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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. XL, No. 6, June 1852 - -Author: Various - -Editor: George R. Graham - -Release Date: August 30, 2019 [EBook #60202] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, JUNE 1852 *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at https://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:70%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XL.</span> June, 1852. No. 6.</p> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>Contents</p> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 25em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tab1c1-col2 tdStyle0' colspan='2'><span class='bold'><span style='font-size:larger'>Fiction, Literature and Articles</span></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#new'>New York Printing Machine, Press, and Saw Works</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#edi'>Edith Morton</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#ferd'>Ferdinand De Candolles</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#rai'>The Ghost-Raiser</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#tom'>Tom Moore—The Poet of Erin</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#life'>A Life of Vicissitudes</a> <span style='font-size:smaller'>(continued)</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#two'>Two Ways to Manage</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#yarn'>The Master’s Mate’s Yarn</a> <span style='font-size:smaller'>(concluded)</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#age'>The First Age</a> <span style='font-size:smaller'>(concluded)</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#tit'>Titus Quinctius Flamininus</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#nell'>Nelly Nowlan’s Experience</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#rev'>Review of New Books</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#lit'>Literary Gossip</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#talk'>Graham’s Small-Talk</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<table id='tab2' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 25em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tab2c1-col2 tdStyle0' colspan='2'><span class='bold'><span style='font-size:larger'>Poetry and Music</span></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#fare'>A Farewell</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#lin'>Lines, Suggested by Rogers’ Statue of Ruth</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#what'>What Dost Thou Work For?</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#apr'>April</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#woo'>I Woo Thee, Spring</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#song'>Song</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#phan'>The Phantom Field</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#shak'>Shakspeare</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#act'>The Actual</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#ple'>The Pledge</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#girl'>To A Beautiful Girl</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#orp'>The Orphan’s Hymn</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#rel'>Religion</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#our'>Our Minnie’s Dream</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#sonn'>Sonnet—Pleasure</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#toad'>To Adhemar</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#hour'>Hour of Fond Delight</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.3em;'><a href='#notes'>Transcriber’s Notes</a> can be found at the end of this eBook.</p> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i001.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:85%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>J. Hayter</span> <span style='font-size:smaller'>W. H. Mote</span><br/></p> <br/><span class='bold'>ISADORE.</span><br/>Graham’s Magazine, 1852. -</div> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i002.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0002' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>THE BROOME STREET MANUFACTORIES.</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<hr class='tbk102'/> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XL.</span> PHILADELPHIA, JUNE, 1852. <span class='sc'>No. 6.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk103'/> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='new'></a>NEW YORK PRINTING MACHINE, PRESS, AND SAW WORKS.</h1></div> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-weight:bold;'>R. HOE & CO.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i003.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0003' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>GOLD STREET WAREHOUSES.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Had it been possible for any human intellect, at the -close of the eighteenth century, or the commencement -of this its nineteenth successor, so to grasp and -comprehend the development of science, its expansion -and diffusion, and, above all, its application to the -every-day wants and conveniences of ordinary human -life, as to predict, only fifty years beforehand, any one -of the almost incredible marvels which have long -ceased to move especial wonder, as being now established -facts, witnessed by all eyes, and of occurrence -at all hours, the owner of that intellect would not -have been merely laughed at as a crazy, crack-brained -enthusiast, but would have run a very reasonable -chance of being consigned to the cell of a -madhouse, as an incorrigible and incurable monomaniac.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The writer of these lines, lacking several years yet -of the completion of his tenth lustre, clearly remembers -how, within thirty years at furthest, to assert an -opinion of the feasibility of lighting streets by gas -was to be sneered at for a visionary, or regarded with -suspicion as a probable speculator in the <span class='it'>fancy</span>, even -by the best informed, and most enlightened classes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To the youngest of his readers the <span class='it'>dictum</span> of the -then infallible Doctor Dionysius Lardner against the -possibility of Ocean Steam Navigation—for, deny it -now as he may, he can be clearly convicted of its -utterance—is familiar as a household word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now, what insignificant town, to say nothing -of innumerable private dwellings, innumerable factories -and workshops, prison houses, as it were, and -<span class='it'>ergasteria</span>, would it were otherwise! of plebeian -labor, innumerable theatres, assembly-halls, and banquet-rooms, -abodes of patrician pleasure, are not -ablaze through the murkiest midnight, and light as -the broadest day, with the released and radiant spirit, -that lay so long enthralled and unsuspected in the -hard heart of the swart coal mine?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now, with what quarter of the world are we -not in daily, if not hourly, communication by the -united agencies of those two most irreconcilable -powers, fire and water?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardly one century has elapsed since the American -Franklin revealed to the admiring world the scarcely -suspected fact, that the subtle spark elicited from the -electrifying magazine, or from the hairs of a cat, -rubbed contrariwise to their direction, is identical -with the sovereign, all-pervading flash,</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Which issues from the loaded cloud,</p> -<p class='line0'> And rives the oak asunder.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>And now, at this day, we sit quietly engaged in our -study, or stand, even, as it may be, laboriously plying -our trade of manual labor, and send that very lightning-flash, -a tamed domestic influence, nay, but a -very slave and pack-horse to our will, to speed our -tidings to New Orleans, or to Newfoundland, and to -bring us back the answer, before a second hour has -lagged round the dial.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Time was, nor very long ago, when to receive -news from Europe within thirty days, was esteemed -a feat, if not a miracle, on the part of the carriers. -Now, or ere a second summer shall have passed, the -electric telegraph will be in operation to Cape Race, the -south-easternmost point of Newfoundland, and mail -steamers will be cleaving the Atlantic far to the -northward, to and fro, from the green shores of Galway. -Then, within seven days at the utmost, the -news of farthest Europe, news from the Vistula, the -Danube, and the Don; news from the Tartar and the -Turk, shall be sped, more swiftly than though they -“had taken the wings of the morning,” to the uttermost -parts of America, shall be read almost simultaneously -on the shores of the Atlantic and Pacific, -and sent far aloof among the oceanic isles of the -southern hemisphere, even to drowsy China and remote -Taprobane, by the almost unearthly powers of -steam and electricity, and last, not least, the press.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The word is out—we have said it—the press—a -kindred, not antagonistic, scarcely even rival, power -to the two mighty elements we have named—since -it has pressed both into its service; and itself, purely -human in its origin, its influence, and its importance, -purely material in “its age and body, form and pressure,” -derives most of its incalculable puissance from -the coöperation and subservience of the two mightiest, -most unearthly, most immaterial, and most spiritual of -essences, existing, or which have existed, in the universe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But we are not about to write an essay on the -power, the influence, the utility of the press. These -are too generally appreciated and acknowledged, to -render a single paragraph necessary. In the two -first particulars of power and influence, the press is -incomparable—not to be equaled by any instrument -or agency of humanity that ever has existed. The -extent of its utility—although still unquestionable—is -limited and diminished, “cribbed, coffined,” and curtailed -by the weakness, the willfulness, and the wickedness -of the very many men, unfit and evil-minded, -who have thrust themselves forward, assuming to -conduct it, and through it the public mind, with no -ulterior object nobler or higher than the misapplication -of the weight and moral power with which it -invests them, to all sorts of immorality and wrong, -to which avarice, rapacity, ambition, and the insane -desire of demagogueism may impel them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This is, however, only to admit that the press is an -agency of time and mortality; and as such liable, of a -necessity, to be perverted. Perhaps it is rather to be -wondered, that there are <span class='it'>few</span> base, dishonest, licentious, -and self-seeking journals in circulation, than -that there are any; and it is clear, that the general -tone of the reading world is so gradually and greatly -improving, that few of those which now exist receive -any considerable support, unless where they have the -skill to introduce their false doctrines under cover of -some specious sophistry, making them to wear the -semblance of reforms. Even these, it may be observed, -are daily becoming more and more transparent to -the broad and keen eye of the public; and, in proportion -as they are comprehended, lose their ill-acquired -and abused popularity and power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In one word, the utility of the press, its beneficial -influences, its charities, its diffusion of knowledge and -true light, and its general maintenance of the right, -out-balance, as by ten thousand fold, the occasional -obliquities, injustice, falsehood, and advocacy of -devil’s doings here on earth, which periodically disgrace -its columns.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For these the press is no more to be censured or -condemned, than is the Book of Common Prayer, or -the Holy Bible; because—in the middle ages—men, -mad with too much, or too little learning—it matters -not whether—applied their most hallowed texts, read -backward, to the evocation of departed souls from -Hades, or of evil spirits from the abyss of very Hell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is not, however, of the moral influences, but of -the mere material powers of the press, as now existing in -its wonderfully improved condition, with all appliances -of marvelous time-saving machinery, that we would -now speak—machinery born itself of machinery, self-developed -from the swart, unplastic ore, with, comparatively -speaking, small expense of human labor, -though under the control of the all-contriving human -brain, into engines of strange and mysterious potency.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is little to say that the efficiency, and of course -the utility, of the printing-press has been increased a -thousand fold, that the facility and consequent cheapness, -of the reproduction of books has been improved to -such an extent that thousands and tens of thousands of -volumes are now printed, published, and put into circulation, -where there was one thirty years ago; and -that too at prices, which bring it easily within the -means of all—but the very idlest and poorest—to become -familiar with the best thoughts of the brightest -geniuses of all ages—That the whole system of -journalism, and journal publishing, has passed through -a complete revolution, reducing individual prices to a -mere nominal fraction, and referring the question of -profits, and remuneration of labor, to gross sales of -tens of thousands of daily copies—the consequence of -which revolution is to place the whole news of the -world, including all discoveries of art or science, all -arguments and disputations of the first statesmen and -orators, all lectures of the most prominent literateurs -and philosophers of the day, within the hand’s reach -of every farmer and farm-laborer, every artisan, mechanic, -clerk and shop-boy of the land, from the -Aroostook to the Sacramento and Columbia.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is little to say this—yet this is something; for it -is the first step toward making those who do govern -the land, fit to govern it—namely, the people—toward -enabling them to judge, unlike the constituents of best -European representative governments, not of men -only, but, mediately, of measures; toward giving -them to judge and learn for themselves, from the -actual progress of recorded events, daily occuring, -something of the policy of foreign nations, something -of the interest of their own country; lastly, toward -rendering the permanent establishment of a falsehood, -or the long suppression of the truth, an impossibility.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And yet all this is to say little, as compared with -what may be said—namely, that the difference between -the efficiency of the modern printing-press and -that of Guttenberg, Faustus and Schoffer, is almost -greater than the difference between that and the -manuscript system, which it superseded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And all this is to be ascribed to the perfection of -mechanics and machinery, brought by the aid of -every branch of science to what we might well deem -perfection, did not every coming day awake to perfectionate -what was last night deemed perfect.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In all branches of human labor, in all phases of human -ingenuity, for above half a century, this vast increase—both -of the application and the power of machinery—has -been in progress; constantly awakening -the fears and jealousies, sometimes inducing the overt -opposition and illegal violence of the working -classes, as cheapening their labor, and about ultimately -to subvert their trade and destroy their means -of subsistence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Than these fears and jealousies, nothing can be -more erroneous, not to say absurd. For it is no -longer a theory, but an established fact, that consumption -of, and demand for, any article grows almost in -arithmetical progression from the reduction of its -price, to such a degree, as to render it available to all -classes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two examples, alone, will be sufficient to make -this clear:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some twenty years ago, the renewal of the English -East India Company’s charter was refused by Parliament, -and the tea-trade of Great Britain opened to -all British bottoms<a id='r1'/><a href='#f1' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[1]</span></sup></a>. The price of tea was reduced by -above one-half, and the company exclaimed loudly, -as companies ever do, against the unjust legislation, -which must needs ruin them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mark the result, however. The price of tea fell -one-half; the consumption of tea increased—we speak -generally—almost ten-fold. The company never were -more prosperous than now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again—within the same period, inland postage in -Great Britain was reduced to a uniform rate of one -penny sterling, not without much opposition and strenuous -contest, the opponents insisting that the department -must become a burden on the state, from sheer -inability to do the work of transportation at prices -merely nominal. The results are before the public, -and not a boy but knows that they precisely reverse -the prediction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The same thing is true of the growth of the cotton -trade; of the growth of agricultural productions: and -last, not least, and most of all to the purpose, of the -growth of the so-called <span class='it'>penny</span>-press of New York, -and the United States in general. We use the term -so-called, because though nominally penny, most, if -not all, of the very paying papers of this class are -really two-penny papers.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i008.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0004' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='pindent'>While we were considering these matters, to which -consideration we were led by a visit to the extraordinary -machine works of Messrs. Hoe & Co., the inventors -and manufacturers of the great fast power-presses, -which have effected the revolution of which -we have spoken, we accidentally stumbled upon the -following article from the columns of the New York -Tribune; and it is so entirely germane to the matter, -that we have no hesitation in quoting the former -portion of it, without alteration or comment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The latter portion we omit, because we entirely -disagree with Mr. Greely in the deduction which he -draws from the admitted facts, as we do with most of -his socialistic and communistic notions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is to the increase of demand, growing out of the -increase and cheapness of production, that he must -look for employment and profit, not to the catching -at the empty bubble of ownership, or to the ambition -of governing, with none to serve under him.</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>“LABOR AND MACHINERY.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>A thoughtful laborer—for wages—sends us an account -he finds current in the journals of the rapid -progress of Printing by Machinery, as illustrated by -a single cheap daily newspaper. That paper now -prints 48,475 sheets—or 101 reams—per day, which it -is enabled by rapid machinery to do from one set of -types, whereas, if obliged to use the Hand-Press of -former days, it would be obliged to set up its type -<span class='it'>twenty-nine times</span> over for each daily edition, employing -812 compositors instead of barely 28, and 116 -pressmen instead of some ten or twelve only. Hereupon -our correspondent comments as follows:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Mr. Greely</span>:—It will be seen by the above, -which I quote merely as a convenient text to illustrate -the matter in hand, that in <span class='it'>one</span> establishment a -<span class='it'>difference</span> is made of nearly or quite <span class='it'>nine hundred</span> -men, in consequence of the invention or improvement -of machinery, which has taken place within a less -time than the last 25 years, from the number it would -have been necessary to have employed to prosecute -the same amount of business had no such progress -been made. The same is true, I suppose, to an equal -extent, of <span class='it'>The Tribune</span> and other journals of large -circulation. The same—i. e., <span class='it'>the alarming encroachment -which machinery is every day making on -what has heretofore been performed by human muscles -alone</span>—is not peculiar to any one branch of employment. -The restless inquiry and invention of the -present is rapidly and surely intruding <span class='it'>iron</span> muscles, -which do not become hungry, or experience the depression -of low wages and consequent low fare, into -every department of human industry, crowding out -and setting adrift thousands of the industrious, to seek -new and untried means of subsistence, from which -soon again to be driven, by—what many of them have -come to look upon as their greatest, most persevering -and relentless enemy—machinery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whither, I would thoughtfully and anxiously ask, -do these facts, which stare us in the face from every -quarter, tend? What is their mighty significancy? -The unprecedented increase of the most cunningly -adapted, durable, and economical machinery—on the -one hand—to perform, in great part, the work heretofore -done by us—the laborers; and—on the other -hand—the sure and certain increase of that most reliable -portion of humanity which we represent, and -whose only capital is their muscles, and whose hope -of bread for themselves and children is in the performance, -to a large extent, of that same labor thus -snatched from us by the offspring of invention. -What wonder that the honest laborer, who knows no -cunning but the use of the physical force which God -has given him, or the mechanic who plies his trade, -should stand aghast, and feel his heart sink within -him, as he is forced from his legitimate occupation, -to another and still another, and at last finds his employment -altogether fitful and uncertain, from the -number of his fellows driven to the same condition -as himself. His labor is truly “a drug in the market,” -and stern necessity is fast putting him, if it has -not already, wholly at the mercy of capital. I could -not but sadly ponder, as one—while watching the -nicely adjusted movements of a cheap engine, which -had ejected him and his fellow, in like condition, -from the place whence, for years, they had obtained -a livelihood for themselves and families—significantly -observed to me that, “the best thing that could be -done with <span class='it'>that thing</span> would be to break it to pieces, -and pitch it out of the window.” They saw wood -about town now, when they can get it to do, as the -<span class='it'>machinery</span>, which they have in such successful -operation in Chicago and some other cities for that -purpose, has not yet been introduced here. Their -daughters, too, who have, till within a six month -back, had work at $2 50 per week, in the factories, -are now out of employ. This, you know, is but one -of countless similar illustrations which take place -every day in poor families.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>H.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>We have thus allowed our friend to state his whole -case—though he only submitted it that we might -comment on its substance—and we now solicit his -attention to some thoughts by it suggested.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Why does our friend go back only to the Hand-Press -to exhibit the disastrous effects of Machinery -on the interests of Labor? The hand-press itself is -a labor-saving machine of immense capacity—far -more so in its day than the power-press which is -now extensively superseding it. It threw wholly -out of employment and reduced to absolute destitution -thousands upon thousands of skillful, accurate, -admirable penmen, who had given the best years of -their lives to acquire skill in a profession, or pursuit, -which the press almost extirpated. To be at all consistent, -“H.” must demand, not the destruction of -the power-press only, but of all printing or copying -presses whatever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah! but then there could be no newspapers?”—Nay; -that does not follow. Kossuth’s first gazette -was not printed, but a carefully prepared abstract of -the sayings and doings of the Hungarian Diet, whereof -copies were made by scribes for general diffusion. -There have been many such instances of unprinted -journals.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well; there could be no <span class='it'>such</span> journals as we -now have.” No, nor could there be without the -power-press. We could not afford such a paper as -<span class='it'>The Tribune</span> now is for four times its present price, -if we were obliged to print it on hand-presses; in -fact, no such paper could be supported at all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The subsisting truth, then, must be accepted and -looked fairly in the face. The mountain will not -come to Mahomet; he must go to the mountain. -The existence and rapid progress of Machinery is a -fact which cannot be set aside; the world will not, -cannot go backward: Machinery cannot be destroyed; -it cannot even be held where it is, but must -move onward to further and vaster triumphs. We -may deplore this, but cannot prevent it.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk104'/> - -<p class='pindent'>The perusal of this article would have determined -us, had we not been resolved beforehand, to lay before -our readers an account of the very remarkable -works to which we have before alluded, by the proprietors -of which the machinery mentioned in the -letter of “the thoughtful laborer” was of course -manufactured, as by them it was invented; being no -other than the great eight-cylinder, type-revolving, -fast-printing press. Similar machines, though varying -in the number of cylinders, are employed by the -New York Herald and Tribune, the eight-cylinder -being used by the Sun, the Philadelphia Ledger, and -other journals in the United States, as also by the -Parisian La Patrie, the quasi organ of the present -Prince President, and, according to present appearances, -future Emperor of the French.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These works are in truth one of the most remarkable -sights, if not the most worthy of remark, of all -that are shown to strangers in New York—and yet -to how few are they shown. The changes to which -they have already given birth are great enough, even -now,</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“To overcome us like a summer cloud,”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>but the end of those changes is not yet, nor shall be, -while we are. What they shall be, we may not even -conjecture—perhaps the civilization, the christianizing -of the world entire, and the reduction of all -tongues and dialects to one universal English language.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i012.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0005' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='pindent'>To waste no more words, however, in mere speculation, -but to come to facts, the history of the origin -and progression of these truly wonderful works, of -which more anon, is in itself by no means void of interest—even -of something of romance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the well-known and ill-remembered yellow-fever -summer of New York, an Englishman by birth, -a carpenter by trade, landed in the city of the plague, -a stranger, friendless, sick, and but scantily provided -with what has been termed the root of all evil, which -one-third of our people, however, regard as the sole -object and aim of exertion and existence here and -hereafter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His good fortune, or rather—for we believe not in -fortune—his good providence brought him in contact -with that most singular of geniuses, Grant Thorburn. -With him he boarded, with him struggled through -the terrors of the prevailing pest, by him was tenderly -nursed, and from his roof entered into business -with <span class='sc'>Smith</span>, the well-known machinist and inventor -of the hand-press which still bears his name; nor is -it yet superseded by more recent improvements. -Their partnership terminated only with the decease -of Mr. Smith; from which time, under the sole conduct -of Mr. Hoe—for the stranger guest of Mr. -Thorburn was no other than the father of the energetic, -inventive and enterprising gentlemen, whose -works we are about to describe—the business became -permanently established, and yearly advanced -in popularity and reputation, which constitute profits.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still, greatly as he improved upon what had been -before, at his death in 1834, the average annual sales -of the concern did not exceed 50,000 dollars; they -never now fall short of 400,000; and often amount -to half a million. Such are, and will ever be, the -consequences of energy, industry, probity and sobriety, -joined to an earnest and sincere application of -that talent, which each one of us in some sort possesses, -to its true and legitimate increase and improvement—in -other words, to quote a book so much -out of fashion—find the more the pity!—in these -piping times of progress, as the old church catechism, -a quiet resolve to “do our duty in that state of life -to which it hath pleased God to call us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Shortly after the death of Mr. Hoe, sen., his sons -and successors, finding the then premises insufficient, -moved to the ground now occupied by their great -manufactories, occupying a hollow block four stories -in height, of two hundred feet front on Broome street, -by one hundred in depth on Sheriff and Columbia -streets, as also a second lot on the other side of -Broome street, containing their saw works, hardening -furnaces, stables, and other necessary buildings. -In these works, a bird’s eye view of which is pre-fixed -to this paper, and the ground plan of which we -here present, the Messrs. Hoe continually employ -three hundred men, some of them persons of great -ability as draughtsmen, pattern-makers, mechanicians, -and the like—men literally of every nation, -as nearly as may be, under the sun; among whom -are comprised several Armenians, said to be persons -of great intelligence and excellent deportment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Besides this, their principal factory, they have another -large and well built establishment, containing -ware-rooms, counting-house, blacksmith’s shop, machine -shop, and steam-engine room, in Gold street, -nearly adjoining Fulton. This, though in fact headquarters, -we shall pass over for the time being, premising -only—in order to show the perfect method -and system of time and labor-saving with which -every thing belonging to this firm is conducted—that -they have at their own expense, and for their -own private use, erected an electric telegraph, carried -by the permission of the proprietors over the -roofs of houses, from the counting-room to the up-town -factories, by which the smallest message or -order is conveyed, and answered almost instantaneously. -Nor are the proprietors dissatisfied with -the result, having found by experience that the great -original expense was very speedily compensated by -the gain of time, and yet more of precision which it -introduced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Returning up-town, therefore, we will descend -into the vault under the first yard, in which we shall -find the moving puissance of all the vast machinery -of hammers, planes, lathes, drills, grindstones, tools -and devices, almost without name or number, which -are constantly laboring with their iron nerves, noiseless, -tireless, indefatigable, through every story of -the great building—in the shape of the boilers and -steam-engine, which, beside furnishing all the motive -power, supply every part of the building, by -a very ingenious application, with a constant stream -of evenly tempered, pure, heated air, at the same -time maintaining a thorough ventilation, and all -without the slightest danger of fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The spent steam is brought into a series of coiled -pipes within a trunk, through which a continual -stream of pure external air flows without intermission, -and is carried by wooden tubes through every -story and room of the building; as is likewise an -ample provision of Croton water, as well a provision -against fire, as for the cleanliness and comfort of the -men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of the engine there is nothing very special to be -observed, as it is of the old construction, and, though -perfectly efficient, not now to be imitated or adopted. -It is a horizontal high pressure engine of about forty -horse power, under the head of steam usually employed, -though capable of exerting considerably more -force, if called upon. There has been recently attached -to it a singularly ingenious little machine, in -the shape of a hydraulic regulator, of which great -expectations are entertained, and which, in the very -short time it has been tested, works to admiration, -one week only having elapsed since its application. -To attempt to describe this, or in fact any other -complicated machine, in an illustrative article such -as this pretends only to be, were an absurdity; for -the operations of the simplest engines can be rendered -thoroughly comprehensible, only—if at all—by -thorough diagrams with numerical references, and -then comprehensible only to scientific readers, conversant -at least with the principles and working of -the motive power, and the forces to be exerted -by it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ascending from the subterranean regions, which -are, by the way, so constructed under an open and -little occupied court-yard that even in case of any -untoward accident the least possible damage would -ensue, and certainly no upheaval of whole edifices, -as by the explosion of a powder magazine, would be -the consequence, we arrive next in the order of production -at the great foundery, occupying nearly one -half of the ground floor on the Broome street front.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i015.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0006' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>OLD STEAM-ENGINE, BROOME STREET.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Of this, although it furnishes the rude material, -the first degree we mean from the actual raw metal -for the whole establishment, the saw manufactory -alone excepted, there is little to be noted worthy of -particular attention by those who are familiar with the -operation of furnaces, founderies and casting on a large -scale, as in fact there is nothing in it unusual or novel, -unless it be what struck us as both novel and unusual, -the general absence of noise, confusion, din and turmoil, -not to mention ill sounds, ill savors, and oppressive -heat, which seems to pervade the whole establishment. -This, ministering as it does largely to the -comfort and well-being of all concerned, detracts -somewhat, it must be admitted from the picturesque -effect of the scenery, and its adjuncts. Even the -neatness and cleanliness of the orderly and well conducted -moving about each his own business noiselessly, -and obeying a sign or the wafture of a hand, -diminished the effect which we almost expect to feel -in an iron foundery, a furnace, or a machine shop.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We well remember the impression left on our mind -years ago by a visit to some gigantic iron works in -Sheffield, an impression which made itself felt for -many a month in strange fantastic dreams and painful -nightmares—such influence, not on the imagination -only but on the nerves, had the dense murky gloom -of the dim vaults, suddenly kindled, as by magic, -into a fierce incandescent glare by the lava-like torrents -of molten iron, the volumes of black smoke, -the stifling heat of the oppressed and exhausted atmosphere, -and then the roar of unseen waters, suggestive -of those subterranean streams of Hades, -Acheron and Cocytus, the whirr and hurtling of unnumbered -wheels, the terrible and deafening clang of -the huge trip-hammers, literally making the solid -earth jar and tremble; and last and most appropriate -to the scene, the swarthy, grim-visaged workmen, -fit representatives of Vulcan and his Cyclops, now -glancing into lurid light, now vanishing into darkness, -as the fitful flashes rose and fell. Of a verity -there can be no much more appropriate representation -of Pandemonium than an old-fashioned English -iron works on a large scale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But there is no room for marveling or romancing -after this fashion in the machine works of Messrs. Hoe -& Co., for all the rooms are well aired, well lighted, -and none the less adapted to their purpose for being -suitable to the accommodation of men who neither are -slaves, nor in anywise resemble devils.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i017.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0007' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>GREAT FOUNDERY.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>From the foundery we proceed, across the open -yard, to the smithy, a large, lofty, well proportioned -apartment, containing two enormous steam-hammers, -the speed and consequent impetus of which can be -modulated by a very easy application of manual -force, at the pleasure of the operator, so that they -can be made either to rise and fall as slowly as the -maces of Gog and Magog on the great bell of Saint -Dunstan’s, or to impinge upon whatever is objected -to their descent with a velocity which almost mocks -the eye. In this apartment and its adjunct forge -there are no less than eighteen stithies, the bellows -of all which are worked by the ubiquitous power of -the engine, with anvils of all manners and sizes in -due proportion, and sturdy operatives plying them -with tranquil and regulated industry, worth five times -the amount of human force exerted unequally and -impulsively, by fits and starts. These men, for the -most part, and, in fact, always when not called -off by some casual and unexpected pressure of business -in some one department, are kept constantly -employed at that peculiar species of work with -which each is the most familiar, such method and -system in the subdivision of labor being found to -insure not only the greatest excellence, but the -greatest celerity of workmanship.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i018.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0008' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>SMITHY.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>In this shop all such portions of the engines, presses, -large and small, printing and inking machines, and of -the machinery by the agency of which the above -machines themselves are created, as are composed -of wrought metal, are forged, welded, made new -from the commencement, or repaired in case of -damage. For it is worthy of remark that, although -many of the labor-saving machines and tools are of -English make—not a few by the celebrated Whitworth, -said to be the first tool-maker in the world—there -is not one that cannot, on emergency, be made, -mended, or altered, within the precincts of the -establishment; while many of the most admirable -contrivances are patents and inventions peculiar to -this country and this firm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Immediately adjoining the smithy, is the engine -and machine shop, and on the same floor the large -lathe-room containing four enormous surface lathes -and two turning lathes, for drilling, boring, turning, -and finishing both circular and horizontal surfaces.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From this point, we shall proceed to the saw works, -preferring to take each separate department of -work by itself, from the commencement to the end, -rather than to adhere to the precise order and position -of the several rooms, as situated in the building.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first room devoted to this branch of manufacture, -which is a very considerable and important -item in the business of Messrs. Hoe & Co., the -annual sales amounting to not less than 140,000 dollars, -in circular saws, mill-saws, pit-saws, and crosscut-saws, -for all parts of the country, is known as -the saw shop.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Herein is performed the business of smithing, teething, -and blocking the great saws; hundreds of thousands -of which are at work, driven by water or by -steam-power in every portion of the boundless territories -of the United States, to which the enterprising -foot and adventurous axe of the white settler has -found access—clearing with their restless and indomitable -teeth the solid and tenacious fibres of the -gnarled live-oaks in the pestilent swamps of Florida, -and the dank “regions far away, by Pascagoula’s -sunny bay,” into the crooked knees of mighty vessels, -that shall set at naught the howling billows of -the wild Atlantic, and the blasts of the mad storm-wind, -Euroclydon, riving into planks and beams and -timbers, that shall build up the palaces of commerce, -and the happy homes of our lordly cities, the white -and penetrable flesh of “those captive kings so -straight and tall, those lordly pines, which fell long -ago in the deer-haunted forests of Maine, when deep -upon mountain and plain lay the snow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The machinery by which these various processes -are accomplished is exceedingly fine and worthy of -notice, and vastly superior to that used in England; -in the dock-yards of which country the circular saws -were first brought into service, if we do not -err; especially that for cutting the teeth, which, -worked by steam-power, does its duty with great -rapidity and incomparable precision.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i020.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0009' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>SAW SHOP.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This operation is performed by the vertical descent -of a ponderous arm of iron, terminating in a -cutter of the form of the notch to be made in the yet -soft and smooth edge of the circular plate, which is -made by the same power to revolve horizontally -upon an axis placed at such distance from the impinging -weight as the depth of the notch to be cut -requires, and traversing at a rate so timed in unison -with the descent of the cutters as to render the series -of teeth perfectly continuous and equal; each blow -of the cutter forming the interval between two teeth, -and each full revolution of the plate completing a -circular-saw. In the same way is effected the teething -of the straight saws, the motion being a direct -sliding action in a forward line, instead of a rotatory -movement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the English saw works, owing to the influence -of trade-unions, operative-unions, and the like, the -application of steam-power to this machinery is -prohibited, and the employer is restricted to the -use of hand labor—the cutter being jerked down -by man power, and the edge of the plate to be cut -being subjected to the striker by hand, the formation -of the teeth not being regulated by any absolute -scale, but being executed by the calculation -or guess-work of the artisan, and, of course, varying -in accuracy, depth and precision of cutting according -to the skillfulness or unskillfulness of the -individual operator.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To the absence of these ingenious combinations, -injurious alike to the true interest of operators and -employers, the superiority in many respects of American -to English machinery is in some degree due, -and not less to the over stringency of the patent laws -of Great Britain, which often prevent the application -of really leading and most material improvements, of -a radical nature, to principles secured for the benefit -of the inventor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We may here observe that the use of circular saws -is very greatly on the increase in this country, more -especially in the western portion of it. In the east, -for some inexplicable reason, this admirable instrument -is far less generally used; and the writer of this -article, several years ago, when on a visit to the -timber districts of Maine, on expressing his surprise -at the non-adoption of this most excellent and labor-saving -tool, could learn no adequate cause for the -prejudice existing against it, unless it were some -crude and absurd ideas concerning its vibration and -consequent irregularity of cutting—objections not -founded on facts, nor confirmed by experience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From the saw shop the circular plates, now teethed -and in the incipient stage of what Willis would call -<span class='it'>sawdom</span>, are removed across Broome Street into the -other building, and introduced to the saw hardening -room, where they are converted into highly tempered -steel.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i023.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0010' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>SAW HARDENING ROOM.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This process is effected by heating the metal in -charcoal furnaces to a white incandescent glow, and -then cooling it by immersion in baths of oil and other -drugs, the combination of which is, we believe, a -secret. This done, the saws are ready for grinding -which is effected in a special apartment of the main -building—the flat, straight saws by hand application -to a series of powerful grindstones, driven at a regular -speed by gearings worked from the engine, and -the circular saws by a very curious and effective -patent machine, peculiar to this establishment, and -invented by Mr. Hoe himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old method of grinding circular saws, and that -still practiced in all other works of this nature, is the -application of them horizontally to the great vertically-moving -grindstones by the hand; and, when it -is considered that these great steel plates run up to -six feet diameter and eighteen of circumference, and -that they consequently entirely conceal the grindstone -from the eyes of the operator who applies -them, it will be evident that the process is mere -guess-work, and that no certainty can be attained in -regulating the thickness of the blades—in a word, that -nothing was effected beyond the superficial brightening -and abstersion of the surface.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i024.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0011' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>GRINDING ROOM.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The new machine causes the great circular plate -to revolve vertically on its access, while a “pad” to -which is applied some sharp, detergent mineral-powder, -is moved forcibly over its surface with a -triple action.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the first place, the pad itself is made to revolve -with great velocity against the circular plane, in a -direction perpendicular to its line of motion. In the -second place, it is driven forward against it horizontally -with a force increasing or diminishing, in proportion -as it may be desirable to render the saw-blades -thicker or thinner in any particular part of the -circumference. It is usual to leave them thicker at -the centre, and to grind them away gradually toward -the circumference. Thirdly and lastly, the pad, -while it revolves vertically in a direction perpendicular -to the revolving plane, and is forced horizontally -against it, is also driven laterally to and fro -across its surface; and the result is a degree of -equability, or graduation of thickness, as well as of -superficial polish, scarcely otherwise attainable. -This machine is one of the special wonders and ornaments -of the establishment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It will not be amiss here to add, that with the improvements -of their manufacture the demand for circular -saws is continually on the increase; and that a -single house is in the habit of taking regularly six of -these powerful tools weekly from the Messrs. Hoes’ -establishment.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i026.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0012' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>IRON PLANING, AND CUTTING ENGINE ROOMS.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Returning hence to the leading and principal feature -of these works, the manufacture, namely, of all -the various instruments and appliances for the art -imprimatorial, we are next ushered into the iron -planing and cutting engine rooms, for the cutting the -cogs of engine wheels, and finishing the surfaces of -whatever portions of the machinery must be brought -to a smooth and polished face. This is done by the -propulsion of the pieces of metal so to be planed, in a -horizontal and longitudinal direction against cutting -edges, which again move horizontally across the -moving planes, and are pressed downward on them -vertically, so as to bring the planing to the requisite -depth. The abraded portions are thrown off from -the surface, of cast iron in a sort of scaly dust, from -wrought iron in long, curled shavings, and the planes -can be wrought up to almost any desirable degree of -finish and smoothness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cutting engine for the formation of cogged -wheels, bears some relation to that for the teething -of saws, the cutter impinging downward, with an action -in some degree intermediate between that of sawing -and filing, upon the exterior circumference of the -circular wheels, which revolve on their axis under -them in a rotation so regulated to the fall of the -striker as to insure absolute equality in the width of -the cogs or projections.</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='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_1'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f1'><a href='#r1'>[1]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='bot2'></a>Ships.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk105'/> - -<div><h1><a id='fare'></a>A FAREWELL.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>W. H. HOSMER.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Drifting on the darkened waters</p> -<p class='line0'>Are Earth’s dying sons and daughters,</p> -<p class='line0'>And, like ships that meet each other,</p> -<p class='line0'>Brother gives a hail to brother:</p> -<p class='line0'>Brief the pleasure of that meeting,</p> -<p class='line0'>And forgotten oft the greeting.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Could I think that other faces</p> -<p class='line0'>Would of me blot out all traces.</p> -<p class='line0'>Though I cannot be thy lover,</p> -<p class='line0'>Clouds my path would gather over;</p> -<p class='line0'>From remembrance, then, endeavor</p> -<p class='line0'>Not to blot me out forever.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Fare thee well! must now be spoken,</p> -<p class='line0'>And another tie be broken;</p> -<p class='line0'>Though the hour hath come to sever,</p> -<p class='line0'>Lady! I’ll forget thee never,</p> -<p class='line0'>But thy warmth of soul remember</p> -<p class='line0'>Till extinct life’s wasting ember.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk106'/> - -<div><h1><a id='edi'></a>EDITH MORTON.</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 S. A. STUART.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Have you ever been, dear reader, in that sweet -little village of A——, in Virginia? Well, if you -have not, you certainly have yet to see, the most -pleasant little Eden of this earth; where they have -the purest air, the most beautiful sunsets, and the -bluest skies imaginable—Italy not excepted—so I -think. There lived my heroine; and <span class='it'>such</span> a heroine, -at the time I have chosen to introduce her to you.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was close upon sundown, on a lovely spring day, -when a strikingly handsome, <span class='it'>distingué</span> looking -young man, alighted from his buggy, at the residence -of Mrs. Morton, in the above mentioned village. -Charles Lennard—the young man spoken of—had -been received as a boarder, for a few months, into -Mrs. Morton’s quiet family, as his health was too -delicate to allow him to trust to the precarious -and uncertain kindness shown by the landladies, in -general, of thriving village inns. Some moneyed -affair had called him to A., and here he had arrived -on this lovely spring evening; and the skies wore -their rosiest blush to greet his coming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By all that’s pretty! ’tis a little Paradise,” was -his muttered notice, as he passed through the flower-garden, -whose clinging vines, creeping o’er the lattice -supports, veiled the little bird-nest of white that -peeped out amid the rich green foliage, varied in -color by a thousand tinted flowers. “I hope Mrs. -Morton has given me a room overlooking the garden; -’twill be delightful to read here whilst these perfumes -are floating around one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door was wide open, and a quiet, blue-eyed -lady sat sewing in the back part of the wide hall, -who raised her soft, kind eyes inquiringly to his face, -as his shadow darkened the doorway.