ivy hung from its -arches, and overran the quaint sculpture of its walls, -while the foliage of its gardens was visible behind, -deep in the shadow of the mountain. A faint yellow -glow trembled over the pines and birches on the top -of the Kaiserstuhl, and kept the clear blue on the -distant hills up the Neckar. Down the steep paths -of the Holy Mountain, on my left, came the peasant-girls, -with baskets on their heads, laden with the -purple clusters of the Muscatel, and talking to each -other gayly over garden-walls, and under arbors, -which made a “green twilight” even at noon. -Careless students, pipe in hand, sauntered along the -river bank, listening to the sweet evening chimes, -rung first in the towers of the Hauptkirche, and -taken up like an echo, from village to village, among -the hills.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Looking forward to Heidelberg as a place for rest -and quiet study, there was something peculiarly -grateful and tranquilizing in the scene. To my eyes -the scenery presented a mingling of the wild with -the cultivated—of the pastoral with the grand—a -combination so inspiring that I found it difficult to -keep my enthusiasm within reasonable bounds. -From the river bank, above the bridge, cannon began -firing a closing salute for the Grand Duke’s -birth-day, and my heart never kept more bounding -time to the minute-guns on a Fourth of July at -home. The German passengers in the <span class='it'>eilwagen</span> -were highly gratified by my delight, for all Germans -are proud of Heidelberg.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By a piece of good fortune the friends who had -left me at Mayence and arrived the day before, happened -to be passing up the main street when the -vehicle stopped, and I was spared the risk of searching -for them, which, to one ignorant of the language, -was no slight task.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a day or two, by the help of a <span class='it'>valet de place</span>, who -spoke half a dozen words of English, we obtained -rooms in a large house overhanging the Neckar. -From one side we looked upon the Heiligenberg, so -near that we could hear the girls singing among the -vines every morning, and all day long the rapid river -below us was noisy with raftsmen, guiding the pines -they had felled among the Suabian hills down to the -Rhine. On the other side the Kaiserstuhl stood between -us and the eastern sky, and we always saw -the sunrise first on the opposite mountains. In the -cool, cloudless autumn mornings, the air was full of -church-chimes and merry voices, which came echoed -back from the hills, so that our first waking sensation -was one of pleasure, and every day brought us some -new form of enjoyment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The valley of the Neckar is narrow, and only the -little slopes which here and there lie between the -feet of its wooded mountains are capable of cultivation. -Higher up, there are glens and meadows of -luxuriant grass, to which the peasants drive their -cattle, further still, it is barren and rocky, and upon -the summits dwells a solitude as complete as upon -the unsettled prairies of the far West. An hour’s -walk takes one from the busy streets of the little city -to this beautiful and lonely region, and the stranger -may explore the paths he finds leading far away -among the hills, for weeks together, without exhausting -their store of new scenes and influences. The -calm impressiveness of these mountain landscapes -disposes the mind to quiet thought, and one who has -felt them till their spirit grew familiar, is at no loss -to comprehend the inspiration from which Schiller, -Uhland and Hauff have sung.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is a favorite habit with the Heidelbergers, and -one into which the traveler willingly falls, to spend -the last hour or two of daylight in a walk by the -Neckar, in the gardens of the castle, or off in the -forests. At spots of especial beauty rustic inns have -been erected, where, at tables in the shade, the visiter -is furnished with beer, cool from its underground -vaults, and thick curds, to which a relish is given by -sugar and powdered cinnamon. The most noted of -these places is the Wolfsbrunnen, about a mile and -a half from the city, in a lonely glen, high up on the -mountain. A large stone basin, two centuries old, -stands there, pouring out a stream of the coldest and -purest water, dammed up below to form a small -pool, in which hundreds of trout breed and grow fat -from the benevolence of visiters. A wooden inn, -two stories high, with balconies on all sides, is -nestled among the trees, and farther down the stream -a little mill does its steady work from year to year.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A party was once formed by our German friends, -and we spent a whole Saturday afternoon in this delicious -retreat. Frau Dr. S——, who was always -ready for any piece of social merriment, had the -management of the excursion, and directed us with -the skill of a general. Fräulein Marie, her niece, a -blooming maiden of eighteen, and Madame Louise ——, -a sprightly little widow from <a id='mann'></a>Mannheim, with -Dr. S——, one or two students, and we Americans, -were her subjects. Every thing was arranged with -precision before we started. The books, the cards, -the music (including a most patient guitar) were distributed -among those best able to carry them, and -we finally started, without any particular order of -march. German etiquette forbids a lady to take the -<span class='pageno' title='308' id='Page_308'></span> -arm of a male friend, unless she is betrothed to him; -talking is allowed, fortunately.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As we climbed to the terraces of the castle, we -could see the thread of the Rhine, in the distance, -sparkling through the haze. The light air which -came down the Neckar was fragrant with pine and -the first falling leaves of summer trees. The vineyards -below us were beginning to look crisp and -brown, but hanging from stake to stake the vines -were bent down by blue clusters, with the bloom -still upon them. Troops of light-hearted students, -children, blue-eyed and blond-haired, and contented -citizens, were taking the same path, and like them, -we forgot every thing but the sense of present happiness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We had a table spread upon the upper balcony of -the inn, after our scattered forces returned from -many a long ramble up the glen and out on the -meadows. Frau Dr. S—— ordered a repast, and the -“landlady’s daughter”—not the sweet maid of Uhland’s -song, but a stout-armed and stout-waisted -damsel—brought us a jar of curds, dripping with the -cool water in which it had stood. A loaf of brown -bread next made its appearance, followed by a stone -jug of foaming beer, and two or three dishes of those -prune-tarts peculiar to Germany, completed the fare. -On the porch below us, two or three musicians played -waltzes, and the tables around the fountain were -filled with students, laughing, clinking their beer-glasses, -or trolling some burschen chorus. Our own -table did not lack the heartiest spirit of mirth; this -could not be otherwise so long as Frau Dr. S—— -sat at the head of it. The students were gay and full -of life, and even Dr. S——, the most earnest and -studious of the party, was so far influenced by the -spirit of the time, that he sang the “King of Thule” -with more warmth than I had thought possible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The afternoon sped away like a thought, and -Heidelberg was forgotten until the faint sound of its -evening chimes came up the valley. We returned -in time to see a glowing sky fade over the mountains -of Alsatia, and then first, as the twilight gathered, -came the remembrance of home—a remembrance -which did not chide the happiness of the day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One of these excursions was accompanied by a -different and less agreeable finale. A small party -had been arranged to visit the ruins of St. Michael’s -Chapel, on the summit of the Holy Mountain. I had -ascended it previously, after an hour’s climbing, directly -up the side, but as ladies were to accompany -us, it was necessary to take a winding road, two or -three miles in length, to reach the chapel. We -mounted, by flights of steps through the terraced -vineyards, to the Philosopher’s Walk, followed it to -a retired glen called the Angels’ Meadow, and then -entered a forest-road. The wind roared loudly -among the trees, and the sky grew darker as we -ascended, but we took little heed of these signs. -Finally, however, on reaching a rocky point whence -we could look down on the Rhine-plain, we were -somewhat alarmed to see a heavy rain-cloud approaching -from the west. The chapel was still half -a mile distant, and its open walls and dismantled -towers could afford us no protection, so there was -nothing left but to turn about and descend with all -speed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The rain had just crossed the Rhine, and would -probably be half an hour in reaching us, and as we -could trace its misty advance on the sheet of landscape -below us, we hoped to time our rate of walking -so as to reach some shelter before it struck the -mountain. Vain hope!—before we reached the -Angels’ Meadow the wind fairly howled among the -trees, and swept over us, laden with dust and -showers of leaves. The rain followed, and as our -path led over the exposed ridge of the mountain, the -arrows of the storm smote pitilessly in our faces. -The ladies shrieked, the men groaned, and, like Norval’s -barbarians, we “rushed like a torrent,”—and -with a torrent—“upon the vale.” When we arrived -at the village of Neuenheim the shower was nearly -over, but it might have continued all day, without -more effect upon us.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The village of Ziegelhausen, up the Neckar, with -its grim old convent, gardens and cascades, and the -delightful arbors of vine, reaching down to the very -brink of the river, is another favorite place of resort. -The pastor of its church, who was familiar with our -German friends, would frequently join us in an afternoon -walk, followed by a cup of tea in the garden of -the inn, and frequently by a share in the games of -the village children. The pastor was a most jovial, -genial character; he sang very finely—indeed, he -was brother to the <span class='it'>primo tenore</span> in the Opera at -Brunswick—and his wit was inexhaustible. His religion -was as genuine as his cheerfulness; it was no -gloomy ascetism, which looked on mirth as sin, but -a joyous, affectionate and abounding spirit, bright as -God’s sunshine and as unconscious of its blessing. -How happily passed those September afternoons, -warmed by such true social feeling, and refreshed by -all the kindly influences of nature! If a return like -this to the simple joys of the child’s heart be but obtained -by the mature age of a nation, I could almost -wish this country might grow old speedily. The -restless energy of Youth is still upon us. The nation -overflows with active impulses, which fear nothing, -and yield to nothing. We have not yet felt the need -of Rest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have said nothing of my struggles with the perverse -German language—my daily sieges, advancing -from trench to trench, till the strong fortress was -stormed and all its priceless stores in my possession. -I have not spoken of my blunders arising from ignorance -and inexperience, nor the novelty of customs -and life so different from ours. These would be -tedious, nor are they necessary to give some impression -of Heidelberg in its most delightful season. The -most romantic and picturesque of all German cities, -and therefore most thronged by romance-hunting -tourists, its good old social character is still happily -preserved. The last Revolution has fortunately -spared it, and in spite of railroads beside its mountains, -and steamboats on the Neckar, it will be for -many years to come one of the pleasantest spots in -Europe.</p> - -<hr class='tbk119'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='309' id='Page_309'></span><h1><a id='grass'></a>THE GRASS OF THE FIELD.</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 MAY.</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 grass of the field shall be now my theme,</p> -<p class='line'>  For when winter is past, and the snow</p> -<p class='line'>Has melted away from the earth like a dream,</p> -<p class='line'>  No flowers that in loveliness grow</p> -<p class='line'>More dear, or more beautiful ever can be</p> -<p class='line'>Than the simple grass of the field to me.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>It springs up so quick, when showers call aloud</p> -<p class='line'>  For every thing glad to come forth;</p> -<p class='line'>And when the sun bursts from his rainbow-cloud,</p> -<p class='line'>  As the rain passes off to the north—</p> -<p class='line'>It shines in his glory, and laughs in his light,</p> -<p class='line'>The green grass of the field, so glistening and bright.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Happy children love in the grass to play,</p> -<p class='line'>  Thick and soft for their dancing feet;</p> -<p class='line'>And there the wild bees gather honey all day</p> -<p class='line'>  From the clover so blushing and sweet,</p> -<p class='line'>And find no stores that the garden can yield</p> -<p class='line'>Are richer than those from the grass of the field.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The lark makes his nest in the twining grass,</p> -<p class='line'>  And methinks when he soars to the skies,</p> -<p class='line'>And sings the clear notes that all others surpass,</p> -<p class='line'>  His gladness must surely arise</p> -<p class='line'>From the lowly content of that innocent breast,</p> -<p class='line'>Which finds in the grass of the field a safe nest.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>There are few who notice the delicate flower</p> -<p class='line'>  That blooms in the grass at their feet,</p> -<p class='line'>Yet the proudest plant in the greenhouse or bower</p> -<p class='line'>  Is not fairer, or more complete;</p> -<p class='line'>And to those who observe—it is clearly revealed</p> -<p class='line'>That God clothes with beauty the grass of the field.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The mower comes out so busy and blythe,</p> -<p class='line'>  At the dawn of a summer’s day,</p> -<p class='line'>And the tall waving grass at the stroke of his scythe</p> -<p class='line'>  Is cut down and withers away:</p> -<p class='line'>But the fragrance it sends over valley and hill</p> -<p class='line'>Makes the grass of the field loved and lovely still.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And while on the perishing grass we look,</p> -<p class='line'>  A soft voice in the summer wind</p> -<p class='line'>Will whisper the words of the Holy Book</p> -<p class='line'>  To the humble and thoughtful mind.</p> -<p class='line'>“All flesh is as grass,” it will seem to say—</p> -<p class='line'>“Like the flower of the grass ye shall pass away.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But oh! we will hope with a faith secure—</p> -<p class='line'>  Through the years of this mortal strife—</p> -<p class='line'>On the words of the Lord, which forever endure,</p> -<p class='line'>  For in them is eternal life:</p> -<p class='line'>Thus lessons of truth all our pleasures will yield,</p> -<p class='line'>And wisdom we’ll learn from the grass of the field.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk120'/> - -<div><h1><a id='toan'></a>TO AN ABSENT SISTER.</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'>Thy natal morn hath dawned again</p> -<p class='line'>  With pure and cloudless ray;</p> -<p class='line'>May Peace and Hope attend thy steps,</p> -<p class='line'>  Sweet sister, on this day.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>It is the first that ever found</p> -<p class='line'>  Me severed from thy side,</p> -<p class='line'>And tears will mingle with my prayer</p> -<p class='line'>  At morn and eventide.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>For I have yearned to lay my hand</p> -<p class='line'>  In blessing on thy brow,</p> -<p class='line'>And speak the earnest words of love</p> -<p class='line'>  That stir my spirit now;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Have longed, but longed in vain, to meet</p> -<p class='line'>  The dark and sunny eye,</p> -<p class='line'>That has from childhood been to me</p> -<p class='line'>  A star in every sky.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Have sought amid a stranger band</p> -<p class='line'>  The smile I loved so well,</p> -<p class='line'>And lived in spirit o’er again</p> -<p class='line'>  A sorrowful farewell!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And thou hast missed a warm caress,</p> -<p class='line'>  And wept its loss, I know,</p> -<p class='line'>For we were joined as flowers that spring</p> -<p class='line'>  From the same root below;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The early sunbeam as it stole</p> -<p class='line'>  Across our quiet room,</p> -<p class='line'>Seemed to thy tearful eyes to wear</p> -<p class='line'>  An all unwonted gloom.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And low winds seemed with mournful wail</p> -<p class='line'>  The forest leaves to thrill,</p> -<p class='line'>As memory whispered that thou hadst</p> -<p class='line'>  A vacant place to fill.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But we have loved as few can love,</p> -<p class='line'>  For years, through storm and shine,</p> -<p class='line'>And though our paths lie separate now,</p> -<p class='line'>  Thy heart still clings to mine.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>By childhood’s smiles and youth’s gay dreams,</p> -<p class='line'>  By memories of the dead,</p> -<p class='line'>By the stern discipline of grief,</p> -<p class='line'>  My soul to thine is wed:</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Links as eternal as the prayer</p> -<p class='line'>  We used to breathe at even,</p> -<p class='line'>As ever-during as the vow</p> -<p class='line'>  That binds us unto Heaven.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Then blessings on thee, dearest one,</p> -<p class='line'>  My heart leaps o’er the sea;</p> -<p class='line'>I feel thy breath upon my cheek,</p> -<p class='line'>  May God watch over thee.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk121'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='310' id='Page_310'></span><h1><a id='taste'></a>TASTE.</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 AUGUSTA C. TWIGGS.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This seems a little word, while we repeat it less -than one second of time is consumed, yet in its signification -it is a great word—a word of vast and unmeasured -import:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By it we understand a just appreciation of the -good, the beautiful, the pleasant, the worthy and the -useful:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still it is not alike to all: Tastes differ with characters, -and characters with men. By an all wise -Creator was this so ordained, and in every thing we -see the wisdom and the beauty of His system.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suppose, for instance, we pass in fancy around -this vast globe, as we progress onward, countries, -climates, men and characters undergo every conceivable -grade of change. Gradually we pass from -regions inhabited by enlightened men—men of learning -and deep research, men to whom Science seems -to have lent her very self, until we come to a race -of beings between whom and the brute creation -there is scarcely a demarcation: Yet each and every -one of these thousands upon thousands of countless -beings has his own peculiar sphere of action, and his -own especial tastes, adapted to his position and circumstances.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Taste may, however, be improved or debased, -elevated to the highest appreciations, the noblest conceptions, -or lowered to the most sordid views, the -most groveling level, and this is left to man himself—to -rise or fall, to sink or soar, is left to his own -choice, and is within his own power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of course this remark is not unqualified, it is not -intended that the natives of Central Africa, or of the -inhabited regions around the Poles, can improve -their moral condition, and rise to the same high -standard as may the enlightened nations of Europe -or of our own loved country. To assert such a -thing would be preposterous, to expect it ridiculous. -Our resources are not their resources, our advantages -not theirs, but there is implanted in the breast of -every man a frame-work and basis, with which, and -upon which, he may build something that shall make -him better than he now is. And the greater his advantages, -the vaster the amount of material furnished -him wherewith to work, the more will be expected -of him, and higher and higher will the eyes of men -rise, seeking for the pinnacles of that temple of the -mind which they of a right expect him to rear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To ensure without fail the meeting of their views, -(perchance to surpass them,) it is not sufficient to -seize indiscriminately and pile block upon block, -and stone upon stone. It is not sufficient to heap up -a vast mountain of brick and mortar, jumbled together -without taste or elegance, and then write upon -it—This is Parian marble—these are classic proportions. -This will not do, the cheat will be found out, -and Ridicule will mingle her laughter with the shouts -and jeers of the multitude as they mock and scan the -shallow attempt at imposition.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What then is to be done?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This—let us seek Taste, let us acquaint ourselves -with her, coax her, court her, make her our own, -and we are safe. But we must be sure it is no impostor, -no false being who assumes the name, for -there are such, and they are to be shunned. We -must “be sure we are right, then” onward, right -onward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>True taste will teach us to select the choice blocks, -the finely grained and unflawed marble, she will bid -us to reject the huge, coarse, glittering rocks with -which some will strive to dazzle our eyes and mislead -our judgment, and cause us to turn aside from -those brittle and perishing kinds which will scarce -bear handling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Having chosen our materials, now let us build. -Up go the blocks one after another, and high the -temple grows. Day by day it increases in height, -but why is it men stand and gaze with mortified and -disappointed looks upon the structure? Why do no -sounds of encouragement, no acclamations and -shouts of admiration reach the ear? Hear the reason—we -sought Taste—we courted her, we bid her -aid us seek our materials, and teach us how to judge -of them. She did so—that done we scorned her aid, -we forgot her, and trusting in ourselves we reared a -vast work of folly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But “<span class='it'>nil desperandum</span>,” there is yet time. Tear -down the monument of heedlessness and call Taste -to teach us once again. Faithful she returns at our -bidding. Now hark to the sound of the mallet and -chisel as they ring against the stone, chip by chip -of superfluous material is worked away, piece by -piece which is unneeded is broken off and thrown -aside until some other work shall call them into -use.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now seems to become exhumed, as from a grave -of stone and rubbish, the massive pedestal, the firm -base, the graceful column, the sculptured capital and -the rich cornice. Day by day, and hour by hour, -these multiply in true and classic beauty, and higher -and higher skyward soars the now elegant structure, -until, amid the shouts and admiration of the world, -the voice of Reason proclaims that Taste has -fashioned it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This, then, is an edifice, a work worthy of the -mind, formed from materials the choicest within -man’s reach, wrought out and builded by the hand of -Taste; it is worthy to be gazed upon, to be admired -and copied by all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Age after age will go by, but still it will stand firm, -and beautiful, and admired as when the artist gave -<span class='pageno' title='311' id='Page_311'></span> -the last stroke, and proclaimed it to the world as -finished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Are proofs required, among the names of the ancients -may be found those time-honored and long -worshiped ones of Lysippus, Polycletus, Praxiteles, -Timanthes, Appelles, Zeuxis, Parrhasius, Plato, -Aristotle, Pliny, Ovid, Pollio, Catullus, Demosthenes, -Thucydides, Xenophon, Aristophanes, Orpheus, -Archilocus and Timotheus, together with -many, many of their cotemporaries, for whose -names I have no space, but whose memories are -still, and still are to be, revered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Following in the path which these have hewn -through the thickets of prejudice and ignorance -comes a long bright train. Amidst the stars of this -latter day firmament gleam conspicuous the names -of Banks, Young, Cole, West, White, Vandyck, -Tasso, Titian, Rittenhouse, Mozart, Milton, Crabbe, -Gallileo and Godfry, and ever and anon new and -brilliant planets flash forth and shed their glad effulgence -around.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Could this be without Taste?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It could not. Glorious and rich and varied as are -the works of those whose efforts and the productions -of whose minds have tended to elevate and improve -our condition, they never could have been without -Taste to suggest—Taste to aid, and Taste to accomplish -the mighty, the stupendous, the gigantic works -they have wrought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What was it, let us inquire, that induced the -ancient Egyptians to build the city of Thebes in -such glorious magnificence that even its ruins produced -effects upon historians to cause them to be -immortalized? Homer tells of her hundred gates, -from each of which two hundred chariots and ten -thousand warriors could issue at a time. To her -palaces painting and sculpture had lent all their art, -combining to render this city one of the glories of the -world. Was not this Taste?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What, too, induced them to erect those monuments -of the strength of man and tyranny of kings—the -Obelisks and Pyramids, to erect them in such huge -size and vast strength that still they stand, as through -long ages they have stood, firm and immovable as -the “everlasting hills?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Taste.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Need we ask Astronomy, that grand and elevating -science, the contemplation of which forces upon us -our own insignificance, and raises us from “Nature -up to Nature’s God”—that science which teaches us -to admire and wonder, to gaze and fear, to glorify -and adore the <span class='it'>Great Being</span> who formed “Arcturus, -Orion and the Pleiades.” Need we ask to what considerations -upon the part of man we are indebted for -the important and immense researches which all -lie open to us, which teach us to trace out the constellations, -and “call the stars by their names”—which -drew Phytheas from his home and caused -him to wander unsatisfied with the observations he -was able to make in his own country, from the Pillars -of Hercules to the mouth of the Tanais—which -made Egypt, Rome, Spain, France, Germany and -Denmark the cradles of the then infant science?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Is it necessary to reply it is Taste?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Turn we then to Philosophy, and in the deep researches -of Thales, the moral reasoning of Socrates, -the eloquence of Plato, and the disinterestedness of -Zenocrates read of Taste.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Chemistry, with all its brilliant discoveries, and -Rhetoric, in its elegance, speak of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Music, Oratory, History, Geography, Grammar -and Physic are each and all of them proofs of Taste -in its truth and purity; and Poetry shouts forth with -glad and eager pride Eureka! we have found it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The beauty, delicacy and usefulness of Botany, -the rich and varied hue of the flowers, those “gems -of earth,” whisper softly to us of Taste; and the -importance of Anatomy proves it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Metaphysics and Geometry demonstrate its truth; -while the wild bird’s carol hymns forth its notes of -praise and gladness to the Creator of it and of that -element of man’s happiness, Taste.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is here, it is there, it is everywhere, one grand, -pervading principle, one first element, one chief ingredient -of all things.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was implanted in the mind by <span class='it'>Him</span> who formed -us, and it is as much the duty of man to cultivate and -improve his taste, as it is his duty to improve and -cultivate any other talent lent him to keep; and he -will be considered no more excusable for wrapping -this precious deposit in a napkin and hiding it away -than was the servant of old, who buried the talent -until the coming of his lord. Let us then cultivate -Taste, each according to the kind and portion -given us.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It has been said that “every man is born to excel -in something, and the only reason so many fail is -they mistake their calling.” Be this as it may, it -sounds marvelously like sense, and it would be well -for every one to examine strictly, that he may discover -wherein it is intended he shall excel, and what -the peculiar Taste or Tastes may be which, to himself, -to society at large, and to a <span class='it'>higher power</span> than -either, it is his duty to cultivate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet although Taste has been given us, and we are -required to improve and use it to the best advantage, -it is not intended there are no other gifts bestowed -on man which can equal it. That would be to -assume for it more than could well be proven. It is -intended that Taste shall act as a means of enjoyment -and happiness, as a means whereby we can investigate -causes, and admire and apply effects—a -means whereby we can dive into the very depths of -science and open the sealed treasure-house of knowledge—a -means of searching out the beauties and -glories of creation, and comprehending, as far as the -mind of man is capable of comprehending, the wonderful -omnipotence of the Deity.</p> - -<hr class='tbk122'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='312' id='Page_312'></span><h1><a id='mind'></a>THE MAN OF MIND AND THE MAN OF MONEY.</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 T. S. ARTHUR.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At nineteen, Silas Loring left college and went -into a store to be educated for a merchant. At the -same time, a school-companion, named Alfred Benedict, -with whom he had been intimate, was placed -by his parents in the counting-room of a large shipper. -The two young men had enjoyed equal advantages, -so far as education was concerned; but they had improved -these advantages differently. The father of -Loring early impressed upon his mind the idea that -wealth gave a man all power and influence in the -world; that it was the greatest good that could be -sought; while the father of Benedict urged his son -to gain knowledge as the highest and best possession. -The two young men had been influenced, as well by -their natural tastes and feelings as by the opinions -and advice of their parents. On leaving college, -Loring left behind him all affection for literature or -scientific pursuits, and took with him only an ardent -desire to become wealthy, accompanied by a confident -assurance that he possessed the ability required -to attain the summit of his wishes. Benedict, on the -contrary, entered the world with his love of knowledge -as active as ever, and his desire for its attainment -more ardent than when he passed at first over -the threshold of Wisdom’s temple.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Equal as to external advantages, the two young -men started in the world. Neither of their parents -were rich, though both were able to give their children -a good education, that surest guaranty of success. -But difference of purpose in a few years made -a great difference in their relative positions. When -Loring was twenty-five years of age he was a partner -in the house where he had served his apprenticeship, -and the most active and really intelligent business -man in the firm; while Benedict was merely a book-keeper, -receiving a salary of twelve hundred dollars -a year. All the energies of the active mind of Loring, -inspired by his love of money, were given to business; -while the no less active mind of Benedict was -as deeply absorbed in literary pursuits and scientific -investigations. As a book-keeper, the latter was -faithful, attentive and accurate, and valued by his -employers; but beyond his journal and ledger his -thoughts never penetrated the arcana of trade. He -had no affection for it. His mind loved rather to -explore the arcana of knowledge, and gather in from -fields that were ever opening before him, rich harvests -of intelligence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the manners and appearance of the two young -men there was also a noticeable change. Loring had -an air of self-importance, and an off-hand, dashing -sort of manner, that bespoke a mind well satisfied -with itself, and conscious of having done something. -But Benedict had become more quiet and unobtrusive. -He looked like a man who did not entertain a very -high opinion of himself, as being of consequence in -the community.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As men appear in society, so are they usually -estimated by the mass. Loring was bowed to across -the street a dozen times in every square; was met in -company by a hearty shake of the hand, and treated -wherever he went as an individual of some importance. -And such he really felt himself to be. Benedict, -on the contrary, might walk a dozen squares -without receiving a nod, or mingle in society and be -almost unnoticed and alone. But he did not feel this. -In fact he was hardly conscious of it; for he rarely, -if ever, thought any thing about the estimation in -which others held him. His mind was in a higher -and purer region.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The intimate friendship that had existed between -Loring and Benedict, did not continue very long -after they left college, although they remained friends -and acquaintances, and were interested in each other -for some years. But, after Loring had changed from -a clerk to a merchant, he began to feel that he was -no longer on a level with a mere book-keeper, who -was likely to remain a book-keeper for life. Merchants -were now his associates. Men who used to -bow to him with distant formality, <span class='it'>now</span> took him cordially -by the hand, and were as familiar with him as -he had been with mere clerks before. He likewise -received invitations to the houses of these merchants, -and was introduced into a new and higher circle. -In this circle he never met his old friend Benedict. -Is it any wonder that he looked down upon him as -an inferior? None. We see by means of the atmosphere -by which we are surrounded, whether naturally -or spiritually. The atmosphere in which the -mind of Loring breathed and saw, was so different -from the one that gave life and vision to the mind of -Benedict, that he was unable to see by it the true -quality and character of his friend. He could see in -his own atmosphere, but that which surrounded the -humble book-keeper was darkness to his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus the years went by, Loring accumulating gold, -and Benedict treasures of knowledge, that neither -moth nor rust could corrupt, nor thieves break through -and steal. As these treasures increased, he began to -feel a desire to impart something of what he possessed -to others. This desire prompted him to write -out his reflections, experiences, and the new views -that were constantly pressing in upon his mind, and -send them to the various literary and scientific journals -for publication. It was not long before this brought -him into honorable notice, and made his name familiar -to men of intelligence throughout the country, with -many of whom he gradually came into correspondence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What has become of Benedict?” asked Mr. -<span class='pageno' title='313' id='Page_313'></span> -Loring, one day of the merchant whose book-keeper -he had been for many years. “I have missed him -from your store for some time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He left me several months ago,” was the reply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How came that? But I suppose his mind got so -lost in his literary pursuits that he was no longer -good for any thing as a clerk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He was faithful and correct to the last,” promptly -answered the individual to whom this remark was -made. “I never had and never expect to have a -more valuable clerk than Benedict. But he has obtained -a better place, and one more suited to his -tastes and abilities.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, where has he gone?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To Bowdoin College. The Professorship of —— was -offered to him, and he accepted it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t know that he had any friends away off -there. Isn’t it rather singular that he should be appointed -to such a chair? Do you think him capable -of filling it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I presume those who appointed him knew his -ability.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did he apply for it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. He knew nothing of the vacancy until he -was notified of his appointment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is a little singular,” remarked Loring, wondering -for the moment how a man of so little importance, -and no very distinguished ability, should -be voluntarily tendered a high professorship in -Bowdoin College. But the wonder did not occupy -his mind very long. It passed away with the thought -of his old school-friend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Great activity and energy in a business already -firmly established, in which was ample capital, made -Loring the possessor, in a few years, of quite a handsome -property. Ambitious of a more rapid increase -of fortune, and believing that he ought to have the -entire benefit of his activity, energy, and capacity -for trade, he withdrew from the house in which he -was a partner, and commenced business alone. He -did not err in his calculations. The results was as -favorable as he had expected. Money came in more -rapidly, and with its accumulation rose his ideas of -his own importance, until he looked down upon -every man whose coffers were not quite as full as -his own, at the same time that he felt himself to be -as good as any millionaire in the land.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is a little singular how the mere possession of -money raises a man’s ideas of his own importance, -and causes him to think meanly of all who are not -favored with any considerable portion of this world’s -goods. Upon what a slender basis of real worth do -men sometimes build a towering structure of self-conceit! -Wealth is very rarely the correspondent -of solid virtue and sterling merit in those who -possess it; not that men of wealth are less virtuous -or meritorious as a class, but wealth, upon which -most persons value themselves, is not the true -standard for estimating the man. It never gives -quality to the heart, principles to the mind, nor to the -understanding rational intelligence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Mr. Loring continued to grow richer, his ideas -of his own importance continued to rise, until he felt -himself quite an “exclusive” in society. At the age -of forty, he determined to take a trip across the -Atlantic, and see the world abroad. He must spend -some time in London, Paris and Italy. In order to -be prepared for this journey, he brushed up his French, -and spent his leisure time in reading about the places -he proposed to visit. So far as his knowledge of -matters and things in his own country, out of the -mercantile sphere, was concerned, it was very -limited. Even in politics he was not very well -posted up. As to what was doing in literature and -science, he was altogether ignorant. He was a -successful merchant, and that was about all that could -be said of him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All things ready, Mr. Loring took passage in a -steamer for Liverpool. The ship had cast off her -moorings, and was gliding swiftly along the smooth -waters of the bay, when the merchant, in turning -his eyes from the diminishing city to the nearer and -more palpable objects on board the vessel that was -bearing him on to the ocean, noticed a familiar face. -At first he was at a loss where to place its owner. -But soon his memory was clear upon that subject. -His old friend, Benedict, was a fellow-passenger! -The eyes of the latter were upon him, and his countenance -about expressing a pleasurable recognition, -when Loring turned away and glanced back again -upon the dim and distant city. He did not wish to -renew the acquaintance. When he next looked -around upon his companions for the voyage, Benedict -was not to be seen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were one hundred passengers on board, and -among them several men of high reputation in the -United States. A former Governor of Massachusetts, -whose name and fame were familiar to every one, -was among the number; also two men from the -South, who had distinguished themselves during -many years in the national legislature. One of them -had held the office of Secretary of State. Besides -these, there were many men of standing and character -both from the mercantile class and the learned professions. -In looking over the list of passengers, -Mr. Loring was well satisfied to find himself in such -good company. The only drawback was the presence -of so obscure an individual as Mr. Benedict, -with whom he had once been acquainted, but toward -whom he must now, in justice to his own -character and position, conduct himself as a stranger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such were the reflections of Mr. Loring, as he -turned from the vessel’s side and went below, late -in the afternoon of the day on which they had sailed. -On entering the cabin, the first objects that met his -eyes were the ex-governor of Massachusetts and -Mr. Benedict engaged in conversation. This surprised -him at first, but on reflection, he explained the -circumstance by supposing that Benedict had intruded -himself upon the individual with whom he was conversing, -and that the latter submitted to the intrusion -from mere politeness. He sat down at some distance -from them, expecting to see their interview -quickly terminated. But he was disappointed in -this, for the parties grew more and more interested. -Whenever Benedict spoke, he observed that the -<span class='pageno' title='314' id='Page_314'></span> -other listened with deep attention, and that his -manner toward him was always respectful, and sometimes -even deferential. The conversation was prolonged -until tea-time, and then the two men separated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was something in this that the man of -wealth could not understand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the next day Mr. Loring sought an opportunity -to make the formal acquaintance of Mr. ——, from -the Bay State, through the introduction of a friend -on board, who presented him as “one of our first -merchants,” going out to visit Europe. Mr. —— was -very polite, and made some commonplace remarks -to the merchant, who replied with a self-importance -in his manner that did not make the impression -he designed. The ex-governor knew just -how much money was worth as a standard by which -to estimate the man. The words, “one of our first -merchants,” made no impression upon him whatever. -In fact, he scarcely noticed it. After talking -a short time with Mr. Loring, with a polite bow he -moved away and joined Mr. Benedict, who was -standing on the opposite side of the vessel. He was -soon again in close conversation with this obscure -individual.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Loring was not only surprised at this, but chafed. -It puzzled as well as annoyed him. He could not -but remark that Mr. Benedict was perfectly at his -ease with the distinguished individual who had just -left him, and that there was nothing in the manner of -Mr. —— approaching to condescension. Not many -minutes elapsed before they were joined by a third -person, to whom Mr. —— presented Loring’s old -friend in a formal introduction. This individual was -from the South. He had formerly held the office of -Secretary of State at Washington. At the mention -of Mr. Benedict’s name he shook him warmly by the -hand, and treated him with marked attention. The -three men then went below, where Loring saw them, -about an hour afterward, in the centre of a group of -five or six, all men of standing and character in the -United States. Benedict was speaking, and all were -listening to him with deep attention.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can it be possible that his fortunes have changed—that -he has become wealthy?” the merchant said to -himself; and a feeling of respect for his old acquaintance -arose in his mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Day after day went by, and still Mr. Benedict continued -to be on terms of intimacy with these men, -while they treated Mr. Loring, who was introduced -to them by a friend, with reserved and distant politeness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who is that man?” asked the merchant, affecting -not to know Benedict. The question was put to a -fellow-passenger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s Professor Benedict,” replied the person -addressed, manifesting surprise at the question. -“Are you not acquainted with him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Loring shook his head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have heard of him, of course?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t say that I have.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not heard of Professor Benedict!” The passenger -looked into the face of Loring with a broad -stare. “Why he is known from one end of our -country to the other as a distinguished scholar and -man of science. His articles in the Quarterly Review, -and his essays on Political and Social Economy, -‘Wealth and Labor,’ ‘The Times,’ etc., have -won for him an enviable reputation. There are few -abler men in our country than Professor Benedict.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Loring asked no further questions. He felt -rebuked and mortified. Rich as he was, and highly -as he valued himself, he felt that the man of intellect -was ranked higher than the man of money. In -the small compass of that steam-vessel were clustered -together men of wealth, eminence, and political -distinction. There were few on board whom even -Mr. Loring would think beneath him; and yet he was -treated by them with no particular deference. When -he spoke, he was listened to with the politeness that -always accompanies good-breeding; but that was all. -None gathered around him; none sought his company; -none treated him as a man distinguished from -the rest. Wealth! that was a common possession; -but strong intellect was the god-like gift of the few; -and men bowed before it and yielded freely their -homage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The proud man was deeply humbled during the -brief period occupied in sweeping across the broad -Atlantic, and he felt relieved and breathed more -freely the moment he set his foot on shore at Liverpool. -Shame had kept him from renewing his acquaintance -with Benedict, who continued to be an -object of interest to almost every one during the -voyage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the great world of London, Mr. Loring quickly -recovered his balance of mind. He took letters of -introduction to eminent merchants and bankers there, -by whom he was received and treated with the -greatest attention. He was again conscious of the -fact, that wealth was power, and that the possessor -of wealth ranked highest of any.