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Morton, I presume?” said he, as she approached -him. “I am Mr. Lennard, whom you -were so kind as to admit—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am happy to see you, Mr. Lennard,” interrupted -she, hospitably extending her hand to bid him welcome. -“Walk into this room, sir. We are very -plain folks here, Mr. Lennard—but you must endeavor -to make yourself at home. Alec”—to a boy -who entered—“take this gentleman’s buggy and -horse and put them up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Turning to her guest, she conducted him into her -cosy parlor, now filled with the golden moats of the -glimmering sunbeams, that quivered through the -foliage that draped the windows; whilst the atmosphere -of the room itself breathed sweets unnumbered. -They chatted of the weather, of his journey, -of the village, etc., till Mrs. Morton, remembering -her duty as hostess, begged her guest to excuse her, -whilst she hurried off, “on hospitable thoughts intent.” -Charles threw himself dreamily and indolently -into the old-fashioned arm-chair, which stood -invitingly in the shadow of the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A young, glad voice, a light, bounding step, broke -on his reverie; and, as he glanced toward the door, -whence the sound came—<span class='it'>bang!</span> almost in his face, -fell a carpet-bag, half filled with books, and then an -exclamation of surprise from a young fairy, who just -stopped long enough to make him doubt whether -she was mortal or angel—and then again bounded off -like a young, startled fawn. ’Tis our heroine—Edith -Morton—released from her duties at the village -academy, wild with repressed play and mischief, -who has done him this favor! She returned -ere long with her mother, reluctant and blushing, to -sanction by her presence the apology uttered for her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will excuse Edith, Mr. Lennard, I hope, for -her carelessness. She tells me that the light dazzled -her eyes so much, that she was not aware of your -presence; she has been in the habit of throwing her -books into this room—the arm-chair which you now -occupy being her morning study. Edith, speak to -Mr. Lennard, and tell him how sorry you are for -your rude greeting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do not trouble yourself, Miss Edith. Your -apology is all-sufficient, my dear madam; I, too, -must apologize, for having unknowingly taken possession -of her study, which is indeed inviting. You -must look upon me as belonging to the family, and -act without restraint; for I assure you, the thought -would be far from pleasant did I think I interfered in -the slightest degree with your settled habits. Miss -Edith, you did right to send me such a reminder at -the outset, and I assure you I will be more careful -in future.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A gleam of light, like a lurking smile, might be detected -in the arch eyes of Edith, as she received this -apology from Lennard. And he thought, without, -however, giving utterance to it, “What a bewitching -little fairy.” Edith Morton, though she had not -reached the age of sixteen, was an exquisite specimen -of girlish beauty, as impossible to resist as to describe. -Her charm did not lie in her regular features, golden -ringlets, or beautifully moulded and sylph-like form; -though each and every one of these adjuncts to female -loveliness she possessed in a preëminent degree, -but her expression—arch, <span class='it'>spirituelle</span>! ’Tis useless -to endeavor to convey an idea of the impression she -<span class='it'>must</span> have made on you with those divine eyes, lit -up in their blue depths, with the sunlight of her -merry heart, or the piquant expression of her rosy -mouth, whose deeply-tinted portals, when wreathed -with one of her infectious, heart-beaming smiles, disclosing -white, even, little pearls, as Jonathan Slick -says, shining like a mouthful of “<span class='it'>chewed</span> cocoa-nut.” -Shy before strangers, from her secluded life, she was -the life of the circle in which she was known, and -loved. Full of mischief, and the ringleader in every -school-girl frolick, her ringing, mellow laugh, often -echoed through the play-ground of the village school, -or singing merrily, as she was borne aloft in the -swing, or dancing like a fairy on the green. Many -were the boy-lovers who bowed at her shrine, with -their simple, heartfull offerings; but none felt themselves -signally favored—for, young as she was, she -seemed to have erected a standard of excellence in -her own mind, and her ideal hero was alone the -loved.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Charles Lennard soon made himself perfectly at -home with Mrs. Morton and Edith; and his first -evening with them passed pleasantly enough to him. -He felt himself much attracted by her exquisite -beauty; and, as their acquaintanceship progressed, -when her mother left the room on household duties, -he was much amused by her piquant and original -replies to his questions. He found her, too, not uneducated, -and, young as she was, a reader and lover -of many of his own favorite poets. At the close of -the evening, Mrs. Morton requested Edith to sing, -and, with a startled look toward Lennard, she left -her seat to get the guitar from its case.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother, ’tis dreadfully out of tune,” in a tone -of entreaty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Edith, that is soon remedied by your <span class='it'>will</span>. -So, my daughter, do not make any further excuse, -but sing to me as usual. Mr. Lennard will excuse -the faults when he sees how willing you are to -oblige.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Edith bent low over the instrument as she tuned -it, and looking up into her mother’s face, as if her -shyness was not yet overcome, waited for that -mother to tell her to commence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you ready? well, play then my favorite.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And though the young voice was trembling, and -not well drilled, yet she warbled her “wood notes -wild” with marvelous sweetness; and she blushed -with pleasure at Lennard’s seeming enjoyment of -her simple music; and her “good-night” to him was -as charming as to an acquaintance of longer date, -accompanied as it was by such a sweet smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a nice little wife she will make for some -one, in days to come,” thought he, as standing by -the window overlooking the garden, he found himself -musing on the singularly graceful and beautiful -child whom he had left.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Charles Lennard had no idea at that moment of -ever loving Edith Morton. She was too young, too -unformed in mind to comprehend him, and to follow, -as a kindred spirit, through the abstruse and almost -transcendental range of thought, in which he often -loved to engage. Delicate in health as in organization, -he contented himself for the present to be a -spectator in the world rather than actor, and in his -day-dreams now weaving bright pictures for the -future—pictures in which he was to play a most conspicuous -part. We will not say but that a vision -also of dazzling eyes, dancing ringlets, and woman’s -light form, constituted a part of the reveries of the -listless and dreamy student.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The neat breakfast-parlor of Mrs. Morton looked -as fresh as herself as Charles descended, the next -morning, to that meal. And there sat Edith in the -old, deeply cushioned chair, book in hand, conning -her morning task most zealously, but ever and anon -pushing her little foot out to a kitten on the floor, as -playful as herself, who, with its eyes distended to a -perfect circle, sat watching it most sagely, and then -jumping quickly to catch it, in retreat—so that the -young girl would laugh most merrily, and then again -resume her book. Charles watched her from the -hall ere he entered, for on his entrance she drew -herself up most demurely, and cut the kitten’s acquaintance -<span class='it'>instanter</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I assist you with your map-questions, Miss -Edith?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I thank you. I have finished studying them. -Mother always insists that if I rise early I will learn -twice as fast, and also be prepared to say them when -the bell rings.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know,” said Mrs. Morton, “she will be obliged -to stop for play every now and then. Yes, truly, -Edith, you are a sad idler.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, mother! but you should only see me in -school. Here there is so much to take up my attention. -I mean I am obliged to kiss you, to tend the -flowers, and—and play with pussy;” and here, forgetting -Mr. Lennard, she caught up her little pet, and -began smoothing its soft fur with her white hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For shame, Edith; will you always be a child? -Come, Mr. Lennard, breakfast is ready.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER II.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The holydays had come, and Edith was at home -for the summer. How pleasant were her anticipations -of her joyous freedom from dull books and the -restraint of school routine for months to come. The -next year she was to become a boarder in a fashionable -school in Philadelphia, and her mother decided -that the intervening time should be spent with her -needle, in preparation for that event. Yes; how -delightful! so Edith thought, to sit in that sociable -room sewing, where the air was redolent with perfume, -and the sunshine stole so coyly in through the -vine-draped windows, making shimmering and fantastic -figures on the highly polished and waxed floor -of that peculiarly summer-room, as the sweet south -wind waved them to and fro. Oh! for her, with her -young heart of hope, the summer air was so delightful -when it came through that window, where she -loved to sit gazing dreamily of a lucid, still morning, -coming, too, laden with sweets stolen from the dewy -flowers; and then a glance at those fleecy, shifting -clouds in the blue sky—why ’twas better to her -than the fairy scenes of a magic lantern or gorgeous -theatric spectacle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And there, too, sat Lennard, quite domesticated by -this time. Notwithstanding he thought it would be -so very pleasant to study in <span class='it'>his</span> room overlooking -the garden, he as regularly walked into the parlor -every morning with his book, until quite a <span class='it'>small -library</span> began to collect. Occasionally he would -read favorite passages from them to Edith, as she -sat sewing, and, child as she was, looking into her -eyes for sympathy in his enthusiasm. But far -oftener would he be wandering into the garden with -her, selecting flowers; sometimes holding the tangled -skein, and that, too, so intently, that often his dark -brown locks were mingled with her golden ones. -The peals of merry laughter! “How much amused -they are,” repeated to herself Mrs. Morton; but on -entering and inquiring what caused their merriment, -’twas too little to frame into an answer. Any -thing—nothing—created a laugh or smile with them, -they were so happy—so very happy. Nor was -music’s soft strains neglected to gild the passing -hours. There, in the witching, summer twilight, -still, soundless, save the low melody gushing from -Edith’s lips, as she sung to her simple accompaniment -on the guitar, and with the fuller, deeper music -of Charles’ voice, they sat wrapt in their happiness, -unconscious—(at least one of them)—of the feelings -rife within their hearts of what heightened their -enjoyment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Edith <span class='it'>was unconscious</span>. She was fully aware, it -is true, that life was gaining every day fresh -charms. To her eye the blue vault had never looked -“so deeply, darkly, so intensely blue.” The birds -had surely never sung so sweetly, nor the very -flowers borne so bright a hue; and yet, to all appearance, -as time wore on, she was not so gleeful -nor so wildly frolicksome as usual. No longer would -her voice be detected in the ringing laugh, but -smiles were rippling and dimpling o’er her face, -in her quiet heart happiness. Yes, in her heart -of hearts, what a spring of deep joy was bubbling -up almost to overflowing, quietly unknown to -others, but thrillingly alive to herself; so intense at -times, that those sweet eyes would glisten with unshed -tears at the very thought that death might come and -bear her off from so bright, so joyous a world, where -life <span class='it'>itself</span> was bliss. Her unusual quietness—her -fitful and radiant blushes—the soul-full glances—the -<span class='it'>manner</span> that was stealing so softly, yet so perceptibly -o’er the young girl, <span class='it'>toning</span> down, as it were, her -high spirits, was noticed by her mother; but her -conclusion was simply “that Edith is growing into -a woman, and will not be such a hoyden as I -dreaded.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Edith was unconscious!</span> But not so the dreamy -student. He, though albeit as much a child in the -actual business of life as Edith, was much better -skilled in the heart’s lore. He had seen the flash -of joy which brightened her eye—had watched the -cheek kindling at his approach, and the smile of womanly -sweetness, wreathing her exquisite lip at his -words or glance of approval.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had become, with Mrs. Morton’s acquiescence—having -nothing to occupy him, he had informed her—Edith’s -instructor in French; and he saw how any -thing but wearisome was the daily task; and, in the -solitude of his chamber, stole welcomely into his -mind the thought that <span class='it'>he</span> had taught her <span class='it'>practically</span> -to conjugate through all its inflections the verb -<span class='it'>aimer</span>. Mrs. Morton very often complained to Edith -that she neglected her sewing for her book, her -guitar, her evening rambles—but she was the widow’s -only child, her bright gleam of sunshine; her -idleness was overlooked, and she was allowed to -have her own will, and continued to be the constant -companion of Charles Lennard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a moonlight evening in the latter end of -October. Edith, Mrs. Morton, an elderly lady-visitor, -and Charles, rambled about a quarter of a -mile from the village, to a place called the Coolspring, -to enjoy one of the nights which October had -stolen from summer, and, delighted with the beauty -of the lonely, sequestered spot, where the moonbeams -rested so brightly and reflectingly on the rustic -spring—now bubbling up from the rich green, velvetty -sward—now hiding in the thick grass, and anon -revealing itself by its glitter—that the old ladies -seated themselves on the rude bench for a cozy chat -of “auld lang syne,” and “when we were girls, you -remember.” Charles and Edith were standing some -distance from them, watching “the silver tops of -moon-touched trees.” Very quietly had they thus -stood drinking in the quiet loveliness of this enchanting -scene, and no sound was heard but the mellowed -hum of the village, borne but echoingly to their ear, -and the rustling of the foliage, as it was kissed by -the night-breeze.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Edith!” and his voice was low, “is this not -beautiful. I swear that I could be here content -forever, were you but with me. But would you, -dear Edith?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A quick, eager, flashing gaze, as her eye was for -the instant raised to his own, was her answer. -’Twas the look of some wondering and awakened -child, as the consciousness of her feelings toward -Charles stole upon her beautifully, though strangely; -and something of gladness was in the melody of the -child-like, trusting, and low-toned voice with which -she breathed, rather than uttered, “Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dearest Edith!” was all that Charles said for -some moments, as he held the little trembling hand -in his own, then placing it within his arm, he drew -her to the shade of a large tree, under whose foliage -lay the fallen trunk of an oak, upon which they sat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dearest Edith,” he again said, as she, with -downcast eyes, blushing even in that dim light at his -impassioned tones and loving words, “promise me -that you will love me and think fondly of me for the -next two years I am doomed to wander, and then, -when I have fulfilled my guardian’s wishes, that -you will be my wife? My own Edith, say?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>You could almost hear the beating of that young -heart, as she thus sat listening at his side, shrinking -and trembling from the arm thrown around her -waist, and turning in timid modesty from the eyes -looking so ardently loving into the glistening depths -of her own, striving to hide her feelings from those -fondly searching eyes. And Charles—with the lightning’s -rapidity came into his mind the words of the -poet:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“She loves me much, <span class='it'>because</span> she hides it.</p> -<p class='line0'> Love teaches cunning even to innocence;</p> -<p class='line0'> And when he gets possession, his <span class='it'>first</span> work</p> -<p class='line0'> Is to dig deep within the heart, and there</p> -<p class='line0'> Lie hid, and like a miser, in the dark</p> -<p class='line0'> To feast alone.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>You</span> will forget <span class='it'>me</span> long ere you come back,” -was her answer to his reiterated appeal. “Why -need I, then, to answer?” And there was a tear -almost in the liquid voice, as a vision of what her life -would be, should such prove the truth, arose before -her mind’s eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Forget <span class='it'>you</span>! Do you judge me from yourself, -Edith, when you say that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no!” was the impulsive reply of the young -maiden, as she hastily and unthoughtedly now answered -him. “Oh, no indeed! But you, Mr. Lennard, -are going to Europe; and you will see there -so many, very many things and persons to make you -forget <span class='it'>me</span>—a <span class='it'>school-girl</span>—an ignorant <span class='it'>child</span>. I was -ashamed of myself before you, to think <span class='it'>I</span> knew so -little—so very little, and <span class='it'>you</span>—why you will blush -for my ignorance, and <span class='it'>then</span>—how could you love -me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How sweet were those tones, so full of heart-music -that he, luxuriating in them, hesitated to answer, -that he might catch even their echo; but at -length came his reply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How could I love you! Rather ask, how can—how -<span class='it'>could</span> I help it. You are to me, Edith, more -perfect than any human being I ever dreamed of or -imagined; so lovely, darling, that when you burst on -me first, in your young, pure loveliness, I was almost -in doubt if you, indeed, belonged to our dull earth. -<span class='it'>How could I love you!</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a simple question; yet, how deep in its -very simplicity and artlessness. Yes, Edith, I almost -ask myself the same question—how I could -<span class='it'>dare</span> to love one so like an angel. I will not suffer -myself to search into my right—lest I say with truth,</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>‘ ’Twere as well to love some bright particular star</p> -<p class='line0'> And think to wed it.’</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>But, promise that you will love me—that you will -think ever of me; and that when I return you will be -my wife?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must ask mother, Ch—Mr. Lennard I mean—Indeed, -indeed I cannot answer you for—do not -laugh when I tell you—I am almost frightened when -you ask me such a question; though”—and here the -young head, with its clustering, silken ringlets, bent -low as she whispered—“though I do love you now -better than any one in the world. But, let us go to -mother, now, Mr. Lennard,” she quickly added, -startled as it were, by her own confession; and, -springing lightly from him, as he attempted still to -detain her with his loving words, and almost nestling -down by her mother’s side, like a truant dove returned, -and yet, her heart beating with the fullness -of joy at the sweet knowledge she had thus gained—her -eye lit up with the lore conned from the new -page of the book in her life which she had then learnt. -And Charles stood by her, even more eloquent in his -silence than when he wooed her beneath the shadowy, -old tree.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“But they were young; oh! what without our youth</p> -<p class='line0'>  Would love be? What would youth be, without love?</p> -<p class='line0'>Youth lends it joy and sweetness—vigor—truth,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Heart, soul, and all that seems as from above.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER III.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Events mark time more than years, and this truth, -so much known, serves me to tell the change wrought -in Edith. A child in years, the beautiful fable of -Psyche was realized; and the next morning found -her soul awakened, and from her quiet, subdued -manner, no longer the child but the woman—ay, and -with a woman’s loving and devoted heart. Mrs. -Morton had been informed—much to her surprise, of -his proposal to her daughter—by Charles, and though -prepossessed in his favor, yet she demurred giving -her consent to their engagement on account of Edith’s -extreme youth. Charles told her of his isolated condition—his -fortune; and she at last, won by his earnest -entreaties, and the bashful, asking look from -Edith—whom she chanced to see whilst hesitating—consented -to their correspondence and conditional -engagement. And, now we must hurry over the -subsequent time which intervened before Lennard’s -departure, nor do I design to inflict the pangs of parting -on any save the lovers themselves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>January found Edith at her new school, and her -days glided on tranquilly and hopefully. She was -assiduous at her studies, music, etc.; determined, in -the depths of her loving yet ambitious little heart, to -render herself worthy of her future husband.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Charles, carrying letters of introduction to persons -of some consideration, and having good credit at his -bankers, soon found himself admitted into circles of -the <span class='it'>élite</span> in England, France and Italy. But every -where did he carry about with him his vivid remembrance -of Edith the young and the loving. Unlike -most heroes, he met with no stirring adventures—no -“accidents by flood or field”—no titled dames sued -for his love. He traversed England—knew London -and its lions—admired its gems; dwelt long enough -in Paris to speak intelligently; sailed down the -Rhine; crossed the Simplon, and spent some time at -Florence, Naples, Venice, and at last settled down in -Rome, to drag through the second winter of his probation -in Europe. And most constant had he been -all this time, thinking on Edith by day—dreaming of -her by night, and repeatedly sending his missives of -love o’er the broad Atlantic, laden with sighs sufficient -to waft the bark of itself had not <span class='it'>steam</span> deigned -to assist him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was in the month of March, when Lennard fell -ill at Rome. Alone—recluse and dreamy still in his -habits—he had made but few acquaintances, and -would, I think, have fared but badly had it not been -for the attention of an American family, like himself, -sojourning in the “imperial city.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Ashton, wife and daughter, were unremitting -in their kindness to the invalid, the former watching -him with a parent’s care, and the daughter cheering -and amusing him during the listless and languid -weeks of his slow convalescence. Isabel, or rather -Bel Ashton, was not beautiful; but there was that -nameless charm around her which often attaches -more powerfully than mere beauty. Partly educated -in Europe, she had passed much of her time in Paris -and other cities of the continent, and possessed by -<span class='it'>des habitudes</span>, and by nature, that</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Grace of motion and of look—the smooth</p> -<p class='line0'> And swimming majesty of step and tread;</p> -<p class='line0'> The symmetry of form, which set</p> -<p class='line0'> The soul afloat, even like delicious airs</p> -<p class='line0'> Of flute and harp.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Above all, her wit, sparkling and effervescing like -champagne, and almost as intoxicating. How swiftly -and agreeably speeded on his days. Every morning -found Charles in the parlor of the <span class='it'>suite</span> of rooms occupied -by the Ashtons, and as he gained strength, -their escort in rides and sight-seeing promenades. -Yet, though he admired Bel Ashton much, his betrothed -Edith was not forgotten. He now, however, -often caught himself contrasting them together—wondering -had she changed from her <span class='it'>spirituelle</span>, -radiant, girlish beauty, into any thing of more earthy, -coarser mould. With something unpleasant pulling -at his heart-strings, came the recollection that Edith’s -mother had a great resemblance to her daughter, but -was too much <span class='it'>embonpoint</span> to suit his ideas of matron -comeliness, and then a haunting vision would cross -his fastidious mind of his worshiped Edith becoming -like her mother, a Turkish <span class='it'>beauty</span> as to her size. -Bel, with her tact, her undulating, graceful motion, -her mannerism, <span class='it'>would</span> come in comparison to this -<span class='it'>bug-bear</span>—we may almost call it—of his imagination; -and, though when he remembered her sweet, -joyous temper; her appearance, as when standing by -the moonlit spring, with her graceful, girlish embarrassment—her -rare and dazzling beauty, her pure -young love—Bel would yield instant precedence to -Edith; yet was he constantly haunted by these ever -recurring comparisons, until he began—the ingrate!—to -feel his engagement as a binding chain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am now strong enough,” sighed Charles Lennard, -one morning, “to think of my preparations to -return to America. ’Tis now May, and I must -reach Virginia sometime in July, on account of my -then having reached my twenty-first birthday, and -am recalled by letters looking business-like, in every -way. When do you think of returning, Mr. Ashton?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been debating that question very often of -late with my wife, and we both have arrived at the -conclusion that we have already been absentees too -long, and must wend our way ‘westward-ho’ also. -What say you, Mrs. Ashton, and you, <span class='it'>ma Belle</span>, to -being traveling companions with our friend Lennard?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With all my heart,” said Mrs. Ashton; whilst -Bel, who had been seated at the piano, ran over with -taper and jeweled fingers a brilliant symphony, adding -to its melody that of her own rich, mellow voice, -in the words, “There is no home like my own.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And thus ’twas decided; and Charles carried his -unconscious tempter from his allegiance along with -him. Their intimacy, the effect—where any agreeability -exists at all—of being “alone on the wide, -wide sea,” did much to render him still more dissatisfied -with his engagement, and though he erred -not in the <span class='it'>letter</span>, I fear the <span class='it'>spirit</span> suffered in his vows -of fealty to his affianced Edith. Alas! for man’s love. -It is indeed</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“<span class='it'>Of man’s life a thing apart</span>.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet, one who thinks should not wish it otherwise, -for it would then be most unnatural. Man has a -thousand and one things to call off his thoughts from -his love to passing events, glowing and changing as -rapidly as the evening clouds, tinging his thoughts -and feelings, chameleon-like, with all the tints and -varieties of change, and calling upon him to battle -with the rough necessities of life. And all this prevents -him from thinking constantly o’er his dream of -love, and weakens, as a matter of course, the first -passionate ardor which he felt when under the influence -of the smiles, bright glances, and loving -words. As Miss Landon most beautifully observes—“<span class='it'>He</span> -may turn sometimes to the flowers on the way-side, -but the great business of life is still before him. -The heart which a woman could utterly fill were unworthy -to be her shrine. <span class='it'>His</span> rule over her is despotic -and unmodified, but <span class='it'>her</span> power over him must -be shared with a thousand other influences.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whilst, on the other hand, woman goes steadily on -with her domestic, monotonous duties, till they call -for no exertion of thought, becoming purely mechanical, -and the imagination having no healthy exercise, -runs riot in its indulgence of day-dreams. Many and -many is the maiden who sits sewing most industriously -with bright smiles wreathing unconsciously her lips—ask -her the subject of her thoughts—her blush will -tell you better than my words. She is now feasting -on her imagination till her love, by constant thought, -constant association with her daily routine of duties -and pleasures, becomes part and parcel of her very -existence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They have all landed in New York—the home of -the Ashtons—and still Charles Lennard loiters. Day -after day finds him among the groups who crowd -Mrs. Ashton’s parlors to welcome their return. At -length Bel and her parents decide to spend the summer -at Old Point Comfort, and Charles immediately -finds it necessary for his health to enjoy the sea air -and bathing. And so he must answer Edith’s last -letter, received whilst in Europe, and announce his -arrival—excuse himself, also, for not flying at once -to her presence!</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER IV.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>And Edith? All this while of chances and changes -how is the time passing with her? See for yourself -reader! Follow me gently into that well-known -parlor of her mother’s dwelling. There she sits, the -beautiful one! as light, as graceful, and still more -lovely than when we saw her last; for we now behold -her a thinking, refined, intellectual woman, with -all her youthful, beaming charms, heightened into -exquisite and womanly perfection. She is leaning, -rather pensively, on the arm of the chair, drawn to -the opened and perfume draped window, with her -soft, dimpled hand holding in its rose-colored palm -the rounded chin; the neat, little foot patting unconsciously -the floor—her eyes bent on the flowers of -her garden, seeing them in all their floating hues, -like the mingled colors of a kaleidoscope, before her -musing gaze. Her guitar leans against her knee, and -the other hand is straying across the strings, awaking -its echoes like the notes of an Eolian harp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother, I will go with cousin Frank and Sallie -to Old Point. They are so anxious I should do so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And suppose, Edith, Mr. Lennard arrives in your -absence, what shall I tell him?” said Mrs. Morton, -with a smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother, you must forgive my first breach of confidence, -for I was too unhappy, too wounded in my -pride and love to speak of what I am going to tell -you,” said Edith, her listless attitude now abandoned -for one of energy, and the usual musical tones were -rapid and more harsh—“yes, mother, my very first. -Mr. Lennard will be at Old Point soon after I reach -there. Yesterday I received a letter from him, and -such a letter!” Edith’s voice faltered, but indignantly -driving back the tears which were filling her -eyes, she drew from her pocket a letter, and handing -it to her mother, told her to read it. Whilst Mrs. -Morton arranged her glasses, Edith sunk back into -the chair with a slight frown and heightened color, -and one could see from the clenched hand how determined -she was to overcome the agitation which -was increasing by her disclosures.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>New York, June, 1847.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Edith</span>,—You must pardon my seeming -neglect in having left unanswered so long your last. -I have been very ill, and had it not been for the unexampled -kindness of an American family resident -in Rome, should long ere this have slept my last -sleep. And though barely recovered, I feel that my -strength needs recruiting ere I can be considered -aught but an invalid, and will therefore set out for -Old Point Comfort the last of this month. I hope I -need not assure you that I feel my exile from your -presence most sensibly, and I anticipate the pleasure -of visiting you in A—— as soon as I am better. I -know, my dear Edith, that this is but a sorry return -for your long and affectionate letter to me; but I -never did excel in putting my thoughts and feelings -upon paper, my weakness now, must excuse even -this poor attempt. I know your kind heart will -make every apology for me, and you will look upon -this as only the announcement, from myself, of my -return to my native land, and of course, to you. Believe -me, dear Edith, as ever,</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:4em;margin-bottom:0.5em;'>Truly yours,</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-bottom:0.5em;'><span class='sc'>Charles</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Morton folded the letter slowly, and gave it -back to Edith.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He may be as he says, Edith, too unwell and too -weak to write as he wishes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Unwell!” said Edith indignantly; “were <span class='it'>I dying</span> -I would not have written such a letter to <span class='it'>him</span>. -Yes, I will go to Old Point, and show Mr. Lennard -that I can resign him, and still live: I am determined -he shall never triumph in the thought, that I, a foolish -girl, would weep, and pine away, because he has -forgotten me,”—here the tears ran freely from her -beautiful eyes; and, with her voice broken by sobs, -she continued—as she knelt before her mother, burying -her tear-stained face in her lap—“and then, dear -mother, I will be all your own Edith again: no parting -from you, for I will never, never love any one, -or believe in their love as I have done.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Morton suffered her to weep, knowing it was -the best for that poor, grieved heart thus to find vent -from its bitterness; but she showed her sympathy -in her child’s first grief by her loving words, and -by softly smoothing the ringlets on her hot, throbbing -brow, and by many a tender kiss. And Edith, with -her head resting on her mother’s lap, sat on the floor -as of old, when a little child she would listen to stories -from her parent; and Mrs. Morton, very judiciously, -sought to impress upon poor Edith, the -instability of all things earthly, and begged her to lay -her griefs, in prayer, at the feet of that kind Father, -who is never tired of inviting the sorrowing and -weary to lay their burthens upon him, exhorting her -to pray for strength, and firm faith, so as to say from -her heart—“Though thou slayest me, yet will I -trust in <span class='it'>Thee</span>!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some days were passed in preparation for her -trip; and, at the appointed time, she accompanied -her cousin Frank and his wife. The Hygeia Hotel -was crowded with fashionables and invalids from -every section of the Union, and our party found they -had arrived in excellent time for the fancy ball, to -take place the ensuing week. Edith was only eighteen; -and though really grieved at Charles’ cold -letter, and supposed faithlessness, yet her indignation -and wounded pride made her still bear up against her -sorrow, at the thought of rupturing her engagement -with Lennard—whom she really loved, with all the -warmth of first and trusting love, notwithstanding -this rude shock it had received. But she was hopeful -and buoyant in disposition, and consoled herself -with the thought—as she looked into the mirror, and -saw there her loveliness—that she yet would win -him back to love her still more deeply: and pleased -was she, very naturally, at the universal admiration -she excited among the gentlemen; looking forward, -too, to her <span class='it'>first</span> ball—thinking Charles Lennard -would then see her in a dress, on which she bent all -her taste to render it bewitching—that he would feel -proud to be the husband-elect of one to whom so -many eyes turned in ecstasy at her exquisite beauty. -All these, and many more thoughts of a like nature, -kept her from becoming a prey to her heart sickness, -and she was really as lively and gay as she intended -appearing in his eyes. I hope no one will deem my -heroine heartless, because she was not as unhappy is -she first <span class='it'>expected</span> to have been. No, very far was -Edith Morton from that: on the contrary, she possessed -warm and ardent feelings, but—as I said before—she -was hopeful and confident—as what really -beautiful woman is not?—in the power of her attractions.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER V.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>It was four o’clock, and the day of the expected -fancy ball. The house, and its crowd of inmates, -were in all the anxieties of preparation, and pleasing -anticipation of the coming <span class='it'>fête</span>. The Baltimore -boats have just arrived, bringing fresh accessions to -the already thronged hotel; and the numerous waiters, -and smartly-dressed chambermaids, might be -seen hurrying here and there, busily preparing for -the new comers. The long piazzas—that were in -front and behind the central saloon—were full of -gay groups: some sauntering to and fro, others in -all the careless <span class='it'>abandonnement</span> of loose summer garb, -were sitting with their cigars, and arguing about politics—lazily -and prosily, as if even that was too much -of an exertion for the warm weather. Groups of -lovely women were promenading through the saloon, -in tasteful dinner-dress—some laughing, flirting, -some chess-playing with the officers of the garrison, -in their uniforms. Nor was there wanting -quite a number of sprightly “middies,” with their -banded caps set jauntily on their heads, for Hampton -Roads had two or three frigates, awaiting final orders, -ere they put to sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Edith was neither in the saloon nor piazzas; but -if you had searched closely, you might probably -catch a glimpse of the rosy tips of her taper fingers, -holding up a <span class='it'>wee</span> bit of the curtain, to allow her -bright eyes to scan the arrivals, as they came up immediately -in front of her window, amid the bustling -porters, hand-barrows, and saunterers, from the -wharf. Her little heart was beating wildly: and—although -garbed only in her loose, white <span class='it'>peignoir</span>—never -had she looked more lovely; for the rich flush -of expectation was on her cheek, and her countenance -was brightening and changing with every -emotion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Charles Lennard was expected that very evening! -She left the saloon immediately after dinner, that she -might be alone to watch: and here she has been stationed -at the window, for the last half-hour, listening—with -her <span class='it'>heart</span>—to every step, sounding on the -gravel. At length, <span class='it'>he</span> comes—but not alone, as -Edith had thought. No; he is one of a party, who -are now approaching slowly up the walk, directly in -front of Edith’s window—her room being one of -those delightful ones, joining the centre saloon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Well, as I said, here he comes, bearing several -shawls, and walking slowly along with a graceful -girl, in a fashionable traveling-dress, whose neatly -gloved hand is resting on his arm, and whose thick -veil hides features that Edith is scanning most uneasily. -We will not say that a pang, very like the -premonitory symptoms of the “green-eyed monster,” -did not dart through her heart, playing sad -havoc with her whilome hopeful feelings. Pale, -and rather thinner than when she last saw him—but -oh! how immeasurably superior, to her loving eyes, -than all the men she had hitherto seen bowing homage -to her charms. And now we must leave Edith, -with feelings too excited for her evening <span class='it'>siesta</span>, and -follow Charles and his party, who, of course, are no -other than Bel Ashton, and her parents.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A fancy ball! How provoking!” said she, as -Charles announced to her what was in contemplation, -as he rejoined her in one of the parlors, where -they were waiting for their rooms to be prepared. -“Yes, ’tis too annoying to have arrived so late, for -I cannot possibly now dress in character, and I have -no wish to enter the ball-room, save in costume.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, my dear Bel,” expostulated Mrs. Ashton; -“you have so many beautiful evening dresses: you -must go indeed. After resting, I shall certainly peep -in myself during the evening. And you, of course, -will go, Mr. Lennard?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, madam: I would not, if possible, miss seeing -such an assemblage of my fair country-women, -so soon after my return. I hope that my comparisons -may not be deemed at all critical by you ladies, -when I shall make them. But, Miss Bel, let me -add my entreaties to those of your mother, and beg -for the honor of becoming your escort for the evening.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will not promise you yet,” said she, smiling; -“but will let you know ere ’tis time to go. And, -now, Mr. Lennard, hurry them with our rooms, if -you have any compassion for me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Lennard again left them to execute her commands, -and soon returning gave them the welcome -intelligence that they were ready; and having escorted -them to the door, left to betake himself to -his, in order to recruit from the fatigue of three days’ -travel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had not the smallest idea of Edith’s being an -inmate of the hotel; or, indeed, of her being any -where except in the quiet little village of A——. I -really question if a thought had turned toward her, -so absorbed had he been in his attentions to Miss -Ashton, who, by the bye, though ever graceful and -lady-like, was sometimes exacting in her demands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Well, he went to sleep, and when he awoke from -his refreshing nap, the room was shrouded in the -dimness of twilight, and a tap at his door made him -spring from the bed, and throwing on his coat, gave -entrance to a servant, who brought lights, water, -etc., as he had given orders, at that hour, and also a -little perfumed billet, with “Miss Ashton’s compliments, -and would be happy to accept of Mr. Lennard’s -escort to the ball.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At nine, he was at Mrs. Ashton’s door, where he -was joined by the party, ready to enter the saloon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Have you ever been at Old Point Comfort? If you -have, ’tis needless for me to attempt to describe that -spacious saloon, with its corridors on each side—large -enough to contain with ease at least five hundred, -without incommoding each other, by jutting -elbows, or pinched feet, or by making the belle concerned -about the appearance of her costume, as she -mingles in the <span class='it'>mêlée</span>, or what would appear a crowd -in any common sized room. What a <span class='it'>coup d’œil</span> -struck our party as they entered the west door from -the piazza. No garden ever gleamed more brightly -with clustering flowers than did that gas-lit, lofty -saloon, with its pillars, flowers and mirrors reflecting -its extensive range and gay groups, making it -look still larger and better filled. The splendid band -from the garrison was in full play, wafting strains of -delicious music over the illumined and perfumed -scene. There were groups of fair forms and lovely -faces, that would task the most skillful artist to depict, -and match in their rich complexions and brilliant -robes even Titian’s exquisite coloring. Fragments -of conversations, and jets of sparkling—now -murmuring—laughter would fall from their ruby lips, -like snatches of delicious music. And there, in other -groups, could be seen distinguished statesmen and -orators—here the merchant, forgetful for the nonce -of his schemes of profit, as he looked on his superbly -bedecked wife or fascinating daughter; there the author, -whose honeyed eloquence linked his readers’ -hearts to his name with chains of gold, and caused -many a pulse to throb as wildly as now beat the -hearts of those young houries who grace this glad -scene. Dancing had not as yet commenced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A buzz of general admiration now follows a group -who have just entered. It consisted of four persons, -two ladies and their escorts, <span class='it'>en character à la Cracoviene</span>. -Upon one, in particular, of that well dressed -quartette did the eye rest in amaze at her radiant -beauty of form and feature, and the exquisite grace -of her undulating step reminding one of the dip of a -sea-gull—so easy, so light, so gliding in its motion. -Her cavalier was tall, thereby making the form -which leaned on his arm almost <span class='it'>petit</span> by comparison. -Her short, full skirt of white silk, with scarlet ribbons—tight-fitting -jacket of velvet, of the same brilliant -dye, with its buttons and embroidery of silver—scarlet -boots, <span class='it'>à la polka</span>, and small velvet cap, -with white <span class='it'>marabouts</span>, completed the costume, -which exactly suited the arch look of the beautiful -Edith. Her luxuriant tresses of light brown were -braided in wide plaits, and tied <span class='it'>en nœuds</span>, with ribbons -to match in color her jacket.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Charles fairly started, for—unchanged, except that -added years but increased her loveliness, and that -her coquettish dress and the dazzling light made her -look still more ethereal and fairy-like—’twas his -own Edith! Yes, the truant heart, which had been -straying, like a thought of the mind, was instantly -brought back to its allegiance; and the deep tone -with which he uttered “Edith!” had all the fervor -and tenderness of the moonlight trysting scene.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A pang, too, very much like jealousy, came to -annoy him, at this crisis, when he saw her dispensing -her smiles to the knot of gentlemen who -almost surrounded her party, and seemed soliciting -her hand for the polka quadrilles they were about -forming. How inconsistent are those very same -“lords of creation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was Charles fuming and chafing, internally, -because Edith by some magnetic attraction had not -been able to single him out amid that crowd of five -hundred!—and he had for a few brief hours past -almost forgotten her existence. He determined to -get clear of Bel as soon as politeness would allow, -and claim from Edith her recognizance. At the same -time, however, thoughts of writing a tiny note, and -conveying it to her privately, crossed the “almost -twilight of his brain;” for he was fearful that the -young, untrained girl, who had never mingled in -European courts, and been the admiration of mustached -barons and stripling lords, might be apt to get -up a scene.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He might have spared himself this harrowing -thought, did he but know that Edith had actually -seen him on her first entrance, and was determined -on showing him that her happiness was not <span class='it'>entirely</span> -dependent on her whilome, careless lover. The -chains he had been so anxious to loose he now hugged, -with anxiety and joy, the closer to him, as he, -notwithstanding the brilliant remarks of Bel, (to -which I am fearful he answered at random,) continued -absorbed and wrapped in the contemplation of -Edith’s peerless beauty, and her sprightly and lady-like -manner. He now entered, <span class='it'>con amore</span>, into the -truth of Shakspeare’s lines—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>                          It so falls out,</p> -<p class='line0'>That what <span class='it'>we have</span> we prize not to the worth,</p> -<p class='line0'>While we enjoy it; but, being lacked and lost,</p> -<p class='line0'>Why then we know its value: <span class='it'>then</span>, we find</p> -<p class='line0'>The virtue that possession would not show us</p> -<p class='line0'>While it was ours.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>He watches her—and she, at last, suffers her eye to -fall upon him. “Is it possible! Am <span class='it'>I</span> so changed! -Or, perhaps, she has so far forgotten me that, after a -lapse of three years, I am not recognized.” These -were some of his <span class='it'>now</span> agonized thoughts; and, with -murmured apology, he resigned Bel to her father, -and moved toward Edith. Too late! She has taken -her place in the quadrille, and he only reaches her -former resting place in time to hear the murmurs of -admiration from the group of gentlemen left. The -graceful, willowy figure of Edith is now moving -through the quadrille with a young officer, whom -Lennard at once dubs in his heart as “<span class='it'>a puppy</span>,” -from the very fact of seeing him look on <span class='it'>his own</span> -Edith! with too impassioned an eye to suit his fancy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she takes her place, she allows her eyes to -meet those of Charles—an electric stream seems to -shoot through each heart, for the bright blush of -Edith suffuses even her snowy throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the quadrilles were finished, he, of course, -had an opportunity of advancing and addressing -Edith; and that same inconsistency! which I have -before apostrophized—he would rather have the embarrassment -of a <span class='it'>scene</span> now, than the smile, and—to -his excited imagination—very cool, collected reception -which Edith at this time tenders him. She -welcomed him, ’tis true, but shared with him—<span class='it'>him</span> -the loved—the betrothed—the absent—the smiles -which <span class='it'>his</span> heart so covets with the acquaintance of -a day! Could mortal man bear this? Charles felt -that the iron had entered into his soul and Edith -saw it!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He could not find the opportunity he sought of questioning -Edith. He asked her to dance—to promenade -with him. She held up to him her tablets, with -its lengthy list of names, and with her musical laugh -cries, “Mercy, I pray you.” Charles turned off, -with a bow he vainly strives to make as careless as -her manner to him, and rejoins the Ashtons. Bel -will not dance. She is somewhat provoked with -Charles, whom she saw addressing Edith with more -<span class='it'>empressement</span> and <span class='it'>diffidence</span> of manner than he exhibited -toward herself, and hence the cloud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their party leave early, and Lennard, restless and -disquieted, wanders forth to the beach seeking company -from the moaning and restless waves for his -own troubled thoughts. Strains of melody are borne -to him on that lonely shore from the scene of gay -festivity, and he feels angry with Edith, whom his -jealous imagination pictures reveling in the dance, -for thus enjoying herself to his own misery. He sat -down on the breakwater, watching the waves, and -in his despairing mood wished for death, bethinking -himself of the heartlessness of all womankind, and of -Edith in particular. The stars were paling in the -quiet sky when he betook himself homeward, worn -out and exhausted. He passed the now deserted -ball-room, “whose guests had fled,” and threw himself -on his bed, to toss in dark dreams the few remaining -hours that intervened between then and the -time he could reasonably expect to see Edith.