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In Paris he did not feel quite so much at ease. -He brought letters to the American Minister, the -Hon. Mr. ——, who had represented our country at -the palace of St. Cloud for some five years with -honor to himself and the nation; and was received -with the courtesy and attention which always marked -that gentleman’s conduct toward his countrymen. -Mr. Loring had only been in Paris a couple of days -when the American Minister said to him,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A distinguished countryman of ours is now -in Paris. He is to dine with me day after tomorrow, -in company with about fifty of the most -celebrated scientific and literary men in the city. -Your arrival is quite opportune, Mr. Loring, I shall, -of course, have the pleasure of your company.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Loring bowed in acquiescence, and then inquired -who the distinguished American was.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Professor Benedict,” replied the minister. “He -is an honor to our country, and I feel proud of the -opportunity I shall have of presenting him to men of -a like spirit with himself, to whom his name has -long been familiar.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Loring was confounded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He has been for some years a member of the -Philosophical Society here,” continued the minister, -<span class='pageno' title='315' id='Page_315'></span> -“and his communications, published in their annual -report of proceedings, are among the finest papers -that emanate from that body. They cause honorable -notice of our countryman to be made in all the -scientific journals of Europe. I need not ask you in -what estimation he is held at home, as I see by -Silliman’s Journal, the North American Review, and -the transactions of the various learned societies there, -that his worth is fully known and appreciated. -Have you ever had the pleasure of meeting him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes,” was the reply. “He is an old college-mate -of mine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. We were quite intimate as young men; but -our pursuits in life were so different that, in the very -nature of things, this intimate acquaintance could not -continue. But I had the pleasure of meeting him -again in crossing the Atlantic. We came over in -the same steamer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you? That must have been a very pleasant -voyage. Fair weather the whole time, and the company -of so many men eminent for their talents. Mr. -Benedict says that the two weeks he spent upon the -ocean he shall number as the most agreeable of his -whole life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Loring now felt himself to be in a very awkward -position indeed. How to act he did not know. -He had accepted the American Minister’s invitation -to dine with him, and at his table he would meet the -man whom he had for years considered beneath him, -and whose very acquaintance he had dropped as -discreditable to one in his position. And this man -was to be the honored guest! Mr. Loring retired to -his hotel with his mind bewildered and his feelings -at a lower range in the thermometer of his self-esteem -than they had been for a very long time. If it -had not happened that Benedict came over in the same -steamer with him, and that he had cut his acquaintance -before he knew that he had become an individual -of some note, the way would have been plain -enough before him. He could have gone to the -dinner and renewed his old friendship, and felt -honored in being his countryman. But this he felt -to be out of the question now. Benedict might refuse -to know him, or might treat him in such a -manner as to wound and mortify him severely, and -expose him to the just contempt of men whose good -opinion he was the very man to value.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The exceeding smallness of the foundation upon -which he had built a towering structure of self-importance, -was brought, by the circumstances in -which he was placed, with painful clearness to his -mind. He saw and felt, almost for the first time in -his life, that money was not every thing, and that -it would not make a man worshiped every where, -and by all classes of men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a long time the mind of Mr. Loring was in -debate as to the best course to be pursued. At one -time he resolved to send a note to the American -Minister, on the day the dinner was to take place, -regretting his inability to make one of his guests, on -account of indisposition. But this intention was -after a while abandoned, and he determined to leave -Paris for Italy on the next day. Like the first resolution, -this was also given up, and his mind was all -in confusion again. At length he decided, though -with much reluctance, that he would call upon Mr. -Benedict, and formally renew his acquaintance. -There was something, he felt, humiliating in this; -but it was a step greatly to be preferred to any that -he had yet thought of taking. He did not wish to -lie direct to the American Minister, by saying that -he was indisposed; nor did he wish to leave Paris -for at least a month.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By little and by little, since the day the steamer -left New York, the man of money had felt increasing -respect for the man of mind. He saw that he was -honored by those who were themselves honorable; -that he was known and highly esteemed by distinguished -men in Paris and throughout Europe, -while his name had scarcely been heard of beyond -his own city. There was no mistake about this. It -was all plain as daylight. The humble book-keeper -was a greater man than the purse-proud merchant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The severest conflict between pride and necessity -that ever took place in Mr. Loring’s mind, was that -which ended in a determination to call upon Mr. -Benedict. What his reception would be he knew -not, nor could he fix upon any mode of address, on -meeting him, that was satisfactory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length, after hours of hesitation and debate, and -a re-consideration of the whole matter, the merchant -left his hotel and proceeded to that of the old -friend whom he had cast off years before as beneath -him in social rank and real worth. Gradually his -respect for him had been rising, until now he rather -looked up than down upon him, as the possessor of -something far more intrinsically excellent than any -thing of which he could boast. Known throughout -all Europe! The honored guest of the American -Minister! Courted by men of learning and distinction -in Paris! His very name a passport into the -first circles, and an introduction to the most eminent -men of the day! What had he been thinking about? -Where were his eyes, that he had not before seen -this rising star, now suddenly revealed to him, shining -in beauty and splendor? Respect was easily changed -into a feeling of deference. As distinctly as he could, -Mr. Loring endeavored to recall to his mind the appearance -and manner of Mr. Benedict, during the -voyage across the Atlantic. This he could not do -very distinctly, as he had kept out of his way as -much as possible. Still he could recollect that there -was ease, self-possession, dignity of manner, and the -consciousness of power. These were the visible -marks of a great man about him—not so much perceived -at the time at recognized, now that they -were remembered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was the state of mind, and such were the -thoughts that oppressed Mr. Loring, as he started -on his humiliating errand. He, of course, expected -to be received with coldness and dignity, if received -at all. It might be that Mr. Benedict would decline -renewing the acquaintance that he had almost rudely -dropped, which, under the circumstances, would be -mortifying in the extreme, and compel him to decline -<span class='pageno' title='316' id='Page_316'></span> -the invitation to dine with the American -Minister.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His card sent up, the merchant awaited the return -of the porter with serious misgivings at heart. -When that functionary returned, and signified that -Mr. Benedict would be happy to receive him, he -proceeded toward his apartments in a state of mind -such as he had never before experienced, and certainly -never wished to experience again. A door -was thrown open by the porter, and a man, in the -prime of life, stood near the centre of the room. -His quiet, thoughtful face, and calm, steady eye, so -well remembered, and so little changed by time, was -lit up instantly by a warm, frank smile, so natural -and familiar, that it seemed the smile of years before, -when they met as intimate friends. He stepped forward -quickly, and grasped Mr. Loring’s extended -hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The merchant was subdued and humbled. He -could hardly utter the words that rose to his tongue. -He stood in the presence of one who was superior to -himself, and who yet assumed no consequence. -The beauty and true nobility of this he clearly saw, -because it affected himself. He felt that Benedict -possessed a generous, manly spirit and a true heart, -of the real worth of which he had never before had -any conception.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the interview that followed this meeting, no -allusion was made to the voyage across the Atlantic -by either party. The conversation mostly referred -to former years and events.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When they separated, Mr. Loring was in some -doubt as to the real greatness of his old friend. He -saw nothing in him that he had not seen before. Not -a brilliant sentence was uttered; nothing out of the -common order was apparent in his conversation. -He even permitted the query to arise in his mind -whether or no he had not been overrated? Whether -distance had not lent enchantment to the view? This -was his state of mind when he met him again at the -American Minister’s, surrounded by some of the -most celebrated men of learning in Paris; but it -changed after Benedict had been toasted, and he replied -in an address of great beauty, force, and originality, -that enchained the attention of every one. -Loring was lost in astonishment and admiration; -nor was he less surprised at the apparent unconsciousness -of being more than an ordinary man manifested -by his every act and word during the five -hours that he observed him in the midst of these -eminent men, with the best of whom he could not -but acknowledge him, from what he then saw, to be -equal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man of money did not again come in contact -with the man of mind during his tour in Europe; nor -has he met him since his return home. But now, -and he cannot but wonder why it was not so before, -he hears the name of Professor Benedict frequently -mentioned, and often meets with it in the public -journals. Whenever he does so, the feeling of purse-proud -superiority that has grown with his growth, and -strengthened with his strength, has a leaf withered, -a flower blighted, or a branch riven from the stem. -But the roots of that feeling are vigorous, and strike -deeply into a rich soil. Although its very luxuriant -growth is at times checked, yet we cannot hope to -see the plant destroyed. It is too well matured, and -its aliment too abundant.</p> - -<hr class='tbk123'/> - -<div><h1><a id='may'></a>A MAY SONG.</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. D. ANDERSON.</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'>Hurrah! for sweet May, it is here with its brightness,</p> -<p class='line'>  The songs of the birds, and the breath of the flowers,</p> -<p class='line'>The sighs of the zephyrs, that woo with their lightness,</p> -<p class='line'>  And hasten the steps of the Summer’s glad hours;</p> -<p class='line'>The earth is all gladness—the sky is all beaming</p> -<p class='line'>  With rose-tinted shadows of beauty and light,</p> -<p class='line'>As rich as those insects whose golden wings gleaming</p> -<p class='line'>  Are twined in the hair of the maidens at night.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The soft balmy air through the casement is singing</p> -<p class='line'>  In tones of delight to the bud and the bee—</p> -<p class='line'>Like the laughter of girlhood in ecstasy ringing,</p> -<p class='line'>  When the first star of evening has bidden them free—</p> -<p class='line'>In the depths of the forest the wild vine is creeping</p> -<p class='line'>  Around the huge oak with its blossoms of gold—</p> -<p class='line'>And, curtained with leafiness, flowerets are sleeping,</p> -<p class='line'>  Surrounded with perfume and beauty untold.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Come out with the sunrise!—all Nature is glowing—</p> -<p class='line'>  Each hill-top is bathed in the morn’s early beams;</p> -<p class='line'>In the valley the fragrance of spring-time is blowing,</p> -<p class='line'>  To scatter the mists from the flower-margined streams;</p> -<p class='line'>On the greensward the footsteps of children are straying,</p> -<p class='line'>  As free as the gambols of Summer’s pure air,</p> -<p class='line'>As, ladened with health, from the mountain ’tis playing,</p> -<p class='line'>  And tossing each ringlet of gold-colored hair.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>With an echo of music the river is laving</p> -<p class='line'>  Its white pebbled shore, as it dances along;</p> -<p class='line'>Now sunshine, now shade o’er its clear bosom waving,</p> -<p class='line'>  Like the world’s beaten pathway, half sorrow, half song,</p> -<p class='line'>Far, far in the distance, the ocean is lying,</p> -<p class='line'>  As calm and as tideless as infancy’s breast;</p> -<p class='line'>While the last lingering rays of the purple light dying</p> -<p class='line'>  Is shed on its face ere it sinks into rest.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And then comes the <span class='it'>eve</span> with its moonlight and dreaming,</p> -<p class='line'>  When melody floats on each whisper and sigh.</p> -<p class='line'>When eyes are as bright as the stars that are gleaming,</p> -<p class='line'>  And hearts are as free as the breeze passing by.</p> -<p class='line'>In the wildwood the song of the night-bird is blending</p> -<p class='line'>  With the light tread of dancers, and shoutings of mirth,</p> -<p class='line'>Whilst all round are the <span class='it'>rosy boy’s</span> arrows descending,</p> -<p class='line'>  And <span class='it'>love</span>, like our joys, has a star-lighted birth.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The Summer’s young Ganymede’s cup is o’erflowing</p> -<p class='line'>  With dew-drops, distilled from the Spring’s early morn,</p> -<p class='line'>As pure as the breath of the west wind that’s blowing,</p> -<p class='line'>  Or wishes deep down in a maiden’s heart born;</p> -<p class='line'>Then a health for sweet May! what heart is not swelling</p> -<p class='line'>  As the mild air of Summer comes soft o’er the brow,</p> -<p class='line'>And a thousand bright tokens all round us are telling</p> -<p class='line'>  That the May-day of <span class='it'>Youth</span> and <span class='it'>Affection</span> is now.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk124'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='317' id='Page_317'></span><h1><a id='fif'></a>FIFTY SUGGESTIONS.</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 EDGAR A. POE.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>1.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is observable that, while among all nations the -omni-color, white, has been received as an emblem -of the Pure, the no-color, black, has by no means -been generally admitted as <span class='it'>sufficiently</span> typical of -Impurity. There are blue devils as well as black; -and when we think <span class='it'>very</span> ill of a woman, and wish to -<span class='it'>blacken</span> her character, we merely call her “a <span class='it'>blue</span>-stocking” -and advise her to read, in Rabelais’ “<span class='it'>Gargantua</span>,” -the chapter “<span class='it'>de ce qui est signifié par les -couleurs blanc et bleu</span>.” There is far more difference -between these “<span class='it'>couleurs</span>,” in fact, than that which -exists between simple <span class='it'>black</span> and white. Your “blue,” -when we come to talk of stockings, is black in <span class='it'>issimo</span>—“<span class='it'>nigrum -nigrius nigro</span>”—like the matter from -which Raymond Lully first manufactured his alcohol.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>2.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. ——, I perceive, has been appointed Librarian -to the new —— Athenæum. To him, the appointment -is advantageous in many respects. Especially:—“<span class='it'>Mon -cousin, voici une belle occasion pour apprendre -à lire!</span>”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>3.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As far as I can understand the “loving our -enemies,” it implies the hating our friends.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>4.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In commencing our dinners with gravy soup, no -doubt we have taken a hint from Horace.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>    —— Da, he says, si <span class='it'>grave</span> non est,</p> -<p class='line0'>Quæ prima iratum ventrem placaverit isca.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>5.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of much of our cottage architecture we may safely -say, I think, (admitting the good intention,) that it -<span class='it'>would</span> have been Gothic if it had not felt it its duty -to be Dutch.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>6.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>James’s multitudinous novels seem to be written -upon the plan of “the songs of the Bard of Schiraz,” -in which, we are assured by Fadladeen, “the same -beautiful thought occurs again and again in every -possible variety of phrase.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>7.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some of our foreign lions resemble the human -brain in one very striking particular. They are -without any sense themselves and yet are the centres -of sensation.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>8.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mirabeau, I fancy, acquired his wonderful tact at -foreseeing and meeting <span class='it'>contingencies</span>, during his -residence in the stronghold of <span class='it'>If</span>.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>9.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cottle’s “Reminiscences of Coleridge” is just -such a book as damns its perpetrator forever in the -opinion of every gentleman who reads it. More and -more every day do we moderns <span class='it'>pavoneggiarsi</span> about -our Christianity; yet, so far as the <span class='it'>spirit</span> of Christianity -is concerned, we are immeasurably behind -the ancients. Mottoes and proverbs are the indices -of national character; and the Anglo-Saxons are -disgraced in having no proverbial equivalent to the -“<span class='it'>De mortuis nil nisi bonum.</span>” Moreover—where, -in all <a id='stat'></a>statutory Christendom, shall we find a <span class='it'>law</span> so -Christian as the “<span class='it'>Defuncti injuriâ ne afficiantur</span>” -of the Twelve Tables?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The simple <span class='it'>negative</span> injunction of the Latin law -and proverb—the injunction <span class='it'>not to do ill</span> to the dead—seems -at a first glance, scarcely susceptible of improvement -in the delicate respect of its terms. I -cannot help thinking, however, that the sentiment, if -not the idea intended, is more forcibly conveyed in -an <a id='apop'></a>apophthegm by one of the old English moralists, -James Puckle. By an ingenious figure of speech he -contrives to imbue the negation of the Roman command -with a spirit of active and positive beneficence. -“When speaking of the dead,” he says, in his -“Grey Cap for a Green Head,” “<span class='it'>so fold up your -discourse that their virtues may be outwardly shown, -while their vices are wrapped up in silence</span>.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>10.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have no doubt that the Fourierites honestly fancy -“a nasty poet fit for nothing” to be the true translation -of “<span class='it'>poeta nascitur non fit</span>.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>11.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There surely can<span class='it'>not</span> be “more things in Heaven -and Earth than are dreamt of” (oh, Andrew Jackson -Davis!) “in <span class='it'>your</span> philosophy.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>12.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is only as the Bird of Paradise quits us in -taking wing,” observes, or should observe, some -poet, “that we obtain a full view of the beauty of -its plumage;” and it is only as the politician is about -being “turned out” that—like the snake of the Irish -Chronicle when touched by St. Patrick—he “awakens -to a sense of his <span class='it'>situation</span>.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>13.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Newspaper editors seem to have constitutions -closely similar to those of the Deities in “Walhalla,” -who cut each other to pieces every day, and yet got -up perfectly sound and fresh every morning.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>14.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As far as I can comprehend the modern cant in -favor of “unadulterated Saxon,” it is fast leading us -to the language of that region where, as Addison has -it, “they sell the best fish and speak the plainest -English.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>15.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The frightfully long money-pouches—“like the -Cucumber called the Gigantic”—which have come -in vogue among our belles—are <span class='it'>not</span> of Parisian -origin, as many suppose, but are strictly indigenous -<span class='pageno' title='318' id='Page_318'></span> -here. The fact is, such a fashion would be quite out -of place in Paris, where it is money <span class='it'>only</span> that women -keep in a purse. The purse of an American lady, -however, must be large enough to carry both her -money and the soul of its owner.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>16.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I can see no objection to gentlemen “standing for -Congress”—provided they stand on one side—nor to -their “running for Congress”—if they are in a very -great hurry to get there—but it would be a blessing -if some of them could be persuaded into sitting still, -for Congress, after they arrive.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>17.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If <span class='it'>Envy</span>, as Cyprian has it, be “the moth of the -soul,” whether shall we regard <span class='it'>Content</span> as its Scotch -snuff or its camphor?</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>18.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>M——, having been “used up” in the —— Review, -goes about town lauding his critic—as an -epicure lauds the best London mustard—with the -tears in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>19.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Con tal que las costumbres de un autor sean -puras y castas</span>,” says the Catholic Don Tomas de -las Torres, in the Preface to his “Amatory Poems,” -“<span class='it'>importo muy poco qui no sean igualmente severas -sus obras</span>:” meaning, in plain English, that, provided -the personal morals of an author are pure, it -matters little what those of his books are.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For so unprincipled an idea, Don Tomas, no doubt, -is still having a hard time of it in Purgatory; and, -by way of most pointedly manifesting their disgust -at his philosophy on the topic in question, many -modern theologians and divines are now busily -squaring their conduct by his proposition exactly -<span class='it'>conversed</span>.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>20.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Children are never too tender to be whipped:—like -tough beefsteaks, the more you beat them the -more tender they become.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>21.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lucian, in describing the statue “with its surface -of Parian marble and its interior filled with rags,” -must have been looking with a prophetic eye at -some of our great “moneyed institutions.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>22.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That poets (using the word comprehensively, as -including artists in general) are a <span class='it'>genus irritabile</span>, is -well understood; but the <span class='it'>why</span>, seems not to be commonly -seen. An artist is an artist only by dint of his -exquisite sense of Beauty—a sense affording him -rapturous enjoyment, but at the same time implying, -or involving, an equally exquisite sense of Deformity -of disproportion. Thus a wrong—an injustice—done -a poet who is really a poet, excites him to a degree -which, to ordinary apprehension, appears disproportionate -with the wrong. Poets <span class='it'>see</span> injustice—<span class='it'>never</span> -where it does not exist—but very often where the -unpoetical see no injustice whatever. Thus the -poetical irritability has no reference to “temper” in -the vulgar sense, but merely to a more than usual clear-sightedness -in respect to Wrong:—this clear-sightedness -being nothing more than a corollary from the -vivid perception of Right—of justice—of proportion—in -a word, of το καλου. But one thing is clear—that -the man who is <span class='it'>not</span> “irritable,” (to the ordinary -apprehension,) is <span class='it'>no poet</span>.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>23.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Let a man succeed ever so evidently—ever so -demonstrably—in many different displays of <span class='it'>genius</span>, -the envy of criticism will agree with the popular -voice in denying him more than <span class='it'>talent</span> in any. Thus -a poet who has achieved a great (by which I mean -an effective) poem, should be cautious not to distinguish -himself in any other walk of Letters. In -especial—let him make no effort in Science—unless -anonymously, or with the view of waiting patiently -the judgment of posterity. Because universal or -even versatile geniuses have rarely or never been -known, <span class='it'>therefore</span>, thinks the world, none such can -ever be. A “therefore” of this kind is, with the -world, conclusive. But what is the <span class='it'>fact</span>, as taught -us by analysis of mental power? Simply, that the -<span class='it'>highest</span> genius—that the genius which all men instantaneously -acknowledge as such—which acts -upon individuals, as well as upon the mass, by a -species of magnetism incomprehensible but irresistible -and <span class='it'>never resisted</span>—that this genius which -demonstrates itself in the simplest gesture—or even -by the absence of all—this genius which speaks -without a voice and flashes from the unopened eye—is -but the result of generally large mental power -existing in a state of <span class='it'>absolute proportion</span>—so that no -one faculty has undue predominance. <span class='it'>That</span> factitious -“genius”—that “genius” in the popular sense—which -is but the manifestation of the abnormal -predominance of some one faculty over all the others—and, -of course, at the expense and to the detriment, -of all the others—is a result of mental disease or -rather, of organic malformation of mind:—it is this -and nothing more. Not only will such “genius” -fail, if turned aside from the path indicated by its -predominant faculty; but, even when pursuing this -path—when producing those works in which, certainly, -it is <span class='it'>best</span> calculated to succeed—will give unmistakeable -indications of <span class='it'>unsoundness</span>, in respect -to general intellect. Hence, indeed, arises the just -idea that</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Great wit to madness nearly is allied.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>I say “<span class='it'>just</span> idea;” for by “great wit,” in this case, -the poet intends precisely the pseudo-genius to which -I refer. The true genius, on the other hand, is -necessarily, if not universal in its manifestations, at -least capable of universality; and if, attempting all -things, it succeeds in one rather better than in another, -this is merely on account of a certain bias by -which <span class='it'>Taste</span> leads it with more earnestness in the -one direction than in the other. With equal zeal, it -would succeed equally in all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To sum up our results in respect to this very -simple, but much <span class='it'>vexata questio</span>:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What the world calls “genius” is the state of -mental disease arising from the undue predominance -of some one of the faculties. The works of such -genius are never sound in themselves and, in especial, -always betray the general mental insanity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='319' id='Page_319'></span> -The <span class='it'>proportion</span> of the mental faculties, in a case -where the general mental power is <span class='it'>not</span> inordinate, -gives that result which we distinguish as <span class='it'>talent</span>:—and -the talent is greater or less, first, as the general -mental power is greater or less; and, secondly, as -the proportion of the faculties is more or less absolute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The proportion of the faculties, in a case where -the mental power is inordinately great, gives that -result which <span class='it'>is</span> the true <span class='it'>genius</span> (but which, on account -of the proportion and seeming simplicity of its works, -is seldom acknowledged to <span class='it'>be</span> so;) and the genius is -greater or less, first, as the general mental power is -more or less inordinately great; and, secondly, as -the proportion of the faculties is more or less absolute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An objection will be made:—that the greatest -excess of mental power, however proportionate, does -not seem to satisfy our idea of genius, unless we -have, in addition, sensibility, passion, energy. The -reply is, that the “absolute proportion” spoken of, -when applied to inordinate mental power, gives, as a -result, the appreciation of Beauty and horror of Deformity -which we call sensibility, together with that -intense vitality, which is implied when we speak of -“Energy” or “Passion.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>24.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Beauty draws us by a single hair.”—Capillary -attraction, of course.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>25.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is by no means clear, as regards the present revolutionary -spirit of Europe, that it is a spirit which -“moveth altogether if it move at all.” In Great -Britain it may be kept quiet for half a century yet, by -placing at the head of affairs an experienced medical -man. He should keep his forefinger constantly on -the pulse of the patient, and exhibit <span class='it'>panem</span> in gentle -doses, with as much <span class='it'>circenses</span> as the stomach can be -made to retain.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>[<span class='it'>Conclusion in our next.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk125'/> - -<div><h1><a id='hist'></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:1em;font-size:1em;'>(<span class='it'>Concluded from page 266.</span>)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Parisian society had passed the dread ordeal -which bears the name of the Reign of Terror, through -continual scenes of blood and tears, it seemed by a -strange and almost unaccountable impulse to be impelled -to mirth and festivity. On the day after the disappearance -of the guillotine French frivolity resumed -its sway with a thousand whims and vagaries, to -which the stern muse of history would pay no attention, -but to which, in this sketch of the follies of -humanity, we may aptly attend. One of the whimsicalities -peculiar to the day is that in memory of -the sad toilette of the guillotine, when the hair was -cropped by the shears of the executioner, a similar -<span class='it'>coiffure</span> was the <span class='it'>mode</span>. Women laid aside their -luxuriant locks for a <span class='it'>coiffure à la victime</span>, and -wore a band of blood-red velvet around the neck, as -if in derision of the fall of the axe. This fashion, -emanating in France, where recklessness had been -produced by the constant presence of danger, went -the round of the world, and the <span class='it'>coiffure à la victime</span> -was worn by both sexes in quiet neighborhoods, -which had learned only by report of the fearful atrocities -committed in the capital of civilization. Balls -<span class='it'>à la victime</span> also became the vogue, and none were -at first admitted to them except those who had lost -relations on the scaffold. To some of these balls it -was requisite not to have lost collaterals only, but -a parent, or brother, sister, husband or wife. There -were exclusives even there, and a new nobility of -the scaffold was created. This was the era of corsets -<span class='it'>à la justice</span> and bonnets <span class='it'>à la humanité</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Away with care! Bring in the violin and minstrels! -was the cry. A mania for the dance pervaded -all society. High and low, aristocrats and -people, antiques and moderns all danced. The -chapel of the old Carmelite convent became a ballroom, -and the Jesuits’ college a place of festivity, as -did also the convents of <span class='it'>Saint-Sulpice</span> of the <span class='it'>Filles -de Saint-Marie</span>. In the <span class='it'>guinguettes</span> and in the -most elegant society all danced. “If the traces of -crime and degradation were seen every where else,” -says a writer of that age, “a man of taste had at -least the consolation to find in these brilliant assemblages -society not unlike that which made Paris once -the wonder of the world. The winter-balls are the -asylum of good taste, elegance and propriety. In -them a young man may purify himself by the spectacle -of triumphant <span class='sc'>Virtue</span>.” Yet the only requisite -to admission to these balls was a subscription of 96 -francs, (about $19.20.) A cotemporary thus describes -one of the most celebrated of these reunions, -that at the Hotel Richelieu, in a manner to make us -skeptical about the virtue. “It is,” says he, “an -arch of <span class='it'>transparent robes</span> of lace, head-dresses of -gold and diamonds. A subscription is required, and -the visiter is ushered into the society of perfumed -goddesses, crowned with flowers, who float about in -Athenian robes, and receive the lisping flattery of -the <span class='it'>incroyables</span>, who prate of their <span class='it'>parole d’honneur</span>.” -It need not be said this is a mere <span class='it'>phase</span> of -Parisian society, fortunately not reflected by the rest -of the world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ball of the Opera was revived, and to it we -must look for the most striking specimens of costume. -The plain black domino exclusively worn at -such places during the monarchy had disappeared, -<span class='pageno' title='320' id='Page_320'></span> -and was replaced by a similar garment of the most -striking colors. Turks, Chinese and the old traditional -characters were exiled to the places of popular -amusement, and the great room of the Opera was -filled with Caius Marius, Dentatus, Cicero, Mutius -Scævola, Pericles, Lycurgus, Cymon and Herodotus. -The charm, however, was gone; the new society -had no traditions; the people composing it were -almost ignorant of each other, and the playful badinage -of which the old balls had been the scene was -lost forever. The <span class='it'>Jeunesse Dorée</span>, as the courtiers -of the Directory and Consulate were called, frequented -these balls most faithfully, but the old prestige -was destroyed, and families were not seen as -they had been in the days of old.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is strange with what rapidity from the epoch of -the Directory a taste for luxury and pleasure sprung -up in the minds of the people. Music again resumed -its sway, and a hundred places of public amusement -were opened. One of the most significant evidences -that the late or present French Revolution is not yet -over, is the fact that as yet public amusements do -not thrive, and that the people look elsewhere for -excitement than to the stage and concert. The most -curious of all spectacles is the stormy deliberation of -the Assembly, and the artistes of the Executive -power the most attractive of all performers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gradually a disposition <span class='it'>to make a figure</span> inoculated -society. As the Revolution became distant -luxury increased. Yet it was not the <span class='it'>faste</span> of old -monarchy, but a new splendor, which the persons -left on the surface of society by the <span class='it'>bouleversement</span> -of all orders threw around them. The women in the -lowness of the bosoms of their dresses descended -below even the modesty required by the Regency, -and the <span class='it'>incroyables</span> became more fantastic than the -<span class='it'>marquis</span>. The following was the costume they -adopted, and a more tasteless one can scarcely be -conceived:</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i102.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0004' style='width:450px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='321' id='Page_321'></span> -They were not so richly dressed as their predecessors, -nor were they so elegant and graceful, but -their manners were quite as affected. Then came -again the taste for gallant acrostics and love songs, -which caused the poetry of the Cheniers to be forgotten -for <span class='it'>fantasies</span> addressed to the popular actresses. -This prodigality was the more criminal because -it had a contrast in alarming want. The Revolution -did not make France more rich, nor did the -hecatombs slain in defence of the liberty of the country -make the cornfields and vineyards more fruitful. -French prodigality was imitated everywhere, and to -this recklessness may we attribute the fact of the -great increase of the expense of dress in every grade -of society over all the civilized world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mode of wearing the hair for men had long -become fixed; it was cropped and <span class='it'>au naturel</span>, and -has thus remained to our own day. The male costume -became every day more and more inelegant. -Frocks were worn short, loose and broad; pantaloons -loose as a sailor’s lasted to a late day of the empire. -This costume had but one merit, simplicity, -a quality inspection of the following engraving will -show it to have possessed in a great degree.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i104.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0005' style='width:350px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>All embroidery was abandoned. In 1803 the coat -had taken its definite form, where there is every -prospect that it will remain permanent. It had an -immense collar and was very short before, but it -was yet a coat. Pantaloons were by no means what -they are now, yet still the garment is unchanged. -The hat had become round, and the cravat was -stationary.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This brings us to the end of our subject. From the -doublet of Louis XIV. costume has been traced to -our time, and an impartial observer will be satisfied -we have lost nothing by the change; for none who -compare the garments of the <span class='it'>schneiders</span> of our own -era with those of the Latours or Justins of old, will -think good taste has retrograded, or dream of comparing -the bucket-like things which once were worn -<span class='pageno' title='322' id='Page_322'></span> -on the head, with the tasteful and artistic hats of -Oakford. Thus ends this disquisition on dress, -which, believe me, is no trifle; and the evidence of -it is, that nothing more ridiculous can be conceived, -than would be a President, a Senate, or a Supreme -Court <span class='it'>in puris naturalibus</span>.</p> - -<hr class='tbk126'/> - -<div><h1><a id='wild'></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/i106.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0006' style='width:450px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_12'>THE CAT-BIRD.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The Cat-Bird is one of our earliest morning songsters, -beginning generally before break of day, and -hovering from bush to bush with great sprightliness -when there is scarcely light sufficient to distinguish -him. His favorite note is the one from which he -takes his name, and is known to every farmer’s boy -in the United States. It so exactly resembles the -mewing of a kitten as to be invariably taken for it -by the uninitiated; and when a number of these birds -get together it is difficult to resist the impression that -all the feline residents of an entire village are gravely -discussing some important subject. But in addition -to this rather singular tone, the Cat-Bird has a variety -of others, made up, it is true, mostly of imitations, -but blended together with considerable strength and -melody. The Cat-Bird is indeed no mean songster, -and when listened to attentively is capable of at -once pleasing and interesting. He is one of the most -familiar of the feathered race, seeming to have very -little dread of man, and building his nest in every -garden hedge. His confidence is but too often repaid -with death; and notwithstanding his friendly habits -he is persecuted with singular and unrelenting prejudice -by every inmate of the farm-house. It must -be acknowledged that he sometimes revenges himself -by drafts upon the strawberry-beds and cherry-trees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Cat-Bird is one of the most prolific of the -feathered race, and were he to fly in flocks would -darken the air. He probably winters in Florida, -from whence he reaches Georgia early in March. -In the following month he appears in Pennsylvania. -His nest is generally finished by the beginning of -May. The place is usually a hawthorn fence, a -small tree, briers, brambles or a thick vine. The -female lays four eggs, of a greenish blue color, and -sometimes raises three broods in a season. In affection -and attention to their young the Cat-Bird is unsurpassed. -The cry of man imitating their brood -will frequently throw her apparently into fits; and in -their defence both male and female often risk their -lives. He boldly attacks the black-snake, striking -him on the head with his bill, until the baffled reptile -is glad to withdraw from the coveted nest. It is -rare that the female forsakes her eggs, even after -they have been handled by man. If one or two be -broken she continues to sit upon the others; and if -strange eggs are put in she, with the assistance of -her mate, turns them out. If the nest be removed to -another situation she follows it and continues to sit -as before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Cat-Bird is nine inches long, of a deep slate -color above, which fades into a lighter tint on the -breast and throat. The legs, bill and tail are black, -with some red about the latter. He is sometimes -domesticated, and in the cage will eat fruit, insects, -bread, cakes, and nearly every kind of vegetable. -He is fond of the water, and, when wild, frequently -<span class='pageno' title='323' id='Page_323'></span> -dashes through it with great velocity. The species -is said to reach as far north as Kamschatka.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The author of the American Ornithology thus philosophizes -on the ungrounded antipathy against this -harmless and interesting bird:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Even those by whom it is entertained, can -scarcely tell you why; only they ‘hate Cat-Birds;’ -as some persons tell you they hate Frenchmen, they -hate Dutchmen, etc., expressions that bespeak their -own narrowness of understanding and want of liberality. -Yet, after ruminating over in my own mind -all the probable causes, I think I have at last hit upon -some of them; the principal of which seems to me -to be a certain similarity of taste, and clashing of interest, -between the Cat-Bird and the farmer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Cat-Bird is fond of large, ripe garden-strawberries; -so is the farmer, for the good price they -bring in the market; the Cat-Bird loves the best and -richest early cherries; so does the farmer, for they -are sometimes the most profitable of the early fruit; -the Cat-Bird has a particular partiality for the finest, -ripe mellow pears; and these are also particular -favorites with the farmer. But the Cat-Bird has frequently -the advantage of the farmer, by snatching off -the first fruits of these delicious productions; and the -farmer takes revenge by shooting him down with his -gun, as he finds old hats, wind-mills, and scare-crows -are no impediments in his way to these forbidden -fruits; and nothing but this resource—the ultimatum -of farmers as well as kings—can restrain his visits. -The boys are now set to watch the cherry-trees with -the gun; and thus commences a train of prejudices -and antipathies, that commonly continue through -life. Perhaps, too, the common note of the Cat-Bird, -so like the mewing of the animal whose name it -bears, and who itself sustains no small share of prejudice, -the homeliness of its plumage, and even his -familiarity, so proverbially known to beget contempt, -may also contribute to this mean, illiberal and -persecuting prejudice; but with the generous and the -good, the lovers of nature and rural charms, the confidence -which the familiar bird places in man, by -building in his garden, under his eye, the music of -his song, and the interesting playfulness of his manners, -will always be more than a recompense for all -the little stolen morsels he snatches.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i110.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0007' style='width:500px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_13'>THE CHICADEE.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>This bird is also known as the Black-capt Titmouse. -It is an active, hardy animal, abounding in -the Northern and Middle States, Canada, and as far -north as the 60th parallel. It is a familiar and amusing -bird, often making its appearance in our cities in -fall or winter, and approaching near to man, in order -to glean from his bounty or carelessness a supply of -food. During the same seasons large flocks scour -the fields and woods in search of insects, larvæ, -seeds and berries. Kernels containing oil, and the -fat of animals are greedily devoured by them. When -all these fail, they enter barns, sheds, and the roofs -of houses, clearing them of moths, eggs of insects, -spiders and wood-worms. They appear to be very -little affected by extreme cold, being provided with -thick downy feathers, and a constitution naturally -robust. In winter, numbers collect on a snow-bank, -and swallow small pieces, either to slake thirst or -for pleasure. On such occasions, and generally -when collecting food, they keep up a continual chattering, -which renders their places of haunt easy of -discovery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Chicadee builds in the hollows of trees, the -nest being constructed of moss, feathers, and similar -soft materials. The eggs are from six to a -dozen in number, white, speckled with red. They -rear two broods in a season. The young are strong -and lively, requiring little assistance from the old -ones, but living with them, as one family, through -the fall and winter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beside the usual chicking note of this bird, from -whence its name, it has a harsh angry tone, to express -anger or fright, and a kind of melancholy wail, -approaching a song. Sometimes its voice is said to -resemble the noise produced by sharpening a saw. -“These birds,” says Wilson, “sometimes fight violently -with each other, and are known to attack -young and sickly birds that are incapable of resistance, -always directing their blows against the skull. -Being in the woods one day, I followed a bird for -<span class='pageno' title='324' id='Page_324'></span> -some time, the singularity of whose notes surprised -me. Having shot him from off the top of a very tall -tree, I found it to be the Black-Headed Titmouse, -with a long and deep indentation in the cranium, the -skull having been evidently at some former time -drove in and fractured, but was now perfectly -healed. Whether or not the change of voice could -be owing to this circumstance, I cannot pretend to -decide.” The unnatural practice of destroying their -sick is however denied of these birds by late writers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Chicadee is five and a half inches in length, -and six in extent. The whole upper part of the head -and neck is black, and the body a mouse-color. It -has often been confounded with the European Marsh -Titmouse, but there seems good reason to consider -this as an error. The foreign bird is never seen in -flocks, frequents streams or water-courses, and has a -note quite different from that of the Chicadee. It is -also an inch shorter.