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER VI.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>What a glorious night! How dazzling look the -shining sand, the glistening water, in the moon’s -mellow rays which fall now so brightly upon them, -and bathing in its effulgence those two youthful -figures who are pacing to and fro on the ramparts of -Fortress Monroe, nearest the bay. The lady was -gazing on the ground, and he—into her lovely face. -’Twas Edith and Lennard!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Vainly had he sought the interview during the day, -but he could only see her the centre of an admiring -circle, for Edith was decidedly the “star of beauty” -and the “belle” amid the many who thronged the -crowded saloons of the Hygeia Hotel. At last she -promised to walk with him; and directly after tea -had she gone with Charles to the garrison, and there, -’neath that brightly shining moon, had he told her of -his fault—of his love.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Edith?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She like a <span class='it'>true</span> woman forgave him, for she loved -<span class='it'>much</span>. At first, however, she made him writhe -under her assumed inconstancy, until she saw his -agony, and then, when almost in despair of regaining -his lost treasure—her love—came her forgiveness, -like the manna to the starving Israelites. Adding, by -way of <span class='it'>coda</span> to her musical words, the laughing exhortation, -“To be a good boy, and she would—<span class='it'>try -to love him</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A week later finds them <span class='it'>en route</span> for A——, -Charles Lennard accompanying them; for he is as -eager to ratify his engagement <span class='it'>now</span> as he was before -to free himself. He had told Bel Ashton, the day -after the ball, of his engagement, and <span class='it'>she did not -break her heart</span>, but was soon as gay and as graceful -as ever, “winning golden opinions” from all sorts of -people, for Mr. Ashton was very wealthy, and Bel -was his only child!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Morton was very much astonished to see -Edith return so full of happiness, and bringing back, -as “quiet as a lamb,” the recreant knight. Nor did -she advert to the letter or Edith’s protestation, but -once, and that was when preparing for their marriage, -she exclaimed with a smile: “So, Edith, instead -of coming back to love no one but your -mother, you only return to fill my hands full of labor -and perplexity, and <span class='it'>my</span> heart full of grief at the -thoughts of parting with you, even for a while.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk107'/> - -<div><h1><a id='lin'></a>LINES,</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>SUGGESTED BY ROGERS’ STATUE OF RUTH.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>From age to age, from clime to clime,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A spirit, bright as her own morn,</p> -<p class='line0'>She walks the golden fields of Time,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As erst amid the yellow corn.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>A form o’er which the hallowed veil</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of years bequeaths a lovelier light,</p> -<p class='line0'>As when the mists of morning sail</p> -<p class='line0'>  Round some far isle to make it bright.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And as some reaper ’mid the grain,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Or binder resting o’er his sheaf,</p> -<p class='line0'>Beheld her on the orient plain,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A passing vision, bright and brief;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And while he gazed let fall perchance</p> -<p class='line0'>  The sheaf or sickle from his hand—</p> -<p class='line0'>Thus even here, as in a trance,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Before her kneeling form I stand.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But not as then she comes and goes</p> -<p class='line0'>  To live in memory alone;</p> -<p class='line0'>The perfect soul before me glows</p> -<p class='line0'>  Immortal in the living stone.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And while upon her face I gaze</p> -<p class='line0'>  And scan her rarely rounded form,</p> -<p class='line0'>The glory of her native days</p> -<p class='line0'>  Comes floating o’er me soft and warm;—</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Comes floating, till this shadowy place</p> -<p class='line0'>  Brightens to noontide, and receives</p> -<p class='line0'>The breath of that old harvest space</p> -<p class='line0'>  With all its sunshine and its sheaves!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>It is a form beloved of yore,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And when that passed the name breathed on;</p> -<p class='line0'>But now the form lives as before</p> -<p class='line0'>  To charm even though the name were gone.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And though the future years may dim</p> -<p class='line0'>  And mar this lovely type of Truth,</p> -<p class='line0'>Through every action, feature, limb,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The breathing stone shall whisper Ruth!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk108'/> - -<div><h1><a id='ferd'></a>FERDINAND DE CANDOLLES.</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Of all the social miseries of France, none are more -fruitful in catastrophes of every kind than the idle -uselessness of the well-born, and the over-education -of those who are not so. France being, as one of her -writers observes, the China of Europe, her habits, -customs, and traditions, endure, in fact, through the -organized destruction of succeeding revolutions, and -whilst throne after throne lies in the dust, the prejudices -of that fictitious universe called the world, -are standing still, fixed, firm, and uprising in inflexible -strength from roots that plunge deep into the soil. -For instance, the old idea that a <span class='it'>gentilhomme</span> or a -<span class='it'>Grand Seigneur</span> should not know how to spell, -although obsolete as far as grammar and orthography -are concerned, lives on yet in the notion that a gentleman -<span class='it'>must not work</span>. This has hitherto proved an -uneradicable opinion, and the general incapability -and instinctive laziness of the upper classes in France, -can, alas! amply testify to its prevalence throughout -the country. It is not that the aristocracy of France -are wanting in talent or intelligence; on the contrary, -they have far more of what may be called native -capacity than the classes beneath them—but they are -unpractical, unbusiness-like, unused to any things in -the shape of affairs. They are admirable if always -in the first place, but rebel at the bare thought of -helping on the governing machine in its hidden -wheels; and whilst with us every public office counts -gentlemen by the dozen, and noble names are to be -found even in the most unconspicuous, though useful -places; in France an ancient family would think itself -degraded if one of its sons were to be discovered -amongst the workers of a bureau.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The following tale, the circumstances of which are -yet uneffaced from many a memory in Paris, will -perhaps serve to exemplify the sad truth of what I -advance, and give a slight notion of the immediate -action of certain false principles upon our neighbors’ -mind. The hero of the ensuing pages, Ferdinand de -Candolles, was the last scion of one of the most -ancient houses in France. Ferdinand’s father died -whilst the boy was in early infancy, and the entire -charge of her son, whom she idolized, fell upon -Madame de Candolles. At eighteen, Ferdinand was -a tall, handsome youth, prodigiously proud of his -name, highly romantic in his notions, ready to do -battle with any given number of individuals in -honor of <span class='it'>Dieu, le Roi, ou sa fame</span>, making a terrible -quantity of bad verses, but as incapable of explaining -to you M. de Villèle’s last financial measure, -or the probable influence of the increasing growth of -beet-root sugar upon the colonial markets, as he -would have been of expounding the doctrines of -Confucius in Chinese.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Revolution of 1830, fell like a thunder-bolt -upon France, and the Bourbons of the elder branch -allowed themselves to be driven from their post. -The elements of revolution had been for the last -seven or eight years fermenting far more in society, -in the arts and in literature, than in the political -sphere; and Ferdinand, with all his heart and soul a -devoted royalist, as far as the government was concerned, -was naïvely and unsuspectingly in every -thing else, a determined revolutionist, overthrowing -intellectual dynasties, spurning authority, mocking -at control, gloating over Victor Hugo, George Sand, -<span class='it'>e tutti quanti</span>, and fancying the whole was quite -compatible with the political faith he would sooner -have died than resign. Sometimes Madame de Candolles -would think very seriously of what could be -the future career of her son, and the word <span class='it'>Nothing!</span> -emblazoned in gigantic ideal letters, was the only -answer her imagination ever framed. In 1832, it so -happened that the now prefect named in the department, -was an old friend of the widow’s family—a -<span class='it'>bourgeois</span>, it is true, still a respectable man, whose -father and uncle had, in very difficult times, rendered -more than one signal service to Madame de Candolles’ -own parents. M. Durand and his wife drew -Ferdinand and his mother as much about them as -they possibly could, and whenever he found an occasion -of insinuating any thing of the kind into the -widow’s ear, the well-intentioned préfet would talk -seriously, nay, almost paternally, of her son’s future, -and the little it seemed likely to offer him. One -day, after a conversation in which Madame de Candolles -had more freely than usual admitted the barrenness -of the lad’s prospects, M. Durand contrived to -lead her insensibly toward the notion of some employment -whereby a becoming existence might be -insured, hinted that there were positions where -political opinions need be no obstacle, to which the -nomination even did not emanate directly from the -government, and ended by proposing to invest Ferdinand -with the dignity of head librarian to the -<span class='it'>Bibliothèque de la Ville</span>, a place yielding some hundred -and fifty pounds a year, and just left vacant by -the death of Madame Durand’s nephew. Madame de -Candolles’ surprise was scarcely surpassed by her -indignation, and, though she managed to cover both -by a slight veil of politeness, there was in her refusal -a degree of haughtiness that went well-nigh to disturb -the honest préfet’s equanimity. As to Ferdinand, -he did not exactly know, when the offer was -first made clear to him, whether he ought not to -take down a certain sword worn at Marigny by his -ancestor, Palamède de Candolles, and punish M. -Durand with positive loss of life for his audacity; -but, when what he called <span class='it'>reason</span> returned, he determined -simply by the frigid dignity of his manners in -future to make the <span class='it'>bourgeois</span> functionary of Louis -Philippe feel the full extent of his mistake, and bring -him to a proper consciousness of the wide difference -between their relative positions. Nor was this all; -one day, some six months after, Madame de Candolles -took occasion to pay a visit to the préfecture, -and leading M. Durand aside, to solicit him for the -still unfilled post of librarian, in favor of Ferdinand’s -foster-brother, a market-gardener’s son! He was, -she said, an exceedingly clever young man, knew -Latin, Greek, and all sorts of things, had just served -his time in a notary’s office, and would be the very -thing for the situation proposed!—(successor to -Madame Durand’s own nephew!) The préfet was -sufficiently master of himself to refuse politely, alleging -that he had already made choice of a librarian; -but when Madame Durand heard the story, she vowed -undying hatred to all aristocrats, and whenever she -afterward met Madame de Candolles, tossed her -plumed head as though she had been a war-horse. -So ended our hero’s first and only chance of official -employment, rejected, we have seen with what disdain. -He had then attained the age of twenty-three.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the course of the following year General de -Candolles died, leaving all he possessed to his nephew. -This “all” was not much, still it was something—some -twenty-odd thousand francs, or so—and if the -widow had lived long enough, it might have increased; -but, unfortunately, before Ferdinand had -reached the age of twenty-five, his mother also died, -leaving him completely—positively “alone in the -world.” With what Madame de Candolles left (her -chief resources had come from a small annuity) Ferdinand -found himself at the head of about two thousand -pounds sterling. With two thousand francs a -year, which this would yield, he might have lived -comfortably enough in any part of the provinces, -and indulged in a quiet laugh at the préfet, who -wanted to make a <span class='it'>bibliothécaire</span> of him. But, of -course, such sensible arrangements did not enter into -his head. He was (the <span class='it'>naïf</span> royalist and aristocrat!) -wild with admiration of “Hernani” and <span class='it'>le Roi -s’amuse</span>, and for the moment thought of little beyond -the soul-stirring delights of seeing Bocage in <span class='it'>Antony</span>, -or Madame Dorval in <span class='it'>Marion Delorme</span>. To Paris, -of course, tended all his desires, and to Paris he accordingly -went, as soon as the first months of mourning -were expired, and he had put what he termed -order into his affairs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We will not dive into the details of his existence -in the great capital during the first period of his residence -there. Suffice it to say, that the literary mania -soon possessed him entirely, and he dreamt of little -short of European fame. Here, indeed, thought he, -was a career into which he might throw himself -with all his energy. Lamartine and De Vigny were -gentlemen like himself, and there was in poetry nothing -to sully his escutcheon. Unfortunately, Ferdinand -mistook for talent the means afforded him by his -purse for drawing flatterers about him, and for some -time he bought his most fatal illusions with his positive -substance. Dinners to journalists, and parties -of pleasure with all the world, soon reduced his -capital considerably, but what did that matter? when -he should be famous, publishers would besiege him, -laying thousands at his feet for a fortnight’s labor. -He was already the acknowledged idol of certain -<span class='it'>salons</span>, and when the tragedy he had written should -be performed, his name would be glorious throughout -the world. By dint of pecuniary sacrifices, the performance -of this play at the Théâtre Français had -been obtained, and what with newspaper scribblers, -<span class='it'>claqueurs</span>, actresses, and human leeches of every -sort who fastened upon his pocket, the author found -himself, half an hour before the curtain drew up, on -the fancied dawn of his glory, literally deprived of -every farthing he possessed, except one solitary five-franc -piece in his waistcoat pouch. Ferdinand -smiled gayly on perceiving this, and thought what a -strange thing fortune was, and fame, too, and how, -on the morrow, he should be on the high road to -riches!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Well, to cut the matter short, the tragedy was a -dead failure, as it merited to be, and before the last -act was ended, Ferdinand’s golden dreams were -rudely dispelled, and he clutched the <span class='it'>pièce de cent -sous</span> in his waistcoat-pocket as though it were to -save him from going crazy. When the curtain dropped -he escaped from the theatre unseen, muffled up -in his cloak like some criminal flying from detection. -But his fate was lying in wait for him. As he turned -round the corner of the house which led into the least -frequented of the surrounding streets, he perceived -three or four carriages waiting for their occupants, -and he stood for an instant, hesitating whether to go -backward or forward. At that moment, a ray from -the <span class='it'>réverbère</span> fell upon the face of a lady who, enveloped -in mantle and hood, was waiting for the -arrival of her equipage. Ferdinand had never seen -that face before, but he stood riveted to the spot, for -something in his heart whispered, <span class='it'>it is she—the one</span>! -The preceding carriages received their respective -charges, and whirled them off; the last one drew up, -and the door was opened by the footman—the lady -dropped her glove, whilst turning to bid adieu to her -companion. Ferdinand, unconscious that he had -sprung to her side, raised it up, and offered it to its -owner. “Thank you, Armand,” said she, “what a -wretched stupid play—was it not?” and then turning -round—“A thousand pardons, monsieur!” she exclaimed, -“I mistook you for another person;” and -so, with a bow, she entered her carriage, and the -door closed with a bang.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ferdinand stood upon the spot where he had seen -her stand, until a <span class='it'>sergent de ville</span> touched him on the -arm, and told him to move on. “<span class='it'>What a wretched -stupid play!—was it not?</span>” the sentence rang in his -ear, but brought with it the echo of the tone—that -magic sound that had struck upon the chords of his -secret soul, and under whose vibration they were -still striking their response—the honeyed voice, not -the hard words, had wounded him, and he confessed -that, though deadly, the poison was nectar to the -taste.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Day after day, hour after hour, did Ferdinand spend -in the vain attempt to discover his unknown idol, -and the less he succeeded in the enterprise, the more -the object of his pursuit became lovely in his eyes, -and was surrounded with ideal charms. It would be -useless to enter into the painful details of Ferdinand’s -life during this period.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day after the failure of his tragedy, the Marquise -de Guesvillers, an ancient dowager of the Faubourg -St. Germain, and his chief <span class='it'>prôneuse</span>, sent to beg -the discomfited author would come dine with her -<span class='it'>tête-à-tête</span>. Ferdinand had a reason now for desiring -to explore to the utmost extent the upper regions of -society, and he accepted the invitation. The old -lady greeted him with a half-benevolent, half-mischievous -smile—“My dear child,” said she, when -the servant had closed the door, “now that Providence -has saved you from becoming an <span class='it'>homme de lettres</span>, -we must try to make something of you. -Heaven be praised! pen and ink must have lost its -charm for you at last;” (a pinch of snuff,) “it seems -your play was as bad as your enemy could wish; -Madame de Rouvion was there, and has just told me -so—poor dear Hector de Candolles,” (another pinch -of snuff,) “if he could have guessed that a great-grandson -of his would write a play! But, however, -that is over now, and we have only to rejoice that -things were no worse: when the recollection of -your <span class='it'>aventure</span> shall have quite subsided, we will -find a wife for you, and settle you in life! Thank -Heaven! you are cured of your taste for pen and -ink!” and these last words the good lady repeated -over and over again in the course of the evening, and -each time with remarkable satisfaction. Once or -twice Ferdinand was tempted to shake the monotonous -little dowager to pieces, and shout in her ear—“Woman! -I must <span class='it'>live</span> by pen and ink, or starve!” -but the remembrance of <span class='it'>the face</span> he had seen the -night before, froze the words on his tongue, and he -submitted to the torture in silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For months in the <span class='it'>salons</span>, whither Madame de -Guesvillers carried him, he sought out the object of -his dreams, but she never appeared, and Ferdinand -went on leading <span class='it'>la vie de Bohème</span>, until hope began -almost entirely to fade away. One evening, he had, -for the fiftieth time, accepted an invitation to some -<span class='it'>soirée</span>, where his indefatigable patroness insisted -upon his going; and he was, as usual, looking on -whilst others amused (or fancied they amused) themselves, -when the conversation of two ladies near him -attracted his attention—he knew not why.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So Blanche Vouvray is come back at last?” said -one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is coming here to-night,” replied the other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the two talkers moved away, a certain movement -might have been observed toward the middle -of the room, and many and loud greetings welcomed -a new comer, who seemed to have been long absent. -Mysterious magnetism of the heart! Ferdinand -knew what had happened, and was prepared, when -he turned round, to recognize at last—standing in the -midst of a group, who were pressing eagerly around -her—the <span class='it'>one</span>, so long, so vainly sought; the vision -that had risen over his ruin like a star over the tempest-torn -sea, that had come and vanished in the momentous -night, when it was proved to him that his -sole resources, for a bare existence, must depend, in -future, upon hard, ignoble, unavowed and insufficient -toil!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There she stood—bright, beautiful and glad, beaming -on all about her; dispensing favors in look, gesture -and smile, and inflicting wound after wound on -Ferdinand’s heart by the incomparably sweet voice -that, do what he would, seemed to his ear always to -repeat—“<span class='it'>What a wretched, stupid play!—is it -not?</span>” It was the only link between them—the one -sole sign whereby she had acknowledged his existence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How long the <span class='it'>soirée</span> lasted, was what M. de Candolles -never knew; he simply thought it a time—it -might be one protracted moment—during which there -was light; then, the light went out, and darkness -spread over every thing around. He would not ask -to be presented to Mademoiselle de Vouvray; he -was content to watch her; and, when she was gone, -he mechanically closed his eyes, locked up his vision -within his inmost self, and then, re-awakening, went -forth, to be once more alone with his idea!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Time passed on, and Ferdinand’s passion increased -with every hour. Three or four times in the week -he found means to feast his eyes upon the object of -his adoration, and the remaining days and nights were -spent in trying to draw poetic inspiration from what -threatened to be the source of something very nearly -akin to madness. Ferdinand’s actual talent, however, -was of such a perfectly ordinary stamp, that it -profited in no degree by the strong element love afforded -it, and one fine morning—when he least expected -it—a blow so stunning was dealt him that his -whole fabric of existence was well-nigh shivered to -the earth. The proprietor of the paper wherein, for -the last year or two, M. de Candolles had published -anonymously the chief productions of his pen, suddenly -told him that he should in future be obliged to -refuse his contributions unless <span class='it'>signed by his own -name</span>! M. de Candolles, he urged, was known in -many <span class='it'>salons</span> of the <span class='it'>beau monde</span>, and probably what -he might write would be read by a good number of -people, whereas the lucubrations of <span class='it'>Jaques Bargel</span>—Ferdinand’s -<span class='it'>pseudonyms</span>—only occupied space, -and brought neither fame nor money to the journal. -M. de Candolles received the announcement, which -went near to show destitution staring him in the face, -with becoming fortitude. He would sooner have died -than allow his name to be dragged forward into publicity; -and at the thought of the elegant, aristocratical, -disdainful lady of his worship discovering that he -lived by writing <span class='it'>feuilletons</span>, he felt the very ground -fail beneath his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ferdinand was, after the circumstance we have -just related, reduced to a species of misery even he -had as yet not suspected. Unable to pay for the -lodging, small and dirty as it was, that he had hitherto -inhabited, he was now reduced to rent a small -attic belonging to the collection of servants’ rooms -in a tolerably good-looking house. The one thought -that absorbed him was fear lest Blanche de Vouvray -should discover the necessities of his life. This, and -this alone, combated the wild passion wherewith she -had inspired him. But he reckoned without feminine -instinct and feminine curiosity. Blanche de Vouvray -had not been half-a-dozen times in the same <span class='it'>salon</span> -with M. de Candolles, before she felt she was adored, -and her next feeling was one of considerable -anxiety to know how she should bring her slave to -confess the charm. Blanche was a person of irreproachable -conduct; but still, it was tiresome to be -so evidently worshiped, and yet know nothing at all -about it!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Poor Ferdinand! The struggle for existence was -rapidly wearing him out. The want of almost every -necessary of life, the constant recourse to a morsel -of bread, or a little rice, and a few potatoes, for daily -food, coupled with the perpetual tension of the brain, -required to secure even these, miserable as they -were—all this was doing its deadly work, and M. de -Candolles’ health was visibly failing every day. -One evening, this was so plain to all eyes that, at -Madame de Guesvillers’ house, many good-natured -persons told Ferdinand he really must take care, or -they should hear of his going off in a galloping consumption. -An hour or two later, some one opened -a window behind where he was standing—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do not remain where you are—<span class='it'>pray</span>!” said a -voice beside him. It was timidly yet earnestly said—the -sweet voice was unsteady, and there was such -an expression in the last word, “<span class='it'>Pray!</span>” Ferdinand -turned without answering: his eyes met Blanche de -Vouvray’s—she looked down, but not before she had -involuntarily replied to his passionate and melancholy -glance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>M. de Candolles soon left the room. His brain -was on fire, and he rushed homeward like one possessed. -Part of his prudence was gone. He -snatched up pen and ink, and <span class='it'>wrote</span>—wrote to <span class='it'>her</span>! -All that Ferdinand had never yet found, was found -now—the hidden spring was reached, and the tide of -eloquence gushed forth, strong, rapid, irresistible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such a letter as few women have ever received -was put, the next morning, into Mademoiselle de -Vouvray’s hands. The first effect of it was electrical—she -became confused, and like one in a dream; -but, almost as soon, the feminine instinct awoke, and -involuntarily she admitted that <span class='it'>her end was gained—he -had spoken at last</span>! What lay beyond was -uncertain—might be dangerous, and had best be altogether -set aside. She would avoid M. de Candolles -in future. This was not so easy: that very night -she met him in the vestibule of the <span class='it'>Grand Opera</span>, -with little, old Madame de Guesvillers on his arm. -He bowed to, but did not look at her; was cold, silent -and reserved, and really did seem as though he -had one foot in the tomb. He would, perhaps, not -live another year—that was a shocking thought—and -Blanche shivered as she rolled over the <span class='it'>Pont -Royal</span> in her comfortable carriage. There could be -no harm in answering his letter from a certain point -of view she now adopted, and accordingly she did -answer it, and a very virtuous, and consoling, and -amiable composition her answer was. From this -moment the possibility of writing tempted both; -and, from time to time, they availed themselves of -it, though it never degenerated into a habit. Ferdinand’s -pecuniary resources growing less and less -with every day, he literally <span class='it'>starved</span> himself, in order -to cover the extravagance of his <span class='it'>heart-expenses</span>. -For a bouquet dropped in at her carriage-window, -as she drove from the <span class='it'>Italiens</span>—for a perfume to put -upon his own handkerchief, that she should inhale, -he constantly observed a four-and-twenty hours’ fast, -broken only by a crust of bread and a glass of water.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were days, it cannot be denied, when the -fair Blanche de Vouvray admitted to herself that it -might have been better for her never to have seen -M. de Candolles. His strange adoration captivated -and preoccupied her by its very strangeness, probably -far more than if it had followed the ordinary method -in such cases.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One day, after saving during three weeks, and -Heaven only knows with what pains, the sum of fifteen -francs, Ferdinand therewith secured the loan of -a really handsome horse, from one of the dealers in -the Champs Elysées. When the carriage came in -view—than which there was no other in the world for -him—he made his steed execute certain evolutions -gracefully enough, for he was a remarkably good -horseman, darted off upon the road to the <span class='it'>Bois de -Boulogne</span>, crossed once or twice the path of the <span class='it'>calèche</span> -he was pursuing, received <span class='it'>one</span> look of recognition, -<span class='it'>one</span> sign from a small gloved hand, and was -over-paid! That evening, they met in the same <span class='it'>salon</span>: -a lady—who was standing by the piano whereon -Blanche had just been playing a new waltz—asked -Ferdinand whether she had not seen him on -horseback in the Champs Elysées.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought I would try how it might suit me -now,” was his reply: “but I find it will not do; the -exercise is too strong, and I am unequal to it.” -Blanche de Vouvray grew pale, and bent down to -look over some music.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If riding is too much for his nerves,” observed—later -in the evening, to his neighbor—one of the -beardless <span class='it'>lions</span> who happened to be present, “I -should imagine such a monstrous quantity of cake -must be equally so!” and jumping forward to Ferdinand’s -side—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Halte là, mon vieux!</span>” he exclaimed, with all -the elegance and atticism of <span class='it'>Mabille</span> in his intonation. -“Leave a little of that <span class='it'>Savarin</span> for me, will -you? <span class='it'>Que diable!</span> why, one would swear you -hadn’t eaten since yesterday!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ferdinand turned round suddenly upon the ill-bred -youth, and in his haggard glance there was a flash of -positive ferocity: it was but a flash, but to an observer -it would have sufficed to testify the truth of -the horrid words uttered in jest. An instant after, -the impression was chased away, and a laugh was -the only visible result of the incident; but any one -who could have decyphered what was engraven on -M. de Candolles’ countenance that night, would -have seen that a convulsion so violent had passed -over his whole being; that reason was almost shaken -from its throne.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The constant recurrence of these violent emotions -acted more and more visibly each day upon Ferdinand’s -wasted frame; and, at last, a moment came -when he disappeared altogether from his habitual -haunts. Few marked his absence, except a few -women, in whose albums he wrote bad verses, and -for whom he procured autographs from great theatrical -celebrities. Upward of ten days passed, and M. -de Candolles had not yet been heard of. His old -friend, Madame de Guesvillers, drove herself to his -door, and the answer at first was—as usual—that he -was “<span class='it'>out</span>.” Two days later, however, the porter -admitted that he was in reality very ill, but that the -doctor had forbidden any one from visiting him, as -the slightest agitation or exertion might produce the -worst effects. That very evening, whilst her circle -of <span class='it'>habitués</span> was around her, Madame de Guesvillers -received a note from Ferdinand, expressing his gratitude -for her inquiries, but saying that his illness was -little or nothing—a cold—and that he hoped in a few -days to be able to resume his place at her tea-table. -Blanche was present, heard the contents of the note, -and if it had been any one’s interest—which it luckily -was not—to watch her, would have betrayed by -many little signs, her involuntary joy. But, on returning -home, that joy was turned to dismay. There -was a letter, too, for her—such a letter—it was -written from a death-bed, and contained a last farewell! -She dismissed her maid, and sat through the -first hours of the night, with the letter lying before -her. Every feeling of commiseration, of womanly -sympathy was touched, and the true womanly wish -to comfort and console aroused.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she arose the next morning, it was with the -determination to afford the last sad alleviation in her -power to the sufferings she had caused. She accordingly, -after attiring herself as modestly as possible, -sallied forth, and, on foot, reached M. de Candolles’ -abode. Here, for a moment, she paused, and her -courage began to fail.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a bright, sunny morning, and it would -have seemed that all the shopkeepers in the street -were determined to take their part of air and light, -for Blanche thought they were all congregated upon -their respective thresholds to see her pass. She -blushed at every step, and felt so confused, that more -than once she had nearly stumbled. Before entering -the <span class='it'>porte cochere</span> she stood an instant still, all the -blood rushed to her heart, and she was ready to -faint, <span class='it'>lest she should be too late</span>! When she had -mastered this first strong emotion she began to reflect -upon the means of gaining the sufferer’s presence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Blanche commenced her ascent, but when she -reached the topmost stair of the fifth flight, and saw -before her the narrow, winding, dirty steps that led -to the last story, she paused, and began to wonder -whither she was going. How strange that M. de -Candolles should live in such a place! M. de Candolles, -who was “one of her set,” and whom she -had pictured to herself surrounded by the same elegancies -of life which, to the small number of individuals -she called <span class='it'>every body</span> were indispensable!—what -could it mean, and where was she going?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She mounted the flight of stairs, and found herself -in a long, winding corridor, lighted by skylights -placed at stated distances. Doors were on either -hand, and they were numbered. Blanche de Vouvray -drew her silk dress and her cachemire shawl -closely around her, to avoid the contact of the greasy -looking wall. She was hesitating whether she -would not return at once, when a low moan, followed -by a short, hollow cough, struck her ear—all -the woman’s pitying sympathy was instantaneously -re-awakened, and she advanced, her hand raised in -order to knock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But, reader, let us in a few words depict to you -the scene that is yet hidden by that closed door. On -a miserable bed stretched upon a <span class='it'>paillasse</span> of straw, -lies the invalid, upon whose pallid features a ray of -light falls mournfully after having filtered through a -ragged piece of green calico hung up before the dim -pane of the roof-window. The walls are dingy and -bare; in one corner only hangs something in the form -of clothing, covered by an old square of ticking. On -a broken-backed straw chair at the bed-head, rests a -broken tea-pot, apparently filled with <span class='it'>tisane</span>; whilst -upon a small table near the door are crowded together -papers and perfume-bottles, inkstands and -soiled gloves, a wash-hand basin and a candlestick, a -hair-brush and two or three books—the heterogeneous -symbols of all the wretched inmate’s wants, -vanities and toil!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The night had been a bad one, and the morning -sun brought but small alleviation to Ferdinand’s sufferings, -whilst the malady itself held him prisoner -in its clutches; the want of proper sustenance so -weakened his frame that it could oppose no resistance -to disease. The brain, without as yet precisely -wandering, still from time to time created for itself -fair illusions, gentle dreams. <span class='it'>One</span> form ever floated -before Ferdinand’s mental vision—far, far off, as in -another sphere—and he would stretch forth his arms -toward the image, and longing, cry to it for a look, -a sign of recognition.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A knock came at his door, uncertain, timid, loud; -why did they disturb him?—Another knock!—He -groaned forth the word to enter, and a hand was laid -upon the key.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come in,” he again peevishly repeated. The -door opened!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To describe what passed in the minds of the two -thus suddenly face to face to one another, is impossible. -All the squalid, ugly, poverty and apparent -degradation we have tried to depict, flashed like -lightning over Blanche de Vouvray’s comprehension—she -stood aghast, but the involuntary scream that -escaped her was drowned in the violence of the exclamation -that burst from M. de Candolles’ lips. -With one hand drawing over him convulsively the -blanket which was his only covering, and waving -the other imperiously—“Depart hence, depart,” he -shrieked in bitter agony, and with eyes that started -with horror from their sockets.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The terror was mutual; and she who had come -to console fled in dismay, and he, who would have -paid with his heart’s blood a touch of her hand, -drove her from him as ruthlessly as though she had -been his deadliest foe!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ferdinand de Candolles did not die then; he went -raving mad, was confined at Charenton for many -years, grew to be a harmless maniac, and died in the -year 1848. Blanche de Vouvray is still a reigning -beauty in the <span class='it'>salons</span> of Paris, universally respected, -and only known by a very few as the heroine of this -sad tale.</p> - -<hr class='tbk109'/> - -<div><h1><a id='rai'></a>THE GHOST-RAISER.</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>My Uncle Beagley, who commenced his commercial -career very early in the present century as a bagman, -<span class='it'>will</span> tell stories. Among them, he tells his -Single Ghost story so often, that I am heartily tired -of it. In self-defense, therefore, I publish the tale in -order that when next the good, kind old gentleman -offers to bore us with it, every body may say they -know it. I remember every word of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One fine autumn evening, about forty years ago, I -was traveling on horseback from Shrewsbury to -Chester. I felt tolerably tired, and was beginning to -look out for some snug way-side inn, where I might -pass the night, when a sudden and violent thunder-storm -came on. My horse, terrified by the lightning, -fairly took the bridle between his teeth, and started -off with me at full gallop through lanes and cross-roads, -until at length I managed to pull him up just near -the door of a neat-looking country inn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” thought I, “there was wit in your madness, -old boy, since it brought us to this comfortable -refuge.” And alighting, I gave him in charge to the -stout farmer’s boy who acted as ostler. The inn-kitchen, -which was also the guest-room, was large, -clean, neat and comfortable, very like the pleasant -hostelry described by Izaak Walton. There were -several travelers already in the room—probably, like -myself, driven there for shelter—and they were all -warming themselves by the blazing fire while waiting -for supper. I joined the party. Presently, being -summoned by the hostess, we all sat down, twelve -in number, to a smoking repast of bacon and eggs, -corned beef and carrots, and stewed hare.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The conversation turned naturally on the mishaps -occasioned by the storm, of which every one seemed -to have had his full share. One had been thrown off -his horse; another, driving in a gig, had been upset -into a muddy dyke; all had got a thorough wetting, -and agreed unanimously that it was dreadful weather—a -regular witches’ sabbath!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Witches and ghosts prefer for their sabbath a -fine moonlight night to such weather as this!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These words were uttered in a solemn tone, and -with strange emphasis, by one of the company. He -was a tall, dark-looking man, and I had set him -down in my own mind as a traveling merchant or -pedler. My next neighbor was a gay, well-looking, -fashionably-dressed young man, who, bursting into a -peal of laughter, said:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must know the manners and customs of -ghosts very well, to be able to tell that they dislike -getting wet or muddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first speaker giving him a dark, fierce look, -said:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Young man, speak not so lightly of things above -your comprehension.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mean to imply that there are such things -as ghosts?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps there are, if you had courage to look at -them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The young man stood up, flushed with anger. But -presently resuming his seat, he said calmly:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That taunt should cost you dear if it were not -such a foolish one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A foolish one!” exclaimed the merchant, throwing -on the table a heavy leathern purse. “There are -fifty guineas. I am content to lose them, if, before -the hour is ended, I do not succeed in showing you, -who are so obstinately prejudiced, the form of any -one of your deceased friends; and if, after you have -recognized him, you allow him to kiss your lips.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We all looked at each other, but my young neighbor, -still in the same mocking manner, replied:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will do that, will you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said the other—“I will stake these fifty -guineas, on condition that you will pay a similar -sum if you lose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a short silence, the young man said, gayly:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fifty guineas, my worthy sorcerer, are more -than a poor college sizar ever possessed; but here are -five, which, if you are satisfied, I shall be most willing -to wager.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The other took up his purse, saying, in a contemptuous -tone:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Young gentleman, you wish to draw back?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>I</span> draw back!” exclaimed the student. “Well! -if I had the fifty guineas, you should see whether I -wish to draw back!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here,” said I, “are four guineas, which I will -stake on your wager.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No sooner had I made this proposition than the rest -of the company, attracted by the singularity of the -affair, came forward to lay down their money; and -in a minute or two the fifty guineas were subscribed. -The merchant appeared so sure of winning, that he -placed all the stakes in the student’s hands, and prepared -for his experiment. We selected for the purpose -a small summer-house in the garden, perfectly -isolated, and having no means of exit but a window -and a door, which we carefully fastened, after placing -the young man within. We put writing materials -on a small table in the summer-house, and took away -the candles. We remained outside, with the pedler -amongst us. In a low, solemn voice he began to -chant the following lines:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“What riseth slow from the ocean caves</p> -<p class='line0'>     And the stormy surf?</p> -<p class='line0'>The phantom pale sets his blackened foot</p> -<p class='line0'>     On the fresh green turf.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Then raising his voice solemnly, he said:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You asked to see your friend, Francis Villiers, -who was drowned, three years ago, off the coast of -South America—what do you see?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see,” replied the student, “a white light arising -near the window; but it has no form; it is like an -uncertain cloud.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We—the spectators—remained profoundly silent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you afraid?” asked the merchant, in a loud -voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not,” replied the student, firmly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a moment’s silence, the pedler stamped three -times on the ground, and sang:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“And the phantom white, whose clay-cold face</p> -<p class='line0'>        Was once so fair,</p> -<p class='line0'>Dries with his shroud his clinging vest</p> -<p class='line0'>        And his sea-tossed hair.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Once more the solemn question:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You, who would see revealed the mysteries of -the tomb—what do you see now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The student answered in a calm voice, but like -that of a man describing things as they pass before -him:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see the cloud taking the form of a phantom; its -head is covered with a long veil—it stands still!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you afraid?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We looked at each other in horror-stricken silence, -while the merchant, raising his arms above his head, -chanted in a sepulchral voice:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“And the phantom said, as he rose from the wave,</p> -<p class='line0'>        He shall know me in sooth!</p> -<p class='line0'>I will go to my friend, gay, smiling and fond,</p> -<p class='line0'>        As in our first youth!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you see?” said he.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see the phantom advance; he lifts his veil—’tis -Francis Villiers! he approaches the table—he writes!—’tis -his signature!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you afraid?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A fearful moment of silence ensued; then the student -replied, but in an altered voice:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With strange and frantic gestures the merchant -then sang:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“And the phantom said to the mocking seer,</p> -<p class='line0'>        I come from the South;</p> -<p class='line0'>Put thy hand on my hand—thy heart on my heart—</p> -<p class='line0'>        Thy mouth on my mouth!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you see?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He comes—he approaches—he pursues me—he -is stretching out his arms—he will have me! Help! -help! Save me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you afraid, <span class='it'>now</span>?” asked the merchant in a -mocking voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A piercing cry, and then a stifled groan, were the -only reply to this terrible question.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Help that rash youth!” said the merchant, bitterly. -“I have, I think, won the wager; but it is -sufficient for me to have given him a lesson. Let -him keep his money and be wiser for the future.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He walked rapidly away. We opened the door of -the summer-house and found the student in convulsions. -A paper, signed with the name “Francis -Villiers,” was on the table. As soon as the student’s -senses were restored, he asked vehemently where -was the vile sorcerer who had subjected him to such -a horrible ordeal—he would kill him! He sought -him throughout the inn in vain; then, with the speed -of a madman, he dashed off across the fields in pursuit -of him—and we never saw either of them again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That, children, is my Ghost Story!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And how is it, good uncle, that after <span class='it'>that</span>, you -don’t believe in ghosts?” said I, the first time I -heard it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because, my boy,” replied my uncle, “neither -the student or the merchant ever returned; and the -forty-five guineas, belonging to me and the other -travelers, continued equally invisible. Those two -swindlers carried them off, after having acted a farce, -which we, like ninnies, believed to <a id='tobe'></a>be real.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk110'/> - -<div><h1><a id='what'></a>WHAT DOST THOU WORK FOR?</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 F. ORNE.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>What dost thou work for, oh, tree of the forest,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Spreading thy branches so wide and so free?</p> -<p class='line0'>Why hast thou many years wrought in thy season?</p> -<p class='line0'>  What is the end of thy work and of thee?</p> -<p class='line0'>“Earth, mother earth, I have wrought for and toiled for,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Life still bestows her beneficent breast;</p> -<p class='line0'>When for her I shall garner up treasures no longer,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Back shall I sink to her bosom to rest.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>What dost thou work for, sweet flower of the wild-wood,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Spreading thy garlands of beauty and bloom?</p> -<p class='line0'>Why dost thou toil to bring buds into blossom?</p> -<p class='line0'>  Who shall come hither to seek thy perfume?</p> -<p class='line0'>“Earth, mother earth, ’tis for her that I labor.</p> -<p class='line0'>  Cheerfully work I by night and by day,</p> -<p class='line0'>All she hath given, and more, shall I measure</p> -<p class='line0'>  Into her bosom, where yet I shall lay.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Man, that art heaping up riches and treasure—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Man, that art seeking for praise and for fame—</p> -<p class='line0'>Man, that art chasing the phantoms of pleasure—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Whose is your toil? Who your labor can claim?</p> -<p class='line0'>“Earth, mother earth; ’tis for her we are toiling,</p> -<p class='line0'>  These are her gifts, and to her they return;</p> -<p class='line0'>All we have gathered must go to her keeping,</p> -<p class='line0'>  When she ourselves shall in darkness inurn.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Then who art filling each hour’s golden measure</p> -<p class='line0'>  Full of good deeds, and of kindness and love,</p> -<p class='line0'>Who bindeth the wounded, and helpeth the weary,</p> -<p class='line0'>  For what is thy toil—who thy work shall approve?</p> -<p class='line0'>“High heaven will approve, though my labors are humble,</p> -<p class='line0'>  For the soul’s truest welfare I toil, not in vain;</p> -<p class='line0'>Earth from her bosom such treasures bestows not,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With the soul back to heaven return they again.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk111'/> - -<div><h1><a id='apr'></a>APRIL.</h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>By April, of the sunny tress,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The mighty spell of death is broke,</p> -<p class='line0'>As marble, with a food caress,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To life the son of Belus woke.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>               <span style='font-size:smaller'>W. H. C. H.</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i066.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0013' style='width:45%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>TOM MOORE.</span> (<span class='it'>See page <a href='#tom2'>593</a>.</span>)</p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk112'/> - -<div><h1><a id='tom'></a><a id='tom2'></a>TOM MOORE.—THE POET OF ERIN.</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 BON GAULTIER.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The celebrated poet of the Irish Melodies—so -long a member of that glorious company of British -bards which, a perfect galaxy of genius, illuminated -the first quarter of the present century—is no more. -He saw them all run their high careers, and pass -away—and now he, too, is gone. For the last couple -of years, his brilliant and active mind had given way—the -soul had sunk before its “dark cottage,” and -his life was second childishness and mere oblivion. -None of his old cotemporaries remain, at present, -but the last among them—Samuel Rogers, the -banker-poet, now between 80 and 90 years of age—who, -seeing that his poems are not likely to descend -to posterity, has, at least, resolved to go a good part -of the way himself. We do not mention Montgomery—he -was never ranked in the peerage of Parnassus, -to which Moore belonged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was time for Thomas Moore to depart; he had -seen star after star decay:—many a glorious head -stoop to the dust, many a soaring spirit extinguished—the -passionate and wayward Byron, dying in a -barrack, alone, at Missolonghi—an old, worn-out -man at thirty-seven; and the delicate and sensuous -Keats, in the morning of his days, exhaled into the -clear blue sky of Rome; and “the pard-like spirit” -of Shelley, passing, ere the noon, through the portals -of his familiar haunt, the sea, to mingle with the -elements which he so fearfully, so fearlessly worshiped -in the world; and the Cervantic and fine-hearted -Sir Walter—noblest of Scottish Chiefs; and -the consummate lyric poet of Hope and Poland and, -“by Susquehanna’s side, fair Wyoming;” and the -three kings of bardish Cumberland—the weird and -metaphysical Coleridge, as magnificent as Skiddaw—and -as <span class='it'>misty</span>, for the most part—Thalaba, Southey, -the library hermit—and Wordsworth, the consecrated -hermit of the Mere and the Mountain; and, -along with these “dead kings of melody,” the Shepherd -of Ettrick, Allan Cunningham, Motherwell, -the stormy, metallurgic soul of Ebenezer Elliott, -and the swan-like music of Hemans. He saw them -all pass away into the world of shadows—a more -goodly and powerful troop of poets than any other -age of British literature could boast—and he himself -was not unworthy of that splendid and memorable -brotherhood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moore was born in May, 1779, at Aungier street -in the city of Dublin, of Catholic parents. His father -was a highly respectable grocer and spirit-dealer. -Young Moore was sent to the school of Mr. Samuel -Whyte, a man who enjoyed a high reputation as -pedagogue in the metropolis. He had a very refined -and dignified notion of his own vocation and literature, -and was, withal, a good and kind-hearted man. -He greatly encouraged the habits of public reading -and elocution in his school; and the fashion of private -theatricals being then very prevalent in the aristocratic -families of Ireland, he was often called to -superintend them at various houses. He encouraged -his scholars to act scenes from plays, and was a -great hand at furnishing prologues and epilogues for -stage “<span class='it'>pieces de circonstance</span>.” Mr. Whyte was -no common man; for it is, in all human probability, -to his peculiar mode of training that English literature -is indebted for two of its most brilliant ornaments. -His encouragement of theatricals and -songs, among the boys, gave Richard Brinsley -Sheridan a tendency to the drama, and Moore a turn -for lyrical composition and high-life; for we firmly -and potently believe in the truth of the old hexameter -embalmed in the Lindley Murray of our childhood—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>’Tis Education forms the tender mind;</p> -<p class='line0'>Just as the twig is bent, the tree’s inclined.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>About a quarter of a century before Moore entered -the school, Mr. Whyte had the teaching of young -Sheridan, whom, curiously enough, he pronounced -“an incorrigible dunce,” after a year’s instruction -of the boy! A dunce he was, perhaps, at the methodical -“branches,” taught in a methodic way by -Mr. Whyte; but we venture to say quick enough, -when the fit was on him, at the gay work of tinkering -or acting plays, or pieces of plays—thus taking -unconsciously the bias which had its results in the -School for Scandal and the Duenna. As for Tommy -Moore, he was always a spry, vivacious, black-eyed -little chap, who took at once to the business of the -boards, and recited and performed to the great satisfaction -of his master. The latter, whenever he -went to the houses of the nobility and gentry to get -up plays, would usually take with him his smart -show-actor—the precocious little Catholic boy, and -give him parts to sustain in the representations. In -this way the plebeian youngster was introduced—greatly -to his pride and satisfaction—into the highest -families of Dublin and its vicinity, where the circumstances -of gayety and splendor, contrasting with -the exclusions generally operating against those of -his class and creed, heightened the zest with which -he enjoyed his privileges, and thus early created -those feelings and sentiments of pleasure and brilliancy -which influenced his subsequent career in the -world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From reciting and acting, the transition to writing -verses was a very natural thing, and Moore showed -himself as apt at rhyme as at every thing else. Indeed, -like Pope and Ovid, “he lisped in numbers, -for the numbers came.” He himself gives us from -memory, part of a juvenile effusion on resuming -school tasks after the business of the stage was over:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Our Pantaloon, who did so aged look,</p> -<p class='line0'>Must now resume his youth, his tasks, his book,</p> -<p class='line0'>And Harlequin, who skipped, laughed, danced and died,</p> -<p class='line0'>Must now stand trembling at his master’s side.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>And he says: “I have thus been led back, step by -step, from an early date to one still earlier, with the -view of ascertaining, for those who may take any -interest in literary biography, at what period I first -showed an aptitude for the now common craft of -verse-making, and the result is—so far back in childhood -lies the epoch—that I am really unable to say -at what age I first began to act, sing, and rhyme.” -At the age of twelve he wrote a Masque, in which -he adapted verses to Haydn’s “Spirit-Song,” and -this was performed by himself, his sister, and some -young friends in his father’s house in Aungier street. -There have been few instances of a healthy precocity -of mind beyond that of Thomas Moore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In 1793, at which time the French Revolution was -suggesting to the kings of Europe a little leniency to -their people, Moore was permitted by the repeal of -a penal statute, to enter Trinity College Dublin—a -Protestant University. Here, being always anxious -to distinguish himself, he gave in a specimen of English -verse at one of the examinations, and was gratified -by the praise of the examiners and a copy of the -Voyage of Anacharsis—a book which must have -greatly helped to Orientalize the genius of Moore. -His first step in regular authorship was the publication -of the Translation of Anacreon the Greek poet. -His sprightly facility of weaving verse had been -exercised during his stay in College, on this congenial -task; and in 1799, when nineteen years old, he -went to London to keep his terms as a barrister at -the Middle Temple, and to bring out his English -Anacreontics. These last he was permitted, through -the interest of some of his aristocratic Irish patrons, -to dedicate to George, the Prince Regent—against -whom, nevertheless, at a future period, Moore discharged -some of his sharpest arrows of personal and -political satire. After the publication of the lyrics, -this young poet gradually gave up his idea of becoming -a lawyer. Themis and her Courts were -relinquished for <span class='it'>Musa lyræ solers et cantor Apollo</span>; -law was completely driven out of his head by the -gay society into which his poetical and musical -qualities introduced him, and he seems to have -looked more to the patronage of his titled friends and -the trade of authorship than to any settled walk or -profession. The Earl of Moira was his great patron, -and the influence of this nobleman raised the young -Irishman to a companionship with the highest and -most refined societies of the land. And certainly, -the son of a Dublin grocer—a Catholic, too—must -have possessed, in a very wonderful degree, the accomplishments -and amenities of the head and heart -which could thus win the favor and friendship of a -very exclusive and fastidious class. Moore’s temperament -was, in fact, a happy one, and counseled -as well by prudence as his love of pleasure, he exerted -himself to the utmost to conciliate the partiality -of the aristocracy and to live at ease among -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About this time, 1801-2, he spent a good deal of -his time at Donington Park, the seat of the Earl of -Moira, “under whose princely roof,” as he says -himself—(and great was the charm which these -princely roofs ever had for the poet!) “I used often -and long in those days find a hospitable home.” -Here the young Irishman became somewhat intimate -with kings and princes—members of Bourbon and -Orleans families of France; for whom he was in the -habit of playing and singing, and with whom he -could bandy courtesies and converse. These were -the Count of Provence, afterward Charles X.; Louis -Philippe and his brothers Montpensier and Beaujolais—“all -dismounted cavalry,” as Curran called -them, in a whisper, when he first found himself -sitting among them; and with these the Duke de -Lorge, the Baron de Rolle, and many others of the -emigrant <span class='it'>noblesse</span>. No wonder Moore’s ideas should -be so redolent of sparkling wines, exquisite shapes -of beauty, and all the perfume and rose-color of life. -He lived at Donington in the happiest and most -luxurious manner; and the range of a magnificent -library was not wanting to complete the aristocratic -charm of his existence at that period. Shut up in it for -whole days he has felt, in the midst of his schemes -of authorship, like Prospero in his enchanted island. -How different was the fate of his old friend, Robert -Emmett! At that very time the latter was plotting -desperately against the English government, and preparing -that rebellious uprising in which he perished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In 1803, at the early age of 23, Moore began to reap -some of the solid fruits of his connection with the -English aristocracy. He got the place of Registrar -of the Court of Admiralty at Bermuda, through the -interest of the Earl of Moira, and went to the island -to take possession of his office. But instead of doing -the duties of it, he procured a deputy, and went -rambling and rhyming over the islands and on the -continent of America. He highly enjoyed the natural -softness and beauty of the Summer Islands; but -many a song and poetical epistle proved that “his -heart was in Albion—his heart was not there”—that -he was sighing for what he called</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The flourishing Isle of the brave and the free,</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>the splendid hospitalities of Donington and the <span class='it'>pays -de cocagne</span> of the British aristocracy in general.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Passing from Bermuda, he came to Norfolk in -Virginia, and thence made a pretty lengthened tour -through the States, by Washington, Philadelphia, -Buffalo and the lakes. The young votary of the -Anacreontic muses—the musical pet of the higher -English circles—did not like the American Democracy -at all, and has left on record about as unfavorable -an opinion and prophecy concerning the republic -as has been written at any time since. Every thing -seemed tough and unrefined; and when he made his -bow to President Thomas Jefferson, he felt a mental -shock from the sight of that simple man, wearing -“Connemara stockings and slippers,” at the head of -a nation. To be sure the society of British officers -and Federal Whigs among whom he chose his friends -and acquaintances was not calculated to impress him -with any favorable idea of the democratic party. -But, every allowance made, Moore said enough to -show that, Catholic as he was, and come of plebeian -forefathers (at least in an <span class='it'>immediate</span> manner; -for the name O’Moore is high on the old rolls of -Irish peerage and rebellion) he never had any hearty -sympathy with republicanism and the cause of the -people. He was all for the glorious distinctions of -rank and historic <span class='it'>prestige</span>—the pride, pomp and circumstance -of lordly life; and, in fact, looked on -America as a sort of moral wilderness. He had no -hopes of it, indeed. He said society here was rotten -to the core; and he wrote poetical prophecies of its -speedy decay and disappearance from among the nations -of the earth!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And yet there were many things here to conciliate -the fastidiousness of the young traveler. Among the -other tokens of an exceptional civilization, was one -which he himself recalls with an evident feeling of -gratified pride. The American master of the packet -in which he crossed Ontario—knowing that the -young gentleman was a poet—the author of “Anacreon -Translated,” and “Juvenile Poems and Songs”—refused -to accept any money for his passage—would -thus show his sense of what was due to literature! -We believe very few ship-masters in any -of the old countries would have done so courteously -magnanimous a thing as that; and Moore himself -probably thought so too. The poet was, in fact, -much better pleased with the natural scenery than -the people of the continent; and scattered through -the verses occasioned by his visit will be found many -tributes to the picturesque wildernesses he passed -through. Speaking of Niagara and other grand scenes -he says—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Oh lady, there are miracles which man</p> -<p class='line0'>Caged in the bounds of Europe’s narrow span</p> -<p class='line0'>Can scarcely dream of—which his eye must see</p> -<p class='line0'>To know how wonderful this world can be.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Moore, as well as hundreds of others, has left us his -first impressions on the sight of Niagara Falls. He -says, “When we arrived at length at the inn, in the -neighborhood of the Falls, it was too late to think of -visiting them that evening, and I lay awake almost -the whole night with the sound of the cataract in my -ears. The day following I consider a sort of era in -my life: and the first glimpse I got of that wonderful -cataract gave me a feeling which nothing in this -world can ever awaken again. It was through an -opening among the trees, as we approached the spot -where a full view of the Falls was to burst upon us, -that I caught this glimpse of the mighty mass of -waters folding smoothly over the edge of the precipice, -and so overwhelming was the notion it gave -me of the awful spectacle I was approaching, that -during the short interval that followed, imagination -had far outrun the reality; and vast and wonderful -as was the scene that then opened upon me my first -feeling was that of disappointment. . . But in -spite of the start thus got by imagination the triumph -of the reality was, in the end, but the greater; for -the gradual glory of the scene that opened upon me -soon took possession of my whole mind, presenting -from day to day, some new beauty or wonder, and -like all that is most sublime in nature or art, awakening -sad as well as elevating thoughts. . . I should -find it difficult to say on which occasion I felt most -deeply affected, when looking on the Falls of Niagara, -or when standing by moonlight among the -ruins of the Coliseum.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In 1806 Moore republished his Juvenile Poems, -along with the translations and those poems written -at Bermuda and in America. But the Edinburgh -Review came down upon the book with the sharpest -force of sarcasm and severity. The first publication -of his licentious love-songs, it said, might have been -excused by the great youth of the poet, but the republication -was atrociously prepense and unpardonable. -The poor lyric butterfly was broken terribly -upon the wheel; but not so much as to disable him -(—we mean the <span class='it'>poet</span>—changing the figure) from -challenging the Auld Reekie editor; and the bard and -critic—Francis Jeffrey—met at Chalk Farm, to settle -their differences by the duello. But the police -officers were too quick for them, and arrested both; -whereupon it was reported, amidst much laughter of -the press and public, that there were no balls in the -pistols! Moore went to the trouble of denying that -he knew the state of his adversary’s engine or his -own. In this violent business the poet’s feelings -were sorely tried. But his publisher managed to -thrive upon the business. The book had, of course, -received a very unexpected advertisement. Moore’s -vexations did not terminate with the foregoing. Over -two years afterward, when young Lord Byron, then -in his twentieth year, charged gallantly down upon -all the poets, poetasters and critics of the English -Parnassus, he laughed at the duel, among the other -matters, and “Little’s leadless pistol.” Here was -another outrage; and out came our poet once more -with a challenge to the peer. But his lordship had -gone off to make material for his Giaours and Childe -Harolds in the East, and the letter remained unread -till his return, near two years after. By this time, -his “sensitive and surly” feelings had gone off, and he -wrote to Moore a frank and good-natured reply. -The latter, who had, in the interim, married his wife—Miss -Dyke—and thus given hostages to fortune, -felt how much pleasanter it would be to have the -young baron’s friendship than his bullet in the body, -and therefore wrote a very warm <span class='it'>Irish</span> letter in return, -which paved the way to their mutual friendship. -On this occasion Rogers got Byron, Moore -and Campbell together round his mahogany, and -there they became acquainted with one another, and -shook hands all round, for the first time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In 1808 and 1809 Moore published his poems, -“Intolerance” and “Corruption,” satires; one on -the English Constitution, and the other on the English -Church. They are fluent, but want vigor, and -are read no longer. In the “Skeptic” he writes like -a good Catholic who prefers ignorant obedience in -all matters of Faith to the philosophy of Locke. -But he now prepared to sing a loftier strain. His -next publication was the First and Second Numbers -of the Irish Melodies—a work which will secure to -him whatever immortality awaits his name. The -melodies became popular, at once, in England -and Ireland alike. The sparkling grace and flexibility -of his verse presented an agreeable contrast to -the generality of songs sung at that period. The -mixture of vivacity, pathos, and epigrammatic point -in their composition placed their author at the head -of modern song-writers; and, if the politics of poor -Ireland were doomed to be disastrous, the poetry of -her beautiful music now found itself vindicated and -triumphant in the halls and palaces of the British -aristocracy. There was a savor of rebellion in some -of these songs which wonderfully took the fashionable -fancy of the English; while in Ireland the repeated -allusions to the ancient glories of the land, and -the graceful sorrow which seemed to weep its many -misfortunes, touched the popular heart, and led the -people—(we mean the reading people)—to look on -Moore as the genuine poet of Erin, and to applaud -him accordingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As for the poet himself, it would seem that his -sympathy with his native land was more a matter -of sentiment than of practical reality. He could -excite the finest feelings of drawing-room rebellion. -But he was not a Tyrtæus to rouse up that deeper -and more daring sentiment which prompts people to -rush into the field. He was the friend and college-mate -of Emmett and other disaffected spirits; and -attended the Debating and Historic Societies in -which these ardent and enlightened young men, -mostly Protestants, spoke of the rights of man and -the liberty of Ireland. They were members of -United Irish Societies; but Moore never belonged -to the last. The influence of his parents and relations -was exercised against the malcontent spirit of -the time; and when the unhappy rebellion was -crushed, the young bard went to seek his fortune in -the very heart of the English aristocracy. There -Moore’s patriotism was subdued and refined; and it -ever afterward delighted to exhibit itself in the language -of polemics and lyric poetry. The Irish -sentiment of the Irish Melodies is not strong enough -to nourish any sort of rebellion upon. It is remarkable -that, in all Moore’s historic allusions, he seldom -or never speaks of the prowess of the Irish against -the English—the struggles of the Desmonds, O’Neills, -O’Moores, and so forth, against the Henries, Elizabeth, -or the Stuarts. He goes back into the indistinct -times of Milesian sway, the palace of Tara, and -the stand of Brian or Malachi against the Danes. -He passes over the recent and authentic, such as -would come more home to the present period, and -weeps or flushes, with remarkable prudence, among -the legends and the whole Irish apocrypha. But it -would be too much, perhaps, to expect that the little -Catholic boy, whose early impressions were formed -in the midst of the aristocratic societies of Dublin, -to which he was admitted on sufferance, a gratified -guest, could ever grow up a democrat or a rebel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Indeed it is not difficult to discover from the tone -of Moore’s writings that he had formed a low opinion -of Irish nationality—entertained a poor notion of its -past glories of all sorts, and little hope that Ireland -would ever do any thing to right herself. Indeed, -if Ireland had not her beautiful melodies, to suggest -the weaving of lyric verse, and to give it some promise -of immortality, we should not probably have -had so much Irish reminiscence from Moore. It is, -in fact, by a sort of poetic licence, that he allows -himself, in some of his songs, to sing with an air of -heroism or pathos, of those ancient men and things, -in which he himself, as may be gathered from the -pages of his History of Ireland, and from other places, -had a very slender historical faith. But, after all, -the Melodies are beautiful things, and deserve the -fame they have won. They are full of felicities, and -the hearts have been cold indeed that have been able -to resist the fascination they exercise, in congenial -moments, whether spoken or sung. The charm of -an exquisite phraseology sparkles everywhere, and -the feelings with which we hear them sung, seem -incapable of more apt and musical expression.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the intervals of several numbers of the Melodies -Moore employed himself on other things. In 1812, -he began to think of his great romance—his Opus -Magnum—Lalla Rookh. Moore gives us the history -of this poem, manufacture, sale and all; but the sale -of it (in MS.) went before the manufacture. It was -sold to the Messrs. Longman for 3000 guineas—not -pounds: literary payments in England having been -and being still made, by respectable publishers, in -the more aristocratic coin. Mr. Perry, proprietor -of the Morning Chronicle, made the bargain for his -friend, the bard, and we suspect that without his -influence and shrewdness, Moore would not have -got that sum. For poets, and people of refined feelings, -are the worst hands at a bargain in the world, -as everybody knows. Perry said the poet of the -Melodies should have the highest price ever given -for any poetic work; and that being 3000 guineas, -he held out for it and got it. The Longmans bought -their pig in a poke, as the saying is. They were -to take whatever poem Moore was pleased to write, -and also to wait till it was written. This was a -very pleasant sort of trade for the poet, and he went -to work with that inspiration and cheerfulness of -spirit which publishers, for their own sake, should -do every thing to encourage in their writers. Moore -retired to Mayfield Cottage, in Derbyshire, a little -way from Donington Park and its library, and began -to seclude himself from mankind. Having resolved -that his romance should be Oriental, he crammed -himself with every thing written about the East -that he could, in any way, lay hands on—its manners, -customs, history, religion, languages, geography, and -so forth. He then began to write a long story called -the “Peri’s Daughter;” but, after going a little way -in it, his Pegasus stuck fast, and the attempt was -put aside. He tried other ideas; but to little purpose. -At last, an <span class='it'>Irish</span> idea struck him—that of poor -Catholics persecuted and kept down for their religion. -By a happy dexterity he metamorphosed them into -Guebres, and so, setting up the frame-work of the -“Fire-Worshipers,” and clothing his Hibernian sentiments—half -romance half religion—in all the sparkling -phraseology of the East, he got on swimmingly. -The monster, “Prophet of the Khorassan,” “Paradise -and the Peri,” and the “Light of the Harem,” -followed favorably; and in 1816, after three years’ -incubation, he gave Lalla Rookh to the purchasers -of the manuscript. To Moore’s honor, it must be -said, that seeing the monetary and other embarrassments -of that year, he offered to release the Longmans -from their engagement, if they desired it. -But they stuck manfully to their bargain; and it is -pleasant to add, made handsomely by it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moore was now very famous. Lalla and the -Melodies gave him a reputation only second to that -of the noble young “Childe Buron” himself. His -“Fire-Worshipers” was quoted with fervor in Ireland; -the songs in his “Light of the Harem” had -charmed all the world; a herd of imitators sprang up -like mushrooms, and bulbuls, peris, roses, flashing -swords, and sparkling goblets, were the general -order of the day. In the meantime, Moore went -with Mr. Rogers to Paris. There he gathered the -materials of the Fudge Family, which he published -on his return.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In 1819 he traveled again to Paris, in company -with Lord John Russell; and both went thence to -Italy. Lord John passed on to Genoa, and Moore -proceeded to visit Lord Byron at Venice, where the -noble exile lived in a very savage condition, drinking -gin and water o’nights, and writing his heart -out. There the poets passed some agreeable days -together, riding along the Lido together, and going -over the lagoons in a gondola. It was on this occasion -that Byron confided to Moore his “Memoirs,” -to be used as the latter should think fit. Moore -afterward sold them to Murray for 2000 guineas. -But when Byron died, his widow and family interfered, -and induced Moore to withdraw and burn the -manuscript—forfeiting the money, of course. Moore -has been blamed for consenting to this sacrifice. -But it is very likely he has preserved in his Life of -Byron every thing of interest contained in the papers, -and that very little was lost, except certain scandalous -particulars, which the world would very -willingly let die—though the offal-eating scandal-mongers -of the day groaned horribly under the -privation at the time. After leaving Venice, Moore -went to Rome. He confesses that, in the midst of -the ruins and splendors of past Roman civilization -and art, he was painfully conscious of his own want -of artistic taste and enthusiasm. He says that a -sunset on the Simplon touched him with more admiration -than any thing he had seen in the Italian -galleries of art. This would hardly have been expected -from Moore, who has been termed the poet -of artificial things. After his return from this tour, -he published his Rhymes on the Road and the Fables -of the Holy Alliance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But his return did not extend to England. He -knew that country was no place for him, just then. -He had made a blunder in his business of the Bermuda -registrarship, the consequences of which had -now reached him. He had taken no security of the -deputy he had appointed to do the duties of that -office. The latter, in the course of time and trade, -fell into temptation—the easy carelessness of Moore -led him, perhaps, into it—and he made way with -the proceeds of some American cargoes, and then, -with himself—leaving the unprophetic little bard, in -the heyday of his glory, to be responsible for near -six thousand pounds. The terrible Court of Admiralty -now issued a law process against “the smiling -bard of pleasure,” which the latter did not think it -wise to confront in person, and so stopped short at -Paris, where—along with his family, which had -joined him—he remained till the close of 1822. His -friends, in the mean time, came forward to the rescue; -and if, for a moment, he wronged his better -genius by hard thoughts against the honor or honesty -of his fellows, he was soon brought round to the nobler -and better human creed, by generous offers of -gifts, loans, etc. Thus, sustained in his exile, he -passed his time pleasantly enough, at La Butte Coaslin, -near Paris, singing Spanish songs to the guitar in -the evening, in company with Madame V——, a neighbor, -and spending the mornings of the two summers -he remained in France, wandering through the noble -park of St. Cloud, spinning and polishing verses and -jotting down new ideas in his memorandum-book. -His exile was, certainly, pleasanter than that of his -erotic, erratic brother, Ovid, lamenting his frost-bitten -muses, long ago, on the inhospitable shores of the -Black Sea. Moore had a great many visitors at -Coaslin, among them our Washington Irving, “who -still, I trust,” he says, “recollects his reading to me -some parts of his then forthcoming work, ‘Bracebridge -Hall,’ as we sat together on the grass walk -that leads to the Rocher, at La Butte.” To meet -his awkward liabilities, Moore had agreed with -Messrs. Murray and Wilkie to write a Life of Sheridan; -but finding himself too distant from documents -and authorities, he went on with his customary business -of verse, and projected an epistolary romance, -with Egyptian characters. But this romance was -postponed: and it appeared afterward, done in prose, -as the “Epicurean.” He also took up the allegory of -“The Loves of the Angels,” and working away -with his usual octosyllabic facility, he had soon -woven it into shape. For this poem he was allowed -one thousand guineas by his publisher.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On Moore’s return to England, he found that his -friends had negotiated the Americans down to a -thousand pounds; and that the uncle of the faithless -deputy had been induced, in a grumbling way, to -contribute <span class='it'>£</span>300 of that sum. A friend had deposited -the balance in the bank to Moore’s credit, for the -canceling of the Bermuda claim; and the poet was -happy to hand him an order on his publisher for that -amount. In this connection, Moore records (without -naming the giver, but with a quotation from Ovid, -to the effect that “gifts are agreeable which are -made precious by him who makes them,”) a present -of £300, made him at that time of difficulty—the proceeds -of a maiden-work—a biography—which had -been just published. The donor was Lord John -Russel; the firm friend of the poet to the end of his -life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Moore now went to live at Sloperton, two -miles from Devizes, and not far from the country -seat of the Marquis of Lansdowne. His dwelling -was at first a somewhat rude cottage, in a wooded -lane. But, on taking it, the new occupants made it -very comfortable and pleasant, by means of enlargements -and other improvements. In 1824, Moore -published his “Memoirs of Captain Rock,” in which -he set forth the misgovernment of England since the -conquest of the island by Strongbow. In this book -he never forgets the manner for the matter: he is full -of point and learned illustration, and festoons his deplorable -facts with many felicities of metaphor and -arguments of theology. But no Irishman, how hot-headed -soever, could take the Memoirs as the text-book -of rebellion, or feel his blood excited by them. -Mr. Moore’s learning and imagery, in fact, weakened -his theme, as the accompaniment of rich, heavy baggage -used to obstruct the movements of the great -historic armies, long ago. The “Memoirs” are obsolete, -though the Irish sufferings seem to be much -the same as usual.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At Sloperton, Moore wrote, also, his History of -Ireland and the Biographies of Richard Brinsley -Sheridan, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and Lord Byron—the -last the best of the three, a biography ranking -with Boswell’s Life of Johnson, and Lockhart’s Life -of Scott. After his “Captain Rock,” Moore published -the “Irish Gentleman in search of a Religion,” -in which he girds at all Protestant doctrine, with -his usual power of theologic reading and pointed argument; -and then gave to the world his “Epicurean;” -in which he intertwines his favorite ethics of -religion with the frame of a very dull story. Moore’s -mind had a strong devotional tendency, and seems to -revert—with a sense of its own insufficiency—to the -problem of existence beyond the last scene of all that -ends the strange eventful history of life. His doubtings, -if he ever had any, seem to have taken ultimate -refuge in Catholic orthodoxy. He was, in fact, a -dutiful son of mother Church: and great was the uneasiness -he exhibited, lest his friend, Lord Byron, -should adopt, in all their force, the atheistical ideas -of Percy Bysshe Shelley, with whom his lordship had -become very intimate, in Italy. Moore earnestly expostulated -with Byron on the project of the “Liberal” -newspaper, got up by the restless Childe and -supported by Hunt, Shelley, and Hazlitt. He told -his lordship that such a conjunction, with such a radical -purpose, was very far from respectable—not -by any means respectable enough for an English nobleman -to engage in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The last productions of Moore were those light -and satirical verses which appeared in the Morning -Chronicle and other papers, up to 1837. They are -the happiest things of their kind, in the world, and to -those who can admire the gay dexterities of wit, -woven into the tapestry work of rhyme, they possess -an interest surviving the subjects of them. In the -interweaving of pointed and witty things with the -flow of colloquial phraseology, Moore has shown -himself more skillful than any of his contemporaries, -and no writer of the present day can match him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A bright, sensuous, Celtic genius dies with Tom -Moore. As a poet, he will be chiefly remembered -for the undying melodies of his native land, with -which his words are beautifully identified. His -translations of Anacreon are clever school-boy exercises—very -free versions and amplifications of the -original, and contain many points and prettinesses -which the old Cyclic bard never thought of. The juvenile -and erotic songs which obtained for Moore the -name of the modern Catullus, are very slight things—mere -floating gossamers of literature—flashing a little -in the light—“the purple light of love,” and then -fading away from the general appreciation. But these -songs were, nevertheless, greatly in vogue in their -day, and the pathos or gayety of them found echoes -in the hearts of ten thousand festive saloons. Never -was the youth of any poet spent in the midst of -greater incitements of love, friendship, and song, -than those that solicited Moore on every side during -the heyday of his years, in the high society of England. -It was therefore morally impossible that his -verse should be any thing but “brilliant and light,” -full of all the levities and luxuries of sentiment. The -real arduousness, effort, and pain of life find no expression -at all in Moore. The poems respecting -America and his West India voyage, exhibit his -want of sympathy with republicanism, and his ceaseless -longing after the grand associations and lordly -homes of England. Nevertheless, it must not be forgotten -that he found some congenial persons and -things on this continent. He has recorded the enjoyment -of his sojourn in our own city of “brotherly -love,” where, in the society of Mr. Dennie’s family, -he almost forgot he was in a republic. His recollections -of Philadelphia were happy ones.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>   LINES WRITTEN ON LEAVING PHILADELPHIA.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Alone by the Schuylkill a wanderer roved,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And bright were its flowery banks to his eye;</p> -<p class='line0'>But far, very far were the friends that he loved,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And he gazed on the flowery banks with a sigh.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Nor long did the soul of the stranger remain</p> -<p class='line0'>  Unblest by the smile he had languished to meet;</p> -<p class='line0'>Though scarce did he hope it would soothe him again,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Till the threshold of home had been pressed by his feet.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But the lays of his boyhood had stolen to their ear,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And they loved what they knew of so humble a name;</p> -<p class='line0'>And they told him with flattery welcome and dear</p> -<p class='line0'>  That they found in his heart something better than fame.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The stranger is gone, but he will not forget</p> -<p class='line0'>  When, at home, he shall talk of the toils he has known,</p> -<p class='line0'>To tell with a sign, what endearments he met</p> -<p class='line0'>  When he strayed by the wave of the Schuylkill alone.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>The “Canadian Boat Song,” composed on the St. -Lawrence, is the most popular of the songs written -at the earlier period of life—indeed, at any period of -his life. It is more frequently heard in society than -any thing else he has composed—the finest of the -Melodies not excepted. As regards these last, it has -been said they are not Irish. It is, indeed, true that -Moore modified the native airs a good deal—retrenched -most of the wild cadences and free modulations -which indigenously belong to them. This, -however, may not be such a very great loss after all, -seeing that, if some of the melodies, with his arrangement, -would not be intimately recognized at -wakes and cow-milkings, etc., they were all the better -liked, for the curtailment and polish, in the -dining-rooms and drawing-rooms. Certainly no modern -festive song-writer has produced the effects -which usually accompanied the singing of Tom -Moore’s lyrics. He was eminently the poet of the -saloons. Burns was the lyrist of Love and the lowly -hearts and homes of the people. But Moore’s songs -were sung in the most splendid halls of English-speaking -land, where he himself, of all guests or sojourners -in lordly dwellings, was ever the most welcome -and caressed. And when we consider the low -birth, <span class='it'>Irishism</span> and uncompromised Catholicity of -the man, we cannot possibly over-estimate those talents -of graceful conviviality, good-humor and brilliant -wit which could secure for him such social -honors and triumphs through life. Well might Byron -have called him “the poet of all circles and the idol -of his own.” Moore had an exquisite musical taste, -and sung some of his own melodies in the most delightful -manner. His voice was rather low, and -without compass, but it had great softness, and the -expression with which he half-chaunted, half-recited, -while accompanying himself at the piano, in “Go -Where Glory Waits Thee,” “Fly Not Yet,” and -others, was a thing to be enjoyed and remembered. -On some occasions when he has gone to the piano, -the servants of the house—Devonshire House, we -believe—have been permitted to come and stand at -the doors to listen, along with the delighted crowd -of noble listeners. Moore’s performance was considered -one of the best treats of the evening at such -gay reunions; and Mr. N. P. Willis speaks of the -little bard’s appearance, at Lady Blessington’s piano—for -a singing-while—as if his singing in this way -were an expected gratification which he was too -well-bred or too good-natured to refuse to his friends. -A touching instance of the effect he could produce -on these occasions is given in a fact to which he himself -alludes. The beautiful young daughter of Colonel -Bainbridge, who was married at Ashbourne Church, -in Derbyshire, in 1815, died, a few weeks afterward, -of fever. During the delirium that accompanied -her illness she sung several hymns from Moore’s -collection of “Sacred Songs” which she had heard -the poet himself sing in the course of the preceding -summer. Alluding to her, he says, in the song -“Weep not for Those”—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Mourn not for her, the young bride of the vale,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Our gayest and loveliest, lost to us now,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ere life’s early lustre had time to grow pale,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And the garland of love was yet fresh on her brow.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Lalla Rookh is a splendid and elaborate romance. -Hazlitt said Moore should not have written it for -three thousand guineas. This was Moore’s own affair, -not Hazlitt’s; and we question if the latter -would have refused such a sum, under such circumstances. -Nevertheless, Lalla Rookh seems below -the pretensions of the poet of the Melodies. Its -themes and characters are oriental and the interest -they excite is feeble. There is a forced and exotic -air over the whole performance which fails to win -our sympathies; and, in spite of the beauty of the -imagery and all the sparkling artifice of the versification, -no one, we believe, was every cordially disposed -to read this romance a second time. The -rythmus of the “Veiled Prophet” is eloquently rhetorical, -but loosely constructed, and it offends our -sense of what the heroic couplet is, in the hands of -Dryden, Shelley, Goldsmith and Byron. Moore’s -metre, in this grave mode, is a continuous outrage -against the cæsural canons, and reads with a certain -prosaic effect—eloquent enough, to be sure; but prosaic, -nevertheless: “The Fire-Worshipers” has -been considered the best portion of Lalla Rookh. It -contains a great deal of impassioned eloquence and -shows great mastery and music of versification; but -the impression it leaves is vague and uncongenial, -and the catastrophe is painful, merely—like that of -the “Veiled Prophet”—both with a melodramatic -and impossible air about them. “Paradise and the -Peri” has the merit of a more attractive human interest—though -almost overlaid by ornament and -orientalism. We think the “Light of the Harem” -the most agreeable of all. It is perfectly in character—a -picture of Eastern luxury from beginning to -end—a feast of roses and a flow of fountains, in which -we look for nothing but sighs and perfumes—and we -find them in all customary Mooreish prodigality. -The verse of this little poem is woven music. The -portrait of Nourmahal is a piece of lyric gracefulness -which aptly exemplifies the art of Moore’s sensuous -and harmonic genius:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>There’s a beauty, for ever unchangingly bright,</p> -<p class='line0'>Like the long sunny lapse of a summer day’s light,</p> -<p class='line0'>Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender,</p> -<p class='line0'>Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendor.</p> -<p class='line0'>This was not the beauty—oh, nothing like this,</p> -<p class='line0'>That to young Nourmahal gave such magic of bliss!</p> -<p class='line0'>But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays</p> -<p class='line0'>Like the light upon Autumn’s soft shadowy days,</p> -<p class='line0'>Now here and now there—giving warmth as it flies,</p> -<p class='line0'>From the lip to the cheek, from the cheek to the eyes.</p> -<p class='line0'>When pensive, it seemed as if that very grace,</p> -<p class='line0'>That charm, of all others, was born with her face!</p> -<p class='line0'>And when angry—for even in the tranquillest climes,</p> -<p class='line0'>Light breezes will ruffle the blossoms sometimes,</p> -<p class='line0'>The short, passing anger but seemed to awaken</p> -<p class='line0'>New beauty, like flowers that are sweetest when shaken.</p> -<p class='line0'>If tenderness touched her, the dark of her eye</p> -<p class='line0'>At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye,</p> -<p class='line0'>From the depth of whose shadow, like holy revealings</p> -<p class='line0'>From innermost shrines came the light of her feelings.</p> -<p class='line0'>Then her mirth—O, ’twas sportive as ever took wing</p> -<p class='line0'>From the heart with a burst like the wild-bird in spring,</p> -<p class='line0'>Illumed by a wit that would fascinate sages,</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet playful as Peris let loose from their cages;</p> -<p class='line0'>While her laugh, full of glee, without any control,</p> -<p class='line0'>But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her soul,</p> -<p class='line0'>And where it most sparkled no glance could discover,</p> -<p class='line0'>In lip, cheek or eyes, for she brightened all over;</p> -<p class='line0'>Like any fair lake which the breeze is upon</p> -<p class='line0'>When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>No wonder “the magnificent son of Acbar” should -be set excessively beside himself on account of such -a miracle of womanhood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moore shows himself very incapable of sustaining -himself in any flights of imagination to compare at all -with the soaring of Shelley or Byron. The sight of -his mind is less keen and ardent than theirs, his -thoughts feebler and his verse less vigorously constructed. -But in his own genial sphere—on the -lower sunny slopes of the mountain, he can snatch a -thousand warbling graces beyond the art of these -louder instruments.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>His is the lay that lightly floats,</p> -<p class='line0'>And his are the murmuring, dying notes</p> -<p class='line0'>That fall as soft as snow on the sea,</p> -<p class='line0'>And melt in the heart as instantly;</p> -<p class='line0'>And the passionate strain, that, lightly going</p> -<p class='line0'>  Refines the bosom it trembles through</p> -<p class='line0'>As the musk-wind, over the waters blowing,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Ruffles the wave but sweetens it too!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Moore has happily expressed the pathetic morals, -gayeties and tendernesses of sentiment. But we -think he has been still more happy in those humorous, -satirical, wit-elaborated performances in which -it was his wont to assail the public men and things -of English government and English society. His -metrical onslaughts on the Tory party, the Prince -Regent, the Church Establishment—individually or -collectively—have been among the most genial and -applauded things he has written. In the other walks -of poetry he had overpowering rivals—in this he was -unrivaled—“within this circle none durst walk but -he.” He was well aware of the power of satire to -influence the gravest argument in the world, and felt -that</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>A song may reach him who a sermon flies.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Much of his sarcasm was launched against the -English Church Establishment. Its existence in Ireland -has long been a just cause of popular complaint, -and thousands of pamphlets have been written <span class='it'>pro</span> -and <span class='it'>con</span> in the matter. The witty little poet took -the hackneyed question, put it into his lyric mill, and -having given it a few turns, brought it out in the -following manner—intelligible to all comprehensions—answering -as well the cause of his Catholic countrymen -as the cause of simple truth and justice:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>       A DREAM OF HINDOSTAN.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“The longer one lives the more one learns,”</p> -<p class='line0'>  Said I, as off to sleep I went,</p> -<p class='line0'>Bemused with thinking of tithe concerns,</p> -<p class='line0'>And reading a book, by the Bishop of <span class='sc'>Ferns</span>,</p> -<p class='line0'>  On the Irish Church Establishment.</p> -<p class='line0'>But lo! in sleep not long I lay</p> -<p class='line0'>  When fancy her usual tricks began,</p> -<p class='line0'>And I found myself bewitched away</p> -<p class='line0'>  To a goodly city in Hindostan:</p> -<p class='line0'>A city, where he who dares to dine</p> -<p class='line0'>  On aught but rice, is deemed a sinner:</p> -<p class='line0'>Where sheep and kine are held divine,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And, accordingly, never drest for dinner.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>  But how is this? I wondering cried,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As I walked that city, fair and wide,</p> -<p class='line0'>And saw, in every marble street,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A row of beautiful butchers’ shops—</p> -<p class='line0'>“What means, for men who can’t eat meat,</p> -<p class='line0'>  This grand display of loins and chops?”</p> -<p class='line0'>In vain I asked—’twas plain to see</p> -<p class='line0'>That nobody dared to answer me.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>So on from street to street I strode:</p> -<p class='line0'>And you can’t conceive how vastly odd</p> -<p class='line0'>The <a id='butch'></a>butchers looked: a roseate crew,</p> -<p class='line0'>Inshrined in <span class='it'>stalls</span>, with naught to do:</p> -<p class='line0'>While some on a <span class='it'>bench</span>, half dozing, sat,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the sacred cows were not more fat.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Still posed to think what all this scene</p> -<p class='line0'>Of sinecure trade was <span class='it'>meant</span> to mean,</p> -<p class='line0'>“And pray,” asked I, “by whom is paid</p> -<p class='line0'>The expense of this strange masquerade?”</p> -<p class='line0'>“The expense—oh, that’s of course defrayed”</p> -<p class='line0'>(Said one of these well-fed hecatombers)</p> -<p class='line0'>“By yonder rascally rice-consumers.”</p> -<p class='line0'>“What! <span class='it'>they</span>, who mustn’t eat meat?”—“No matter:”</p> -<p class='line0'>(And, while he spoke, his cheeks grew fatter,)</p> -<p class='line0'>“The rogues may munch their <span class='it'>Paddy</span> crop,</p> -<p class='line0'>But the rogues must still support <span class='it'>our</span> shop:</p> -<p class='line0'>And depend upon it, the way to treat</p> -<p class='line0'>  Heretical stomachs that thus dissent,</p> -<p class='line0'>Is to burden all that wont eat meat</p> -<p class='line0'>  With a costly <span class='sc'>Meat Establishment</span>.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>On hearing these words so gravely said,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With a volley of laughter loud I shook:</p> -<p class='line0'>And my slumber fled, and my dream was sped,</p> -<p class='line0'>And I found myself lying snug in bed,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With my nose in the Bishop of <span class='sc'>Ferns’s</span> book.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>In spite of the <span class='it'>prestige</span> of Moore’s earlier poetry, -the world has regarded him, and very justly, as a -moral man and a good Catholic. In the domestic -relations of life, as well as the social, he seems to -have gone through the world blamelessly. For the -last ten years or so of his life, he was in receipt of -<span class='it'>£</span>300 a year from the British Government, procured -for him by his friends the Marquis of Lansdowne and -Lord John Russell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moore died on the 26th of last February, and was -buried, according to his desire, in the church-yard of -Bromham, between Devizes and Chippenham, where -two of his children were buried before him—Anastasia -Mary, who died in 1829 aged sixteen, and John -Russell, who died in 1848 at the age of nineteen. -Another son of the poet died in the French service -at Algiers. He had, we believe, four children, all -of whom passed away before himself. Doubly dark, -indeed, was the close of a life begun so hopefully and -enjoyed so much in its middle course.