</p> - -<hr class='tbk127'/> - -<div><h1><a id='ariel'></a>ARIEL IN THE CLOVEN PINE.</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 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'>Now the frosty stars are gone:</p> -<p class='line'>I have watched them, one by one,</p> -<p class='line'>Fainting on the shores of Dawn.</p> -<p class='line'>Round and full the glorious sun</p> -<p class='line'>Walks with level step the spray,</p> -<p class='line'>Through his vestibule of Day,</p> -<p class='line'>While the wolves that howled anon</p> -<p class='line'>Slink to dens and coverts foul,</p> -<p class='line'>Guarded by the demon owl,</p> -<p class='line'>Who, last night, with mocking croon</p> -<p class='line'>Wheeled athwart the chilly moon,</p> -<p class='line'>And with eyes that blankly glared</p> -<p class='line'>On my direful torment stared.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The lark is flickering in the light;</p> -<p class='line'>Still the nightingale doth sing—</p> -<p class='line'>All the isle, alive with Spring,</p> -<p class='line'>Lies, a jewel of delight</p> -<p class='line'>On the blue sea’s heaving breast:</p> -<p class='line'>Not a breath from out the West,</p> -<p class='line'>But some balmy smell doth bring</p> -<p class='line'>From the sprouting myrtle buds,</p> -<p class='line'>Or from meadows wide, that lie</p> -<p class='line'>Each a green and dazzling sky,</p> -<p class='line'>Paved with yellow cowslip-stars,</p> -<p class='line'>Cloud-like, crossed by roseate bars</p> -<p class='line'>Of the bloomy almond woods,</p> -<p class='line'>And lit, like heaven, with fairest sheen</p> -<p class='line'>Of the sun that hangs between.</p> -<p class='line'>All is life that I can spy,</p> -<p class='line'>To the farthest sea and sky,</p> -<p class='line'>And my own the only pain</p> -<p class='line'>Within this ring of Tyrrhene main.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>In the gnarled and cloven Pine</p> -<p class='line'>Where that hell-born hag did chain me,</p> -<p class='line'>All this orb of cloudless shine,</p> -<p class='line'>All this youth in Earth’s old veins</p> -<p class='line'>Tingling with the Spring’s sweet wine,</p> -<p class='line'>With a sharper torment pain me.</p> -<p class='line'>Pansies, in soft April rains</p> -<p class='line'>And April’s sun, from Thea’s lap</p> -<p class='line'>Fill their stalks with honeyed sap,</p> -<p class='line'>But the sluggish blood she brings</p> -<p class='line'>To the tough Pine’s hundred rings,</p> -<p class='line'>Closer locks their cruel hold,</p> -<p class='line'>Closer draws the scaly bark</p> -<p class='line'>Round my prison, lightning-riven;</p> -<p class='line'>So when Winter, wild and dark,</p> -<p class='line'>Vexes wave and writhing wold</p> -<p class='line'>And with murk vapor swathes the heaven,</p> -<p class='line'>I must feel the vile bat creep</p> -<p class='line'>In my narrow cleft, to sleep.</p> -<p class='line'>By this coarse and alien state</p> -<p class='line'>Is my dainty essence wronged;</p> -<p class='line'>The fine sense that erst belonged</p> -<p class='line'>To my nature, chafes at Fate,</p> -<p class='line'>Till the happier elves I hate,</p> -<p class='line'>Who in moonlight dances turn</p> -<p class='line'>Underneath the palmy fern,</p> -<p class='line'>Or in light and twinkling bands</p> -<p class='line'>Follow on with linked hands</p> -<p class='line'>To the Ocean’s yellow sands.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The primrose-bells each morning ope</p> -<p class='line'>In their cool, deep beds of grass;</p> -<p class='line'>Violets make the airs that pass</p> -<p class='line'>Tell-tales of their fragrant slope.</p> -<p class='line'>I can see them where they spring</p> -<p class='line'>Never brushed by fairy wing.</p> -<p class='line'>All those corners I can spy</p> -<p class='line'>In the island’s solitude,</p> -<p class='line'>Where the dew is never dry,</p> -<p class='line'>Nor the miser bees intrude.</p> -<p class='line'>Cups of rarest hue are there,</p> -<p class='line'>Full of perfumed wine undrained—</p> -<p class='line'>Mushroom banquets, ne’er profaned,</p> -<p class='line'>Canopied by maiden-hair.</p> -<p class='line'>Pearls I see upon the sands,</p> -<p class='line'>Never touched by other hands,</p> -<p class='line'>And the rainbow bubbles shine</p> -<p class='line'>On the ridged and frothy brine,</p> -<p class='line'>Tenantless of voyager</p> -<p class='line'>Till they burst in vacant air.</p> -<p class='line'>O the songs that sung might be</p> -<p class='line'>And the mazy dances woven,</p> -<p class='line'>Had that witch ne’er crossed the sea</p> -<p class='line'>And the Pine been never cloven!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Many years my direst pain</p> -<p class='line'>Has made the wave-rocked isle complain.</p> -<p class='line'>Winds, that from the Cyclades</p> -<p class='line'>Came, to ruffle with foul riot</p> -<p class='line'>Round its shore’s enchanted quiet,</p> -<p class='line'>Bore my waitings on the seas;</p> -<p class='line'>Sorrowing birds in Autumn went</p> -<p class='line'>Through the world with my lament.</p> -<p class='line'>Still the bitter fate is mine,</p> -<p class='line'>All delight unshared to see,</p> -<p class='line'>Smarting in the cloven Pine,</p> -<p class='line'>While I wait the tardy axe</p> -<p class='line'>Which, perchance, shall set me free</p> -<p class='line'>From the damned witch, Sycorax.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk128'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='325' id='Page_325'></span><h1><a id='rem'></a>REMINISCENCES;</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>OR AUNT ABBY’S PINCUSHION.</p> - -<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> - -<p class='pindent'>Reader, do you love old houses, old books, old -pieces of furniture, old chairs, in short, all the relics -of antiquity which fashionable people usually discard -and despise? If so, there is a bond of sympathy between -us, and I shall not be afraid to rake among the -cold ashes of the past for some unconsumed remnant -of other days, even though I find only trifles to reward -my search. The very table on which I write, -black with age, and wearing a polish which nothing -but years and years of manual labor could have given -it, owes its peculiar favor in my eyes to the fact of -its being more than a century old. What stories -could it not tell of days gone by; what reminiscences -of tea-drinkings, and christenings, and weddings, and -funerals must be imbedded in every pore of the old -mahogany!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But for real hearty enjoyment of such a taste for -homely antiquities, commend me to an old-fashioned -secretary, (<span class='it'>that</span> is the true name—<span class='it'>bureau</span> is but a -modern Gallicism,) with its desk, and pigeon-holes, -and secret-drawers, especially if it have been an -heirloom in possession of a maiden aunt, who died a -spinster of seventy-two, or thereabouts. What stores -of relics it contains—locks of hair taken from the -heads of pretty children, whom we only recollect as -wrinkled old bodies that seemed never to have been -young; mourning-rings, with obituary inscriptions -of persons whose existence we should never have -known but for this record of their death; golden -knee-buckles and sparkling paste shoe-buckles, reminding -us of the days when the dress of a gentleman -was hopelessly inimitable to the rowdies and -loafers of the period; fragments of wedding-gowns, -carefully rolled in bits of linen, yellow with age—preserved -in order to impress the next generation -with due respect for some wizened-up, childish old -lady, who was once a belle, and was married in a -dress of silver brocade.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Perhaps, too, there are more tender memorials -hidden in the secret drawer. Let us touch the spring, -and lo! what trophies of love’s power are there. -Shall we pause to read these verses? The ink is -almost faded out, the paper is falling to pieces in its -folds, and he who wrote, and she who with fluttering -heart first read those tender lines, have long since -been dirt and ashes. Here is a quaint old ring—two -hands clapped together, and within the circle an inscription -in old English characters—the single word, -“<span class='it'>Forever</span>.” She who once wore that ring was an -angel upon earth, and he who placed it there, lived -and died “as the beasts that perish;” will their union -be, indeed, <span class='it'>forever</span>? Look at that bracelet, woven of -soft, silken hair, its golden clasps are dimmed with -age, but the hair still wears its rich sunshiny lustre, -though she who bestowed it as a parting gift to a -sister, has been long a tenant of the tomb. What is -this, folded so carefully and so closely, like one of -the mummied mysteries of the pyramids? A curl, a -thick, dark curl—not the long flowing tress that -might have floated over woman’s graceful neck; -these crisped and glossy tendrils tell of the strength -and beauty of manhood. A faint perfume rises from -the inner folds of the envelope—the ashes of a rose -are there enclosed. And this is all! But what a -tale do these scanty memorials of a by-gone love impart -to the beholder! What matters it that the details -of the story are forgotten? What matters it whether -the lady or her lover were to blame? It was a -love tender and true, but yet unhappy, else wherefore -the curl of raven hair so carefully cherished, and -the dead rose so reverently buried beside the more -life-like memento? The love which brings happiness -becomes diffusive in its expression, and the love-tokens -of the youth and maiden are hidden, in after-days, -beneath the accumulation of affection’s later -offerings. But when one flower becomes the treasure -of a life-time; when one lock of hair is guarded like -the heart’s pearl of price, then be sure that the hallowing -touch of sorrow has been there. It is only -when grief and love go hand in hand, that trifles become -holy relics wherever they tread. Alas! do we -not all wear upon our hearts a reliquary, in which, impearled -with tears, and adorned with the fine gold of -our best affections, we have enshrined some fragment -of the past, whose value we alone can tell?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I am growing sad, serious, and, of course, dull; -yet the object which led me into this train of thought -was certainly not calculated to inspire any especial -exhibition of sentiment. I was rummaging in such -a secretary as I have described, when I accidentally -pulled out a round pincushion, banded with silver -about the middle, and attached to a substantial silver -chain, which terminated in a broad hook, for the purpose -of fastening it to the girdle of some thrifty -housewife. On the heavily-wrought circlet which -made the equinoctial line of the purple velvet globes -which had been doomed to do duty in so humble a -capacity, were the initials “<span class='it'>A. L.</span>,” and I at once -recognized it as the constant appendage of my respected -and venerated relative, Aunt Abby.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I had just been reading a paragraph respecting the -female clubs in Paris, and the sight of this relic of -old times, reminded me of the fact that poor Aunt -Abbey had lived just half a century too soon, for to -<span class='pageno' title='326' id='Page_326'></span> -the day of her death the old lady’s favorite topic of -conversation was the “equality of the sexes.” How -would she have rejoiced in the modern attempts to -enfranchise woman from her thraldom! how would -she have gloried in the idea of woman’s equal rights -of property! how would she have delighted in the -prospect of political privileges for her sex! how she -would have expatiated upon the benefits of a female -House of Representatives! Aunt Abby (my <span class='it'>great</span> -aunt, by the by) was emphatically an advocate for -woman’s “<span class='it'>standing alone</span>,” (I believe that is the -phrase among the reformers,) and certainly, though -she had a father, uncles, cousins, to say nothing -of a husband, she succeeded in “<span class='it'>standing alone</span>,” -to a certain extent, all her life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But what, you will say, had a disciple of progress, -a defender of woman’s rights, a declaimer against -woman’s slavery, to do with a <span class='it'>pincushion</span>? Let me -sketch her portrait at full length, and then you will -see how curiously she blended the duties and prerogatives -of both sexes in her own proper person.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Abigal, or, as she was usually called, Abby Leyburn, -was the only child of a learned and eccentric -clergyman, who, being disappointed in his hope of -exercising his theories of education on a son, chose -to educate his daughter after the manner of a boy. -Fortunately for him, the little girl possessed a singularly -strong and quick mind. She grasped at knowledge -as most children would at playthings, and imbibed -wisdom with as much zest as others would have -sucked an orange. Latin, Greek and Hebrew, mathematics, -moral philosophy, to say nothing of the -lighter accomplishments of botany, geology, and -natural history, were <span class='it'>among</span> the young lady’s acquirements. -Her father had determined to make her a -second Madame Dacier, and he really seemed likely -to find her a sort of female <span class='it'>Crichton</span>. Nor were -these all her acquisitions. The details of housekeeping, -the thrift, management, and tidiness necessary -to the comfort of American homes, was as easy -as the alphabet to Abby. She could knit, and spin, -and sew; she could bake, and brew, and cook; she -could milk, and churn, and make cheese; and nobody -could so effectually and rapidly “set things to -rights.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beside all this, Abby Leyburn, at twenty years of -age, was one of the handsomest girls in the country. -She was like nothing so much as the effigy of Britannia -on an English penny. Don’t laugh, reader, -the comparison is a highly complimentary one, but -lest you should not recollect the stately Mrs. Bull, I -will describe my heroine. Abby was just six feet -high, but magnificently proportioned, a perfect Juno -in form, with large black eyes, a high forehead, full -red lips, and a chin as massive and as despotic in its -expression as Napoleon’s. Her profile was superb—bold, -strongly-marked, but beautifully classical. Her -abundant hair, usually worn back from her brow, and -gathered into a knot at the back of her head, was -black as the crow’s wing. Her teeth were white, -strong, and somewhat pointed in shape, a peculiarity -which rather impaired the softness of her smile, inasmuch -as it was always associated with the beholder’s -remembrance of a somewhat similar conformation -in the dental perfections of the only wild animal who -has ever been accused of laughing—I mean the -hyena. Not that Abby bore the slightest resemblance -to the disagreeable creature just named. But her -smile certainly lacked that indefinable charm which -usually belongs to such pleasant demonstrations of -good humor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As a specimen of the human animal Abby was -perfect. The superb proportions of her well-rounded -figure, her complexion, pure, fresh, and radiant with -health, her firm step, quick, active motions, and -great strength of frame, combined to make her a -model of “<span class='it'>le grande <a id='and'></a>et beau physique</span>.” Add to -these personal attractions, her learning, and her domestic -accomplishments, and one might almost fancy -that Aunt Abby, in her younger days at least, came -near being</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“That faultless monster which the world ne’er saw.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>What did she lack? you will ask. Certainly not -virtues, for she abounded in them. No; her defects -were of a very different character. She had every -thing that one would consider desirable; but Aunt -Abby lacked “one sweet weakness.” There was -the difficulty. She had no <span class='it'>weaknesses</span>. That magnificent -person of hers was brimful of strong, stubborn -intellect. If she had a heart, it was only a piece -of mechanism, necessary to the workings of the -human machine. The brain—the strong, massive, -abundant brain, which lay behind that immense forehead, -was the only motive power which she acknowledged. -Had she no benevolence, no kindly -impulses, no yearning tenderness of soul, no sentiment? -Not an atom of either; yet she did the most -benevolent things in the world, lavished kindness -upon all who deserved it, was full of gentleness toward -little children, and, if judged by her deeds, -would have seemed overflowing with the milk of -human kindness. But still it was the dictates of that -cold despotic intellect which she obeyed. “People -must be in want, and must be relieved by those who -had means. Humanity was full of suffering—the -healthy must look after the sick. Little children are -incipient men and women, therefore must be taken -care of. Sentiment was but the <span class='it'>penumbra</span>, the -shadow of a shadow as unsubstantial as itself.” Such -were among the apothegms of this singular woman. -Reversing the established axiom, that “there is nothing -in the intellect which does not come by the -senses,” she seemed to assert that “there was nothing -in the senses which did not come by the intellect.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Mr. Leyburn held the office of president over -one of the few institutions of learning then in America, -Abby had ample opportunity for displaying her talents -and beauty to the admiring eyes of sundry young -students. But Abby had no personal vanity; she -knew she was handsome, just as she knew she was -strong and robust, and she would have scorned the -idea of being a belle. The young men, although -belonging to that peculiarly inflammable species -known by the name of “College Boys,” would as -<span class='pageno' title='327' id='Page_327'></span> -soon have thought of falling in love with the stone -image of Minerva on the college-green, as with the -president’s learned daughter. There was something -in her sturdy good sense which everybody rather -liked, yet the want of softness and pliability in her -character excited a certain dread in all who came -near her. Gifted with peculiar powers both of mind -and body, she had no compassion for feebleness of -frame or infirmity of purpose, for she had no clear -perception of such things. Her intellect was like a -telescope through which she could examine the -grand and the remote, but she could not use it as a -microscope to examine the littlenesses of humanity. -It is only through the sympathies of the heart that we -learn respect for the sufferings, or compassion for -the weaknesses of our fellows—and Abby Leyburn -had no sympathies, except those of the brain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Perfectly self-possessed, because thoroughly conscious -of her own vast superiority, and utterly indifferent -as to the impression she was likely to make, -Abby’s manners in society had all the elegance and -nonchalant ease which fashion tries so hard to teach. -She conversed exceedingly well on all subjects, and -possessed the gift (most rare among talented women) -of making herself as agreeable to her own sex, as to -the men. Everybody admired her, yet everybody -feared her; everybody acknowledged her rare powers, -yet everybody kept at a certain distance. “He -comes too near who comes to be denied,” so says -one of the wits and demi-reps of a past age; but -Abby never suffered any one to reach the confines -of <span class='it'>Love-Land</span>, and, of course, none ever attained to -<span class='it'>Declaration Point</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is difficult to imagine a character like that of -Aunt Abby. A woman without softness, and tenderness, -and sentiment, seems such an anomaly, that -we are tempted to doubt the probability of her possessing -any of the qualities we seek in woman. But -Abby had all the necessary knowledge of womanly -duties, all the considerateness we look for in woman, -all the attention to detail which is a woman’s peculiar -province, and withal was possessed of the most indomitable -good humor. She was sententious, because -every truth became, in her mind, an axiom, to be -stowed away in the smallest possible space; she was -dogmatic, because her opinions were made up by her -own unaided reflection, and were not to be changed -or modified by words. Her self-esteem was prodigious; -it was not the puny vanity which is so often -dignified with such a title, it was rather a magnificent -<span class='it'>Johnsonesque</span> self-appreciation, precisely like that -which looms so grandly beside the vain pettinesses -of the biographer of the great lexicographer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was certainly a great puzzle to every one. A -woman who could quote Longinus, read Homer, expound -a disputed text in the Hebrew Bible, chop -logic with the most caviling acuteness, and talk of -the Differential Calculus as if it were the last new -poem, was certainly something of a wonder; but -when that same woman was seen seated on the -milking-stool, or standing at the churn, or presiding -over a blazing oven, or, broom in hand, raising motes -in the sunbeams by her vigorous attack upon the -“dust of the schools,” or displaying the beauty of -her Juno-like figure, as she paced to and from the -huge spinning-wheel; she was certainly a <span class='it'>world’s</span> -wonder. There is a half-remembered story of Aunt -Abby’s spirit, which no one dares to talk of openly; -but it is believed that a certain gentleman, now high -in civic honors, received, when a youth of twenty, -a severe <span class='it'>caning</span> from the lady, in consequence of -some impertinence, offered when under the influence -of a deep potation. But this may be only a piece of -scandal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The circumstances of Aunt Abby’s marriage were -as peculiar as were her own traits of character. -Among the students of the college was a young gentleman -of large fortune and fine talents, who was -afflicted with a constitutional timidity and nervousness -that paralyzed all his powers. He was the only -child of a widowed mother, who had foolishly resisted -the boy’s wish to go to school. He had therefore -remained at home under the charge of tutors, -and when the death of his mother released him from -her affectionate tyranny, he entered college only to -find himself inferior in attainments to every one else, -and a perfect butt, from his timid shyness. He was -full of poetry and sentiment. Among realities he -was lost and bewildered, but in the world of fancy -he was a hero even to himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To a gay set of frolicksome students nothing could -offer better game than the mental and personal peculiarities -of the rich young Southerner, who rejoiced -in the name of Sampson Terricott, (a name soon -transmuted into Sampson Tear-your-coat) by his -companions. Nothing could be more ludicrous than -the association of such a name with such a person. -The redoubtable Sampson was some five feet four -inches in height, with an exceedingly slight figure, -small features of the style usually designated as -“<span class='it'>snub-faced</span>,” with a skim-milk complexion, and -hair of that <span class='it'>sun-burned</span> flaxen color, so common -among hatless country urchins. His voice was a -piping treble, with an occasional tone in it like that -of a cracked penny-trumpet. His hands and feet -were ridiculously small, and when attired in his -college-gown, it required but little caricaturing to -draw his portrait in a style decidedly feminine, yet -decidedly like. He received all kinds of nicknames -for his personal peculiarities, but, perhaps, none -annoyed him more than the <span class='it'>soubriquet</span> of “Miss -Dalilah,” which was generally bestowed upon him. -Yet a mind filled with images of beauty was hidden -beneath this unpromising exterior. He had no force -of character, no iron strength of intellect, but he had -an unbounded imagination, and an unlimited reach -of vision into spiritualities. He was a poet, but -lacking the key to a poet’s harmonies of utterance, -he expended his strength in the beautiful cloud-land -of metaphysics and became a moral philosopher.