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If the poet had died in Ireland, he would have had -a good funeral. As it was, but a single coach, containing -four persons, went to the grave with the -hearse which carried his remains. Byron reached -Huckwell, in 1824, pretty much in the same way; -but, we believe, with a somewhat larger attendance—not -much, however. Moore attended his noble -friend’s funeral to the bounds of London, as the slender -<span class='it'>cortège</span> passed through, but went no farther.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moore was of small stature. “He is a little, very -little man,” says Sir Walter Scott, speaking of him -in 1825. Hunt said of him in 1820: “His forehead -is long and full of character, with bumps of wit -large and radiant enough to transport a phrenologist: -his eyes are as dark and fine as you would wish to -see under a set of vine-leaves.” The poet’s face -was, in fact, very plain, and only redeemed by the -brightness of his eyes. Irish festivity and enjoyment -formed the prevailing expression of his aspect, -in his better days when he was the delight and pride -of every society he appeared in—the gayest, happiest, -most appreciated wit of his time. Poor Tom -Moore! He was always called <span class='it'>Tom</span> Moore; except -in cotemporary criticisms of his poems or polemics, -nobody thought of calling him <span class='it'>Mr.</span> Moore. We -cannot fancy him a man of seventy-two! There is -an incongruity in the idea which we cannot get -over. Old and insane. Alas for the brightest vaunt -of human intellect and glory! But Tom Moore will -be ever freshly remembered with the undying melodies -of his native land.</p> - -<hr class='tbk113'/> - -<div><h1><a id='life'></a>A LIFE OF VICISSITUDES.</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 G. P. R. JAMES.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>[Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1852, by <span class='sc'>George Payne Rainsford James</span>, in the Clerk’s -Office of the District Court of the United States for the District of Massachusetts.]</p> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'>(<span class='it'>Continued from page 494.</span>)</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>LONDON, FIFTY YEARS AGO.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a night coach to London, and I was -very anxious to arrive in the great city; but Father -Bonneville was now feeling strongly the effects of -age, and I would not expose him to the fatigue of a -long night journey. We set off therefore on the following -morning, and I can hardly express the effect -produced upon my mind by the first sight of the vehicle -which was to convey us. It was the stage-coach -in its utmost perfection, light, small, and compact, -beautifully painted, newly washed, with leather -harness, and four bay horses, which seemed, to my -eyes, fitted for the race-course. It was so unlike -any thing I had ever seen in Germany, in France, or -in America, so light, so neat, so jaunty, so rapid, so -perfect in all its parts and appointments, that it stood -out at once from every thing else in my mind, as a -pure and unadulterated bit of England—an exponent, -as it were, of the habits of the country and the mind -of the people. When we came to get in, indeed, -and take our seats, we found ourselves a little -cramped for room. The back, too, was stiff and -rigid, and our legs had but little space to stretch -themselves out, intertwined with those of our fellow -passengers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This, too, is a bit of England,” I thought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When at length the coachman had mounted the box—when -the reins were gathered up, and the first smack -of the whip given, poor Father Bonneville looked -more nervous and uneasy than he had done while I -was driving him down the hill over the frontier of -France. On we went, however, at a pace which -seemed to take away his breath, rattling in and out -amongst carts and wagons, and horses and dogs, -touching nothing, though seeming every moment -about to be dashed to pieces against some great lumbering -dray, or to kill a score or two of old people -and children. The coach was heavily laden on the -top: men’s legs and feet were hanging down in all -quarters, and we seemed to sway from side to side -with a terrible inclination to precipitate ourselves -into the window of some early-risen shopkeeper in -Portsmouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length, much to my satisfaction, we were out -of the town; and after passing over some wide and -curious-looking downs, unlike any thing else I had -ever seen in other lands, we entered upon a richer -and better cultivated country, and the real face of -England—old England—merry England, as it has -been endearingly called, spread out before me like a -garden. And it is a garden—the garden of the world. -I know not why, but the very heaths and moors—and -we passed several of them—seemed to have an air of -comfort and sunny cheerfulness, superior to the cultivated -fields of other lands. From time to time -when we stopped to change horses, though it was -done with a marvelous rapidity, which allowed but -little time for questions, I asked an ostler or a waiter -the names of various places we had passed; and I -remarked that the English must be very fond of the -devil, as they had made him god-father to every -place for which they could not well find an epithet. -I heard of Devil’s dykes, and Devil’s punch-bowl, and -Devil’s jumps, at every step.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We paused to dine, as it was called, at a small -town, beautifully situated amongst some fine sweeping -hills, and on asking the name, found that it was called -Godalming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Gott Allgemein</span>,” I said, turning to Father Bonneville, -who nodded his head. But it was an unfortunate -speech; for one of our fellow-travelers, a -great, fat, black-looking man, dressed in mourning, -who had never opened his mouth during the day, but -who had continued reading a book, let the coach rattle -and roll as it would, now fixed upon me as an antiquary, -and tormented me during the whole of the rest -of the journey with a dissertation upon pottery, and -sepulchral urns, and Roman coins, when I wished to -observe the country, and gain information regarding -the new land which I had just entered. He evidently -took me for an Englishman; but my companion he -soon found out to be an emigrant, and compensated -in some degree for his tiresomeness, by giving us the -names of several good inns—“Where,” as he added, -with a gentle inclination of his head toward Father -Bonneville, “there were waiters who could speak -French.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My good old friend was a little mortified, I believe; -for he flattered himself that his English was -without accent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Night fell while we were yet some distance from -London, and still we rattled on at the same velocity, -till our heavy friend in the corner thought fit to inform -us that we were entering London. It did not -seem to be an agreeable entrance at all; for the dark -streets, lighted by very dim globe lamps shining -through a fog, into which we seemed to plunge, had -a somewhat forbidding aspect to the eye of a stranger, -and the multitude of figures hurrying along on -both sides of the way, now seen, now lost, as they -came under the lamps, or passed the blazing shop-fronts, -looked like phantoms of the dead pursued by -some evil spirit. The noise too was intolerable; for -vehicles were running in every direction, making an -awful clatter as we clattered by them, while through -the whole was heard a dull, everlasting grumble, as -if the city suffered under one continual thunder-storm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length, we dashed up to the door of an inn, -and every one began to jump out or down, and to -scramble for trunks or portmanteaus, as best he -might.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I cannot say that our first night’s residence in -London was peculiarly agreeable; for besides being -both heated and tired, stiff and cramped, we had the -delight of being half-devoured by bugs till dawn of -day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Poor Father Bonneville rose late, nearly as much -fatigued with his night’s rest as with his day’s journey. -But immediately after breakfast, we set out to -seek for better accommodation. I proposed that we -should go to one of the inns which had been mentioned; -but he advised, strongly, that we should -take a small lodging, adding—“London, when I recollect -it, was the greatest place for lodgings in the -world.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So we still found it; for in many streets as we -walked along, we saw “Furnished lodgings to let,” -written on a piece of paper, and stuck up in the window -of almost every other house. Some of these -we passed by, as likely to be too fine and expensive -for our purposes. We looked at others, and were -not satisfied. In one, dirt and smoke were too evident -to both eye and nose. At another, the young -ladies of the mansion appeared not such as we wished -to dwell amongst. In other places, again, we were -not fortunate enough to give satisfaction ourselves. -One stout lady, to whom Father Bonneville addressed -some inquiries, stuck her large, bare, blue arms -akimbo, and said she would not let her lodgings “to -foriners,” adding—in not a very indistinct tone—“They’se -all on um so dirty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The good Father, the cleanest man upon the face -of earth, was deeply mortified at this insinuation, -and turned away indignant. I laughed and followed; -and at length we found a little place, which -seemed to suit us well, in a street running from the -Haymarket, westward. For a guinea and a half a -week, we were to have two bed-rooms and a sitting-room. -The lady of the house, or her she helot, -was to cook for us for five shillings per week more, -and all promised very well, when I had nearly spoiled -the whole bargain by inquiring if there were any -bugs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bugs!” cried the indignant dame. “Bugs! If -you think there are any bugs, you had better not -come here, young man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I found afterward that no house in London is ever -admitted to have bugs during the day, however potently -they may make their existence known during -the night. She was quieted down at length, however, -and seemed quite pacified, when I paid her -down the first week’s rent before hand, so as to secure -her revenue whether there were bugs or not; -and when she saw four or five very respectable -looking trunks of American manufacture brought to -the house from the inn, she became exceedingly reverential, -and, to do her all justice, remained so till -the end of our stay.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To finish with bugs, however, at once and for -ever, I may as well add that, two days after our arrival, -I found a very unpleasant looking gentleman, -in a brown coat, walking over my dressing-table, -and calling the landlady, I pointed it out to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good lauk-a-daisy!” she exclaimed, in a tone of -sweet simplicity: “What can it be? I never saw -such a thing in my life. If it’s a bug, sir, you must -have brought it from the inn with your pokemantles. -That would be a sad case to have the house stocked -with um.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I said, nothing more, lest I should provoke her to -bring an action for damages against me; but I found -that, in the course of the morning, she went over all -the rooms with a curious sort of an instrument, like -a tin kettle, from which she emitted jets of scalding -steam into all the cracks and crevices, and I will acknowledge -that boiled bugs are not half so offensive -as raw.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It took us a whole day to get shaken into our new -abode, and to eat some exceedingly fat mutton-chops—about -the fourth part of what the lady had provided -for our dinner. What became of the remainder we -never discovered, and I perceived, though Father -Bonneville did not, that either from the sea air which -we had lately enjoyed, or from some other cause, -we had become inhumanly carnivorous, consuming -at least, ten times the quantity of beef and mutton in -a week than we had ever consumed in our lives before, -together with an enormous quantity of bread -and butter, and tea enough to have poisoned a Mandarin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the following day, with the good Father on my -arm, I set out in search of Madame de Salins, taking -care to ask our landlady, in the first place, the way -to Swallow street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you will just strike away by the market, sir—that -is, St. James’ market—I don’t mean Carnaby, -that’s a great way off, and take away up toward -Oxford street, you’ll come right upon the end of -Swallow street—or you can turn in by Major Foubert’s -passage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I explained to her that I knew neither of the markets -she mentioned, and had not the slightest acquaintance -with her military friend who kept the -passage; and then she laughed, and cried—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good lauk-a-daisy! I forgot. What a head I -have to be sure; but there are so many things always -a runnin’ in it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She then entered more into detail, told me the -streets I was to take, by the designation of right -hand and left hand, and counted up the turnings on -her fat fingers, with which better information we -set out, and steered pretty accurately. As we went, -I could not refrain from talking to my good old friend -about Madame de Salins and Mariette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear little thing,” I said: “I wonder if she recollects -me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is probably no little thing now, Louis,” replied -Father Bonneville, with a smile. “You always -speak of her as if she was still a child; but -she must be nearly a woman now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I gave a sigh; for I would fain have had Mariette -always a child—the same little Mariette I had loved -so well. I did not think she had any right to grow -older; and the idea of that sweet little creature metamorphosed -into a great, raw school-girl, of between -fourteen and fifteen, was almost as painful to me, as -the sight of sweet Anne Page changed into a great -lubberly boy to poor Slender.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was destined to a worse disappointment, however. -Of all the streets in London, Swallow street -was perhaps the most dim, dingy, and unprepossessing -I had as yet seen, and when we found out number -three, it presented to us a chemist’s shop, of a -very poor class, with the windows so dirty, and -spotted with dust and rain, that the blue and red bottles -within were hardly visible. Over the door was -the name of the proprietor “Giraud,” which was -promising as a French name, and in we dived to -make inquiries. Monsieur Giraud himself, proved, -as we expected, a French emigrant, but he was the -most sullen, uncommunicative, repulsive Frenchman -I ever met with. I suppose exile, misfortune, and a -poor trade had soured him. However, he showed -us nothing but brutality as long as we spoke English, -and was not very civil when we began to talk to him -in French.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He knew nothing of Madame de Salins, he said: -there was no such person in his house. There had been -a whole heap of them, he added, when he bought the -place some six months before, and he believed there -was a woman and her daughter amongst them, but -he had turned them all out, and knew nothing more -of them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The idea of Madame de Salins and my pretty little -Mariette being forced to dwell at all in such a dim -and dingy den, and then being turned into the street -by such an old weazle-faced animal as that, roused -my indignation, and I replied sharply, that he seemed -to have very little compassion for his fellows in misfortune.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Sacre bleu!</span> Why should I have compassion -upon any men?” he asked bitterly; “they have had -no compassion upon me. But I can have compassion, -too. There’s that old rogue of a marquis up stairs. -I let him have the room, dirt cheap, at his prayers -and entreaties, although he would have turned up his -nose at me in Paris. You can go and ask him if he -knows any thing of the people you want—There, up -that stairs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I mounted fast, and Father Bonneville followed -me; the chemist shouting after me to go up to the -third floor. There, in a wretched garret, we found -one of the most miserable objects I ever beheld. -Seated by a little fire, in a room hardly habitable, -was an old man of upward of seventy, shrunk in body -and limbs, but with his face bloated and heavy. He -had got on an old, tattered dressing-gown, and a -thick, black night-cap, and one of his legs was -swathed in flannel. He held a little sauce-pan in his -hand, over the fire, cooking a <span class='it'>ragout</span> for himself, -and an empty plate, with a knife and fork, stood upon -the table, on which also lay a broad ribbon and a -star. When we entered, he started up, and seeing -two well-dressed strangers, set down the sauce-pan, -wrapped his gown a little closer round him, and -then drawing his two heels together, made us the -bow of a dancing-master. He forgot not his <span class='it'>politesse</span> -for a moment, and besought us to be seated, with a -simpering, half-fatuous smile, pointing to one whole -and one half-chair, and then begged to know to what -he might attribute the felicity of our visit—perhaps -we were mistaken, he added, as he had not the -pleasure of knowing us. We might be in search of -some other person, but his poor name was Le Marquis -d’ Carcassonne. I felt Father Bonneville, who -was behind me, catch my arm suddenly, as if to -check me for some reason; but I was anxious to obtain -intelligence of Madame de Salins, and I asked -the old gentleman if he could give us any news of -her. He was profoundly grieved, he said in answer, -that it was out or his power. He knew the family, -by repute, well, and had heard of them even in London; -but it was his inexpressible misfortune not to -know where they were or what they were doing. -He bowed as he spoke, as if he sought to signify that -our audience was at its close, but before we retired, -he added—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I inquire, monsieurs, if it be not indiscreet, -whom I have the honor of seeing? I only ask, that -I may tell Madame de Salins that you have done her -the honor of calling upon her, in case I should meet -with her in society.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I replied briefly that my name was “Monsieur De -Lacy,” but those words produced in an instant the -most extraordinary effect. The bloated face of the -old man, red and carbuncled as it was, turned deadly -pale. He stood for a moment, and I could see him -shake. I thought he was going to faint, but the next -instant he walked to the chair, seated himself slowly, -and waved his hand, saying—“Go, go.” At the -same moment, Father Bonneville pulled me by the -arm, exclaiming more vehemently than was usual -with him:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come away, Louis, come away!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I followed him down the stairs, and out into the -street, and then asked—with a heart beating strangely—what -was the meaning of all that had occurred, -and who that old man was.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The bitterest enemy of your family,” replied -Father Bonneville; “the murderer of your father. -And is this the end of all his pride, ruthless ambition -and blood-thirsty persecution of the innocent! Ask -me no questions, Louis, but avoid that man. The -venom may be extinct, but he is a serpent still.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>BANKING MATTERS.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>I walked home from the house in Swallow street -exceedingly melancholy. That there was some dark -mystery about my fate, was clear, and it presented -itself in a more painful and tangible shape to my mind -now, than it had ever done before; but, in truth, I -must own that this was neither the sole nor the principal -cause of the gloom that now fell upon me. I -had looked forward to the meeting with Madame -de Salins and Mariette, with a sort of childish, delighted -expectation, which had given a relief to darker -and more sorrowful thoughts. A thousand sweet -memories of childhood had risen up like flowers to -cover the grave of more mature affection; and now -they had withered also. A sensation of despondency -came upon me; an impression: a feeling that I -was never to be happy in affection; and this sort of -sombre prepossession seemed to connect itself somehow -with the fate of my family and my race.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It must not be thought, indeed, that I gave myself -up to such dreary feelings without struggling against -them, and even on the way back, I strove to speak -cheerfully, and to answer Father Bonneville’s hopeful -assertion, that we should find Madame de Salins -yet, not quite as confidently, but without any display -of the doubts which had possession of my own mind. -At heart, however, I had given up all hope. I had -never been one of those sanguine people, who believed -their fortunes to be written in the chapter of -accidents; and what but accident could produce -a meeting between us and those we sought for, now -that all clue was lost. Where, in that vast world -of London—where in that thickly-peopled country, -were we ever to hear of two unknown, and probably -poor, exiles, such as Madame de Salins and her -daughter. The very crowds that passed us in the -street, hurrying eagerly and rapidly along, each one -thinking of himself with eager face, and hardly -noticing the others who passed, seemed to forbid -such expectations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no,” I said to myself. “They are lost to us -now, probably forever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I would not transact any business that day, although -several hours of daylight still remained, and it would -have been much better probably to have plunged into -dry details at once; but there is generally an apathy -about disappointment, at least there was with myself, -and obtaining some books from a library, I sat -reading somewhat listlessly during the whole evening, -for many hours after Father Bonneville had retired -to rest. From time to time I laid down the -book, indeed, and thought of myself and of my future, -and cross-examined myself in regard to the past. -The book I had been reading was a sentimental one -of the day, but not without considerable power. It -treated of Love, amongst other things, and painted -that passion with a fire and vehemence rarely seen -in the works of English writers. I tried to test my -love for my poor Louise, by the sentiments there -expressed, and I felt sorry and angry with myself to -find that my own feelings had never come up to the -standard before me. That I had loved her with a -deep, sincere, and strong attachment, I knew.—I was -sure; and her gentle sweetness during her last hours, -and her early fate, had only endeared her to me more, -and made her memory precious to me. But yet I -felt disappointed, grieved that I had not experienced -that strong, vehement passion which the book before -me depicted. It seemed almost to me as if I wronged -her—as if she had been worthy of better, more earnest -love than mine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Upon the whole, the reading of that night, and the -reflections which came with it, served not at all to -cheer me; and I determined the next day to do what -I had better have done at once—plunge into business, -arrange my affairs, and ascertain precisely what my -future means were to be. My first visit, of course, -was to be made to the banker who had received the -remittances from Germany, and I asked Father Bonneville -to go with me. He declined, however, saying -that he had some little affairs to transact himself, -and would meet me at dinner in the evening. At this -time, by an easy transition, he and I seemed to have -in some degree changed places. I was anxious about -him, careful of him, and hardly fancied that in that -vast strange place he was capable of taking care of -himself. I made him promise, therefore, that he -would take a hackney-coach, and went away, not -wishing to seem inquisitive as to his errand, although -I could not help believing that I had personally something -to do with the business he was about to transact.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the bankers it was soon perceived by the clerks -that I was utterly ignorant of business; but on giving -my name, and stating what I wanted, I was introduced -into a small, dingy room at the back of the -building, where candles were lighted, and were necessary. -By their light I perceived a fine-looking old -gentleman, with a square face, and a large bald head, -glossy as a mirror. My name had been announced -to him before I entered, and he rose and shook me -warmly by the hand, congratulating me on my safe -arrival in England.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have had a little trouble,” he said, “about -this business, for our friends at Hamburgh have a -strange way of remitting money, by mercantile bills, -for all sorts of sums, and at very various dates—none -of them very long, it is true, but it gives our clerks -a great deal of pains in collecting; and if you had -arrived a month ago, you would have found that part -of the business not concluded, Count.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I beg your pardon,” I said, with a smile, “I believe -I have no right to the title you give me, although -my recollections of France do not go further back -than a period when all titles had been abolished. -Citizen was the ordinary name in those days, and if -strangers gave me any title at all at my age, it was -‘Gamin.’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The banker seemed surprised, and for a moment -looked a little suspicious, as if he thought it might be -a case of personation. “But you are the gentleman,” -he said, “who married the daughter of Professor—Professor—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of Professor Haas,” I said, in a grave tone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay, exactly, exactly—Professor Haas,” rejoined -the banker. “But you have, of course, the letter -announcing this remittance to our hands?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes,” I answered, now seeing in which way -his suspicions turned; “I have both the letter from -Hamburgh, and the marriage contract, which I shall -always keep. There is the letter;” and taking out -my pocket-book, I handed it to him. The banker -himself could make nothing of the contents, for it -was written it German, of which he did not understand -a word; but he sent for a clerk who did, and in -the meanwhile pointed out something I had never remarked -before in the address, which was written in -a good, round, text hand. At the top was written as -usual, “à monsieur,” and underneath appeared, somewhat -run together, the words “Le comte,” which I -had read Louis.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see he gives you the ‘Count’ at all events,” -said the banker, rubbing his hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not remark it before,” I answered; “and I -shall certainly never take the title here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By the way, by the way,” said the banker, “if -I recollect right, there is a letter for you here;” and -handing the one I had given him to the Clerk who had -now entered, he said to him, “Be so good as to read -that, and let me know what it says.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The clerk read off fluently, and translated with -ease the contents of the notary’s letter, and then said, -pointing to me, “This must be the Count de Lacy, -sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He wont have the count—he wont have the -count,” cried the banker, laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, sir, I suppose that is as he pleases,” said -the grave clerk; “but had I not better get the letter -that is here for him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was soon brought, and I found it was from my -good friend the notary, containing two documents of -much but very different interest. The one was an -inscription for the tomb of my poor Louise, drawn -up by his fellow executor, in which she was styled -Countess de Lacy; and the other was a letter from -London, which had been received by one of the principal -authorities of Hamburgh, informing him that a -rumor had reached persons in England, interested -in the welfare of a young gentleman named Louis -Count de Lacy, to the effect that he and his tutor -Father Bonneville, having emigrated from France, -and been driven out of Switzerland, were directing -their steps toward the North of Germany, or to -Russia; and requesting the authorities of Hamburgh, -if they should appear in that city, to notify -to Father Bonneville that the allowance previously -made would be continued; but that the banking-house -at which it was paid was changed to one -which had been mentioned in a previous letter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This will be good news for Father Bonneville,” -I said, handing the letter to the banker, who could -make that out very well. He seemed now perfectly -satisfied, but still inquired where Father Bonneville -was to be found. I replied that he was with me in -London, which seemed to satisfy him still more; and -the clerk nodded his head, and said in a significant -tone, “It’s all right, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wonderful it is, how many men who transact a -great deal of very important business, are mere machines, -guided by their subordinates. They are -but the hands of the clock, moved by wheels below -them. Probably but for the clerk’s saying, “It’s all -right, sir,” I should have got through very little business -that day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, however, every thing went on smoothly. -Accounts were produced; calculations rapidly made; -various particulars, which might as well have been -written in Sanscrit, were explained to me in terms -which might as well have been Arabic; and in the -end I found myself possessed of property which the -banker informed me would produce, if rightly invested, -an income of about eight hundred pounds a -year. As I had never been accustomed to calculate -in pounds sterling, I found it somewhat difficult to -get the idea thereof disconnected from that of dollars, -and the banker had to explain to me, that eight hundred -pounds a year made so many <span class='it'>marks banco</span>, before -I perceived that I was what might be considered -a very wealthy man—at least in Germany. I knew -that the good professor had possessed the reputation -of being so; but I was not before aware to what extent -his accumulations had gone. My good friend -the banker advised me to have the amount invested -for the time in public funds, offered his assistance -and advice as to its future employment, and ended -by inviting both myself and Father Bonneville to dine -with him on that day week.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I accepted for myself, but expressed a fear that my -old companion would not be well enough to go into -society, and then took my leave, for it was by this -time late, and the banking-house was at the far end -of that dingy, busy, industrious ant-hill called “the -city.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When I got home to our little lodging, I found that -Father Bonneville had returned, and was waiting dinner -for me; and I could see by his face in a moment, -that whatever had been the object of his expedition in -the morning, he had been disappointed. I gave him -a general account of what had occurred, told him the -amount which we might annually count upon, and in -the end gave him the letter which had been sent to -the authorities at Hamburgh, which seemed to afford -him some satisfaction, but not so much as I had anticipated. -He made very few comments upon the -letter itself, but pointed to the title of Count which -had been given to me with a melancholy smile, saying, -“You have a right to it, Louis, but if you take -my advice, you will not assume it in this country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not intend, my dear friend,” I replied; -“but really all these mysteries are painful to me. -The time must come when all these things should -be explained, and I would fain know when that -will be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yet a little, yet a little, Louis,” replied the good -father, with a deprecating look. “It may be one or -two years, but not more, I think—not more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, good father,” I answered, “you ought, at -all events, to give me the means of tracing out my -own history, even though I use them not for the time -you mention. Life is uncertain, and were you taken -from me, I have not the slightest clue.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will find it amongst my papers, whenever -death calls me hence,” replied Father Bonneville. -“Every information and proof I collected long ago; -and in all the passages which we have lately undergone—in -exile—in poverty, and in peril, I have preserved -them safely. But I really would not take this -name of Count—I would call myself merely Mr. De -Lacy. That is a common name in England; and you -may very well pass for an Englishman—the other -title might do harm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I again assured him that I had no intention of assuming -any title at all. But however strong might -be my resolution, I found it difficult to keep. The -banker’s clerks knew me by that title; and the banker -himself, when I went to dine with him, used it in -introducing me to several people. I declined it, however, -wherever I could do so without affectation, and -made it sufficiently apparent that it was no assumption -of my own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The party was large; the house in the west end -of the town, most magnificent; and a great number -of persons were present, some of whom I found were -of the <span class='it'>élite</span> of London society. It was very much -the same sort of party as all others in great capitals; -and most of my readers must have seen a thousand -such. There were several insignificant puppies, -several equally insignificant, but very pretty young -women, a majority, however, of highly respectable, -well-informed, gentleman-like, but not very interesting -people, and two or three of higher qualities, -polished, but not worn down in the polishing, with -hearts as well as minds, and not only with information, -but with the will and the power to apply it. It -fortunately happened for me that some of these sat -near me at the table. One was a lady of the middle -age, who was called Lady Maria, and whose husband, -a Commoner, and an eminent lawyer, sat higher -up the table; and another was a young man, dressed -in the very height of the fashion, and having a somewhat -foppish air, which at first prejudiced me a -little against him. I soon found occasion to change -my opinion however; for, though he did not talk -much, whatever he did say was to the point; and -allusion having been made to one of those very common -cases in great cities, where a man of high rank -had behaved very ill to a lady somewhat inferior in -station, my friend with mustaches, on the right, burst -suddenly forth in a strain of indignant reprobation, -which made some of the other guests smile, and one -of the ladies say, laughingly, “You have been so -long away, Charley, following your uncivilized trade -of fighting, that you have forgotten how delicately -such civilized vices require to be treated.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They shall never be treated delicately by me, -my dear aunt,” replied the young gentleman; “and at -all events, I haven’t forgotten one thing in my trade -of fighting, that there is such a thing as honor, which -must be remembered as much in our conduct toward -a woman, as in our conduct toward a man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the ladies had retired, he remained next to -me, and we had a good deal of conversation. I found -he was a cavalry officer, who had seen some service, -notwithstanding his youth; and was in London for a -few months on leave of absence, in order to recover -completely from a severe wound in the chest. He -once or twice called me Count; but as we grew -better acquainted over the wine, I begged him to drop -the title, as it was not my intention to assume it at -all, while in England at least.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is my right, I believe,” I said; “but I quitted -France at a very early period, and have never been -so called.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I think you are right,” he replied. “Since -England has become the exile’s home, as we are -proud to call it, we have had such a crowd of Counts -and Marquises of different kinds, that we have a -difficulty in distinguishing the genuine from the false. -You would, of course, pass muster, both from your -appearance, and from the fact, which our good friend -the banker here has taken care to communicate to -tongues that will spread it, that you are that phœnix -amongst Counts and Marquises—a rich <span class='it'>émigré</span>. But -the title of Count would do you no good amongst our -best people, who will like you quite as well as plain -Mr. De Lacy; and as such, if you will permit me, -I will ask for you to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I expressed the great pleasure I should have to see -him, giving him my address. But I will not dwell -longer on this dinner-party, as the few incidents I -have related were the only ones which occurred that -had any effect upon my fate.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>GLIMPSES OF THE LOST.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>New circumstances justified many new arrangements, -upon which I will only dwell for a moment. -The morning after the dinner-party at the banker’s, -Father Bonneville and I had a long conversation in -regard to our future proceedings. The sum I now -possessed seemed almost as large to the good Father’s -notions as to my own; for, to say truth, he had not -much more experience in money matters than myself. -It was agreed that we should set up house-keeping -together, I insisted that he should have a -little vehicle—one of those neat one horse equipages, -in producing which England excels the whole world—and -he hinted that I had better have a saddle-horse, -when one man would do for both. Between twelve -and one o’clock my new friend, Captain Westover, -came to see me, and was taken into our councils. -He somewhat clouded our sanguine views of wealth, -by explaining to us the expenses of English living: -but still with all allowances made, we found that we -had ample means for any thing within our ambition, -and in the course of the explanations which took -place, I learned that, in addition to what I had myself, -Father Bonneville counted on receiving from -some source or another, the sum of three hundred -pounds per annum. After half an hour’s chat, Captain -Westover proposed to drive me out in search of -horses and houses, in a machine of his, then very -fashionable in London, called a tilbury, which had -brought him to the door. His servant was turned out, -and I took the vacant place. He advised me strongly, -for a time at least, to take a furnished cottage at some -little distance from London. “You can come in -when you like,” he said, “and there you will be -more out of harm’s way. Excuse me, De Lacy,” -he continued with a laugh, “but every man entering -a great town like this, must be a little green at first, -whatever may be his experience of other places. It -would be better for you to come to a knowledge of -London by degrees, and that can only be done by -living a little way out of it. With all its vices, its -knavery, and its abomination, there is no place like -this great capital of ours in the world for the comfort -of having every thing that one can want, or desire, -or dream of, ready for one in an instant. Each -man can choose according to his means or his ambition. -From the St. Giles cellar of the thief or the -professional beggar, to the princely palace of the -nobleman or the great merchant, every thing is at -hand, and two or three taps of an enchanter’s wand -bring it into presence in a moment. So I will answer -for it, that we shall find what you want in the -way of a house, in two or three hours; but don’t -have it too big: otherwise people will be coming to -dine with you and stay all night, a most harmonious -and agreeable way of being eaten out of house and -home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Though brisk, active, generous and dashing, -Captain Westover was a good man of business, knew -whatever he did know, well, was aware of the right -price of every thing, and I believe in the course of -the next two or three weeks, saved me several hundred -pounds, besides putting me completely in the -way of doing the same for myself at an after period. -I will not dwell upon all our perquisitions. Let me -come to the result. Behold me, in the spring of the -year, possessed of an exceedingly neat, detached cottage, -close upon Blackheath, with a beautiful garden -filled with shrubs and flowers, furniture excellent -and abundant, two horses in the stable, as pretty a -little pony carriage as it was possible to imagine, and -a middle-aged groom, who though an active, honest -and excellent servant, had just been dismissed by a -noble lord, because he had got the asthma, and puffed -like a grampus. He did his duty well, however, and -I did not mind his puffing. His name, moreover, -was Lucas Jones, or Jones Lucas—which, I never -could make out, and I do not think he knew well -himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All the world was at that time volunteering.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Napoleon Bonaparte threatened an invasion of -England, and fondly fancied he could swallow up -that stubborn little island as easily as he had gulped -down half the kingdoms of the continent; but little -did he know the spirit that he roused in the people -of the land by the very threat. All Great Britain -was bristling in arms, and instead of men being dragged -away from their homes by forced conscriptions, -people of all ranks, classes and degrees, of all ages -and characters, of all parties and sects, were rushing -in to enroll their names among the defenders of their -country, and submitting day after day, to toilsome -drills, and unaccustomed modes of life, to the loss of -time and money and convenience. But not a lip murmured, -not a heart was depressed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Blackheath was the great training-ground in the -neighborhood of London for this military race; and -every day in my rides, I met with large bodies of -men, in red, and green, and blue, marching and counter-marching, -going through the manual, and expending -great quantities of powder and perspiration. -Magistrates, lawyers, clerks, shopkeepers, and draymen, -were all jostling side by side in the charge; and -the first battle in England, would have left upon the -ground, the most motley assemblage of professions -that ever was found in one place.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By pausing often to watch the manœuvres of the -volunteers, I accustomed my horse to stand fire very -well, and it was with great delight I heard from -Captain Westover, that in order to try the skill and -precision of the volunteers, a great sham-fight was -to be given on Blackheath itself, in which were to -be enacted all the operations that might be supposed -likely to take place, if a French force were to sail up -the Thames, and effect a landing near the little town -of Greenwich. I told my gallant informant, that although -I had been in the middle of a great battle, and -had crossed a considerable portion of the field between -the two lines, I had not the most distant idea -of what it all meant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, nor have half the men who were in the battle,” -said Captain Westover. “We do what we are -told; we fight; we succeed, or are beaten off; but all -that we know about it is, that there’s a great deal of -smoke, a great deal of dust, and a great number of -men tumbling down round about us, with a very awkward -expression of countenance; and two or three -weeks after, when the newspapers come from England, -we hear all about the glorious victory we have -obtained from the dispatches of the general in command. -This is generally what a subaltern knows of -the matter; but somehow or another, more comprehensive -views are beaten into our heads after awhile, -and I will try, if possible, to give you some notion -of what is going on on Wednesday. But there is -some talk of making me an aid-de-camp for the -nonce, which will be a great bore; for I have a -whole troop of lady friends coming down to see, -without peril, a battle without bullets.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day came; and good Father Bonneville, who -had a great objection to noise and bustle of any kind, -and whose recollections of the battle of Zurich were -not the most agreeable, retreated for a couple of days -to an inn, at a place called Bromley, while I remained -to enjoy the sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I must dwell with some detail upon the events of -that morning, as they were more important to me -than those of any engagement I ever was in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At an early hour I was out, walking round the -scene where the mimic fight was to take place. All -was already in a state of bustle and preparation. -Cannon were planted: troops were taking up their -position: long lines of what were called fencibles, -armed with pikes, were stationed on the river bank, -and a number of persons were arriving every moment -from London to witness the gay scene.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Expecting that the hospitalities of my cottage -might be called upon, I had laid in ample provisions, -and soon after my return about nine o’clock, Westover -was there, mounted on a splendid horse, and -dressed in brilliant uniform. He came hurrying in, -would not sit down to eat any breakfast, but stood by -the table, and dispatched a roll and a cup of coffee -while my horse was being saddled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must be quick,” he said. “We must be -quick; for I expect the whole staff on the ground by -ten, and I wish to introduce you to some good people -first.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We were soon upon horseback, and cantering over -the field. My companion led me to the head of several -regiments, and introduced me to their colonels, -who were generally old soldiers retired from the -service, who had sprung into arms again at the first -news of danger. One I particularly remember, a -Colonel C——, as the finest looking man I almost -ever beheld. He could not have been much less than -seventy, but he was as upright as a pike-staff, his -face blooming like a boy’s, and his hair loaded with -a red sort of powder, called I believe, marechal -powder, common in his youth. He swore a good -deal; but in every other respect, he demeaned himself -with an easy, dignified courtesy which I have -never seen surpassed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was surrounded by a great number of very -pretty women, who seemed to adore him, and rather -inconvenienced him by their presence; for after -giving one or two gentle hints that they had better -betake themselves to spots appointed for spectators, -he exclaimed, with a wave of his sword, which -somewhat frightened them, “Damn it, my dear girls, -you had better get out of the way, or by —— we shall -have some of the soldiers’ bayonets in your eyes, -which would be to my loss, your loss, and all the -world’s loss. I’m going to order the charge in five -minutes, and though no gallant gentleman will doubt -your powers of resistance, we shall carry you at the -point of the bayonet, I’ll answer for it. Captain -Westover, will you and your friend take my niece -Kitty, and these darlings, up to the mill there, where -the carriages have been stationed? You had better -get on your horses, and drive them before you like -a flock of geese.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We accomplished the service, however, more -easily; and I learned from Westover that the gallant -old colonel had been one of Wolfe’s officers at the -taking of Quebec.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Not long after, the fight began; and by my companion’s -management, I remained with the staff during -the greater part of the day. I need not pause to -describe the roaring of cannon, the firing of musketry, -the charging of lines of troops, the taking and retaking -of different positions; but I must notice one little -event, which occurred about the middle of the day. -There had been a sort of lull in the noise and confusion, -when suddenly a carriage and four came dashing -over the ground toward the mill, just as a battery -horse-artillery was galloping like lightning across -in a different direction to take up a new position, -while at the same moment a cavalry regiment was -dashing up to support a party on the right. The gayly -dressed post-boys tried to pull in their horses, but -men, horses, and ladies in the carriage, were all -equally scared, and before they knew what they -were doing, were enveloped on every side by the -troops. The commander-in-chief spoke a word to -Captain Westover; for it was a great object to all -that the day should pass over without serious accident, -and one seemed now very likely to take place. -Away went Westover. Away went I after him, and -just arrived in time to turn the horses off the road -before the guns were upon them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, good Heaven, what shall we do?” exclaimed -a lady in the carriage, with her head covered with -ostrich feathers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Drive across to that little road, and off the ground -as fast as you can go,” shouted Westover to the -post-boys. “You will get these ladies killed if you -do not mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But where can we see?” screamed the lady from -the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You cannot see at all, madam,” answered Westover, -impatiently. “If you wanted to see, you -should have come earlier—Drive on and clear the -ground, boys.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Away the postillions went. The lady drew back -her head from the window with an indignant air, and -I saw just opposite to her, in the carriage, the loveliest -face I ever beheld. Delicately and beautifully -chiseled, every feature seemed to me perfect, in the -brief glance I had. But that was not the great charm; -for there before me, for that single instant, were -those beautiful, liquid, hazel eyes, with the long -fringe of dark lashes, which I had never seen any -thing like since I had last beheld Mariette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My first impulse was to gallop after the carriage -as fast as possible; but the troops swept round, the -carriage dashed away, and all I could do was to ask -my companion if he knew who were its denizens.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not I,” he answered, hurriedly—“Some vulgar -people they must be—none but vulgar people get -themselves into such situations as that—a devilish -pretty girl in the back of the carriage though, De -Lacy—Why, what’s the matter with you, man?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, I think I know her,” I replied, “and -have been looking for her and her mother for a long -time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, then, ride away after her,” answered -Westover; “the post-boys will insist upon feeding -their horses, depend upon it; and you will find them -either at the Green-Man, or at some of the inns -down below. Join me again at the mill after it’s all -over; for I intend you to give me some dinner; and I -must see all my aunts, and cousins, and mothers, who -are congregated there, if it be but for a moment, before -they go back to London. They have thought -me rude enough already, I dare say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I followed his advice, and I believe that I would -very willingly, at that moment, have given at least -half of all I had in the world to catch that carriage; -but I sought in vain. Not a trace of it was to be -found, and though there were post-boys enough at -all the inns, I could not see one in the same colored -jacket as those I was in search of.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Could it be Mariette?” I asked myself. The -features were very different; much more beautiful -than those of my little companion. The face was no -longer round, but beautifully oval. The hair seemed -somewhat darker, too, but the eyes were Mariette’s; -and I asked myself again, “Could it be Mariette, or -had some other person stolen her eyes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sad, thoughtful, disappointed, I rode slowly back -up Blackheath hill, little caring what I should find -going on above. But I had been absent nearly two -hours; the sham-fight was now over; drums and -fifes, trumpets, and all manner of instruments, were -playing gay and triumphant airs, friends and enemies -were sitting down on the dry grass, eating the plentiful -viands prepared for them, and post-boys were -leading up strings of horses to draw back the gay -parties who had come to witness the scene, to dinners -and festivities afar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I directed my course at once toward the mill, from -which several carriages were already driving away; -but as I approached, I saw Westover still there, on -horseback, at the side of an open vehicle to which -the horses had just been attached. He was talking -to some ladies inside, one of whom I had seen on -the night when he and I first met, and who noticed -me by a gentle inclination of the head. Another was -a much handsomer and somewhat younger woman, -but still past her youth. She seemed to be taking -little notice of any thing, and there was a deep, grave -melancholy upon her face, not harmonizing well with -the gay and exciting scene around. I did not go very -near; for the drivers had their feet in the stirrups, -ready to mount, two servants in livery <a id='were'></a>were already -on the box, and there was no time for conversation. -Westover’s aunt, however, beckoned me up, saying, -“How have you been pleased, count?” and at the -same moment, the other lady fixed her eyes full upon -me, and I could see her turn deadly pale. She said -a few words to her companion, however, in a hurried -and eager manner, although I was replying with -some commonplace answer at the moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My acquaintance turned her head, saying, loud -enough for me to hear, “The young Count de Lacy. -Shall I introduce you to him, Catherine?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no reply. The other lady whom she -called Catherine, had sunk back in the carriage, and -her eyes were closed. She looked to me very much -as if she had fainted. I saw her face, but Westover -did not; for I was upon his left hand, and his aunt -was between him and her companion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shall I tell them to drive on?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The other nodded her head, and the word was -given; but as they dashed away, I said in a tone of -some anxiety, “Do you know, I think that lady has -fainted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Which, which?” he cried. “Lady Catherine?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not your aunt,” I said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are both my aunts,” he answered, turning -his horse sharply. “You ride on to your hut, De -Lacy; I’ll join you in a minute, when I see what -has befallen dear Aunt Catherine. She is never -well, and rarely goes out. This has been too much -for her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Away he darted, and I, less pleased with the -events of the day, I suppose, than most others there -present, took my way slowly over the least incumbered -parts of the heath, toward my cottage on the -other side, threading my way amongst groups of -soldiers, and large masses of gorse. At the pace I -went, and by the course I pursued, it took me nearly -half an hour to reach my own gate; but I had already -dismounted, before Westover overtook me, although -he came at a quick trot, with an orderly following -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I remarked that he was very grave, but his only -comment on what had just passed, was, “You were -right, De Lacy. My aunt had fainted. Poor thing, -she has not strength for such scenes. And now, my -friend, I have taken a great liberty with you by inviting -in your name, two foreign gentlemen, who -could get no dinner anywhere else—for Greenwich -is as completely eaten out as an overkept cheese—to -come and dine with you. In revenge, you shall -come and dine with me next week, and eat and -drink enough for three if you can.” I told him I -was very glad to see his friends, and the rest of the -day passed pleasantly enough, although I must say, -I never saw Westover so dull and thoughtful, notwithstanding -all his efforts to be gay. The two gentlemen, -who followed him soon to my house, I need -not notice particularly, as I never saw them afterward, -and never cared about them at all. They -were the sort of things that do very well to fill a -seat at a dinner table, or to be shot at in a line of -battle, behaving creditably in both situations, but -doing very little else.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>OLD FEELINGS AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>I did not go to bed till nearly two o’clock in the -morning, not that my guests stayed late—far from it. -They all took their departure about ten o’clock; but -the events of the day, trifling as they may seem, had -produced upon my mind an effect difficult to be conceived, -or even accounted for. I felt convinced that -it was Mariette I beheld, and I reasoned upon her -state and condition at the time, without guide it is -true, but with more accuracy than might have been -expected. I by this time knew the situation of emigrants -in general in Great Britain. They had been -treated with great kindness by the people of the -country; subscriptions had been opened for them, -aid had been afforded them; but most of them had -fled from France in a state of destitution, and were -actually in extreme poverty at that moment. Some -were eking out the means of subsistence by teaching, -others by mere handicraft employments. I had -no reason to believe that Madame de Salins had carried -much away with her, and on the contrary, I had -much reason to believe, from the wretchedness of -the lodging in which she must have dwelt in Swallow -street, that she was at one time, at least, in -actual distress. The beautiful girl I had seen in the -carriage was exceedingly simply dressed, and I -asked myself whether my pretty Mariette, as so -many had done, might not have engaged herself as a -governess in some family, and might not, even now, -be undergoing all the miseries and scorns of that -most painful situation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But this was not all. In regard to Mariette I had -been guided in my conclusions—to some extent at -all events—by plain, simple reason. There were -other impressions, however, upon my mind—other -matters for cogitation, with which reason had far -less to do, and which gained their importance, perhaps -from the active embellishment of imagination, -perhaps from some of those deeper and more mysterious -operations of the mind, or of the heart, which -leave reason far behind in their rapidity, and surpass -imagination by their truth. The face of that -lady, whom they called Lady Catherine, haunted -me. The manner in which she had gazed at me—the -eager, keen, almost wild glance which she had -given me, the paleness which had overspread her -face so suddenly, and the fainting fit into which she -had fallen immediately my name was mentioned, -were not matters of marvel to me, but of deep -thought and consideration. It was very natural, -where such a mystery hung over my birth and early -fate, that I should feel inclined to connect it with -every thing strange and unexplained which I saw. -But there was something more than all this—something -that I cannot explain or describe; which -seemed to bear down all thought and argument -against it, and which made me feel a conviction, -stronger than any reason could have supplied, that -there was some tie between that lady’s fate and my -own. I did not recollect her in the least—not one -feature in her face was familiar to me; but yet the -very moment I beheld her—before she even turned -her eyes upon me, the sight seemed to waken in an -instant, dreams of happy early days—sweet thoughts -and feelings, which had slumbered for years unawakened -by the careless storekeeper, Memory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was therefore over these thoughts and feelings -that I paused and reflected, for so many hours.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have often remarked in the course of life—in -others as well as myself—a somewhat curious phenomenon: -namely, that when some great and important—shall -I call it change? No, not change. There -are no changes in human fate. They are all steps—steps -toward a certain goal—That when some great -and important step, then, in human fate, is to be -taken, we feel an impression of the coming fact—we -see, as it were, with the eyes of the spirit, without -the interference of the cold, hard, short-sighted -intellect, the awful magnitude of that which is before -us; and we are impelled to mark what at other -times would seem the merest trifles with anxious -acuteness—to scan, as it were, the very pebbles in -our path, lest a rolling stone should make us lose -our footing, and hurl us over the precipice which -we feel to be near at hand, though the mists and -darkness of our earthly being may hide the actual -presence of the yawning gulf.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What was to me a lady fainting in a carriage? -What was there extraordinary in a delicate woman -giving way after an exciting scene, and long and unusual -fatigue? What was there in all that I had -seen, which could not be explained by a multitude -of ordinary circumstances—which I should not have -left, at any other time, to rest unthought of amongst -the common, insignificant events of a day? And -yet I sat and pondered for four long hours, and even -after I retired to bed I could not sleep, but was kept -awake with the same anxious thoughts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Father Bonneville returned about two o’clock on -the following day; but with a lack of confidence -which I rarely showed toward him—for he was so -gentle and so good, who could want confidence in -him—I did not mention at all, the little incident -which had occurred at the mill. I told him, however, -all about the supposed sight I had caught of -Mariette, but the good Father only smiled at me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are always thinking of Mariette, Louis,” he -said, “and if you go on so, I shall really fancy you -are in love with her memory.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And so I am,” I answered frankly, “I can imagine -a father would so love a child, as I love Mariette; -and I shall always love her so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear boy,” replied Father Bonneville, laying -his hand impressively upon my arm, “that is impossible. -You and Mariette are no longer children; -you might love her as a brother when you last saw -her; but if you love her at all, you must love her -otherwise now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I fell into thought, and I felt that he was right. He -gave me but little time to ponder, however, asking -me who else I had seen, and I mentioned several -names, Colonel C——, the commander-in-chief, a -number of young officers, the two strangers who had -dined with me, and lastly, in as easy a tone as I -could assume, Westover’s two aunts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Father Bonneville asked their names, and I replied, -“Lady Winslow, and a lady they called Lady Catherine—I -suppose Lady Catherine Westover; for -he said, in the course of the evening, that she was his -father’s sister.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I looked somewhat keenly at Father Bonneville -as I spoke; but my words did not seem to produce -the slightest effect worth noticing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is droll,” he said. “I do not remember the -name of Westover in the English peerage. It must -be some new creation, I suppose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should think not,” I replied, “for there is a -calm quietness about them—a want of all arrogance -and presumption—an easy, self-possessed tranquillity, -which I have always remarked, in this country, accompanies -ancient rights, and well assured position.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you know,” said Father Bonneville, suddenly -darting away from the subject, “that it has -once or twice struck me, Louis, that there is a great -deal of likeness between your friend Captain Westover -and yourself?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I smiled; for I could not conceive two men more -different in appearance—in complexion—in eyes, in -height; for I was much taller, and dark, while he -was fair; but still the good Father’s words lingered -in my mind, and I determined the next time I saw -my friend to learn, if possible, something more of his -history.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was with great satisfaction then that, on the -Friday morning, I received a note from Westover, -asking me to dine with him, either on the Tuesday -or the Wednesday following, and to name which -day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do come, De Lacy, on the one day or the other; -for there are some people, who will come on either -day, to whom I much wish to introduce you. My -leave will soon expire, and I may not have another -opportunity.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I immediately answered his note, fixing the first -named day, and then, as it was a beautiful morning -in the spring, I went out to fish in a river which ran -at some miles distant from my cottage, and where I -had hired a right—for the English are as tenacious -of the right of stream and wood as any old feudal -lord that ever lived.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I had been engaged in the sport for about an hour, -wandering along through the beautiful meadows, and -had done tolerably well, when I saw a gentleman, -of the middle age, walk slowly across from the other -side, and pause upon a little wooden bridge, observing -my proceedings. He was a tall, handsome man, -about fifty, but thin and pale, dressed in a sort of -military blue coat, richly braided, but not very new; -and his air was exceedingly gentlemanly and prepossessing, -though his riches were evidently of Nature’s -giving, not the world’s. After watching me a -few minutes, he came up with easy grace, and asked, -with a strong foreign accent, “If I had had good -sport.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I replied that it had been pretty well, adding a -French proverb of no particular significance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ha!” he said, “have I the pleasure of speaking -to a countryman?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I replied in the affirmative; and he soon began to -ask all sorts of questions, in that courteous manner -which renders inquisitiveness not impertinent in a -Frenchman. I told him I had quitted France very -early, and recollected but little of my native land; -to which he replied, that was a “<span class='it'>malheur</span>,” asking -the year of my emigration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I told him, and he replied, with a smile, that it was -the same in which he had left France; but added, that -he had returned there since, and fought in La Vendee. -He then asked me if I knew many of my countrymen. -I replied in the negative, saying with a smile—for -the opportunity seemed too good to be missed—that -there were only two, whom I had known so well in -my boyhood as to make me very anxious to hear of -them again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I be permitted to ask their names?” he said, -quietly. “I am acquainted with several, though, -indeed, not very many; for my means are too limited -to allow of my mingling much in society.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I at once named Madame de Salins and her -daughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My new acquaintance paused and mused, as if he -were trying to recollect some circumstance, such as -where he had heard of them, and I began to entertain -some hopes of information.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps,” he said, at length, “I may be able to -assist in your search in some degree, although I -am not sure. May I ask how old you were when -you quitted France?” and his eye ran over my person, -which perhaps showed signs of age beyond -what my years warranted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Between twelve and thirteen,” I replied.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay! and you have remembered them so long,” -he said, in a tone of interest. “Well, I will do my -best to give you news of them. But I know not -where to send it to you, if I should prove fortunate -enough to be able to do so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I immediately gave him my card, which he examined, -repeating the name, and then turned the -conversation in another course. I found him exceedingly -agreeable, mild and dignified in his manners, -and full of general information, though probably not -a very learned man. He asked me if I had been to -pay my respects, while on the continent, to his majesty -the king—afterward known as Louis the -Eighteenth—and expressed himself sorry when he -heard I had not.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think it would have been advisable in many respects,” -he added. “This madness will not last forever -in France. Nor can the other powers of -Europe ever consent as a body to the existence of a -state of things in that country antagonistic to all their -interests and all their principles. Napoleon Bonaparte, -in making himself emperor, has performed an -act which places France in a false position that she -cannot maintain. As long as he was merely the head -of the republican party—the incarnation of the spirit -of revolution—he was certain of support at home, and -under no absolute necessity to protract the war with -foreign powers, one moment after they chose to make -peace with the republic. As emperor, however, he -has taken upon himself an obligation to wage eternal -warfare; for by war alone can he maintain himself -as emperor. He may have gained a little with other -monarchs by recognizing the monarchical principle, -but he has lost more with the French people. France -was divided into two. He has now divided it into -three, and put two parts against him. The one that -he wields, the military part, may be the most powerful -for the present, but its adherence to himself depends -upon two conditions—war and success. Thus -his dynasty can never stand; for no civilized nation -can ever be entirely military; and he who attempts -to make it so, will always fall as soon as the military -part cannot command success; and unless the whole -nation be military, success can never be ensured. -My belief is that in a few years our old race of kings -will be upon the throne again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He talked with me for more than an hour, while -I continued my sport; and I then returned to my little -cottage, very well satisfied with my interview.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Father Bonneville seemed very well satisfied too, -when I told him my hopes of discovering the abode -of Madame de Salins. He asked me many questions -about the gentleman I had met with, and made me -describe him accurately. When I had done, he said, -nodding his head slowly with a smile, “I think we -shall find them now, Louis. I think we shall find -them now, and I am almost as glad of it as you are; -although I trust they have not been suffering so much -from poverty as you imagine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A day or two passed on, however, without any -intelligence, and the Tuesday came on which I was -to dine with Westover, in London. I dressed myself -with some care; for I knew that my friend was -moving in the most fashionable circles of the capital, -and I drove in with the groom in the little phæton, -so as to be at his door at the very moment named. -He was lodging in a very handsome house in Brook -street, and I found him dressed for dinner, but alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My other friends will not be as punctual as you -are, De Lacy,” he said, shaking me warmly by the -hand; “and I dare say you will have to wait half an -hour for your dinner; but in the meantime I can introduce -you to them as they come in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In about ten minutes, two young and dashing men -made their appearance, and I was made acquainted -with them in form. Then, five minutes after, came an -old peer, stout, beetle-browed, heavy in look but not in -intellect, and exceedingly loose in his apparel, which -seemed to have been thrown on with a pitchfork, but -which did not at all detract from the indefineable -something which marks the gentleman. He had not -been there two minutes when the door again opened, -and the Earl of N—— was announced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah! your grandfather,” said the last comer. -“That is an honor for a grandson, Captain Westover.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I consider it as such, I assure you,” said my -friend, as he advanced to meet his relation, and I -need not say that my eyes fixed eagerly upon the -father of Lady Catharine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was a tall, thin old man, of very distinguished -appearance. I learned afterward that he must have -been a good deal over seventy; but he certainly did -not look more than sixty. He was perfectly straight -and upright, though not stiff in appearance, and was -dressed entirely in black, which was not usual in -England at that period. Every article of his apparel -fitted exactly. His shoes, in which he still wore -buckles, were as polished as a looking-glass, and his -gloves fitted him as if they had been made upon his -hands. His linen was marvelously fine, and as white -as snow; and his hair probably would have been as -white as his linen, even had it not been filled with -powder. His face was very fine, and his complexion -peculiarly delicate; but there was no effeminacy -about him. There sat a world of resolution on his -broad, towering brow, and his teeth, of which he did -not seem to have lost one, were always pressed firm -together when he was not speaking. His step was -slow and deliberate, but still there was none of the -feebleness of age in it, and there was a strong composure, -if I may so express myself, which never -varied but for one moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Between the two peers there was no need of an -introduction; and they shook hands with each other -cordially. One of the other gentlemen, Lord N—— -knew also; and the third was introduced to him. -Westover then turned, and presented me as Monsieur -De Lacy. For a single instant, as he spoke, the earl -seemed moved. A slight change came over his face, -a twitch of the muscles about the mouth, evidently -involuntary, and passing away in one moment. He -forgot not his courtesy, however, in the least, did not -shake hands with me, but bowed gracefully, and -said a few words about France and England, not at -all depreciatory of my own country, although he expressed -a hope that I would not find my enforced -residence in Great Britain altogether without compensation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He then turned to speak with his grandson and the -other gentlemen. Two others were added to the -party, and shortly after we moved in to dinner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By Westover’s arrangement I was seated next to -his grandfather; but at first he did not seem inclined -to take much notice of me, and, to say the truth, I -was very busy with my own thoughts, and inclined -to be somewhat silent. After a time, however, a -gentleman opposite engaged me in conversation, and -something I said seemed to please or strike the old -earl, for he joined in with a good deal of tact and wit. -That conversation dropped, but the earl continued to -talk with me, with his heart a little opened, perhaps, -by good wine and good food, which I have remarked -have a great effect in producing urbanity—especially -with Englishmen. His lordship asked me -how I liked the country, whether I had seen much -of it, and where I intended to pass the summer. I -answered briefly that I had seen very little of the -land, and that my plans were all unsettled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is a pity that Charles must so soon rejoin his -regiment,” said the earl, “otherwise he might have -shown you a good deal that is worth seeing in England, -and what is more, you could not be in safer -hands. I need not tell you, Monsieur De Lacy, that, -for a young man, and a stranger in this country, it is -highly necessary that he should choose his acquaintances -well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am quite aware of the fact, my lord,” I replied, -“and I consider myself highly fortunate in having -been early introduced to Captain Westover. I have -few if any acquaintances but those to whom he has -introduced me, and the banker to whom I had -letters.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ha!” replied the earl, thoughtfully, and after -meditating for a moment, as if something puzzled -him, he said, “I think I heard you called the Count -De Lacy, in society—have you dropped the title?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never took it willingly, my lord,” I replied, -“although it is mine, I believe, by right. I was -driven out of France very early, and probably never -should have known of my countship; but it so happened -that I formed some connections in the city of -Hamburgh, which led to a considerable bequest from -an old friend there, and that caused a communication, -in regard to myself, to take place between Hamburgh -and England.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But how did they know that you were a count, -in Hamburgh, if you did not know it yourself?” -asked the earl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By a letter from England,” I answered, perhaps -a little dryly. “It referred to some money matters, -of which, to say the truth, I understand nothing; but -it was addressed to some of the authorities at Hamburgh, -and in it I was designated by the title of count. -The same title was repeated in after correspondence, -and thus it happened to be given to me here, much -to my annoyance; for I would fain drop the countship -altogether, not having the means to maintain any -distinguished position.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ha! I see, I see,” said the earl, “you speak -English remarkably well, Mr. De Lacy. You must -have learned it very young.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not remember the time when I did not speak -it,” I replied.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is singular in France,” rejoined the old -nobleman. “Did your father speak English?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I could feel a cloud come over my face, and I replied -with very painful feelings, “I never knew my -father, my lord, and am not aware of who or what -he was. I have heard that he was murdered—but -that is all I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I beg pardon—I beg pardon,” said the old earl; -“I did not intend to wound you. There are painful -subjects in all families—may I drink wine with -you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the rest of the evening his tone toward me -became a little less stiff and more kindly. He asked -no more questions, however, but conversed entirely -upon indifferent subjects, and seemed well pleased -with my remarks. He retired early, indeed, and I -remained for some time longer, in the hope of being -able to draw something more from Westover, regarding -his aunt, Lady Catharine. I had lost the opportunity -of the favorable ten minutes during which -I was alone with him before dinner, and no other -presented itself for any private conversation. I could -only venture to express a hope before others, that his -aunt, Lady Catharine, had not suffered seriously from -the fatigues of the review. He said she had not been -at all well since; and I remarked that I thought her -very beautiful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She was once the loveliest creature in all England, -I am told,” was my friend’s reply; “but that is -past, and she can hardly, I think, be called beautiful -now—except, indeed, as a beautiful ruin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke very gravely—nay, very sadly, and I -did not like to press the subject further. I remained -some time longer to see if the other guests would -go, but they showed no intention of doing any thing -of the kind, and as I had a long drive before me, I -took my departure, Westover promising to ride down -in a day or two, and take me upon some expedition.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>THE LONGED FOR MEETING.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Habitual reverence is a curious thing—more strong -than most other habits. I was certainly of a somewhat -impetuous disposition, eager and impatient of -delay, notwithstanding all the drilling I had had in -long wanderings and many difficulties and distresses; -but yet the habitual reverence which I entertained -for good Father Bonneville was not to be mastered. -It was one of those impressions received in youth, -which, like the foot-prints of certain animals that we -discover in the rock, had been pressed down there -when the substance was soft, but had been rendered -indelible as it hardened. I returned from London -disappointed in one of my expectations, and I would -fain have had a long conversation with good Father -Bonneville, in regard to all the doubts and mysteries -surrounding my own peculiar fate. The promise -he had given of knowledge at a future time did not -satisfy me, and I thought that if he would but touch -upon the subject again, I would press him hard for -further explanation. Nay, more, I judged that the -very party at Westover’s would open the way, and -resolved that I would not fail to take advantage of -the very first opportunity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the good Father came down to breakfast, -however, with his calm, placid countenance, and his -usual quiet taciturnity, although there was nothing -in the least repulsive, none of that impenetrability -which sometimes characterizes the Roman Catholic -priest, yet I felt a repugnance to the idea of urging -upon him a subject which he had shown so much -anxiety to avoid, and he certainly gave me no direct -encouragement. He merely asked if I had met a -pleasant party at Captain Westover’s; and when I -in return told him of whom that party consisted, and -dwelt somewhat particularly upon the appearance and -demeanor of the Earl of N——, he seemed, I thought, -a little surprised, and I could not help fancying that a -shade from some strong, and not pleasant emotion, -passed over his countenance: yet he asked not a -question, and made no observation of any kind. I -then suffered the subject to drop, notwithstanding all -my resolutions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some days passed quietly and dully enough. English -people are not fond of making new acquaintances. -None of our neighbors had yet called upon us, and -the gentleman whom I had met by the side of the -brook, did not make his appearance. Quiet tranquillity -is the most burdensome of all things to an impatient -spirit; and I confess I fretted myself a good -deal during those dull three or four days. It seemed -to me as if all the world had forgotten us; and I felt -much more solitary there, with every comfort around -me, than I had done in my long wandering from -Switzerland to Hamburgh, when I might very well -have believed myself almost alone upon the earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It rained, too, incessantly; and I began to feel very -English, and to abuse the climate heartily—though, -by the way, it is the best I ever saw, except, perhaps, -in the central parts of France. I could not ride -out. I got tired of reading. I had nobody to write -to. I was weary of myself and the whole world—even -Father Bonneville’s calm, sweet placidity, his -tranquil employments, and patience under the load -of dullness, half vexed me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was on the Saturday morning early, however, -that a change took place; the sky became clearer; -light clouds, like enormous flakes of snow, succeeded -the dull, gray, pouring banks of rain; blue sky -appeared here and there; and, to complete all, as I -looked out of the window, after breakfast, I saw -Westover riding up toward the house, with a servant -behind him, and a little valise behind the servant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no horse or carriage-way up to the -house, which was approached by a path through a -pretty little garden; and as he dismounted at the gate, -I heard my friend desire his groom to bring in the -valise, to take the horses to the inn, and to give Miss -Kitty a feed and a half. He then walked slowly up -to the house, nodding to me as he came; and I could -not help remarking that he seemed pale and ill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was in his usual good spirits, however, and -shook hands with me and Father Bonneville heartily, -saying, “Did you hear my order, De Lacy; to bring -in my valise? An unlucky thing for you, my friend, -that I was at the taking of your house, and know that -you have a spare room; for I come to beg quarters -of you till Monday.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I welcomed him gladly, and seating himself somewhat -languidly, he said—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been unwell for the last few days, and -they tell me I should leave that bustling, tiresome -town of London; so I have come to see if you will -give me quiet lodging here, just as a trial—not that I -think it will do me any good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why—what is the matter, Westover?” I asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, nothing but that tiresome ball,” he replied, -laying his hand upon his chest. “It has taken another -move I suppose, and set me spitting blood -again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What, has it not been extracted?” I asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He shook his head mournfully, answering—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no, it is there for life, they say, be life long -or short; and it is the strangest thing in the world, -how a trifle like this—having an ounce of lead in -one, without knowing where to find it—will weigh -upon a man’s spirits, how it is ever present to his -thoughts—a something he cannot get rid of—the -sword hung by a single hair over his head, during -the whole of the great festival of life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, we will keep you here quietly,” I answered; -“which we can do with the most marvelous -perfection.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you had been here during these last three -days,” said Father Bonneville, with a quiet smile at -me; “you would have had quiet enough, Captain -Westover—more quiet than our friend Louis likes, I -believe; for, as you may remark, he has literally -worn the carpet by walking from that table to the -window. I always think we may gain good lessons -from the brute creation. God teaches them what is -best under all circumstances; and I copy the cocks -and hens, and the great dog, all of which, I remark, -invariably sit quite still, and take every thing quietly -during rainy weather, knowing, that walk as fast as -they would, or as much, they cannot change the wind, -or make the clouds withhold a drop.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Westover smiled, but replied—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is not exactly quiet I am seeking, my reverend -friend, but to be out of the air, and the parties, and the -smoke of cities, and the impertinent chattering, which -is the smoke of society. No, no—no quiet for me. If -I am soon to ride with my troop, I may as well ride -here, and so I intend to make De Lacy mount his -horse, and gallop away with me to Eltham or Esher, -or some of those places memorable in the past, where -we can sit down, and play the part of Volney for an -hour, amongst the ruins of empires. Then to-morrow, -I intend to go with you to Mass; for all Protestant -as I am, I cannot help admitting that you sing -a great deal better in your worst chapels than we do -in our best.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Father Bonneville looked at me with a faint smile, -and I informed Westover that we had both of us, in -the course of the last two years, abandoned the -church of Rome.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was not from any motives of interest, Captain -Westover,” said Father Bonneville, “neither from -fear nor for favor, but from pure conviction. The -fact is, that in a time of great distress and anxiety, I -found so much consolation in the Bible, that I could -not remain attached to a church which denied it to -my fellow men, and, moreover—without being uncharitable—I -thought I could see the reason of its -being withheld from men in general, in its manifest -condemnation of the practices of those who withhold -it. Louis came to the same conclusion while we -were far apart; and parting as Roman Catholics we -met as Protestants.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Westover seemed much more surprised, and even -moved by this intelligence than I could have expected. -He shook me warmly by the hand, congratulating -me, and saying—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad of it, De Lacy, I am glad of it. That -makes a very great difference—I am sincerely glad -of it. We will talk no more of going to Mass; -though I do like to hear a good Mass well sung—so -much so, indeed, that my noble grandfather is every -now and then in terror of his life, for fear I should -turn Papist, in which case, as he is the most ultra -Protestant that ever lived, he would, doubtless, cut -me off with a shilling, and be very sorry that he -could not deprive me of the fortune my Uncle -Westover left me, lest I should spend it in favor of -the Propaganda—but come, De Lacy, let us take a -walk to the inn, mount our horses, and ride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We were soon upon our way, and as we passed -slowly along through the little village of Lewisham, -Westover, who was looking round him, exclaimed, -“Good heaven, what a beautiful face!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I turned my head sharply, but could see no one. -The road was vacant, except where a laboring man -was wheeling a barrow, and a carrier was taking a -trunk out of a cart. At the side of the road, indeed, -was one of those little picturesque cottages, only to -be seen in England, where fine taste and love for the -beautiful, has decorated with a thousand charms the -very lowliest of dwellings. It was only one story -in height. The windows were mere lattices, with -diamond-shaped panes of glass, rattling in leaden -frames. The roof was thatched, and the door -seemed hardly tall enough for the entrance of a man, -but the thatch was covered with the rich green -house-leek, and the whole front of the house was in -a glow with roses, trained beautifully between the -little windows, and every here and there holding out -a long blossom-bearing arm, as if to invite the passing -stranger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s gone,” said Westover, “run away at the -sight of two men on horseback, as if it were the first -time in life she had seen that sort of Centaur. But I -certainly never did see a more lovely creature.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I made him describe her to me; but what description -can ever give an idea of a face? His was incomplete -enough, but he said she had the most lovely -eyes in the world, and that was quite sufficient to set -my foolish fancy filling up the outline with the features -of Mariette. I caught myself in the midst of this -portrait-painting, a new sort of castle-building, and -could not help smiling at my vain imaginations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you laughing at, De Lacy?” asked my -companion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At myself, Westover,” I replied. “The truth -is, your description is so like some one I have been -long seeking, and would give both my hands to find, -that, for a moment, you set my fancy wild with the -idea that she and your cottage-girl might have been -the same.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, ho,” said Westover, with a laugh; “but if -your love affair has been of long duration, this cannot -be the same, for she seemed quite young—not -more than seventeen or eighteen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That might well be,” I answered; “and yet my -love affair, as you call it, might date from twelve -years ago. The person I seek is the companion of -my youth, one who is now an emigrant like myself, -and I much fear that she and her mother both, may -be in some distress, while I have the power of relieving -it, and know not where to find them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yours must be a strange, curious history,” said -Captain Westover. “I wish, some dull evening, -when you have nothing better to do, you would tell -it me, point by point. I am fond of a dreamy talk -with a man over his past times.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should have thought there were attractions -enough in the metropolis,” I answered, “to occupy -all the time of you men of fashion, in other ways -than that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Attractions,” replied Captain Westover, “which -either leave no remembrance, or a sting. Take my -word for it, De Lacy, there are multitudes of us who -would gladly leave wax candles to blaze, and champagne -to sparkle, and bright eyes—with no heart behind -them—to shine, in order to sit beneath a shaded -lamp with a man of real action, who has seen something -of different countries, and a different world, -and a different life from ourselves, and listen to tales -of the heart’s realities, while all else around us is -but the tinseled pageantry of a dream. Come, when -shall it be, De Lacy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To-night, if you will,” I answered; “we are -certain of being uninterrupted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the old man,” he said. “Young men can -never talk with open hearts before old ones. There -is a power in age which controls us even when -there is no real authority.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, he goes to bed always at nine,” I said; and -so we arranged it should be, and so it was.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When we returned after our ride, Father Bonneville -informed me that there were some persons in the neighborhood, -upon whom he wished me to call with him -on the Monday following; and Westover and I went up -to dress for dinner—a much more important operation -than it has since become, even within my own knowledge. -We had the usual English dinner, a small turbot, -some boiled chickens and ham, preceded by soup -after the French fashion, (which I knew Father Bonneville -could not do without,) and followed by the inevitable -apple-tart. After his coffee, the good Father -remained for an hour or so, then lighted his candle, -and having apologized, with the grace of an old -courtier, for his early habits, retired to rest. My -story was then told much as I am now telling it, -only with more brevity, and I must say that Westover -not only listened with the fortitude of a martyr, -but showed a deep interest, if I may judge by his -questions, in many parts of my narrative. Once or -twice he rose, and walked up and down the little -room, sitting down when I paused, and saying, “Go -on, De Lacy, I am listening.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I could not finish the whole in one night; but on -the Sunday evening the tale was concluded, and on -the Monday, in spite of remonstrance, he set out, -saying he was going back to London. Why, I know -not, but I watched him from the window, across the -heath, meditating on the state of his health, and the -risk he ran in joining his regiment again, with an -unextracted ball still in his chest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly, to my surprise, I saw him pull in his -horse, at the distance of some five hundred yards -from the house, beckon up his servant, and speak to -him for a moment. The master then took the left-hand -road, which led toward Lewisham, and the -groom rode upon the way to London.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is utterly impossible to describe the sensations -which I experienced at that moment. There was a -mixture of anger, and suspicion, and jealousy, which -I can hardly characterize even to my mind at present. -Fancy was as busy as a fiend; and I felt quite sure -that he was going back toward the cottage, in order, -if possible, to form some acquaintance with the beautiful -girl he had seen. I persuaded myself in a moment—although -I had unpersuaded myself before—that -she must be Mariette; and I pictured to myself, -Westover, with his handsome person and winning -address, making instant love to her, and banishing -poor Louis de Lacy for ever from her heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It took me an hour’s struggle to overcome such -feelings, and when I had done my best I was still -dissatisfied.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Toward twelve o’clock, Father Bonneville proposed -that we should go out for our visit, and for the -first time, I asked where that visit was to be.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, Louis,” he replied, “you seemed so indifferent -when I spoke of it on Saturday, that I did not -tell you the acquaintance you made while fishing, -came to call upon us during your ride with Captain -Westover. He is a gentleman of good family, and -we must of course return his visit, even were it not -that I believe he can now inform us where to find -Madame de Salins.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is Mariette not with her?” I asked eagerly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I believe so,” replied Father Bonneville, with a -smile; “but let us go, I said we should be there before -one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I did not delay him, but I must confess, I thought -he walked marvelously slow, and wished from the -bottom of my heart, that I had ordered the pony carriage -for our excursion. He took his way straight -toward Lewisham, turned to the left in the village, -keeping on the left-hand side, directly to the cottage -with its roses. I do not know what had got into my -heart; but it brought to my remembrance a trick -which I had seen a charlatan play with an egg, -which, by some contrivance, he made to jump out of -a pot the moment it was put in. He stopped at the -door—at the very door, and then suddenly said:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, what is the matter with you, Louis? You -are as pale as death.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, nothing, nothing,” I replied, and knocked -hard for admittance. I was red enough then. A -small servant-girl opened the door, and Father Bonneville -asked—“Whether Monsieur Le Comte was -at home?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My hopes about Mariette began to fail, and diminished -to a very small point when, on entering a little -room, containing a good number of books, I found -my acquaintance of the brook-side alone, and without -a vestige of woman’s occupation any where -visible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He shook hands with us both, welcomed us heartily, -and in common civility I was obliged to repress -my curiosity for a time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is my little study,” he said, after some -preliminary conversation, “where I teach a few -young pupils French, in order to eke out the small -means of subsistence I have left. But I thank God -for all things, and only regret that I have not enough -to aid those of my countrymen who have even less -than myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is what I fear,” I answered, “that there -are many, and amongst them some I deeply love, -who may be suffering great distress, while I have a -superabundance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are, indeed, many, Monsieur De Lacy,” -he said; but as the words were upon his lips the -door opened, and a voice of music said, “May I -come in?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly, my child,” he replied; but she had -taken it for granted, and was in the room. There were -the same eyes, the same look, the same beautiful face -which I had seen in the carriage, but with a figure, -how full of exquisite grace, how perfect in all its -symmetry!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If my heart had not told me, at once, that it was -Mariette, the glad spring forward with which she -flew to the arms of Father Bonneville would have -shown me the fact at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What possessed me I cannot tell, but I could not -speak a word, and stood like a fool, the more confounded -from feeling that the eyes of a stranger -were upon me—yes, he gazed at me, earnestly, -inquiringly. I must, somehow, have betrayed myself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you not know me, Louis?” asked Mariette, -holding out her hands to me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Know you!” I cried, and if the whole world had -been present, I could not have refrained from taking -her in my arms and kissing her cheek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Know you!” I repeated, “O, yes, I knew you -the very first moment I saw you in the carriage on -Blackheath.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I did not know you,” said Mariette, artlessly; -“but how should I, Louis? Here, you are -a great tall man, six feet high; and yet you’re still -the same—the same eyes, and the same mouth, only -your hair is darker and not so curly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I rode after you all through Greenwich,” I replied, -apropos to nothing; for my whole head was -in a whirl, and she had left her hand in mine, which -did not tend to stay the beating of my heart, “but I -could find no trace of you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit down, sit down, my children,” said the master -of the house, “you are both agitated with your -young memories. I will go and call your mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me—let me,” said Mariette, and running to -the foot of the little stairs, she exclaimed, “Mamma, -mamma, here are Louis and Monsieur De Bonneville.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Madame de Salins ran down lightly and eagerly, -and indeed she was very little altered—looking, perhaps, -better than when I had last seen her. It was -clear she was sincerely glad to meet us again; and -seated round the table, a thousand questions were -asked, and about half the number answered. All old -feelings and memories revived. We talked of our -little cottage on the Rhine, of our meeting in Paris, -and our adventures by the way. The stranger joined -in frankly and familiarly, evidently knowing all that -had befallen us. We formed again, as it were, one -family, and at length, emboldened by this renewal of -old associations, I turned smiling from the gentleman -of the house to Madame de Salins, saying, perhaps -abruptly—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who is this? May I not be formally introduced -to him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you not know him, Louis?” she exclaimed, -with a look of surprise. “It is my husband—The -Count de Salins. How else should I be here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You forget, mamma, you forget,” said Mariette. -“Louis always thought that he was dead,” and casting -herself upon her father’s neck, she shed a few -tears over the memory of the terrible days when first -we met.