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Like all diminutive men Sampson had a decided -partiality for large women. The colossal beauty of -Abby Leyburn had struck him when he first beheld -her, and he loved nothing so well as to contemplate -her from a distance, being quite too timid to address -himself to her. Now there was in Abby a certain -<span class='pageno' title='328' id='Page_328'></span> -propensity that might almost be called compassion -toward little people. She regarded them as a huge -Newfoundland dog often looks upon a poodle—their -very insignificance and feebleness seemed a claim -upon her protection. It had often been remarked -that Miss Leyburn showed especial favor to those -whom she denominated “the <span class='it'>poor little</span> fellows,” and -no one was surprised, therefore, to find her taking -a great fancy to Sampson Terricott. There was -something so appealing in his manner, such a tacit -acknowledgment of inferiority in his humble demeanor, -such an irresistible claim to tender treatment -in his timid little voice and stammering speech, -that Abby at once took to him as to one of those -“incurables” for whom the world is a hospital, and -every charitable person ought to be a nurse. To the -gentle Sampson the lady became “like the shadow -of a great rock in a weary land.” She overshadowed -him so completely that he could find repose and refreshment -in her presence. Instead of attempting to -be any thing, or do any thing, or say any thing, he -gave himself up to the enjoyment of a consciousness -of perfect insignificance as compared with the -splendid creature, who could excel any and every -body. It was a comfort to see everybody look small -in her presence, but to the nervous student it was a -positive luxury to <span class='it'>feel small</span>, without being mortified -and disgraced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sampson was not in love with his Minerva, he had -no sentiment, no passionate longings for any thing -which the world of reality could afford. His loves -were all idealities, and could not be prisoned in flesh. -But with the same weak fondness that had once tied -him to his mother’s apron-string, he submitted to the -guidance of Abby Leyburn. What were Abby’s -motives for troubling herself with little Sampson no -one knew or cared; but when it was known that she -was soon to become Mrs. Terricott, everybody -thought that the large fortune of the tiny lover would -account for the whole affair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As usual, the world was mistaken. Abby was as -free from all mercenary feelings as she was from all -other frailties. But she had her own notions about -doing good. She saw in Sampson Terricott a highly -imaginative and gifted man, wasting mental power -in immature schemes which his timidity thwarted in -their very outset, and suffering a fine fortune to be -idle in his hands for want of energy to take up his -stewardship. He was weak in health, and subject -to attacks of morbid spirits which sometimes threatened -his reason. In a word, Abby saw that he wanted -some one to take care of him, and she fixed upon -herself as the fittest person. She was now nine-and-twenty, -in the full bloom of health and beauty, and, -as she argued, “if society provides no other resource -for destitute females than marriage, I must marry, or -at my father’s death find myself a beggar.” Having -come to this conclusion, she decided that, as the -giving herself a master was out of the question, and -the idea of possessing a slave in her husband was -equally disagreeable, she had better divide the difference, -and unite herself to one who needed a -stronger nature on which to rest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How the courtship was managed no one ever knew. -I am inclined to think there was not much love-making, -and from the kind of dreamy surprise which -Sampson exhibited when questioned about his engagement, -it is presumed he was scarcely conscious -of his own happiness. People said that Miss Leyburn, -reversing the usual order of things, had popped -the question to Sampson, who stammered out, “Yes,” -through sheer fright. The probability is that he did -exactly as she directed him. She gave him to understand -she meant to marry him, and if he offered no -resistance, feeling rather pleased at being relieved -from responsibility for the rest of his life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were married in the chapel of the college, -and the half-suppressed glee of the saucy students -may be imagined. All the blank walls about the -college were filled with caricatures, illustrative of -the one idea, “<span class='it'>paired, not matched</span>.” One of these -charcoal libels was particularly annoying, it represented -a nondescript and beautiful winged animal—a -Hippogriff—with the face of a woman, curving her -proud neck beneath a rein held in the hands of -Apollo, while directly beneath was a second representation -of the same magnificent creature tamely -yoked with an ox to the plough.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Abby cared little for these things, and she -would not suffer her husband to pay any attention to -them. She made him one of the best wives in the -world, and though she was ten years his elder, and -thrice as big as he, nobody ever believed that he -repented the step he had taken. Their home was at -the South, and, during her husband’s lifetime, Abby -never paid a visit to her early friends. But she was -visited by her family connections, and we younger -members of the circle were often entertained in -childhood by the accounts of Aunt Abby’s splendid -service of gold-plate, her massive silver ewers and -basins in every dressing-room, her Turkey carpets -and rich hangings of Gobelin tapestry, and all the -paraphernalia of great wealth and magnificent tastes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Terricott died, she exhibited her peculiarities -of character still more strikingly. She knew people -had accused her of marrying for money, and she -therefore induced him to make a will, bestowing all -his large property upon his own relatives, with the -exception of a life-annuity of a thousand dollars to -his widow. “I don’t want his money,” she said, -“I took good care of him while he lived, and if he -did not become a great man, it was no fault of mine. -He was rich, and I used his money freely, because -he liked to see fine things and good things around -him; but now I have no occupation here, and so I -shall go back to my old home, and ‘live along.’ -I dare say something will be given me to do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So she buried her poor little Sampson, handed over -his property to the heirs, and with the first instalment -of her annuity in her pocket, came to take up -her abode in ——. But her father had been dead for -many years, and the place was filled with new -people who knew little of her history or of her character. -She soon became disgusted with her new -home, and removing to New York, established herself -there for the rest of her life. In her later years -<span class='pageno' title='329' id='Page_329'></span> -she gave up taking exercise daily, and in consequence -of this she grew immensely large. I have -the faintest shadow of a reminiscence respecting -her personal appearance at that time. I was a -child of perhaps five years old, and had a dear -old aunt, who was as little as a fairy, and almost -as benevolent. This kind little old body once -took me to see our great Aunt Abby; but my -head was crammed full of fairy legends and nursery -tales, and when I saw an immensely large, fat woman -sitting in a chair from which she could not lift -her ponderous form, and met the full stare of her great -black eyes, I thought of the Ogress who always -devoured little children, and immediately set up such -a howl of terror that I was sent away in disgrace. -She died not long afterward, having lived to count -her <span class='it'>ninetieth</span> birthday. Her disinterestedness left her -no fortune to bestow on her relatives, and but for her -profile, (which, cut in black paper, hangs in an attic -room,) her pincushion, and the traditions which remain -in the family respecting her, all trace of her has -vanished from the earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Poor Aunt Abby! she used to shock the women of -her time by talking of women’s rights, and was -guilty once of the enormity of wishing to be Pope of -Rome, in order to carry out some scheme for the -advancement of woman’s social position. She talked -of <span class='it'>freedom</span> until some pious prudes really suspected -she meant <span class='it'>license</span>, and she predicted that the time -would come when the genius of woman would rise -superior to the imposed trammels of sex. She should -have lived in the present age, when she would have -seen woman’s struggles for emancipation, as exhibited -in the French female clubs, and the German free -associations, to say nothing of the free inquirers and -declaimers against female slavery in this country. -She should have lived till now to exhibit a rare and -peculiar instance of masculine power submitting -itself cheerfully to feminine duties; and perhaps the -knowledge that Aunt Abby, with all her mental, -moral, and physical perfections, lived and died unloving -and unloved, might go far toward settling the -question of <span class='it'>woman’s rights</span>, and make her quite -satisfied with her easily accorded <span class='it'>privileges</span>.</p> - -<hr class='tbk129'/> - -<div><h1><a id='part'></a>PARTING.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>INSCRIBED TO MY SISTER ADELA M. WADSWORTH.</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. LYDIA JANE PEIRSON.</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'>Parting! Oh, is it not the bitterness</p> -<p class='line'>  Of life, and death? It were small agony</p> -<p class='line'>If we and those we love—heart pressed to heart—</p> -<p class='line'>  With loving words, and blended prayers, could die.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>’Tis not the rending of the strings of life</p> -<p class='line'>  That makes death terrible. The mental pain</p> -<p class='line'>Is parting from our dear and beautiful,</p> -<p class='line'>  Who weep, and pray—and bid us live in vain.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>It is not that we fear to close our eyes,</p> -<p class='line'>  And rest from life’s long labor, that we cling</p> -<p class='line'>To pain and weakness. ’Tis fond human love</p> -<p class='line'>  Which binds our soul with many a quivering string.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>To know that we shall never look again</p> -<p class='line'>  Into those loving eyes—shall never hear</p> -<p class='line'>Again those sweet-toned voices—never clasp</p> -<p class='line'>  Again those forms, so tender, and so dear.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Yes—parting is the bitterness of death—</p> -<p class='line'>  And life is full of parting. Day by day</p> -<p class='line'>We see the cherished of our homes depart,</p> -<p class='line'>  As fledglings from the bird-nests flit away.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The cherished ones, whom we have called our own,</p> -<p class='line'>  And loved so many years, that they have grown</p> -<p class='line'>Into our hearts, and so become a part</p> -<p class='line'>  Of all that we have felt, or done, or known.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The ever-present with us, who were wont</p> -<p class='line'>  To greet us every morning, with a smile,—</p> -<p class='line'>To answer to our voices all day long,—</p> -<p class='line'>  And cheer us with love’s sunlight all the while.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Each hath a separate mission to fulfill,</p> -<p class='line'>  And when their path diverges from our own,</p> -<p class='line'>And they have said farewell! and turned away</p> -<p class='line'>  From our embrace—oh, then, we are <span class='it'>alone!</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>We miss them in all places, everywhere,</p> -<p class='line'>  And feel a shadow, and an emptiness</p> -<p class='line'>Forever by our side—but most of all</p> -<p class='line'>  In the departed one’s accustomed place.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>We turn to speak to them—they are not there—</p> -<p class='line'>  The thought we would have uttered curdles back</p> -<p class='line'>Upon our heart, a stifling agony—</p> -<p class='line'>  We turn our tearful gaze along the track</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>By which the dear one went—’tis desolate—</p> -<p class='line'>  Our home—our heart—our world is desolate—</p> -<p class='line'>In all the places where our joy has been</p> -<p class='line'>  Dark shades, and weeping memories, congregate.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But when our only one—the dearest, best,</p> -<p class='line'>  The angel of our household, bids good-bye</p> -<p class='line'>And goes forth weeping—then the tortured heart</p> -<p class='line'>  Reels with the anguish of the broken tie.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Yes—parting is the bitterness of life—</p> -<p class='line'>  The agony of death—the ban of earth—</p> -<p class='line'>The inevitable doom—to love—to part—</p> -<p class='line'>  Is the condition of our human birth.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Thank God! there is a world where loved ones meet</p> -<p class='line'>  In perfect beauty, and unclouded joy,</p> -<p class='line'>Where all is love—where parting never comes</p> -<p class='line'>  The everlasting rapture to destroy.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk130'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i127.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0008' style='width:550px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk131'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='330' id='Page_330'></span><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='mont'></a>MONTGOMERY’S HOUSE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>THE HEAD-QUARTERS OF GENERAL JACKSON AT THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS.</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'>By the courtesy of Mr. J. R. Smith, the artist, we -are permitted to present our readers with another -view of a remarkable place. It is Montgomery’s -House, occupied by General Jackson as his headquarters -at the time of the celebrated Battle of New -Orleans, January 8, 1815. It is surrounded by a -splendid garden and grounds, and a beautiful grove -of cedars, which in this latitude grow to an immense -size. The line of intrenchments running up the -lane by Montgomery’s House back to the cedar -swamp can still be distinctly traced. Farther down -on the banks of the river Mississippi are four live-oak -trees, of immense size, forming a square, and -hanging with Spanish moss. Beneath these trees -the British commander, General Packenham, expired -and was laid out. The spot is a favorite resort of -curious visiters from the city, who go to examine -the battle-ground. Below this is a splendid building, -called the Battle-Ground Sugar Refinery, on the rear -of which is a group of willows, with a mound in the -centre, and surrounded by water. Here are buried -the 2000 British warriors who were slain in the -battle of the 8th of January. A planter’s house near -the spot was occupied, previously to the action, by -General Packenham as his head-quarters. All these -objects form very suitable subjects for the pencils of -our artists; and we are only surprised that they have -not been drawn, engraved and familiarized to the -public long ago.</p> - -<hr class='tbk132'/> - -<div><h1><a id='edi'></a>EDITOR’S TABLE.</h1></div> - -<hr class='tbk133'/> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_14'>GOING AROUND THE HORN.</h2> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i130f.jpg'><img src='images/i130.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0009' style='width:490px;height:auto;'/></a> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='bold'>THE DIRECT ROAD TO FORTUNE.</span></span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The search after the philosopher’s stone, after having -vexed the crucibles, and puzzled the brains of alchemists -for ages, is about to be rewarded with success. The New -Eldorado promises wonders as great, and riches as abundant, -as the most vigilant of dreamers could imagine. -The phrase “untold gold” is meaningless now, for nothing -but gold is talked of, and the wealth, which was -significant of immensity, when coupled with “iron -chests,” and “bank vaults,” is sicklied over, and feeble, -when contrasted with the fields of gold which glitter over -<span class='pageno' title='331' id='Page_331'></span> -thousands of square miles. The very idea of “10,000 a -year” has become paltry—it is but the cost of a dish of -bean-soup in California—suggestive of utter poverty—the -daily scrapings of the poorest and most indigent digger, -self-sold into slavery at the mines. The man who -owns a square of brick houses is nobody; an empty braggart, -beside him who sits upon golden rocks, with a cigar -in his mouth, overlooking acres of the shining metal. The -very millionaire who used to strut about consequentially, -with his hands thrust into his pockets significantly, may -be hooted now by the veriest sweep in California, as a -vulgar ragamuffin, who would scarce have money enough -to pay his board there on Saturday night, and would be -utterly at the mercy of his landlady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Girard College, as a building, is very well, too, in its -way, as reminding us of an old gentleman who spent half -a century in picking up gold flakes, one at a time, with -his fingers; a plodding, careful old chap, who lacked the -creative faculty altogether, and had no idea of cradles and -basins. His school-house on the Ridge Road will do very -well as a specimen of primitive architecture, and might -answer very well as a sort of outhouse to the palaces that -we <span class='it'>will have</span> in California—a very good stable for the -Master of Hounds to Col. Mason, or some other grandee—but -as it stands, it is <span class='it'>now</span> a shocking evidence of parsimony, -utterly disgraceful to the spirit of the age. A sort of lame -and impotent conclusion to a long life foolishly spent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The far-famed Genoese must have been a dull fellow, -or he would have cast anchor in the Pacific, near San -Francisco, instead of sailing about to no purpose. It is a -wonder, too, how he could have been so stupid, when -there are so many routes to this desirable haven. He certainly -must have been a bad navigator, too, or he would -have got around the Horn, some how, at some time. But -it was reserved for the adventurous sons of Jonathan to -make the successful voyage, and with <span class='it'>the sword</span> to cut the -way to fortune; and instead of diverging like radii from -a common centre, to take the outermost limit, and to claim -as his own all that he walked around and into. Showing -conclusively that instead of bothering one’s brain about getting -on the right side of a question, the safest plan is to -get around it, and capture it by force of arms, as the Irish -policeman did with the mob. It saves a vast deal of hair-splitting, -in argument, and of irrelevant discussion, first -to knock down your man, and then pinion him. Or like the -Cockney sportsman, who winged the farmer’s goose, to say -that you “only came out for the sport, and now that you -have hit the bird, you have no objection to <span class='it'>buy him</span>.” -Jonathan in this case, and in this way, seems to have -bagged the one that laid the golden eggs, which we used -to read of in the nursery, and a whole army of his sons -are now rifling her nest. She must have left behind her -a prolific brood if she satisfies the whole of them. The -veriest “madness of the moon,” must impart a feeble -pulse, compared with the fever which Jonathan’s lucky -hit has created in the whole family. Homeopathy is -totally at fault in this disease. Nothing but very violent -depletion will answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The whole body of family physicians, and nurses of the -body politic, have their hands full, and the multifarious -practice sets at naught the popular idea of perfection, as -a necessary consequence. It is gratifying to know, however, -that in the absence of consistent and regular treatment, -the popular remedy applied in its early stages is -conducive to longevity and temperance—those who suffer -severely from the fever here, and become exceedingly -dry in consequence, are cured effectually by <span class='sc'>Going -around the Horn</span>. Lying water-logged under the Tropics -being rather a different thing from “getting up a -breeze” at home, and being eminently suggestive of -sobriety of thought, and of taking their cue from facts, -and not from “Q Brandy” continually. Young gentlemen -whose systems were here so relaxed, that nothing -but taking a horn two or three times before dinner could -impart to them sufficient energy to attend to out-of-door -business, go around it, and give it a wide berth in the hot -latitudes—shut their ears to all hints about the nervous -system, and with a hardihood and self command, acquired -within view of sharks and yellow fever, brave danger -without stimulus, and fatigue without “having a gale.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Under the tropics, too, young men, who have at home -found no difficulty in getting three sheets in the wind, -have rather an aerial difficulty in getting a flowing -sail, and with plenty of steam on board, in the absence of -propellers, decline all invitation to steam it, “to drive -dull care away”—the trouble greatest, for the time, being -to get away themselves. The boys who often declared in -the hours of midnight that they were the particular individuals -who feared no noise, and who would not go home -till morning, wish themselves very quietly dozing there, -and are perfectly subdued and indolent under the Equator -in a three days’ calm, and do not insist upon “three -more—and again,” so that they have an opportunity of -candid inquiry and sober reflection, which may be serviceable—promotive -of a thirst for cold water, and an abhorrence -of dark brandy, in a “<span class='it'>sun</span>ny” clime. We do not -see why something cannot be done for Temperance in this -way, as well as not. People talk very disparagingly -about “whipping the devil round the stump,” but so that -the old scoundrel gets soundly thrashed at last, I never -could see that the <span class='it'>modus operandi</span> is so particularly important.