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I looked surprised and bewildered, as well I -might; and looking round at Madame de Salins, I -murmured—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You told me he was dead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought so when I told you so, Louis,” she -replied, “I saw him fall before my eyes, wounded -in several places, and to all appearance dead. But a -glimmering of hope, springing from what source, I -know not, led me to trust my child to you and hurry -back to the court of the château where he had fallen. -The assassins were gone; my husband’s blood -was still reeking from the ground; but his body was -not there, and after a long period of terrible suspense—it -was but two hours, but it seemed an eternity to -me—I found that one of our good farmers had carried -him away, and was nursing in his own house a feeble -spark of life which he had found yet remaining. -I flew to him; I tended him many weeks in secret; -I saw him recover consciousness and hope. None -who beheld him then, however, would have recognized -the gay and handsome De Salins; and it was -agreed that he should be carried some ten or twelve -leagues by night, and thence removed to Paris in a -litter as a dropsical patient going to seek the aid of -our good friend Doctor L——. All the peasantry -were in our favor. It was but the people of the -cities who were infected with the epidemic madness -of the times. Every one aided—every one was as -secret as death. The very dogs of the farm-houses -seemed to comprehend and enter into our purposes. -They barked not when the litter entered the yard, -but moved round us watchfully, as if to defend, -rather than betray us. It was necessary that I should -part with him, however; for my presence would -have discovered all; and I hurried back to seek my -child, and meet him in Paris. Monsieur L—— was -already prepared for his coming; but he did more -than could have been expected or even hoped. He -took him into his own house, and kept him there in -profound secrecy for some months. During that -time I lay concealed under the appearance of abject -poverty. Mariette visited him every day, upon the -pretence of carrying little articles of food to the -good Doctor’s house; and neither by word or look, -did she betray the secret—even to you, Louis. Do -you forgive us?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I put my hand in my bosom, and drew out the -ring which Madame de Salins had given me, and -which still remained suspended round my neck by -the little gold chain. I pressed it to my lips for my -only reply; and gently bending her head with a sweet -smile, she proceeded, saying, “I could see him but -seldom—I dared rarely venture; but at length Dr. -L—— formed the scheme for us of making our escape -from Paris, crossing the Rhine, and waiting -there for my husband’s coming. He was to follow -as speedily as possible, in the character of an officer -of the Republican army, who had been wounded at -the battle of Jemappes. A thousand obstacles intervened, -however, and I remained in terrible anxiety, -till at length a letter informed me that he whom I -had well-nigh given up for lost, had crossed the -Rhine in safety, and was then at Dusseldorf waiting -my coming. It was still necessary to maintain the -most profound secrecy; for emigrants were surrounded -by spies and traitors, and one indiscreet -word might have brought the head of good Doctor -L. to the block. I joined my husband in safety with -Mariette, however, and our good farmers had gathered -together a sum of money sufficient to enable -us to cross the sea to this island, and to live for some -time obscurely here. That sum would have been -exhausted long ago, had we not by a fortunate chance -been driven from our small lodging in Swallow -street by a brutal man, whom I believe to be a spy, -but who had once received great favors from our -family when a poor apothecary in Paris. He, a -sensual, horrible patron, the Marquis de Carcassonne, -had no mercy upon us; but having purchased -the house, turned us out in the street four years ago. -We heard of this little cottage and took it; and a -blessing it was; for Monsieur de Salins has obtained -a little class of pupils, by which our small means -have been somewhat saved.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We sought you in that house in Swallow street,” -said Father Bonneville, “Louis was impressed with -the idea that you must be in want, and he has been -hunting for you far and wide ever since we came to -England.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Real want, we have never known,” said Monsieur -de Salins, “though we have been poor enough—ay, -so poor, as to induce me to let my child go on -a long visit to some rich and vulgar people, in order -to economize our little pittance. They thought that -Mariette de Salins was reduced so low as to accept -the hand of their coarse son, and think it an honor -and a favor; but they have learned better now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And did you visit that house in Swallow -street?” asked Madame de Salins, looking at me -with an anxious and inquiring glance. “Who did -you see there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I told her all the particulars, Father Bonneville -adding a word here and there, and the account seemed -to strike both Monsieur de Salins and his wife with -much surprise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He does not know,” said Madame de Salins, in a -low and thoughtful tone, turning her eyes upon her -husband, “he does not know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And so you found Monsieur de Carcassonne in -poverty and distress?” said Monsieur de Salins, -“the one viper, I suppose, has stung the other. -God of heaven, my dear wife, how thankful we -should be to Him on high, that we sit here, and eat -the daily bread of his mercy, with consciences clear -of offense, and hearts unloaded by a weight of guilt. -Let them take all from us, but our innocence and -our honor, and we shall be rich compared with these -men, even were they wealthy and powerful as in -days of old.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And is it possible, Monsieur de Salins,” I asked, -following the line of thought in which my mind had -been principally running, though there were many -other subjects eagerly appealing for attention, “Is it -possible that you, and dear Mariette, and Madame -de Salins, have been living here in comparative poverty, -while I have been enjoying wealth and all -that wealth can give? This must be no longer——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I saw a slight shade come over his countenance, -and I added, “Madame de Salins has been a mother -to me; Mariette has been a sister. I have sought -them eagerly, daily since I have been in England, in -order to perform toward them the duties of a son and -a brother. Surely Monsieur de Salins,” I continued, -taking his hand in mine, “you will not suffer my -having the good fortune to find you with them, to -deprive me of my right of adoption?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear, noble, generous Louis,” said Mariette, -throwing her beautiful arm round my neck, as if I -had been indeed her brother.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, I taught her to read and write,” I said, -drawing her gently toward her father. “She was -my first and dearest pupil—I have all her little -books now, in which she spelt her early lessons.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the pictures, and the pictures you drew, -Louis,” cried Mariette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All, all safe through all my wanderings,” I replied. -“Come, Monsieur de Salins, I have a beautiful -little place hard-by—ample means for all of us. -Every thing shall be soon prepared for you, and Madame -de Salins, and dear Mariette. We will share -house and fortune and all, and be one family again, -as we were in our sweet cottage by the Rhine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I knew not what it was I urged—all the objections -that a father’s eye might see—all the difficulties in -regard to the world, and the world’s opinion; and I -was not aware, till I found that even Father Bonneville -remained silent, and did not second me, that I -was asking too much.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Monsieur de Salins, for his part, smiled at my enthusiasm, -while Madame de Salins wept at it; but -he answered kindly and affectionately, putting quietly -aside all points difficult to deal with, and saying jestingly, -“Why, you would not have us quit this -little, rosy dwelling where we have been so happy; -but be assured, my dear young friend, that no guest -will be more loved and honored within its walls than -the Count De Lacy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I felt from his tone, that it would be in vain to -press my request further that day; but I knew the -effect of perseverance, and I had hope for the future. -At all events Mariette and I had met again. I was -resolved that nothing should make me lose sight of -her thenceforth, and like all young hearts, I gave myself -up to the present joy with trustful confidence in -the happiness of to-morrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Several hours glided sweetly by, and it was late -in the day when Father Bonneville and I retrod our -steps to our own dwelling, each full of thought.</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='tbk114'/> - -<div><h1><a id='woo'></a>I WOO THEE, SPRING.</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 WILLIAM ALBERT SUTLIFFE.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I woo thee, Spring, and I wed thee, Spring,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To a kindly-thoughted lay,</p> -<p class='line0'>And I sing thee, Spring, in thy blossoming,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Through the lee-lang sunny day!</p> -<p class='line0'>When young loves bud and old loves bloom—</p> -<p class='line0'>When the warm earth bans all shade of gloom,</p> -<p class='line0'>    And bees hum summerly.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I woo thine ears to a kindly tale,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And what shall the story be?</p> -<p class='line0'>I will tell thee dearest bonds are frail,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And that stars and flowers flee.</p> -<p class='line0'>I will tell thee a tale of woful wings</p> -<p class='line0'>That rive from the soul its precious things,</p> -<p class='line0'>    And shadow sweet fantasy.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I will tell thee of some that have fled away</p> -<p class='line0'>  Since last we saw thy face;</p> -<p class='line0'>And some that are gone from the sheeny day</p> -<p class='line0'>  To the lonesome burial-place.</p> -<p class='line0'>And of joys, like a string of pearls unstrung—</p> -<p class='line0'>Like treasured flowers to the fierce wind flung,</p> -<p class='line0'>    That sleep with the buried grace.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>O, I woo thee, Spring, and I wed thee, Spring,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To a sadly-thoughted lay,</p> -<p class='line0'>And I sing thee, Spring, in thy blossoming,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Through the lee-lang cloudy day!</p> -<p class='line0'>For the lone day dies through purple bars—</p> -<p class='line0'>And a misty grief enwraps the stars,</p> -<p class='line0'>    And our hopes are ashen-gray.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But the flowers bud and the flowers blow</p> -<p class='line0'>  And the mossy streams are sheen,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the downy clouds to the Norland go,</p> -<p class='line0'>  While the blue sky laughs between;</p> -<p class='line0'>And the light without, to the dark within,</p> -<p class='line0'>Would seem to say—“Will ye up and win</p> -<p class='line0'>    While the paths of life are green?”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But the outer joy on the soul’s annoy</p> -<p class='line0'>  Looks in and laughs in vain—</p> -<p class='line0'>For the inner chains of the spirit’s pains</p> -<p class='line0'>  May ne’er be reft in twain;</p> -<p class='line0'>And the song that erst in joy begun</p> -<p class='line0'>Sinks into wail ere the setting sun,</p> -<p class='line0'>    A sad and deathful strain.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>So I woo thee, Spring, and I wed thee, Spring,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To a dreary-thoughted lay,</p> -<p class='line0'>And I sing thee, Spring, in thy blossoming,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Through the lee-lang weary day!</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the lee-lang day and the plodding night—</p> -<p class='line0'>When no golden star’s in the lift alight,</p> -<p class='line0'>    To brighten a weary way.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk115'/> - -<div><h1><a id='song'></a>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 L. L. M.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>When morn’s soft light is o’er us shed,</p> -<p class='line0'>  When pearl drops bow each taper leaf,</p> -<p class='line0'>And e’en the lily’s queenly head</p> -<p class='line0'>  Pays homage to the glory brief—</p> -<p class='line0'>Who ever recks of coming night,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Or grieves that such an hour must be—</p> -<p class='line0'>Who ever weeps o’er winter’s blight</p> -<p class='line0'>  While summer decks the dewy lea.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The forest leaf now pale and sere</p> -<p class='line0'>  Once bent to roving breezes’ kiss;</p> -<p class='line0'>The faded flower on Autumn’s bier</p> -<p class='line0'>  Once seemed too gayly bright for this,</p> -<p class='line0'>Nor did they droop and whisper all</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of mildew dank, of frost and blight;</p> -<p class='line0'>But ever rang the wild-wood hall</p> -<p class='line0'>  With joyous song and murmur light.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And grievest <span class='it'>thou</span>, dear one, that life</p> -<p class='line0'>  Is but a dream that soon is past?</p> -<p class='line0'>Fear’st thou the briefly bitter strife,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The shadows on thy pathway cast?</p> -<p class='line0'>Nay, ’tis not well—though day’s soon gone;</p> -<p class='line0'>  The flowers soon pale that bind thy brow;</p> -<p class='line0'>Though night and death are stealing on,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Forget not, love, ’tis morning <span class='it'>now</span>!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk116'/> - -<div><h1><a id='two'></a>TWO WAYS TO MANAGE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY THE AUTHOR OF “CLOVERNOOK.”</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was night, black night all over the world, and -denser night within the dwelling of Margery Starveling. -Now and then, the half-moon broke through -the clouds that obscured the face of heaven, and -some straggling and uncertain beams slanting through -the narrow south window, gave to the low, homely -apartment a ghostly sort of glow that was gloomier -to see than the dark. Yet the night was one to make -timid hearts beat quick, especially in a dismal old -house, where there was no light save occasional -glimpses of the half-moon. But Margery was not -afraid—she was used to darkness and solitude, and -needed not the interchange of humanities for her -comfort, else she would have aroused from the sleep -which had fallen upon her, the child, who—with -cheek leaned against the rough stone jam—was alike -unconscious of the dark, and the rats gnawing hungrily -at the floor, or loosening the hearth beneath her -feet. It may be that bright dreams came to her, -even there, for what shall stay them from innocence? -and the rough jam may have seemed a pillow of -down, and the chill moonlight, as it fell against her, -the golden curtaining of a pleasant couch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All was quiet within doors, save the digging and the -gnawing I have mentioned, but in the woods that -partly encircled the place, and darkened close against -the western gables, the winds went blindly moaning -up and down, and the dead boughs creaked against -each other, filling the time with music when the ill-boding -owls muffled themselves away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was very still in the house, I said, for though -Margery was busy, her work made no noise, till -laying aside the great fleece of wool from her knees, -which her skinny fingers had been picking apart, she -spoke aloud, and on this wise—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will stir with my staff the embers from which -the glow is well-nigh perished, that my child may -feel in her sleep its comfortable influence, for evil -dreams may come of unrest, and evil dreams make -evil thoughts, and when they have once taken possession -of the heart, how hardly are they charmed -away.” So, having taken the fleece from her knees -and laid it over a wooden stool at her feet, she arose, -and fumbling in the chimney-corner opposite to that -where the child slept, produced a great knotty staff, -the lower end of which was blackened and charred. -With this she stirred the gray ashes from the fiery -log that lay beneath, and beating and breaking it into -coals, gathered the dry cinders together that were -scattered about, and having spread them over the -freshly-broken coals, a blaze sprung up, slight and -blue at first, but reddening and deepening till the rafters -over-head, and the oak slabs below, the walnut -bedstead in the corner, with its antique carving, and -elaborately wrought tester, and the huge chest with -its iron padlock, the wrinkled visage of the old woman, -and the pale hair and plump, naked feet of the -child, were all distinctly visible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Charity, my pretty darling,” called the old woman, -as she resumed her seat and the fleece of wool, -“Wake, and betake thee to thy wheel for an hour, -and I will tell thee of the plan I have made to keep -our house full of cheer and music all the while, even -when thou weariest of the wheel, and thy tongue -prattlest not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The child rubbed her eyes, lifted her head from -the stone jam, saying in a voice sweet and plaintive, -as we sometimes hear a bird’s—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have spun my task, grandam—six wisps of flax -into as many hanks of thread, and thou seest my distaff -is naked—but I will wind it with another wisp -and spin, at least till thy task is done.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her naked feet pattered across the slab floor, and -climbing on a ladder, she took from a peg in the rafter -a fresh wisp, and as she wound the distaff peered -through the south window at the half-moon, or rather -at the yellowish color in the clouds behind which -the half-moon was concealed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It wears near the midnight, good grandam,” she -said, shoving her wheel aside: “I will pick on the -fleece, and so thy voice will not be drowned as thou -tellest the plan thou hast mused of.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As thou sayest,” answered Margery, “it wears -near the midnight, as is told by the shrill cry of the -cricket, to say nothing of the aching in my bones, -and the dizzy feeling that creeps along my forehead -now and then;” and laying her skinny fingers over -the wrinkles on her brow, she bowed her head forward -for a minute, looking more like a witch making -some unholy incantation, than a live human being, -and a woman as she was. Her dress, summer and -winter, was composed of cow-hide shoes, clasped -over the ankles with buckles of brass, a gown of -dark woolen stuff, made in a straight, stiff fashion -peculiar to herself, and she wore over her shoulders -a small circular cape, that had once been part of a -tiger’s hide. On her head she wore no cap or other -covering, and her gray hair was parted on the crown -and combed either way, one half being cut in a -straight line above her forehead, and the other on her -neck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She seemed seventy, or thereabout—nevertheless, -her hair was neither thin nor very white.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou hast wrought too hardly, grandam, mayhap,” -said the child. “Fold up thy hands now, and -the portion of the fleece that remaineth be mine to -do;” as she spoke, she wound her arm about the -neck of Margery, for she loved her, albeit she looked -so repelling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, child,” answered the dame, “it is not often -we have so pleasant a light, and pity ’twere to lose -it. We must improve the advantages we have, little -one, else want will be staring us in the face, and reproaching -us with negligence when it is too late. I -cannot work as I could with forty years less weighing -me down, so I must do what I may.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I saw,” said the child, “when I went to Farmer -Jocelin’s, for the measure of meal thou wottest of, -three good tallow-candles alight in one room. The -noonday sun were scarce brighter,” she continued -in amazement, both at the wondrous light and the -prodigality. “He must have great estates, grandam, -to maintain such indolent and luxurious life. True, -Mistress Jocelin was at work with some knitting, -but not heedfully nor diligently, but more attentive -to the reading of a book, which, indeed, to look upon -was very beautiful, for as Farmer Jocelin held it -near the light, the edges of the leaves glittered like -gold, and the leathern cover was bright as the bosom -of the bird that sings in the peach-tree, here, in summer. -But Master Lawrence—what, think you, he -did by all that flood of light? Why, nothing for -thrift; for he sat on the matting of the floor, cutting -pieces of smooth brown paper into a kite. Yet he -had a sweet smile, and seemed to have a good heart -withal,” added Charity, and her fingers flew more -nimbly through the wool, “for as he served round a -salver of apples, at his mother’s bidding, he urged -me to take one so earnestly, yet kindly, that I might -scarce refuse, and when I did—for that I might not -rob Farmer Jocelin of his substance, giving him nothing -in turn—he forced one into my lap and ran -laughingly aside, so that I might not return it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Alas! alas!” said Margery, “have I reared thee -thus carefully in vain, that when thou escapest from -my sight, but for a moment, thou yieldest to sinful -temptation, eating the fruit thou hast not earned.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, grandam, thy conclusion is over-hasty. I -kept the fruit unbruised and untasted, though its -sweet fragrance made it hard to resist, and when the -maid brought in the measure of meal, I gave it to -her hand, and she restored it to the salver; but when -Master Lawrence saw it, he looked as though he -would have cried, even in such beautiful light, -and with so much fair brown paper, to fashion as he -would.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad thou hast wit to serve thee upon occasion,” -spoke Margery, her fingers flying nimbly as the -child’s; “and if Farmer Jocelin burns three good tallow-candles -at one time, and that at no merry-making -or gala-night, his children will be the likelier to sit -in the light of fagots—and Master Lawrence was -wastefully cutting smooth brown paper. I am glad -thou hadst wit to refuse the apple, but thou shouldst -have frowned smartly the while. If I see the young -scapegrace this way, as belike he may come, with -further temptations, I will make my tongue as a -chisel, cutting such a lesson of wisdom and reproof -upon his heart, as he hath never heard, mayhap.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But Master Lawrence meant kindly,” said Charity, -and casting down her eyes, she continued, “if -we cannot burn tallow-candles, we, at least, may -have the light of dry sticks—shall I not gather more -to keep light as thou tellest the plan thou hast? I -would it could make our home cheery as good candle-light, -and a salver of apples, with rinds all russet -and red and yellow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It were good thou hadst not seen the apples,” -spoke the dame, querulously; “better still thou -hadst not seen the boy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the plan, grandam—thou forgettest the plan. -Is it that the famous chopper, Patrick Malony, is to -come and fell one of the great hickory or maple -trees of which the wood is full; and are we to have -a huge log, and big, smoothly split sticks to fill the -great empty fire-place every night with light and -warmth; or meanest thou once more to saddle -Lily-lace, the mare, and ride to the mill with a full -bag of wheat; and am I to go to the market-town -once more, in my black kirtle and straw hat, and -bring home in exchange, for my basket of eggs, -butcher’s meat to broil on the coals, and fragrant tea -to fill the little china cups, with tobacco for thy long -empty pipe—in faith, grandam, have I not guessed -shrewdly?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My pretty darling, I see thou hast thy head filled -with the wildest extravagance; thou wilt be teasing -next for a farthingale of dimity, ruffles of lace, and -blue ribbons for thy hat, or other such like gear. -Thy guesses tally not with prudence, Charity; thou -mayest guess again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay, then,” said the girl, sorrowfully, “I was -wrong from the saddling of Lily-face to the full pipe -of tobacco;” and casting her eyes about the cold, -empty room, she continued, with greater energy—“I -have the very pith of thy thought. Thou wilt -unlock the great chest, and take thence the dainty -linen sheets and the thick wool blankets thy hands -have wrought from fleece and flax, and make the bed—wherein -we now shiver the night through, ridden -with nightmares and plagued with ugly dreams—into -beauty and comfort. Surely I have guessed -thy plan, for the moth is more wasting than the -wear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Foolish child, thy extravagance would be the -ruin of me, though I gave thee management of my -affairs but for a day. Were the sheets of linen and -blankets of wool to be used as thou sayest, the chest -would soon be empty, and then how should we -fare?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As well as now,” thought Charity, but she -spoke not, save to say—“that she should guess no -more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Once more, little one,” and Margery patted the -child on the head with one hand, and taking the -great staff in the other, she stirred open the coals vigorously, -and as the light flashed upon the girl’s -cheek, tears, large and bright, were seen to stand -there, like drops of dew on a lily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the old woman urged her to renew her guess -with such earnestness and tenderness that, brushing -away the tears, she essayed once again; but the fervor -was gone from her tone, and the light from her -glance, as she said—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou hast planned the mending of the door and -window, that the snow may not drive to great ridges -across the floor, and the wind and the rain beat -against us as we sleep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not so,” answered Margery. “While the winter -blows the larger crevices may be stopped with -straw, and the smaller ones with clay, both of which -may be easily removed when the May Queen is -dancing on the hills, and our house be the pleasanter -for free air and streaks of sunshine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It may all do very well,” said Charity, “but to-night -I can see nothing so pleasant as great log-fires, -tallow-candles, and a salver of red apples; and, -mayhap, it would take Master Lawrence to complete -the picture.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Burned not thy cheek to speak it?” continued -Margery, peevishly: and the two wrought at the -fleece for a time in silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou knowest Lily-face?” said the ancient -dame, at length, “that she groweth old and stiff of -limb; thou canst not remember the time when she -nibbled not in my pastures; I think belike, also, she -fadeth in the sight of her right eye, for when, at the -last Christmas time, I rode her to the mill, my old -bones were jeopardized by her stumbling, and often -turning of her head to one side, betrayed her defect -of vision. But though she were sound as the silver -coin that lieth in the bottom of the chest, yonder, I -must needs barter her away, for that she eateth more -than she earneth, since I may no more buckle round -her the girth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou requirest much exercise in thy growing, -Charity, to keep supple thy joints—thou canst sometimes -walk to the market-town for our absolute -wants, which are not many, and as for the wheat-grist, -thou shalt have a mortar and beat it into flour; -so Lily-face would but burden us now, and the corn -and the oat-sheaves, and the hay that have been -heaped in her manger, may be sold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One beast is enough for a poor body like me, and -thou knowest I will neither barter nor sell Wolf-slayer -till the time cometh for the nailing of the -boards to my coffin. And forget not, Charity, that -they lie in the loft, well-seasoned for the using, and -for thy life, let them not buy others in their stead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Far away be the time, good grandam,” sighed -the girl. “But the young die, too; and should I -need them first, wilt thou not keep a light, at least of -fagots, the whiles I am dead in the house?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Foolish child! though it were darker than tempest -may make it, and I the while slept never so sound, -no harm could come to thy white corse, if Wolf-slayer -lay by thy coffin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the sound of her name, a great black beast, with -eyes burning like coals, and lean and shaggy, crept -from the darkest corner of the room, and laying her -head in the lap of Margery, licked her jaws and -whined piteously. “Away with thee, saucy image,” -growled the mistress, “thou hadst the third part of a -corn-ear at the sunset, and thinkest thou, black -wench, I will give thee more?” and crouching and -whining the hungry beast slunk back to the corner, -and curling herself together, filled the room presently -with her snore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor Lily-face!” said the child, speaking as it -were to herself, “how can I let thee go! Morning -and evening, since I could toddle, I have put my -arms around thy glossy neck, broken the ears of corn -into small bits, and pressed the golden oat-sheaves -through thy manger—and thou hast neighed and put -thy face against mine, for thou lovest me, as I thee. -Poor Lily-face! I cannot let thee go!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What if thou mightst look in the corner here and -see the bright, shining face of a pretty clock instead -of the cobwebs and the hanks of yarn—if thou -couldst hear the pleasant tick, and ever and anon -the musical ring of the hours—a clock, bethink thee, -bright of color as the autumn oak-leaves, and tall as -thy grandam.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It would be pretty and comforting, surely,” said -the child, “for the ticking and the stroke of the -hours would be company in the lonesome nights, but -I would not give Lily-face, that knows me when I -speak, and looks at me and loves me, to have a clock -bright as the oaken autumn leaves, and tall as thou, -grandam, in place of the hanks of yarn and the -cobwebs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou knowest not thy own mind,” said Dame -Margery; “the clock will neither eat nor drink, but -will tell us the time of day and night; which Lily-face -hath not wit to do. By the light of the last -sunset, I have no mind that she shall longer stamp -in that stall of hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The miller hath a clock,” she continued, “which -ticked at his grandfather’s funeral, and hath kept the -time of many funerals, and marriages, too, since; a -pretty piece of mechanism, as I saw with my own -eyes, and taller than I; and the miller wanteth the -mare for the tread-wheel, and to have her his own, -will barter the pretty clock.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must be as thou sayest, but I have little pleasure -in the plan,” said Charity. “Hath not the -miller a milch cow that he would barter in place of -the clock?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou growest officious,” answered the dame. -“Would not the cow eat oats and corn as well as -Lily-face? And have we not hitherto drunken water -and flourished, and must we needs have milk?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Charity spoke no more, but sat turning the wheel -for pastime—for the fleece was finished, and the mind -of the dame was not to be altered by childish fancies, -as was manifest from her rising and removing the -hanks of yarn to another peg, and brushing with her -hand the cobwebs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wind kept moaning along the woods and rattled -the broken door and window—the coals grew -fainter and fainter and died, and the gray ashes blew -over the feet of Margery and the child as they sat -silently musing—the one of the pretty clock that it -would cost nothing to keep, the other of poor Lily-face; -haply at times there came a thought of the log-fire -and the tallow-candles, and the salver of red -apples which Master Lawrence had served with such -a sweet grace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next day came the miller, and wrapt in a -great bed-quilt and laid in the bottom of his cart was -the clock. Margery clapt her hands in glee when -she saw it, but Charity sighed as she sat close on the -hearth-stone for the sake of its little warmth, though -she felt not the cold now. Faster and faster spun -round the wheel, and lower and lower she bowed -down her head to conceal the tears—but it would not -do. When she heard the neigh of poor Lily-face, -and knew that her hands would never feed her any -more, she hurried to the window, and pressing her -face against the pane, she could see her dear pet -shrinking consciously from the hand that tied the -strong rope about her neck and led her away. Margery -was busy with dusting the bright face of her -pretty clock, and looked not forth even when the -long-drawn howl of Wolf-slayer (who, lifting her -fore paws on the clapboard gate, manifested her sorrow -as a dumb brute may) smote dismally upon her -ears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The days came and went and Charity spun on the -same, but Margery brought forth no new fleece. -Scarcely had she stirred or spoken since the treasure -came—even when the girl heaped on dry sticks and -broken branches till the warmth filled all the house, -she did not reprove.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Charity bethought her that the old dame had -scarcely tasted food for days, and looking upon her, -she saw that her eyes waxed dim and her countenance -pale, and a great fear came over the child’s -heart; and setting aside her wheel, she ran fast to -farmer Jocelin’s, and begged a cup of honey and a -pitcher of sweet milk, telling of the strange disorder -that possessed Dame Margery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she went homeward, Master Lawrence ran -from his work in the field and bore the pitcher of -milk, and comforted her with hopes that her grandam -was less ill than she feared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Without question Margery partook of the milk and -honey; and when Lawrence brought sticks and logs -and heaped the fire, she laid her withered hand on -his head and said, “Thou art a kind boy and good.” -She then took a key from her bosom and told Charity -to unlock the chest and bring forth blankets—as -many as would keep her warm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Surely, grandam, thou art distraught,” said -Charity, as she hastened to obey. But the sweet -smile of intelligence that met her inquiring glance -belied her fears; and as she wrapt the warm covering -about the withered form, she said, “Nay, child, -I am sane at last—but too late.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At midnight she ceased to speak or to be conscious. -Kind hands presently removed the thick -covering, and spread over her a dainty white sheet; -but she was warm enough; others brought from the -loft the boards of seasoned walnut wood, and the -next midnight Charity and Wolf-slayer—the one at -the head and the other at the feet, watched by the -old dame’s coffin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The following day came the miller with Lily-face -harnessed in his little cart; he went forward, and a -train of neighbors followed—amongst them Charity, -sorrowfulest of all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the summer came, she planted bright blossoming -shrubs about the grave, and never in her -life had Margery half so pretty a house as this -narrow one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old house was given up to the rats and the -winds, after the removal of the cheat, and the clock, -and the hanks of yarn that hung all along the rafters. -In course of time it fell into a heap; and one day, as -Charity, who dwelt not far away, sat on the heap of -stones where the hearth-stone had been, she saw a -fair-faced youth searching up and down the lanes, -over the meadows, and through the hedges hard-by, -as though he missed something; but when he saw -the girl, he left searching and bent his steps toward -her, and as he came near she knew him for Master -Lawrence—well grown, but with something of the -boyish look and manners yet. The prettiest of all -the lambs of the flock was gone, and though he had -gone over all the pastures, he could not find it. The -heart of Charity was touched, and leaving her sorrowful -musing, she joined in the search.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whether the stray lamb was found I know not, -but as Charity crossed the fields to go homeward -under the twilight’s reddening wing, her hair was -full of daffodils and daisies, and a flush of wildering -happiness was on her cheek, that had never been -there before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the harvest was gathered and the orchard -fruits weighing down the boughs, Charity rode to -the market-town on a pretty brown jennet of her own; -and as she went homeward the horns of her saddle -were hung with great bundles; she had bought a -white ribbon instead of a blue for the new straw -hat her fingers had been braiding so busily—a -muslin gown, that was white, too; a pair of -pretty slippers, and a dozen other things that I -have not time to enumerate—enough, that the -next full moon shone upon Mistress Lawrence -Jocelin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Not a village maiden that would not have envied -her but for her own happiness, for all joined in the -merry-making; a dozen tallow-candles were burned -at once, and more than one salver of red apples was -served round, with loaf-cakes and sweetmeats, and -ripe broken nuts. Workmen were employed to -clear away the rubbish that had once been Dame -Margery’s house, and a pretty new cottage soon rose -in its place; and the next summer sweet shrubbery -hedged it in, and myrtles and honeysuckles curtained -the windows; bees made honey from the flowers, -sleek cattle fed in the pastures, and in all the neighborhood -there was no home so full of comfort and -plenty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hanks of yarn which Charity had spun long -ago were taken to the weaver’s and came back in -rolls of damask and bright-flowered carpets; the -linen was taken from the chest, and the wool blankets; -and after being washed white as snow, and -dried in the sun, were spread upon beds soft as down -could make.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the second winter came round, the cottage -was a-glow with wood-fires and tallow-candles; -and in place of the starved Wolf-slayer, there lay -before the hearth, in a cradle of white willows, the -plumpest and fairest baby that ever Lawrence and -Charity Jocelin had seen.</p> - -<hr class='tbk117'/> - -<div><h1><a id='phan'></a>THE PHANTOM 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 O. I. VICTOR.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The snow lies deep upon the ground,</p> -<p class='line0'>  All icy is the air;</p> -<p class='line0'>The trees a winding-sheet have found</p> -<p class='line0'>  By the wild wind’s care.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The beast stands trembling in his shed—</p> -<p class='line0'>  The sheep within his fold:</p> -<p class='line0'>Without, all life is stiff and dead—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Within, all chill and cold.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Why is the air so cold to-night?</p> -<p class='line0'>  The owl shrinks in his nest!</p> -<p class='line0'>Why does the moon gleam out so bright?</p> -<p class='line0'>  The traveler is at rest!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>O, keen the wind and cold the air</p> -<p class='line0'>  Above the Phantom Field!</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet ghostly forms are stalking there,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Armed with a sword and shield.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And gathering slow in serried rank,</p> -<p class='line0'>  They turn toward the west:</p> -<p class='line0'>Five thousand coffins guard each flank—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Five hundred stand abreast.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>In battle rank, with noiseless tread,</p> -<p class='line0'>  They hurry to the height,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where stand ten thousand other dead,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Uncoffined for the fight.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>O, cold the wind and keen the air</p> -<p class='line0'>  Around the Phantom Height!</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet spectre men are battling there</p> -<p class='line0'>  In fierce, exultant fight.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And shields are rent, and swords are bent,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And limbs bestrew the ground,</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet skeletons, with strength unspent,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Strike where a breast is found.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And skulls are cleft on right and left</p> -<p class='line0'>  Till shines the morn o’erhead—</p> -<p class='line0'>Till twice five thousand coffins stand</p> -<p class='line0'>  Alone, flanking the dead.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>O, keen the wind and cold the air</p> -<p class='line0'>  That sweeps above the plain!</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet must the hollow coffins bear</p> -<p class='line0'>  The skeletons again.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>O’er the silent field they haste,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To gather limb and bone:</p> -<p class='line0'>Though skulls and limbs are wide displaced,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Each coffin knows its own.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Soon every limb is gathered in—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Soon every lid is fast—</p> -<p class='line0'>And falling into rank again</p> -<p class='line0'>  They turn toward the East.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And marching o’er the frozen plain,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With swift and gliding tread,</p> -<p class='line0'>They stand beside the graves again</p> -<p class='line0'>  Where sleep the evil dead.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Two death’s-heads stand above each mound;</p> -<p class='line0'>  A fearful watch they keep!</p> -<p class='line0'>The coffins sink into the ground,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Another year to sleep.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But when another year is fled—</p> -<p class='line0'>  When comes St. Stephen’s night,</p> -<p class='line0'>The death’s-heads shall unloose their dead</p> -<p class='line0'>  To battle on the height.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And when five hundred years have passed,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The penance shall be done;</p> -<p class='line0'>The skeletons shall sleep at last,</p> -<p class='line0'>And moulder, limb and bone.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk118'/> - -<div><h1><a id='shak'></a>SHAKSPEARE.</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 ERASTUS W. ELLSWORTH.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='dramastart'><!----></div> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>What more extolling from the tongue of Fame</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Can Shakspeare need than his suggested name;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Who, in a volume so compactly writ,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Has hived the honey of all human wit.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Praise suits where merit in a corner lies,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>But seems uncomely to th’acknowledged wise—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Praise suits where laboring art at times succeeds,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And the shrewd reader pardons as he reads;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>But fails—in wonder—where the leaves dispense</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Infinite resource of intelligence—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Where the great player, at his game of chess,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Frolicks through all to glorious success;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Thrids, with exulting ken, a boundless maze,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Plays with his kings, and kings it in his plays.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Swan of the Avon—genius of the Thames,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>“That so didst take Eliza and [king] James;”</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Muse of so vast a flight, so ample pinion,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Whose name is as the name of a dominion!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Though kings be great, give glory to the pen,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>A whole-souled poet is the king of men.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>King and high-priest one bard, at least, has been</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Lo! where we lesser Levites pause and quail.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>How grandly goes before, within the vail,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Our great Melchisedek, without compeers,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Without progenitor nor end of years.</p> - -<hr class='tbk119'/> - -<div><h1><a id='yarn'></a>THE MASTER’S MATE’S YARN.</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. MILNOR KLAPP.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'>(<span class='it'>Concluded from page 539.</span>)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They—the rats, of course—were a strange, -heathenish set, and no respecters of persons, but first -chased the cat on shore, and then made a hurra’s -nest of the cabin—polishing their long whiskers with -spermaceti—planning surprise-parties in the pantry—running -to’gallant races over your nose in the -sleeping-berths, and gauging every hollow vessel in -the ship, with tails a fathom long, from the oil-casks -and the scuttle-butt down to the pickle-jars and the -captain’s barrel of New England. They were a -sleek, long-bodied race, as black as imps of darkness, -and as fearless as if they possessed as many reputed -lives as grimalkin herself. I was weary of watching -their capers, and of the sound of Catherton’s -tread, expecting him every moment to call me up; -when turning in my berth, I noticed that the after-cabin -door was standing open. While I was wondering -at this, a feeling of awe stole over me, thinking -of the conversation I had overheard among the -men the night before, and that very moment, as I -was looking intently at the spot, a figure in white -passed swiftly and silently out of the store-room into -the cabin, closing the door behind it. I would afterward -have given worlds to have been able to pursue -it, but could not, for the power to move a limb was -dead for the time being, and I lay still staring after -it, with mouth agape and the cold drops on my forehead, -palsied, as it would seem, by that sort of instinctive -abhorrence with which humanity revolts -against a disembodied spirit that has assumed, for -some mysterious end, the form and garniture of its -house of clay. It was a woman’s shape—the head -bare, and the long dark hair hanging down to the -waist, and, before the door closed, the light for an -instant flickered on the face, ghastly and white—as -the man-of-war’s man had said—with the mouth -closed and the lips drawn tightly in. Its back was -toward my berth, until it turned into the after-cabin, -and it seemed to me that it had something clutched -in its hand; but the hollow look of the sunken eyes -froze my very heart’s blood, as they glared back at -the lamp, from behind the bloodless and bony cheek. -I was first roused from my trance by the sound of -some one coming down the companion-way, and it -was not until Catherton had thrice called me, laying -his hand upon my shoulder, the third time, that I -started at last to my feet, when he must have noticed -my looks, as I still stared past him at the cabin-door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It wants but a few moments of the time, Mr. -Miller,’ was all he said, and if I had died for it, I -could not have answered, but huddling on my clothes -in silence, mechanically followed him on deck. All -was there as still as death. The moon had not yet -risen, and you heard the sound of the ebb plashing -against the Tartar’s bows, and rippling and gurgling -in the eddies astern, as it swept through the strait.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘The watch are asleep in the galley,’ the captain -whispered, as I prepared to go over the side; -‘you remember the place and the signal—a plover’s -whistle twice repeated?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nodding my head, I descended into the canoe; -he cast off the warp, and keeping in the shade of the -ship, with my brain in a whirl, I paddled close to -the starboard shore. I had little time to think, for -the current ran strongly round the points, and I -seemed blindly impelled by the hand of fate to stem -its force, even while my frame still shook like a -frightened child’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had hardly a thought of my purpose; nevertheless, -instinctively plying my paddle, I passed through -the passage, and reached the rift of sand under the -castle without being challenged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“High above me, concealed from my eyes by the -rocky steep, was the stronghold where, according -to report, the sultan kept both his harem and his -treasures. The danger, in some measure, restored -my presence of mind, and the canoe had hardly hung -for a moment on the hot, glassy tide, when I heard -the signal, and immediately upon my answering it, -an Arab arose from the sand, and two others appeared -coming hastily down a narrow gully, along -which a sort of causeway ran from the stables of the -sultan’s stud to the beach. Seeing more figures than -I had been taught to expect, as another appeared -from behind a rock, leading two saddled horses, I -was about to back farther off, when the chief’s voice -called out to me in a low tone to be quick, and forcing -the bow of the canoe upon the sand, not another -word was exchanged, until Halil had placed the -slender form of the Circassian, vailed as she was -from head to foot, under the awning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The chief then seized my hand and carried it to -his head, pointing with his right in the direction of -the ship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wishing him ‘God speed,’ I wrung his hand; -he pushed off the canoe, and I paddled round for the -ship. Glancing back, I saw him spring into the -saddle, with one attendant, both sitting as motionless -as statues while the canoe kept them in sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heavily armed, and mounted on a splendid -charger, from what I knew of his strength and -spirit, it struck me forcibly that in his present enterprise -he was more than a match for most men. -There was little chance, however, of the conspiracy -succeeding, unless the assassination of the sultan -were the first overt act, as he was greatly beloved -by his people. However, I had previously understood -that the Oualé of Muscat, and all the principal -chiefs at Moutrah—the last a considerable town in -the vicinity—were implicated, which showed that -the party of the old Imaum, the sultan’s deceased -uncle, was much more extensive than I had ever -deemed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was not with thoughts like these that I approached -the ship, for the recent horror oppressed -me so strongly, that I hardly knew what I was doing -when the captain received Zuma from my arms at -the stern-post. After this I fastened the canoe in its -place, and looking, as it were by the mere force of -habit, into the binnacle, found that I had been absent -but twelve minutes. I then went for’ard where the -two fellows who held the anchor-watch were sleeping -soundly. As I kicked them up, the old carpenter -came out of the steerage, rubbing his eyes, and -muttering imprecations on the rats.