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, without pursuing this question, or glancing at the -disappointment of the adventurer—the long days of toil -in unhealthy waters—the burning heat of the sun—the -chilling nights on a dreary soil—the fevers of the mind as -well as of the body—the hope deferred—the horror of being -mixed with such society—the desolation of all good -that he must see around him, mingling with the memory -of the calm delights, the peaceful repose, the joys and -purity of home—the glad eyes of sister or mother left behind, -but now seemingly looking out sadly upon the -scene—the longings for that paradise once more, where in -boyhood he put up a prayer at the parental knee:—Without -speaking of all this, is the reward, reader, worthy of -your sacrifice or of mine, of present comforts and present -friends. I think not. The road to fortune, to honorable -advancement, is open and plainly marked here, and beaten -as it is, with the tread of many feet, it offers far greater -chances of success than all the sparkling sands of California, -mixed as they are with all that is vile and unworthy. -In that immense crowd of adventurers, which is -pouring in from every clime, virtue and goodness will be -but as pearls dropped into the sea—selfishness unmitigated, -vice unabashed, and even red-handed murder, will -rear aloft their hideous forms, overawing all decency, and -setting at naught “all law, all precedent, all right.” The -very absence of all female restraint, their tender charities, -and gentle generosities and affections, and noble self -sacrifices, which knit the bands of society together and -render man human, will there cause to be let loose all the -savage passions and instincts of our natures, and a vast -army of unprincipled men, fierce in the pursuit of wealth, -unrelenting in their towering selfishness as the grave, -will make California a second Pandemonium. What is -all the gold of the earth, in a land of wrong and violence, -and that smells of blood heaven-high, with the whole atmosphere -below tainted with its appalling odor?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No! let <span class='it'>us</span> stay at home, and cultivate habits of industry, -economy and temperance. With a vigilant eye and a -<span class='pageno' title='332' id='Page_332'></span> -steady step pursue the path which has been marked out -for us to tread through life—never swerving from our duty -to the allurements of pleasure—or by the discouragements -of defeat—but up and on! fearless, determined, brave; -looking all danger manfully in the face; grappling with -all difficulties, if not with the strength, with the determination -of giants to overcome; never growing faint or -weary in well doing—and my life for it, in ten years you -will not exchange places with the proudest aristocrat in -California, whose heart and brain have been seared in the -acquisition of wealth. Above all things, let those of us -who stay behind imitate the self command of the adventurers -who have gone, and go boldly and resolutely -“<span class='sc'>Around the Horn</span>” here, and depend upon it, we shall -find that the true philosopher’s stone—the real Eldorado—the -place where we may truly enjoy the horn of Plenty -and the cup of Peace, <span style='font-size:smaller'>IS AT HOME</span>—<span style='font-size:smaller'>AROUND OUR OWN -HEARTH-STONE</span>—where the light of kind eyes, and the -prayers of warm and true hearts ascend to heaven with -our own, for guidance and protection.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>G. R. G.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_15'>THE PHILADELPHIA DAILY PRESS.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The North American.</span>—The very head and front of -the offending party journals, oracular, dignified, and eminently -solemn. Doctor Bird’s leaders have a stately look -in solid column, and his political articles read as if they -had been subjected to a very patient drill before showing -themselves to the public eye; but his fine genius flashes -out the moment he touches a congenial subject. Of all -American writers we look upon him as the best qualified -to conduct a literary journal, or a monthly review. But, -alas! he is a martyr, who must groan under the daily responsibilities -of a party organ, with a hearty disrelish of its -duties. Why should two such men as Bird and Bryant -be sold into slavery in politics, and be thus comparatively -lost to the lovers of polite literature? “Independent,” -the Washington correspondent of the journal, dashes in -like Saladin, and wo to the Christian who gets a full stroke -of his <a id='sci'></a>scimitar; he is cloven to the chin, or has something -to nurse and to remember. His egotism has been objected -to by those who dislike his slashing style, but that, as much -as his correctness of information, has given his correspondence -character. He is at least fearless in the use of -his weapon, and strikes at high and low with equal -strength and temerity. Hennis gives us once in a while -his touching little essays, conceived in the quiet beauty of -Mr. Chandler’s style—the Gamaliel at whose feet he sat -and learned. For the rest, we do not like the paper. It is -heavy, cautious, and cruelly cold and selfish.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The Inquirer.</span>—The model of a daily family paper, -marked by continued and unwearied industry, and beaming -with the kindly nature of its editor. Its ample pages are -crowded with well-chosen selections and active scissoring -of news paragraphs; not, however, always carefully -pruned and clipped down. It is only once in a while that -Mr. Morris shows us that he can write, and his Saturday -Readings are full of the warm impulses and genuine kindness -of the man, but are written more for purposes of good -than to display his powers. Occasionally he warms up -in his general articles, and lets out a spark or two, shows -us a glimpse of the wealth he hoards, and causes us to -wish for continued examples of the ability he possesses. -In his political leaders he sometimes is forced by unfair -opponents into a little causticity at the opening of his -article, but he relents before he gets through, and will -most likely give his “friend” a chance to back out of his -blunder. He has not the heart, though he possesses the -strength, to press his antagonist to the wall, and to pin -him there. Mr. Morris has an agreeable, ready and -devoted coadjutor in Mr. Crump, a man of various -learning and diligent application. This journal is shockingly -“made up,” to our taste, and is all over disfigured -with staring black head-lines, which look to our eye like -the sable of a hearse—its “<span class='it'>postscript</span>” is our particular -horror.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The Daily News.</span>—The absence of Judge Conrad from -the daily press seems to have reinvigorated his powers, -and has given additional force to his pen, and fire to his -thoughts; like an unprisoned eagle, with a spring he darts -to the skies and gazes in the sun. Some of the finest -articles he ever wrote have appeared in the News. Every -subject that Judge Conrad touches, seems to have been -fused, as in a furnace, and the metal flies off in lumps -from his gigantic mind. His intellect illumes and pervades -every part of his subject, and when he drops it, there -is nothing more to be said. His compact, all-grasping -sentences, may furnish subjects for whole leaders to others, -but the vitality has been extracted, and any treatment of -the topic is tame and impotent in contrast. He does not, -however, always seem to know the power of the words -he uses, and will give a whack with his sledge-hammer -with a will at a fly, which would effectually knock down -an ox. Hence he should never write short paragraphs -upon unimportant topics—his style is too ponderous. The -News, as a political sheet, is well managed, barring some -desire, occasionally manifested, to pull, for personal ends, -the strings of its influence; but it is sadly deficient in -mercantile news and facts. At this writing, too, it is -shamefully brought out, and is made up as if the matter -had been sifted over the form, and then locked-up and -printed, and very badly printed at that. Mr. Sanderson -should look to this, for the general editing of his News is -too good to come before the public under so great a disadvantage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The Public Ledger.</span>—Unquestionably the best penny -paper that has ever been established—showing in all its -appointments the very perfection of mechanical execution, -and in its news collection and collation, sleepless enterprise -and vigilance, as well as persevering ability. Its -leaders are unequal, for the most part written with great -force and adroitness, upon topics familiar or of practical -utility, but occasionally insufferably stupid and dull. On -scientific topics it affects the <span class='it'>ultra</span>-learned. We always -drop the Ledger when it gets upon “oligies.” Mr. Lane, -whose quiet humor occasionally gleams out in his short -editorial articles, like lightning from the edge of a summer -cloud, is unquestionably the <span class='it'>best</span> news man in our daily -press; clear and discriminative, you always find in his -columns all that ought to be said of any and every news -fact, and no more. A nicety of judgment very rarely -attained, and never in our experience so fully, as in the -case of the late Mr. Holden of the Courier.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The Sun.</span>—Graced by a good humor that no annoyance -can ruffle, but occasionally inclined to mischief. -Carelessly giving a whack, regardless of consequences, -and forgetting it at the same instant. We regard Mr. -Wallace as a most able man in any paper; enduring, persevering, -and always on the alert. We know of no one -in his department of a newspaper who can for so long a -time continue to perform downright hard, honest good -labor. His nerves and his temper are equally enduring. -He appears to have been born where they sing “Old Virginy -never tire,” and to have lived through life, the music, -the temper, and the sentiment of the song. The topmost -bubble of his heart always sparkles. He is, too, what we -like, a pretty good hater, though with a good deal more -philosophy than is often practiced, in taking his revenges. -With <span class='it'>his</span> editorials, his <span class='sc'>Son</span> makes a capital newspaper, -agreeable, gossipy and gay. The news is filled in with -<span class='pageno' title='333' id='Page_333'></span> -the coolness of an experienced hand, and with the uprightness -and newspaper devotion of his father, he will -one day stand as <span class='it'>high</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The Pennsylvanian.</span>—Col. Forney is the best political -editor that his party has ever had in Philadelphia—discerning, -prompt and fearless. He deals, however, too -much in light skirmishing, and pops his enemy off once in -a while from an unsuspected cedar-bush, merely to show -the accuracy of his aim. But he is an able tactician, and -when he <span class='it'>does</span> close fairly, his opponent finds him a tough -and sinewy customer. His articles seem for the most part -to have been dashed off at a heat, and lack the polishing -touch. He often, too, uses a hard word for its sound -where another would be more effective. Occasionally he -sits down in earnest, blocks out his ground, and makes -sore and steady advances; and especially when he has -occasion to defend Mr. Buchanan, his intellect is fully -aroused and on the alert—he then writes with his full -vigor and spirit, and writes well. His partner, Mr. -Hamilton, is one of the most capable business printers that -we know, and every thing in his department is marked -by exactness and proficiency. The press-work of the -Pennsylvanian, on each issue, is what the magazines -would call “a specimen number.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The Times.</span>—A jaunty, crotchetty, impudent little -sheet, filled with quibs and quirks, and a sort of laughing -philosophy that shouts over seriousness. Its editor, would, -if he could, go to his own funeral dressed in ribbons, and -wearing a look of rejoicing. He has the happiness of -never seeming for a moment anxious; and you might as -well punch at a wreath of smoke with a foil, as attempt -to interest him in a serious controversy. He will answer -your arguments with a pun, your serious reasoning with -a laugh, and will set ridiculously on end your most carefully -rounded sentence, and go to hacking at its grammar. -Having got you out of humor, he will decline all controversy -with you, if you cannot observe the decencies and -proprieties. So that the man who urges a controversy -with Du Solle, has his anger for his pains, and is fuming -while he is chatting and laughing unconcernedly upon -some other more agreeable topic. Yet the Times has never -given him scope to show the real ability and general information -he possesses. He should be in the Ledger with -Lane, he would settle the “ologies” in short metre.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The Bulletin.</span>—Our only evening paper, but managed -with great enterprise and vigor. Mr. Peterson’s strong -Saxon words and nervous style, combined with his various -and correct learning, make the leading articles of this -journal among the ablest that we read anywhere, and have -stamped a high value upon the leading column. There -is a want of editorial tact in its less imposing, but equally -important digest of news and facts. It has all the news, -but it has it in bulk, and looks at times, with its heavy, -solid <a id='non'></a>nonpareil, like a little man covered with black -patches, or as if part of the paper had gone into mourning -for the absence of an itemizer. It is always up, however, -to the full requirements of the public in its telegraphic despatches, -and it <span class='it'>had</span>—what has become of him—the writer -of money articles that was most regarded here. For the -rest, it affects a very nice morality in regard to the theatres, -which we do not like, and do not pretend to understand. -It is too deep for us. It <span class='it'>advertises</span> for the theatres, but -does not <span class='it'>notice</span> them. Are they wrong, or right, or neither? -We suppose there <span class='it'>must</span> be a nice line, which casuists who -examine morals with a microscope have detected.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>G. R. G.</p> - -<hr class='tbk134'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Dear Graham</span>,—Poor Tom says, “Let not the creaking -of shoes, nor the rustling of silks, betray thy poor -heart to women: keep thy hand out of plackets, and thy -pen from <span class='it'>lenders’ books</span>, and defy the foul fiend.” Without -misconstruing this text more than texts are usually misinterpreted, -I opine, that from those same “<span class='it'>lenders’ books</span>” -of past generations the current literature of our day is -being manufactured. The vast shapes of the Past have -overshadowed the Present, and we are in the umbra of the -eclipse. Pray tell me if there is room left in the whole -length and breadth of the world for an epic, without -trenching upon the preëmption rights of Homer, Virgil, -Dante, Tasso and Milton? Then as regards dramatic -poetry—“ahem! Shakspeare.” Wit and humor? What, -after Chaucer, Rabelais, Ben Jonson, Cervantes, Butler, -Swift, Pope, Sterne, the Spectator writers generally, Fielding -and Smollet? Are there any new Continents to be -discovered? Our own Irving, to be sure, has been cruising -among beautiful summer islands, and returned with a -wondrous store of wealth—jewels and gold tissues, fragrant -gums, Hesperidean apples, painted Salvages, flowers -and odorous spices, to the world unknown before. The -gentle Elia has embroidered incomparable tapestries, and -formed the school of the age. Scott gathers in his mighty -arms the banners of a hundred conquests, and for melodious -versification (after Spenser) Coleridge, Shelley and -Moore, in</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Numbers moving musically,”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>have filled the world with harmonies, to which no echoes -answer. Who shall sweep the strings of passion after -Byron! Truly, with much thankfulness for the kind intentions -of those who have written for Posterity, we -might add that it is a pity they did not leave Posterity a -little chance to write for himself. But since it is so, let -us, with due credit, make free for a time with some of -those same “lenders’ books,” for as George Wither -quaintly says—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“We are neither just nor wise,</p> -<p class='line0'>If present mercies we despise;</p> -<p class='line0'>Or mind not how there may be made</p> -<p class='line0'>A thankful use of what we had.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Room, then! for one of Dante’s Angels—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“And now there came o’er the perturbed waves,</p> -<p class='line0'>Loud-crashing, terrible, a sound that made</p> -<p class='line0'>Either shore tremble, as if of a wind</p> -<p class='line0'>Impetuous, from conflicting vapors sprung,</p> -<p class='line0'>That ’gainst some forest driving all his might.</p> -<p class='line0'>Plucks off the branches, beats them down, and hurls</p> -<p class='line0'>Afar; then, onward passing, proudly sweeps</p> -<p class='line0'>His whirlwind rage, while beasts and shepherds fly.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'> . . . . . . . .</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>                                As frogs</p> -<p class='line0'>Before their foe, the serpent, through the wave</p> -<p class='line0'>Ply swiftly all, till at the ground each one</p> -<p class='line0'>Lies on a heap; more than a thousand spirits</p> -<p class='line0'>Destroyed, so saw I fleeing before one</p> -<p class='line0'>Who passed with unwet feet the Stygian sound,</p> -<p class='line0'>He, <span class='it'>from his face removing the gross air</span>,</p> -<p class='line0'>Oft his left hand forth stretched, and seemed alone</p> -<p class='line0'>Of that annoyance wearied. I perceived</p> -<p class='line0'>That he was sent from heaven; and to my guide</p> -<p class='line0'>Turned me, who signal made that I should stand</p> -<p class='line0'>Quiet and bend to him. Ah me! <span class='it'>how full</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Of noble anger seemed he</span>. To the gate</p> -<p class='line0'>he came, and with his wand touched it, whereat</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Open without impediment it flew</span>!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Compare this with Milton’s Raphael—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>            “Down thither prone in flight</p> -<p class='line0'>He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky</p> -<p class='line0'>Sailed between worlds and worlds, with steady wing,</p> -<p class='line0'>Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan</p> -<p class='line0'>Winnows the buxom air; till within soar</p> -<p class='line0'>Of towering eagles, to all fowls he seems</p> -<p class='line0'>A phœnix, gazed by all, as that sole bird,</p> -<p class='line0'>When to enshrine his reliques in the sun’s</p> -<p class='line0'>Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Or the flight of Satan—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>                            “Sometimes</p> -<p class='line0'>He scours the right hand coast, sometimes the left,</p> -<p class='line0'>Now shaves with level wing the deep, then soars</p> -<p class='line0'>Up to the fiery concave, towering high.</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='pageno' title='334' id='Page_334'></span></p> -<p class='line0'>As when far off at sea a fleet descried</p> -<p class='line0'>Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds</p> -<p class='line0'>Close sailing from Bengula, or the Isles</p> -<p class='line0'>Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring</p> -<p class='line0'>Their spicy drugs: they on the trading flood</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the wide Ethiopean to the Cape</p> -<p class='line0'>Ply, stemming nightly toward the pole. So seemed</p> -<p class='line0'>Far off the flying fiend.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Do you not think Dante’s angel the most spiritual? He -says,</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>                            “he wore</p> -<p class='line0'>The semblance of a man by other care</p> -<p class='line0'>Beset, and keenly pressed, than thought of him</p> -<p class='line0'>Who in his presence stand.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>And Milton—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>    “——on some great charge employed</p> -<p class='line0'>He seemed, or fixed in cogitation deep.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>The thought here is evidently borrowed from the Italian -“<span class='it'>lender’s book</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is a strange propensity to follow these lofty flights; -as when in looking from an eminence we feel a temptation -to breast the blue ether below us. We are fairly in the -wake of Satan when he</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>  “<span class='it'>Shaves with level wing the deep</span>, then soars</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='sc'>Up</span> to the fiery concave—”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>And now since we are pinion-mounted, like Icarus or -Daniel O’Rourke, let us select a few more familiar specimens -of flying. “Look you,” from Coleridge—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Triumphant on the bosom of the storm</p> -<p class='line0'>Glances the fire-clad eagle’s wheeling form.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>And lo! from Shelly on eagle,</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>                      “—— a winged form</p> -<p class='line0'>  On all the winds of heaven approaching ever</p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Floated, dilating as it came</span>: the storm</p> -<p class='line0'>Pursued it with fierce blasts and lightnings swift and warm.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The Viking’s war-ship, from Longfellow’s Saga of the -Skeleton in Armor is a brave picture,</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“As with his wings aslant,</p> -<p class='line0'>Sails the fierce cormorant,</p> -<p class='line0'>Seeking some rocky haunt,</p> -<p class='line0'>    With his prey laden:</p> -<p class='line0'>So toward the open main,</p> -<p class='line0'>Beating to sea again</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the wild hurricane,</p> -<p class='line0'>    Bore I the maiden.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>And Dryden, in his Annus Mirabilis, hath likewise a warship -that <span class='it'>flies</span>!</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“With roomy deck, and guns of mighty strength,</p> -<p class='line0'>Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow laves,</p> -<p class='line0'>Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length,</p> -<p class='line0'>She seems a sea-wasp flying o’er the waves.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>But of all winged things the sky-lark is the bird of the -poets. Hear Shakspeare—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And Phœbus ’gins arise,</p> -<p class='line0'>His steeds to water at those springs</p> -<p class='line0'>  On chaliced flowers that lies;</p> -<p class='line0'>And winking May-buds begin</p> -<p class='line0'>  To ope their golden eyes:</p> -<p class='line0'>With every thing that pretty bin,</p> -<p class='line0'>  My lady sweet, arise.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Or this from Shelley—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>        “Higher still and higher</p> -<p class='line0'>        From the earth thou springest,</p> -<p class='line0'>      Like a cloud of fire!</p> -<p class='line0'>        The blue deep thou wingest,</p> -<p class='line0'>And singing, still dost soar; and soaring, ever singest.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>        “In the golden lightning</p> -<p class='line0'>        Of the sunken sun,</p> -<p class='line0'>      O’er which clouds are brightening,</p> -<p class='line0'>        Thou dost float and run;</p> -<p class='line0'>Like an embodied joy, whose race has just begun.</p> -<p class='line0'>      All the earth and air</p> -<p class='line0'>        With thy voice is loud,</p> -<p class='line0'>      As, when night is bare,</p> -<p class='line0'>        <span class='it'>From one lonely cloud</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>The moon rains out her beams and heaven it overflowed.</span>”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Coleridge, too, in his Ancient Mariner—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Sometimes adropping from the sky</p> -<p class='line0'>  I heard the sky-lark sing;</p> -<p class='line0'>Sometimes all little birds that are,</p> -<p class='line0'>Now they seemed to fill the sea and air</p> -<p class='line0'>  With their sweet jargoning!</p> -<p class='line0'>And now ’twas like all instruments,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Now like a lonely flute;</p> -<p class='line0'>And now it is an angel’s song,</p> -<p class='line0'>  That makes the heavens be mute.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>And Wordsworth in that beautiful couplet—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam;</p> -<p class='line0'>True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>There is a sweet little bird in the description of a Summer’s -morning, by Thomas Miller, which I would fain add -to this goodly company—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>      “A little bird now hops beside the brook,</p> -<p class='line0'>      <span class='it'>Peeping about like an affrighted nun</span>,</p> -<p class='line0'>    And ever as she drinks <span class='it'>doth upward look</span>,</p> -<p class='line0'>Twitters and drinks again; <span class='it'>then seeks her cloistered nook</span>.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>But alas the prettiest part of it is borrowed from one of -those same “lenders’ books.” John Bunyan’s—no less. -The Interpreter takes Christiana into the “Significant -Rooms,” where he shows her that “one of the chickens -went to the trough to drink, <span class='it'>and every time she drank she -lifted up her eyes toward heaven</span>. ‘See,’ said he, ‘what -this little chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge -whence your mercies come, by receiving them with looking -up,’” And now, having winged our way from angels -to John Bunyan, let us lay these same lenders’ books upon -the shelves until a future period.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:7em;margin-top:0.5em;'>Truly thine,</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-top:0.5em;'><span class='sc'>Richard Haywarde</span>.</p> - -<hr class='tbk135'/> - -<div><h1><a id='new'></a>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</h1></div> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Salamander: Found amongst the Papers of the late -Ernest Helfenstein. Edited by E. Oakes Smith. Second -Edition. New York: George P. Putnam. 1 vol. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Smith has written nothing so well calculated to -convey to the majority of readers a clear sense of the -richness, originality, and elevation of her genius, as this -wonderful little story. It evinces a high degree of creative -power, being an organic product of the mind, with a -central principle of life, and vital in every part. The -scenery, events and characters have all a living connection -with the leading idea of the work, and illustrate each -other. The form is the ever facile and yielding instrument -of the plastic spirit within, and varies with the variations -in the story and the changes in the thought or feeling expressed. -By a felicity of nature, Mrs. Smith appears -instinctively to subordinate the material to the spiritual; -and thus by making the former simply the symbol by -which she expresses the latter, she spiritualizes matter, -and makes it the living body of the soul. She vivifies and -vitalizes the form until it becomes o’er informed with -spirit. Natural objects as used by the poet, derive all their -effect from being the pictorial language of impassioned -thought, the visible image being but the embodiment to -the eye of the viewless force which penetrates and animates -it; and fitly to employ objects as exponents of -thoughts, a firm, decisive grasp of spiritual realities, of -<span class='pageno' title='335' id='Page_335'></span> -something lying back of all expression, is necessary. -The moment the material predominates over or precedes -the spiritual, it becomes so much dead matter, without -significance, because without life. A great excellence of -the present story is the constant dominion exercised by -the soul over or through its forms of expression, and the -physiognomical character of the style and imagery. When -we thus speak of it as pre-eminently spiritual, we of -course imply that it is thoroughly alive.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the wonder of the book, and the quality which will -give it a permanent place in American literature, is the -sure and fine audacity with which it brings the supernaturally -beautiful and the supernaturally terrible into -vital relations with human life, without any shock or jar -of the unnatural to disturb the exquisiteness of the combination; -and this is done in a manner purely original, -awakening no reminiscences of German or English supernaturalism, -and giving unmistakable evidence of being -drawn from the writer’s own life and mental experience. -Indeed, by the very constitution of her mind, Mrs. Smith -seems to see things in their spiritual relations; consequently -she not only looks at things and into things, but -she looks through them, and discerns the supernatural -region from which they proceed and on which they depend. -This vision into a sphere <span class='it'>above</span> sense, is accompanied by -an imagination of sufficient force to shape what she sees -into a form palpable <span class='it'>to</span> sense, and thus to reach the mystical -elements in other minds through their sensuous imagination. -This vision and this faculty are possessed by -all high and powerful natures, and the test of the reality of -the powers is in the originality of the products. Similarity, -even when it does not approach plagiarism, indicates the -intervention of another mind, and by suggesting spectacles -casts ominous conjecture on the soundness or reach of the -eyes. Now the supernatural, as it appears in this volume, -is strictly individual and peculiar, evidencing that the -authoress has herself contemplated, face to face, the -spiritual truths she has embodied.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While the present story is thus eminently a work of -creative imagination, working in the region of the supernatural, -and ranking “strange combinations out of common -things,” it is at the same time intensely human, -touching at every step on some affection or aspiration of -the human heart, and full of the glee and gloom of our -common life. As every thing is realized to the eye and -imagination, and the vital relation between the natural -feeling and the preternatural agencies is clearly represented, -the reader is conscious of no unharmoniousness in -the general impression left on his mind by the whole -work, but simply feels as though he had been brought -nearer to the life of things, and discerned evil and good in -their spiritual natures. With a power of thought, as -felicitous in its delicacy as in its strength, moral beauty -and moral deformity are both seized in their intrinsic -principles, and embodied in such a manner that the material -form ceases to be the veil and becomes the vehicle -of the nature it encloses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To the shaping imagination which this work indicates, -we must add that form or expression of the imaginative -faculty, by which things inexpressible in images are <a id='sug'></a>suggested -by cunning verbal combinations, or which escape -in the peculiar turn of a period, or which are breathed to -the inner ear of the mind in the rhythm of a sentence. -This mystical charm, this elusive, dreamy, ever vanishing -and yet ever appearing grace, gives to the whole work -a character of strangeness almost bewitching, and produces -that fine and faint intoxication of the imagination -which makes it ready to receive and accredit wonders -with as much faith as it commonly awards to possibilities. -It is this quality also which makes it impossible to convey -the moral of the story in any didactic proposition. -It has a profound moral, but it is a moral which refuses to -be comprehended in an ethical axiom, being felt in the -brain and “felt along the heart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We have been so much engrossed by the merits of this -story that we have little space left to notice some faults. -The notes should not be retained at the bottom of the -page, but should be transferred to an appendix. Occasionally -the imagination of the authoress stutters in its -sublime talk, and gives fragments of gigantic images instead -of wholes. Here and there the philosophic prevails -over the imaginative, and discourse monopolizes a sentence -which should be strictly sacred to representation. -But the sweetness, the tenderness, the beauty, purity and -majesty, with which the work is so replete, hardly allow -even the critical reader to be captious; and to the uncritical, -the absorbing interest of the story would be sufficient -to hide even prominent defects.</p> - -<hr class='tbk136'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Poems. By James F. Fields. Boston: Wm. D. Ticknor -& Co. 1 vol. 16mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Book-writing and book-publishing, according to the -most approved doctrines of the division of labor, are to be -kept strictly apart, and commonly there yawns a natural -gulf between the two, as wide and deep as that which -separated Lazarus and Dives. The present volume, -however, illustrates this seemingly impossible combination, -the author being also one of the publishers, and it -must be confessed that the intellectual and mechanical -execution reflect credit on each other. Mr. Fields has -a mind of great flexibility and fertility, and occasionally -he has compressed within the limit of this volume a large -variety of matter, answering to the mirthful, the pathetic, -the satirical, the tender, and the impassioned. He not -only does not repeat himself, but the work is too small -adequately to express the whole range of his poetic faculty. -The two longest poems in the collection are the “Post of -Honor” and “Commerce,” both of them originally pronounced -before the Boston Mercantile Library Association, -and each including many topics under the general -subject. These evince a keen, shrewd eye for practical -life and character, and the satirical portions are characterized -by a mingled wit and humor unexcelled for general -sharpness. “The Post of Honor” is by far the best, and -its pictures of life, both serious and mirthful, are exceedingly -vivid and true. The versification evinces a complete -mastery of the heroic couplet, in all its ease, energy -and harmony of flow, and it is spangled with fine felicities -of fancy and original verbal combinations. The passages -relating to Lamb and Grey, are replete with a quiet -searching pathos, which touches the inmost nerve of -sensibility.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Many of the shorter poems have already had a wide -circulation through the newspapers. “Fair Wind,” originally -published in “Graham,” and “The Dirge,” we have -seen in the poetical corner of at least a hundred journals. -The new ballads and lyrics, now first published, are -among the best in the whole collection. “The Ballad -of the Tempest,” the “Pair of Antlers,” and “Common -Sense,” are very brilliant and beautiful. “Life at Niagara,” -and the “Alarmed Skipper,” are good specimens -of mirthful poetry as distinguished from versified mirth. -“Children in Exile,” and “A Bridal Melody,” have an -intensity of deep and sweet feeling, which wins its way -into the very core of the heart. We might refer to others -as worthy of notice as these, but we must be content with -quoting one instead of naming many, and we accordingly -present our readers with a most beautiful specimen of -blank verse, addressed to Rogers:</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>        ON A BOOK OF SEA-MOSSES,</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='pageno' title='336' id='Page_336'></span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>     SENT TO AN EMINENT ENGLISH POET.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>To him who sang of Venice, and revealed</p> -<p class='line0'>How Wealth and Glory clustered in her streets,</p> -<p class='line0'>And poised her marble domes with wondrous skill,</p> -<p class='line0'>We send these tributes, plundered from the sea.</p> -<p class='line0'>These many-colored, variegated forms</p> -<p class='line0'>Sail to our rougher shores, and rise and fall</p> -<p class='line0'>To the deep music of the Atlantic wave.</p> -<p class='line0'>Such spoils we capture where the rainbows drop,</p> -<p class='line0'>Melting in ocean. Here are broideries strange,</p> -<p class='line0'>Wrought by the sea-nymphs from their golden hair,</p> -<p class='line0'>And wove by moonlight. Gently turn the leaf.</p> -<p class='line0'>From narrow cells, scooped in the rocks, we take</p> -<p class='line0'>These fairy textures, lightly moored at morn.</p> -<p class='line0'>Down sunny slopes, outstretching to the deep,</p> -<p class='line0'>We roam at noon, and gather shapes like these.</p> -<p class='line0'>Note now the painted webs from verdurous isles,</p> -<p class='line0'>Festooned and spangled in sea-caves, and say</p> -<p class='line0'>What hues of land can rival tints like those,</p> -<p class='line0'>Torn from the scarfs and gonfalons of kings</p> -<p class='line0'>Who dwell beneath the waters.</p> -<p class='line0'>                                Such our gift,</p> -<p class='line0'>Culled from a margin of the western world,</p> -<p class='line0'>And offered unto Genius in the old.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk137'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Raphael; or Pages from the Book of Life at Twenty. By -Alphonse de Lamartine. New York: Harper & Brothers.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Lamartine, with many of the high qualities of genius, is -deficient in one of the most important—Common Sense. -He is a fine and eloquent singer of his own idealized and -idolized self, but is gifted with very imperfect powers of -objective perception. He sees nothing as it is, but every -object is more or less a mirror of self. This is equally -true whether the object be Mont Blanc or a Paris mob. -All his descriptions of scenery, though often rising to a -strain of rapturous eloquence and beauty, are never accurate, -even in an elevated poetical signification of accuracy. -Different scenes, in different climes, are all enveloped in -one atmosphere, and all stand for one tyrannizing class of -emotions. Lamartine is a sentimentalist, and no sentimentalist -can celebrate any nature but his own, or consider -the universe as worth any thing in itself. The excellence -of the present volume consists in its subject admitting -of a strictly lyrical treatment, and it accordingly -is full to running over of Lamartine’s strong but narrow -genius, and is resplendent with glittering sentiment and -decorative imagery. The work is not long enough to tire -by its egotism and fine writing, and is closed before admiration -has subsided from the interjection into the yawn of -satisfaction. A nature so rich as Lamartine’s might fill -even a larger book without exhausting its wealth of sentiment -or thought.</p> - -<hr class='tbk138'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Moral, Social, and Professional Duties of Attorneys -and Solicitors. By Samuel Warren, F. R. S. New -York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. 16mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Warren’s works on Law are almost as entertaining -as his novels. The present book is full of matter important -to the young lawyer, and interesting to the general -reader. All who are accustomed to have dealings with -the profession, can obtain from this little volume many -useful and some lucrative hints. The two points on which -Mr. Warren expends his sense and his eloquence are -knavery and incapacity, as those qualities exist among -lawyers. As many lives and more fortunes depend on the -existence of the opposite qualities in the profession, this -volume will be equally valuable if it succeed either in -expelling rogues and dunces from the law, or in enabling -clients to detect them.</p> - -<hr class='tbk139'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Aurifodina; or Adventures in the Gold Region. By Cantell -A. Bigby. New York: Baker & Scribner. 1 vol. 16mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The author of this little volume has availed himself of -the interest excited by the late disclosures in California, -to construct a story of marvelous adventures in that region. -In regard to probability the work is half way between -Gulliver’s Travels and the Arabian Nights. As -every thing wonderful relating to California is greedily -devoured, the disclosures of this work will undoubtedly -receive their due attention. They are nearly as much -entitled to belief as many of the newspaper accounts.</p> - -<hr class='tbk140'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>A New Spanish Reader: Consisting of Passages from the -Most Approved Authors, in Prose and Verse. By Mariana -Velasquez de la Cadena. New York: D. Appleton & Co. -1 vol. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The editor of this volume is Professor of the Spanish -Language and Literature in Columbia College. He has -so arranged his matter as to remove all possible obstacles -in the way of the learner, and to conduct him, step by -step, into the heart of the noble language of Castile. The -selections are admirably made. The volume is not only -well adapted for schools and colleges, but for the private -student, and we trust it will induce many to study a language -which will give them a key to the versatile and -fertile genius of Lope de Vega, the mystical beauty of -Calderon, and the profound and genial humor of -Cervantes.</p> - -<hr class='tbk141'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Essay on the Union of Church and State. By Baptist W. -Noel, M. A. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. -12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This work has produced a considerable sensation in -England, being a well-written protest against the Church -Establishment, supported by a long array of facts and -arguments. The author was for twenty-two years an -Episcopal clergyman, and was at last forced by his reason -and conscience into his present position. Mr. Noel does -not attack the doctrines of the Church, but its union with -the State, and he attempts to prove that this union is condemned -by the letter and spirit of the Bible, is unjust, inexpedient, -and productive of a host of evils, from which -free churches are exempt.</p> - -<hr class='tbk142'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>History of Hannibal the Carthagenian. By Jacob Abbott. -With Engravings. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 -vol. 16mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is one of a series of historical books for the people, -prepared by Mr. Abbott with his usual felicity of condensation -and simplification. The series so far includes the -Life of Mary, Queen of Scots, Alexander the Great, -Charles I. and the present volume, and others are to follow. -The author manages his matter with much art, -and while few can read his volumes without an addition -to their information, they must be invaluable to a large -class of minds almost altogether deficient in historical -knowledge.</p> - -<hr class='tbk143'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>A Catechism of the Steam Engine, Illustrative of the Scientific -Principles on which Its Operation Depends, etc. -By John Bourne, C. E. New York: D. Appleton & Co. -1 vol. 16mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Here, in the space of one small volume, is condensed a -large amount of available information on the steam engine, -its principles, the practical details of its structure, and its -application to mines and mills, as well as steam navigation -and railways. The author evinces an intimate practical -acquaintance with his subject, and his work, while -it is invaluable to the engineer, possesses great interest to -every reader desirous of fathoming the mystery of the -structure and operation of the steam engine.</p> - -<hr class='tbk144'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='337' id='Page_337'></span><h1><a id='vir'></a>VIRTUE’S EVERGREEN.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>POETRY BY THEODORE A. GOULD.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:0.9em;font-weight:bold;'>MUSIC COMPOSED BY THEODORE VON LA HACHE.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i144f.jpg'><img src='images/i144.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0010' style='width:450px;height:auto;'/></a> -</div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>The ilied brow, the rosy cheek,</p> -<p class='line'>Where beaming smiles of beauty play,</p> -<p class='line'>Are transient things, they but beguile,</p> -<p class='line'>As April’s bland and fickle smile,</p> -<p class='line'>They charm us with their light awhile,</p> -<p class='line'>Then</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i145f.jpg'><img src='images/i145.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0011' style='width:450px;height:auto;'/></a> -</div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>fade, then fade at last away,</p> -<p class='line'>They charm us with their light awhile,</p> -<p class='line'>Then fade, then fade at last away.</p> -<p class='line'>’Tis Virtue’s Virtue’s evergreen.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>         SECOND VERSE.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>They fade at last away! the form</p> -<p class='line'>  So beautiful in youth’s gay prime,</p> -<p class='line'>Must shrivel up—the hair turn grey,</p> -<p class='line'>The eye abate its lustrous ray,</p> -<p class='line'>The smooth and pearly teeth decay,</p> -<p class='line'>          Beneath the touch of Time.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>         THIRD VERSE.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Beneath the touch of Time! a price</p> -<p class='line'>  There is he cannot touch, I ween;</p> -<p class='line'>It bloometh always fair and bright</p> -<p class='line'>Through springs warm day or winter’s night,</p> -<p class='line'>A plant his hand can never blight;</p> -<p class='line'>          ’Tis Virtue’s Evergreen,</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk145'/> - -<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 as well as some spellings -peculiar to Graham’s. 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 used for preparation of the ebook.</p> - -<div class='lgl' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>page 278, put into envelops with ==> put into <a href='#env'>envelopes</a> with</p> -<p class='line'>page 279, Nous verrons, se que ==> Nous verrons, <a href='#nous'>ce</a> que</p> -<p class='line'>page 282, crop of whispers. ==> crop of <a href='#whisk'>whiskers</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>page 291, most beautiful, all of the ==> most <a href='#ofall'>beautiful of all,</a> the</p> -<p class='line'>page 291, many claim upon his ==> many <a href='#claims'>claims</a> upon his</p> -<p class='line'>page 292, drowned in the privater, ==> drowned in the <a href='#priv'>privateer</a>,</p> -<p class='line'>page 299, Orthrography, Etymology and ==> <a href='#orth'>Orthography</a>, Etymology and</p> -<p class='line'>page 306, of our benificent Father ==> of our <a href='#ben'>beneficent</a> Father</p> -<p class='line'>page 306, interrogatories to day pass ==> interrogatories <a href='#today'>to-day</a> pass</p> -<p class='line'>page 307, widow from Manheim ==> widow from <a href='#mann'>Mannheim</a></p> -<p class='line'>page 317, in all statutary Christendom ==> in all <a href='#stat'>statutory</a> Christendom</p> -<p class='line'>page 317, an apopthegm by one of ==> an <a href='#apop'>apophthegm</a> by one of</p> -<p class='line'>page 326, grande e beau physique ==> grande <a href='#and'>et</a> beau physique</p> -<p class='line'>page 332, of his scimiter; ==> of his <a href='#sci'>scimitar</a>;</p> -<p class='line'>page 333, solid nonpariel, like ==> solid <a href='#non'>nonpareil</a>, like</p> -<p class='line'>page 335, in images are sugguested ==> in images are <a href='#sug'>suggested</a></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 5, -May 1849, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, MAY 1849 *** - -***** This file should be named 53960-h.htm or 53960-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/6/53960/ - -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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