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘They’re a considerable spry set, Mister Miller,’ -said he, as I made some remark to divert his -attention, ‘and, cuss me, if I half like the ways on -’em—rattlin’ past my berth atween decks, as if every -beggar on ’em had shoes on his feet, and turnin’ -the’r varmentish heads to listen, with more life in -the slack of their tails than there is wit in the for’ard -part of the ship. They comed aboard, sir, in my -opinion, at an island where the ship touched on the -Japan coast, and jist tuk full command of the ship at -once, trampoosin’ her from the ground-tier to the -tops, and crawlin’ out of the bunts of the old courses, -when sail was made at daylight, or jumpin’ from the -boats, when a rush was made to lower away. -Hows’iver,’ he added, knocking the ashes out of his -pipe, without which he was never seen on deck in -these latitudes, ‘I hope, sir, they’ll stick to the ship, -if it’s only for luck’s sake.’ As he said this he -gave me an oblique glance of his cold, fishy eye, -and then looked earnestly at the bowl of his pipe, -fussing with a paper of cut tobacco.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In the humor which I was in at the time, the -most trifling incident that occurred in the ship -seemed to leave an impression upon my mind never -to be forgotten; however, I was not to be sounded -by old Charley Toppin, cunning as he thought himself; -so I answered him at random: ‘I hope not, -carpenter; and as for luck—why—’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Hist! sir,’ interrupted he, in a startled voice, -pointing aft—‘what tale does that tell?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Turning quickly round, I saw them dropping -from the poop by the dozens—one steady plump! -plump! plump! till the deck was black with them, -creeping in a living mass on the forecastle, down the -cable, as it seemed, into the water, where we could -see them swimming for the island across a broad -patch of starlight, until the last of them disappeared. -Captain Catherton was standing aft, looking at the -frigate through his night-glass. He never stirred, -and, as I thought, did not notice them. The sight -seemed to shake old Kennebunk wonderfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Mister Miller,’ said he fearfully, ‘this be a -doomed craft.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘You’re wrong,’ said I, ‘they’re swimming off -to the shore to fill their stomachs with something -green, if they can find it. They’ll be back presently, -and then, if you cover the hatchways, you can call -all hands to a rat-hunt.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The carpenter looked at me, and then at the -poop, significantly enough; a look of intelligence -suddenly crossed his blank, weather-beaten face, as -he moved close to my side, with his hand to his -mouth and his eye still fixed aft: ‘Do you know, -sir,’ he whispered, bending his brows and looking -me hard in the face, ‘do you know who are your -shipmates in this here craft?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At that moment the captain called out in his -deep, calm voice, and I went up on the poop, where, -pointing to the frigate, which lay now within half a -pistol shot of us, outside of the passage, he put the -glass in my hands, without saying a word. The -first look I took through the instrument explained -his meaning. The frigate’s starboard broadside was -sprung to bear on us, and the long tiers of guns -frowning full upon the ship. They were even lighting -their battle-lanterns, and groups of turbans and -pointed caps were visible in every part of the upper -deck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I dropped the glass from my eye and looked at -my companion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I understand it,’ said he composedly, in reply -to my look—‘wait a couple of hours longer, and the -scene will change. In the meantime come below, -and let us have a glass of grog.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He swept the harbor carefully with his glass, -dwelling some time on the landing-place, which is -at the mouth of a drain, or sort of canal; the town -itself being hidden from our sight by the lofty castle-crowned -crags to the north and east. The Soliman -Shah, after changing her old berth, had anchored off -Fisher’s rock, a small islet lying off the north point -of Muscat Island.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While Catherton was thus engaged, the thought of -what Halil and the rest of the conspirators could be -doing at that moment, together with my adventures -that night, whirled a confused crowd of images before -my mind, in the midst of which black Hadji’s -face was preëminent. The stories which I had -heard of his craft and cruelty occurred to me so -strongly that it was a relief when the captain closed -his glass with a snap, and led the way to the cabin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Steward,’ said he to the mulatto, who seemed -to make it a rule never to be caught in his hammock -when his master was up, ‘set out the liquor-case, -and a bottle of that old Bourbon whisky we got out -of the Frenchman—and then be off to your roost.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fellow obeyed in his usual deferential way, -and placing a lighted joshstick and a bundle of sheroots -on the table withdrew.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘To-morrow,’ said Catherton, ‘we’ll tow out -into the bight of the current, go how things may; -and here,’ he added, pouring out a tumbler of grog, -and pushing me the bottle, ‘here’s good-bye, forever -and a day, to the key of the Persian Gulf.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I pledged him accordingly, and he went on in a -very frank, easy way, I thought, considering the -case in which we stood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘A troublesome coast this to clear, Mr. Miller; -the currents hereabouts are as treacherous as the -heart of woman. Why,’ said he, seeming a good -deal at his ease, as he poured out another glass, -though I was in the other case, my eye stealing to -the cabin doors in spite of me, ‘I’ve been drifted in -this old ship forty miles in-shore, in a thick fog and -a calm, between sunset and dawn, and no signs of a -set on the surface any more than there is on this -deck.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Yes, sir,’ said I, compelling my attention to -answer him, ‘in clear weather they keep you continually -taking observations—and in a fog, as you -say, why—’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Try that case-bottle of Bourbon whisky,’ interrupted -he, ‘you don’t seem to relish the brandy. -Here’s to the sultan! And may he wake up to-night -in Paradise.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here he went on in a discursive way to talk of -the cholera, saying that he had had a touch of it -himself on the Malabar coast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘However,’ said he, filling up his glass a third -time, ‘hang care—here’s luck!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘The fact is, Mr. Miller,’ he continued, setting -down his glass, ‘I’ve taken a great fancy to you, -during the little time we’ve been together. If it -lasts out to the end, depend upon me, I’ll put something -handsome in your way.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I bowed over my glass without speaking, and he -kept on in the same confidential manner, as if he -made up his mind to see how we stood at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I’ve made one prime voyage for my present -owners in these seas, and this one—mark you—I intend -for myself. Now I want a friend whom I can -trust, body and soul, and, if I am not far out of my -reckoning, you are the very man.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I met his sharp, scrutinizing glance as he said -this, and remembering the carpenter’s words in the -galley, I now felt sure that the captain had some -scheme of villainy in his head in which he wished -me to become a partner. There was the more reason -to be careful of the grog, since I could not mistake -his manner, and the sharp, sinister look full as -deep as the occasion called for, whatever that might -be. However, I thought it best to affect to do so, -and answered accordingly, that I had no fears of further -trouble with the crew when we were once clear -of the coast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“His fierce eyes watched mine as a tiger might a -stag’s, and with a dark smile which seemed to say, -‘You’re a deep one, I see.’ He nodded his head -and touched his glass again. Still he seemed to -hesitate, and to be fast losing his self-possession, as -if either the liquor he had drank, or something in the -way I received his first hint, had flustered him. I -did not think at the time that he doubted me, either; -so I sat still, smoking my sheroot, and watching the -traces of irresolution gleaming across his sun-seared -face, until, making a strong effort to control himself, -he suddenly asked if I was a married man. On my -replying in the negative, he tacked ship again, asking -me if I ever read poetry, alluding particularly to -Moore’s Lallah Rookh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I don’t care a rope’s end for the Veiled Prophet -or Nourmahal,’ he said, while I wondered again -what he was driving at, ‘but I always admired certain -descriptive parts of the Fire-Worshipers, which -I always thought Byron must have touched up for -Moore—for instance</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>‘—’Mid damp and gloom and crash of boughs,</p> -<p class='line0'>And fall of loosened crops that rouse</p> -<p class='line0'>  The leopard from his hungry sleep,</p> -<p class='line0'>Who, starting, thinks each crag a prey,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And long is heard, from steep to steep,</p> -<p class='line0'>Chasing them down their thundering way.’</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Muscat, you know,’ continued he, ‘is the poet’s -Oman.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Yes,’ I answered, hardly knowing what to say, -‘and a wretched place enough it is, in spite of Moore’s -fancy.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Why,’ he said, still beating the bush about me, -‘there is some difference between the sultan’s palace, -plain as its outside is, and the emir’s porphyry -walls which the little Irish nightingale sang about—not -so much though, to my mind, as between a merchant -dreaming of a full cargo to-night, and waking -to hear of a wrecked ship and no insurance in the -morning—ay, or a captain making two good voyages -and finding himself still in debt—ay, deep as -the fathomless sea in debt—to his owners.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘That, I suppose, you would call a species of -blank-verse, Captain Catherton,’ said I.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Ay,’ he answered, with a fierce, tiger-like -gleam of his dark eyes, ‘but the beauty of the thing -is, this cargo will balance accounts, and it’s a long -back stretch from ‘Oman’s green water’ to the sandy -shores of Bedford Bay.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This was starting the devil with a vengeance, so -I determined that he should show his purpose -clearly before I gave any reply to the hints he had -thrown out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Captain Catherton,’ said I, fixing my eyes firmly -upon him, ‘I am no greenhorn to rush into any -man’s schemes blindfolded. If you wish my services -in any thing that is to my taste, you must speak -out.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He emptied his glass again, in a way which -showed that he was hardly sensible of the action, -and, ‘Mr. Miller,’ said he, ‘there is that about you -which reminds me of old days, and that, perhaps, is -one reason I’ve taken a fancy to you. It doesn’t -matter a rope-yarn whether you join me or not; my -mind is fixed to its course. You shall hear the -whole, however, and judge for yourself before you -decide—which is more than I would care to reveal -to any other man that breathes.’ He flung his sheroot -on the deck as he spoke, and mechanically setting -his foot upon it, bared his sinewy arm to the -elbow, in the lamp-light. ‘Do you see those initials?’ -he said, in a tone of unnatural calmness. -Sure enough there they were—his wife’s, I had no -doubt—E. S. B., dotted in India ink, and two hearts, -worked one within the other, under them. As I -looked in his face for the explanation which was to -follow, I saw that it was fearfully changed; and although -his eyes met mine, at first steadily enough, a -strange sort of a spasm contorted the muscles of his -jaw, as if he looked, as it were, through me at some -horrible sight, with his teeth set, and his thin nether -lip drawn tightly in. The truth, or at least an inkling -of it, I had had already from the second mate, -and in spite of the terrible doubts in my mind, and -the rascally scheme he had hinted at, I confess I -could not help feeling somewhat softened toward the -man. Perhaps he noticed this in my looks, for, with -a shivering sigh, he placed his elbows on the table, -and covering his eyes with his hands, although not a -groan or a moan escaped from his lips, I knew by the -tears which forced their way through his fingers, and -the quiver of his strong frame, that some hard struggle -was going on. I sat still in pure wonder at this -sudden outbreak of feeling—the initials, as it were, -staring me full in the face, and the man’s damp forehead, -with its mass of dark curls within reach of my -hand—until a strange thought that I had seen him -before in some old, familiar place, came slowly thrilling -into mind. Where this might have been I could -not, at the moment, conjecture; but as he removed -his hands and I looked anxiously at his features, I -felt almost sure that it had been years before, in -some scene of summer-revelry, with trees and horses -in front, and woman’s soft eyes on the background. -Perhaps it was the altered look of Catherton himself, -which brought the last into my mind in the -cabin of the old Tartar, to be associated in some -unaccountable way with that tall, muscular frame, -and that dark, gloomy face, frowning as if ashamed -of his emotion, though it might be, the tears had -done him good. At any rate, the idea oppressed me -so forcibly that, before he composed himself to speak -again, I glanced nervously round the cabin, taking in -every object as well as I could by the smoky light—from -the state-rooms, on the larboard side, with their -musty, sickening smell, to the rack in the recess between -the cabin doors, and thence from the starboard -ones up to the chart-rack and the broad transom, -where the two models, one of a whale-ship, the other -of a first-rate, both made of a sperm whale’s jaw—guns, -boats, spars, and even the miniature brail-blocks, -all fashioned out of glistening white bone, -were resting on their mimic ways. Of course I -saw nothing there to account for the impression, -faint as it grew again while I gazed, and half deeming -it the delusive trace of some forgotten likeness, -or of something which I had read of or dreamed, I -turned my eyes again upon Captain Catherton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Mr. Miller,’ said the man, as calmly as if he -were sitting at home, it might be, in his nursery, his -wife within reach of a whisper, and something in -the subdued, moist look of his eyes in devilish accordance -with the drowsy quiet of a domestic scene, -‘we are not all as philosophic as Cato—nor as vile -as the man made immortal in infamy by Horace—<span class='it'>non -omnibus dormis</span>—you remember the satires.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As I stared again at this, a forlorn ghost of a -smile flitted over his face, and with his next breath -the mystery of the thing vanished. I have often -wondered since what it was that kept me fixed to -my seat like stone; perhaps it was the reflection that -my own accursed folly had been the wreck of us -three—him, the wretch—myself, and <span class='it'>her</span>—perhaps -it was the awful suddenness of the shock which -stunned me like a heavy blow; I cannot say; but -stifling the groan which rose to my lips as the horrible -truth flashed upon me, while the very air seemed -to thicken before my gaze, and his words to come -with terrible distinctness through the gloom, I sat -still on my seat and heard him out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I was born,’ he said, ‘at the village of ——, a -few miles from Philadelphia, and abandoned my -home, like a fledged petrel, as soon as I could comprehend -the map of the world with its thousand -ports and its endless stretch of sea. It is a strange -thing, Mr. Miller, this young fancy of ours for being -blown about by the wild winds, and rocked out of a -life of ease by the cunning waves of the deep. To -my mind there was once nothing so joyous in life as -the roar of the gale at its height, when you slid from -the top of a sea to the trough—the dripping dash of -a head sea on the prow—or the rush of cleft waters -astern, as you sat conning the chart.’ Little did that -careful old pedagogue dream, as, day after day he -chuckled over my progress in this department of -knowledge, what restless longings disturbed the -breast of his pupil, like the instinct of the unfledged -albatross when it hears the sound of the sea from its -nest on some sheltering cliff.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It was but last night,’ he continued, in a tone -of melancholy widely at variance with the usual -sound of his voice, ‘that I dreamed of the old man—his -thin, white hairs brushed back from his brow—his -spectacles set straight on his nose, as he traced -out on the revolving globe the voyages of Columbus -and Vasco de Gama, pausing, with his rod stayed at -some particular point, to enlarge on the daring spirit -of each. It was little wonder that I early yearned -for the sea; and yet, as I afterward learned, great -was his astonishment, not unmixed with chagrin -akin to remorse, when he found that I had cut and -run. However,’ he said, putting his hand to his -forehead, ‘we met again, and the matter was thoroughly -cleared up between us.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here he paused in thought, his eyes fixed in a -troubled way on my face, while the changes wrought -by time and the sea seemed to disappear from his -own, and I wondered that I ever could have been so -blind as not to have known him at once: a triple -sense of condemnation oppressed me; and the soft -eyes and the sweet face came vividly up, until I -actually shuddered to think, as the whole name, -Ellen Symington Blount, was as plain as day; what -terrible tale which linked her fate with his might be -still lurking behind. I could well understand, too, -his allusion to Lallah Rookh, which was her favorite -poem, and how it was that he had no recollection -of me, having never seen me but once, and that for a -moment by starlight. Old Charley’s riddle was read, -though it was hard to tell how he became master of -it, and stifling my feelings as I best could, I awaited -in silence for the captain to resume.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“His eyes dropped to the floor, where the rats -were again creeping about unheeded: presently -they scampered off, and I heard the hasty <span class='it'>pit-pat</span> -of naked feet as one of the anchor-watch came -aft to the binnacle, when the ship’s bell struck -one. The stroke was instantly followed by a clang -from the Arab frigate, and then by a sort of stir, -which loomed up as it were on the sultry gloom of -night, in the midst of which you seemed to hear the -cries of the sentries on shore, calling from tower to -tower, through the pestilential air; and when these -died away, with the nearer echoes of the bells in the -harbor, you heard again the sound of the man’s feet -pattering along the deck, as if he, too, had paused to -listen before rejoining his watch-mate, who perhaps, -like myself, was spinning some old yarn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When all was still again, the silence seemed to -press on my ears like the distant splurge of a tide, -while the lamp drowsed and the rats crept to Catherton’s -very feet, scuttling off, however, as soon -as he stirred, breaking abruptly out of his reverie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I made a trading voyage round the globe, and -returning to the village twenty-six months after I left -it, was received like one from the dead. I was -bent upon giving old Blount, the schoolmaster, a -surprise—as much so, it seems to me now, as if I -had run away from school for that sole end.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Accordingly, I was out of the stage and bang -into his garden, where he sat smoking his pipe, with -his back toward the walk, before he had the least -notion of what had turned up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Hillo! old ship! What cheer?’ said I, and -round he swung to my hail, dropping his merschaum -and staring at me in the summer-twilight, as I stood -rigged out in a full suit of blue, swinging my cynet-hat, -until I could stand it no longer, but just broke -out into my old laugh, which brought his daughter -tripping out from the back-porch, when, of course, -the recognition took place. After the old man was -over the heat of his surprise, and I took time to notice -that Ellen had grown, in proportion, quite as -much as myself, and how beautiful she was—and -that she had been the first to divine that I had gone -to sea—my heart beat quickly again with a feeling -strange as sweet, and somehow I was not so much -shocked as I might have been, when her father, -taking off his spectacles and sobering his face, informed -me that my uncle had died a year before. -To be sure, I had never known a parent’s care, and -Colonel Catherton, living as he did, almost alone -with his books, was a man rather to be feared than -loved by a child. Besides, I cannot remember ever -to have had strong feelings for a human being before -I became aware of my attachment to Ellen. I rather -loved to lie behind some hill which shut out all but -the sky from view, and dream of the sea—or to sit -under the lee of the woods in a gale, with a book of -voyages in my hand, intent upon scenes of battle and -wreck, with the last year’s leaves under my feet, -and the wild roar in my ears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It was in the whole stock, and, in fact, I have -heard that my father and two of my uncles, at different -times, had all been lost at sea. However, the -colonel, who had been a great merchant in his time, -had left some property—not so much though as was -supposed from his style of living—and as I was his -only heir, they persuaded me from taking another -cruise until the estate was settled. This, of course, -only left me leisure to fall all the deeper in love—the -rock, Mr. Miller, on which, it seems, the gentlest as -well as the roughest of us must split. Many were -the consultations I had with old Blount, and strongly -he urged me to settle at home as a professional man, -never dreaming—old proser as he was—that the -thing was too deeply grained in, ever to be coaxed -out, even by Ellen’s eyes. The upshot of it was that -I remained at home for two years longer, until the -property was sold, doing nothing but reading nautical -works and growing more and more enamored of -Ellen. There was a soul in that girl’s voice like the -sound of the surf as it breaks upon some enchanted -shore, off which it might be, you lay waiting for day -to dawn—a spell in her dark eyes more like the ideal -dreams of old, than the influence of woman over -man in these degenerate days. If ever mortal had -fair excuse for anchoring his faith on the sandheads -of—but, excuse me, Mr. Miller, they are all of a -piece, as you may have discovered before this—some -one says to be rated only by their different capacities -for mischief.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>‘Helen laid thousands on the shelf,</p> -<p class='line0'>Dido only burned herself:</p> -<p class='line0'>As Helen’s beauty was the rarer,</p> -<p class='line0'>Her claim to mischief was the fairer—</p> -<p class='line0'>A rule in courts that firm hath stood</p> -<p class='line0'>Before and ever since the flood.’ ’</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“As he ran on in this wild way, eating his heart, -as it were, in sheer desperation of feeling, something -in my look, as I felt my soul struggling to rise against -the mendacious wretch, sent him from his vile sneers -and accursed Hudibrastic lines, back to his narrative. -Garbled and imperfect as that was, I was mad -to hear it to the end; for while bitterly rueing the -ruin which my own folly had wrought, I could not -help burning to know by what damnable arts or eloquence -she had ever been persuaded to yield her -hand to <span class='it'>him</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“His eyes sunk before mine and he moved restlessly -on his seat as a sound, so like to a sigh that it -made me start, came apparently from the door of the -closed state-room; it might have been the Circassian—or -the rats in their ramblings—and drinking off a -brimmer of grog, he resumed in a different tone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘At the end of the time I spoke of, the old man -fell sick, and somehow his friends had dropped off, -so that I spent most of my time almost alone with him. -At last he consented that we should be married at -his bedside. He had been growing weaker day by -day, and I was the more anxious for the match, as -his house was close to a place of fashionable resort, -and Ellen had, somehow or other, become acquainted -with some of the young blades from the -city. There was some talk about her and one of -them, while I was absent on a tour to the great -lakes, that had like to have set me mad on my return. -However, the youngster—who was, by all accounts, -to the full as deeply in love and as fiery as myself, -besides being, at least, my equal in fortune and connexions—had -got himself involved in a quarrel with -an acquaintance about this same report, which, in the -end, sent one man to his grave and the other out of -the country. As the duel made a great noise in the -city, I determined to marry Ellen privately, and to -remove from the village altogether as soon as her -father died.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Well,’ continued he, in a husky tone, ‘the -thing was done, and when we rose from our knees, -after the prayer, the old man was dead. We had no -idea that he was so near his end, and I leave you to -imagine, Mr. Miller, the horror of my bridal-night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘However, when this was over, and we were -alone together in the world, Ellen seemed to cling -the closer to me, and it was not long, as you may -suppose, before we left —— behind. I directed my -course to Boston where I had made arrangements to -enter into business with an old shipmate, a son of -one of the firm in whose employ I had sailed on my -first voyage. In the course of a few weeks I found -myself comfortably settled at last, with most of my -funds invested in the purchase of a ship and a brig, -engaged in a trade to the Spanish Main. I commanded -the ship myself, and for several years things -went well—when by the villainy of my partner, suddenly -as a whirlwind strips a ship, the house went -by the board. After this I commanded vessels on -the African and Brazil coasts, until the last ship was -sold to a whaling house at New Bedford. I had -agreed to deliver her into her new owners’ hands, -and, as my wife’s health was rather unsettled at the -time, I took her with me for the sake of the jaunt. -It was then that I received offers from the man who -had purchased the ship, which first directed my attention -to this particular service. It was true that -I knew nothing of the business, and had a sailor’s -prejudice against it; but the man treated us with -such considerate kindness, and made me offers so -tempting to a broken man, pointing out how easily -the difficulties might be obviated in time, and enlarging -on the importance of having good navigators in -the Indian seas, that, in an evil hour, I consented to -take charge of my old ship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I removed from the hotel to a house in the upper -part of the town, and after making the necessary -arrangements for a protracted absence, and three -weeks from the time I went into the Wisemans’ -employ, I found myself at sea. The first voyage—and -it was a short one, not exceeding a twelvemonth—put -me up to the business, and investing all I had -cleared in the ship, after a stay of six weeks on -shore, leaving my wife to mingle in the best society -which the place could afford, I put again to sea. It -was on the homeward bound passage, in a full ship, -after an absence of little more than fifteen months, -that within a degree or two of the line I spoke a -clean ship, with letters on board from my wife and -the owners. Before I could board her, however, -we were separated by a sudden squall, and night -coming on lost sight of her altogether. We did not -see her again, and it was when giving way to some -natural vexation at the accident that I received the -first intimation from Mr. Jinney, my mate, of the -secret intimacy which had long existed between -Ellen and the younger Wiseman. The man’s tale -was a straight one, corroborated by several circumstances -too trivial for notice at the moment of their -occurrence, yet of sufficient importance, when taken -together in connection with his story, to darken the -past and cast an ominous shadow over the time to -come.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Though I had thought to strike her dead at -first sight, with the stretch of sea between us, yet -old ocean, wiser than a thousand graybeards, played -the soother again, even in this great sorrow—the -faster it bore me toward her, as the ship heeled to -the trades—the wilder the gale I encountered off the -very shores where she breathed, the more it seemed -to uplift its voice against the tempest of fury which -must have inevitably involved me in the ruin it -brought down. It was well done,’ he exclaimed -fiercely, ‘here’s to thee, old theme of the poets—broad -pathway for spirits like mine to sweep! Neither -the frailty of woman nor the malice of man’—here -his voice grew too hoarse for utterance, and -drinking off the liquor like water, he dashed the -glass to the deck, walking the cabin with hasty -strides, like a tiger chafing in his cage—while I, with -a curse on my lips for what, as God is my judge, in -spite of the man’s emotion, I believed to be a lie, sat -chained to my seat, as by some predestined spell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Although my faith in the innocence of Ellen was -as strong as in the angels of heaven, still he plainly -believed all he avouched of her guilt; and still, as I -clung to the one redeeming thought that nothing on -earth could have tempted a spirit like hers astray, -still something would whisper that she might have -changed toward <span class='it'>him</span>, or have been made the victim -of some infernal conspiracy, with woman’s malice, -perhaps, at the bottom of the scheme. Strange stories -in the history of the Cathertons, before they -came over from England—which I had heard years -before—flashed across my mind, and I felt sure—I -knew, it must have been the circumstances growing -out of my unfortunate duel—which, no doubt, he -had twisted to the furtherance of his own purposes, -which had induced her to marry him when her -heart was elsewhere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had little time to think of this at the moment, -as you may suppose; for the sight I had seen that -night, and the story of the second mate’s, with the -frightful thought of what she must have endured to -the end, was enough to craze my brain, until Catherton, -breaking out into a laugh more like a fiend’s -than a man’s, and halting directly in front of me, -said—‘You look wild, Mr. Miller—perhaps you, too, -have trusted woman. I tell you,’ he hissed through -his teeth, as I arose and leaned against the mast, as -it were, from pure weariness—staring at him in a -blank way, while the blood seemed congealing to -ice in my veins, ‘I tell you she was false—false as -the whole sex—false as the hollowest heart of them -all—though the oaths I had sworn, and the plans of -revenge we had laid, kept me still.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘No! no!’ reiterated he, laughing again in his -horrid way, ‘by that time I had learned something -of endurance; and, as I had no children—for I was -spared that misery—it was not worth my while to -thrust my neck in a halter for the sake of a profligate -woman. Ha! ha! I thought better of it—it was a -sweeter and safer revenge to have her here in the -ship, while she knew that I was cruising the seas to -beggar her paramour—for, fool-like, his money went -at the gaming-table faster than it came, and I had -persuaded him, in conjunction with the mate, to invest -his all in the purchase of this ship—to see her, -amid the healthful breezes of ocean, dying a death -to which the direst of Eastern tortures are mercy—’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Devil!’ I broke out at last, striking him full in -the face with one hand, as I snatched a cutlass from -the rack with the other, sending the iron scabbard, -in my fury, straight across the cabin against the door -of a state-room; he reeled a pace or two, laying his -hands upon a half-pike at the mast. ‘Fool!’ I exclaimed, -seeing that he still hesitated, ‘come on—I -am S——!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He shortened the pike and darted at my face on -the instant, but catching the thrust on the edge of -my blade, I threw the point up into the deck-beam; -that instant had been his last, for his defenseless -head was within fair sweep of my sword, when -from that very state-room, the door of which had -been forced open by the flying scabbard, the same -figure which I had seen before that night, again appeared, -gliding now swiftly and noiselessly between.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The cutlass fell with a clank on the deck, and I -stood with outstretched arm, my soul riveted to my -gaze, striving in vain to speak, while Catherton staggered -back against the mast, covering his eyes with -his hands. In the rigid and ghastly lineaments of -death I saw, as my heart stood still, the likeness of -Ellen; the frozen eyes seemed to hush my very -breath; the thin, clay-like lips moved, and, like sigh -from a coffin-lid, the whispered words met my ears, -‘Not thus—not thus!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘What—what art thou?’ I gasped out—when -old Charley’s voice sounded on deck; a sort of -scuffle appeared to get up in the companion-way, and -Halil Ben Hamet and his attendant, both sprinkled -with blood and covered with soil-stains from sandal -to turban, suddenly appeared on the scene.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I stared from the apparition to the chief, and -when I looked again, the place where it had stood -was vacant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘All is lost, my friend,’ said Halil; ‘they are -hard on my track, and I have come hither to die -with Zuma.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At these words the captain recovered himself, -and stepping from behind the mast, waved me on -deck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By a sort of instinct I felt compelled to obey -him, as it seemed, for a space longer; and making -mechanically for’ard, I roused out the anchor-watch, -who, as usual, were caulking it in the galley, and -not a soul else on deck, though the heat was so -great, that I wondered how it was possible for a -living thing to sleep. After this I again went aft to -the binnacle, glancing at the watch to see if the last -bell had been struck, and looking over the side, -wondering if the boat in which the chief had come -off, had gone adrift. I then walked to the waist -again, where, hardly knowing what I was doing, I -stood looking up into the dark blue where the stars -were burning, until, as I gazed, a feeling of the utter -vanity of earthly hopes came over me, as I thought -that these same stars which had shone so calmly on -men’s deeds for thousands of years, would shine the -same on my grave. It seemed to me, then, that not -only the feelings involved in the fate of Ellen, but -all the experience of the past, all the changes of time -and clime, faded away into nothingness before those -twinkling, far-away lights; and a something of peace -which I had never known before, swiftly as the -thought seemed to travel through space to the winking -planets, slid into my soul on the slant of the star-beams. -Then my ear caught the splurge of the tide—a -faint air from the sea fanned my cheeks—and a -low growl of thunder came rumbling up into the -cove. I remember, too, to have noticed lights moving -on shore, while a stir arose on the beach close -to the landing, but in the mood I was in at the time, -I paid little attention to this.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Tartar lay moored stem and stern just -within the entrance of the strait, midway between -the island and the main, shut out by the rocks on the -larboard hand from the walled town and the castles -which kept the restless Arabs in awe. One or two -of the little round towers, said to have been built at -their gloomy and apparently inaccessible altitudes, -by the old Portugese, might be seen looming thrice -its real size above the hot outline of the topmost -crags, over which the moon was rising, casting a -strong yet dubious light on Muscat Island, which, -with the bats wheeling continually about it—the -patches of sand in its narrow gulleys, and the rough -stones standing out of them, with here and there a -stunted cypress, reminded me strangely enough of a -Turkish grave-yard, and did not greatly tend to remove -the impression, now uppermost in my mind, -that something you’d give the world to avoid was -soon going to take place. I looked intently at the -Arab frigate, while the moonlight stole upon her rigging, -creeping slowly down the <span class='it'>taut</span> sticks and back-stays -to the spar-deck, where twenty red-caps and -turbans were visible over the side, showing that her -quarter-watch at least were wide awake, when, my -thoughts wandering again, I fancied some desperate, -wild-eyed wretch—such as I had often seen creeping -about the slave-market and the narrow lanes of -the bazaar—stealing, step by step, to her magazine, -blowing the slow match in his fingers, and staring -by its lurid glow at the hammocks which he passed, -until I actually caught myself grasping a shroud, and -watching for the upward shoot of her masts, in the -broad red glare and the shock that was to follow. -Then I recalled the image of Ellen as she once was, -and the unsated fury burned again in my breast, fed -by my belief in her innocence; then came her spirit -gliding across my bewildered mind, ghastly as I had -seen in the cabin; then the thought of what Catherton -could be doing, until I was no longer capable of -thinking at all, but just walked on the forecastle -again, for the mere purpose of diverting my mind -from the horrid tangle it was in. It was some relief -to enter into a conversation with one of the -watch—a strong, heavy-headed fellow, as green as -a parade-ground—about his home among the hills -of the Hudson, and the old story of the trouble which -sent him to sea, which, no doubt, I listened to intently -at the time, although I never afterward could -remember a syllable, except something about a certain -Sukey Fairlamb, who turned out to be a jilt, and -one Jonas Weatherby, who took the wind out of his -(the Tartar-man’s) sails. I also recollect his remarking -how much hotter it had got within the -past ten minutes, and looking aloft, I saw the light -scud flying across the stars, though the flutter of air -on deck had already died away. A noisome steam -was rising out of the forecastle-scuttle enough to -choke one, while a dog which we had on board lay -on the fore-hatches, panting for breath, without so -much as looking at the bucket of water, which some -one had placed within a foot of his nose. All at -once I heard the sound of oars, followed by a hubbub -of voices—and a large boat, filled with men, -appeared in sight, pulling from the landing toward -the ship. As I started aft I saw the captain disappearing -down one hatchway, as the carpenter and -the cooper came up another, and as soon as the boat -came alongside, I hailed. Receiving no answer, I -hailed again in Arabic, when a voice answered in -the same tongue, ‘Be silent, we are coming on -board in the sultan’s name.’ I ordered the carpenter -to make fast the warp which they threw, -when the first person that appeared over the side, I -knew at once to be a little French renegade, the -captain of Syed’s guards; the next was the accursed -eunuch himself; and if the one glance which -I had of his face by moonlight had not been enough, -the sight of the two Zanzibar mutes who followed -him—the stealthy, cat-like looks of their eyes fore and -aft the deck, and the rush of the soldiers behind, -would have convinced me at once that Halil Ben -Hamet’s time was come.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Have de goodness, Monsieur Capitaine Miller,’ -said the renegade, who knew me well, ‘to make -de muster of de sailors on de forecastle, by de sultan’s -orders, sare.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As it was useless to refuse, I ordered the two men -of the anchor-watch to call the people for’ard, while -the cooper and his crony roused out the boat-steerers -in the steerage, the noise having already awakened the -mates, who were sleeping in the house under the poop. -The whalemen seemed bewildered enough, as they -tumbled up the scuttle, and gathered for’ard of the -windlass, although I noticed that they collected the -handspikes in a heap—some of old Charley’s party, -headed by the wild man-of-war’s man, showing -signs of a determination to clear the decks. This, -within half a pistol shot of the frigate’s batteries -would have been sheer madness; accordingly I -spoke to one or two of the men by name, ordering -them to keep quiet, when two sepoys came for’ard, -with drawn sabres in their hands, and ordered me -into the cabin. Armed sentries were posted at all -the hatchways, and naked cimiters glanced round -the eunuch and the captain of the guard, seated at -the table in the long cabin, where Catherton stood -leaning leisurely against the bulkhead, cool and -collected, with his arms folded across his breast, the -imminence of the danger having apparently restored -his presence of mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘This is my mate,’ said he, to the Frenchman, -as I entered; ‘you may examine him, if you see fit.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hadji Hamet turned his turbaned head, recognizing -me by a doubtful smile, while the French -renegade, bowing to the deck, asked me, in his -broken English, if I had commanded the watch that -night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘No, monsieur,’ I answered, rather sullenly, ‘it -is not customary—in <span class='it'>Christian</span> ships, at least—for -the chief officer of a ship to head an anchor-watch.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘<span class='it'>Certainement non</span>, sare,’ he replied, with -something of the ineffable polish of his nation, ‘we -know dat—have de goodness, monsieur, to show me -de visitors in de ship—de runavays, if you please, -Monsieur Miller.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I felt the eunuch’s devouring eyes creeping, in -their slow, malevolent way, from the deck up to my -face, as I answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘That is easy enough, monsieur—provided any -such be in the ship. You cannot suppose us such -fools as to receive deserters in a full ship, with plenty -of idlers already on board. If the men are in the -Tartar, they must have been concealed by the people -for’ard, and I advise you to look in the fore-peak.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He interpreted what I said to the eunuch; Hadji -then made some remark in an under tone, and the -renegade, shrugging his shoulders, addressed me -again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Monsieur Capitaine Miller,’ said he, decidedly, -yet still with as much suavity as before, ‘you will -confer de grand obligation to make de plain answer, -sare, vidout de bagatelle. <span class='it'>C’est bien malapropos -à present</span>,’ muttered he, taking snuff out of a gold -box, and glancing aside at the two mutes, as they -stood near Hadji’s seat, their small, serpent eyes -never off of his face for a moment, and their jetty, -tattooed arms folded across their naked breasts. Before -I could devise an answer, groping in the dark as -I was, upon gaping ground, two Arabs pushed into -the throng, leading the mulatto by the collar. The -fellow was terribly frightened, and looked round as -if for some one to address, when his eyes lighting -on the captain of the Tartar, he seemed to turn dumb -as a mute at once. However, the fatal moment was -not to be staved off longer, for Hadji, with a look of -devilish cunning, drew a small golden whistle from -the folds of his <span class='it'>juma</span>, and blew it till the cabin rang -again; I started to hear a sort of scratching, struggling -noise in the after-cabin, and the next moment -some sort of an animal, between a rat and squirrel, -ran through the crowd, cowering at the eunuch’s -sandaled feet. A smile of triumphant malice played -upon Hadji’s face, and the Frenchman, snatching up -his sword, rushed through the group to the cabin-door. -At that instant the thick gloom, which had been -setting bodily down on deck for the last ten minutes, -was rent by an awful glare of lightning, and, as the -parted air collapsed, with a crash which made the -ship tremble to her keel, I saw the Arab chief, standing, -pistol in hand, at the door; the renegade reeled -back against one of his men, while the redder flash -of the pistol again illumined the cabin, and bounding -like a tiger in its leap, cimiter in hand, Halel sprang -over the table at the eunuch. The lamp was extinguished -in the fray, and had it been the chief’s -intention to escape on deck, perhaps he might have -done so in the confusion which followed; for the -lightning glared incessantly through the stern-ports, -while the thunder, reverberated by the rocks, crashed -over our heads in one continuous peal, till you’d’ve -thought the hoary granite was piling over you. The -first rush of the swell in the cove broke over the -ship, deluging her fore-and-aft, as it heaped up in -the strait in one tremendous surge, which tore the -frigate from her anchor, and dashed her high against -the rocks. The lighter craft fared no better, being -swept from their moorings like drift wood; however, -while the horrible work was going on below, -the second mate had let go a second anchor, while -the stern-hawser parted like pack-thread, and showing -the head of the foretopmast-staysail, while some -of them aft managed to get the spanker-gaff partly -hoisted, and others jammed the helm hard down, the -ship brought up with a surge which shook her in -every timber; and, as you drew another breath in -the melee below, where one man was contending -with fifty, you heard the hurricane roaring over -her mast-heads, like the rush of Milton’s legions to -the field.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was thrust hither and thither, splashing in -the water, nearly knee-deep on the deck, amid the -clash of steel and the shrinking back of the Arabs, -until a blade whizzed past my ear, falling with a -dull ring on the head of some unhappy wretch, -whose hot blood spouted in my face. Half blinded, -I stumbled over a prostrate body, clearing my eyes -as I brought up against my own berth, when another -flash showed every object distinctly, and I saw the -two mutes throw themselves before the eunuch upon -Halil; then followed a deadly struggle from the -mast through the cabins to the transom, during -which Hadji’s shrill voice screamed to the executioners -to use dagger or bowstring—then a heavy -fall and a gasp—woman’s fearful shriek—and again -you heard over all, the defying roar of the tempest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Torches, which had been extinguished by the -wind on deck, were now relighted in the cabin, revealing -a sight which was terrible to look upon. -Three dead bodies lay on the deck, or across the table, -besides that of the Arab chief, who had been -thrice stabbed, and afterward strangled. Scarlet -caps, cleft turbans, and pieces of rent apparel were -washing about, with the fragments of the swinging -lamp; while the table and the cabin partitions were -reeking with gore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Frenchman was dead as a door-nail when -they raised him up, which was some comfort, though -the three blacks had escaped without a scratch, except -one of the mutes, whose hands were gashed -with a dagger. The soldiers now closed the doors -between the cabins, having first dropped the dead-lights, -and after the eunuch came out, the bodies -were removed out of sight in the sail-room, all except -that of the chief, which was laid on the table, -a dreadful sight, after the fever of the thing was past, -since you could not keep from looking at the blackened -face, with the eyes staring out of it, as if he -were ready to start up again—the frown being still -on the brow, though the orbs were glazed, and the -arm hung nervelessly down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall never forget the feeling of satisfaction -which arose within me—when some one threw the -folds of a turban over the face—as I thought that -every blow he struck had been home; only if he had -cloven the eunuch’s hard head to the jaw, I had been -almost happy, in a sort of religious submission to -fate, as if all who loved too well on earth, must pay -the penalty in some shape or other, at last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It appeared that the cabins had been twice -searched before I was brought down, but Catherton -had hidden the fugitives under a false bulkhead, so -artfully contrived, that had not Hadji and the guard -been so hard on Ben Hamet’s track after the attempt -to assassinate the sultan had failed, they might have -escaped detection. The little animal, which had revealed -their presence, after all, was a pet of Zuma’s, -a flying lemur from one of the Indian archipelago: -woman-like, she had brought it away in her dress, -and by the knowledge which black Hadji had of its -habits, it was thus made instrumental in betraying -the pair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Neither Catherton nor the steward were to be -found below, after the murderous fracas was over. -I had no particular desire to remain myself, as you -may suppose, and no opposition being offered to the -movement, accordingly I went on deck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The wind was now at its height, having blown -every thing moveable off the poop into the seat -which was breaking in awful rollers at the bottom -of the cove, the squall having come from the north-west. -The ship, with two anchors down under the -lee of Muscat Island, rode safely enough after the -first danger was over; but the Arab frigate was lying -broadside on to the rocks, grinding to pieces, -with nothing standing but her lower masts. She -could plainly be seen, not only by the flashes, but by -a strong phosphorescent gleam which pervaded the -atmosphere, reflected, perhaps, from the sea, each -gigantic surge sparkling with living fire, heaped up -in the smothering foam of its crests, as it rolled down -on the wreck. I could even see the brine pouring -from her lower deck-ports, as she lifted bodily against -the rocks, and fancied I could hear the despairing -cries of her crew, as one by one, her heavy guns, -torn from their tackles, were hurled across the decks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had little time, however, to dwell on the sight, -terrible as it was, for the carpenter and man-of-war’s -man came driving the length of the deck before the -blast, when old Charley shouted in my ear that the -steward was taken with the cramp in the forecastle, -and thinking he was going to die, wished to see me. -Accordingly, I struggled for’ard, with a foreboding -that the horrors of the night were not yet over. A -knot of our men were standing in the waist, and I -passed the Arabs crouching under the booby-hatches -and the fife-rails, from the fury of the wind, which -howled fore-and-aft the deck. I was about to -descend into the forecastle, when Captain Catherton, -with his Indian boat-steerer and three of the -mates, came up on the other side. He waved me aft, -shouting, at the full pitch of his strong voice, to the -mates behind him, who held on to the windlass, and -looked from him to me without moving a finger. -However, the boat-steerer lifted a handspike, and -his superior—who was now grown desperate, having -received an inkling of my errand from the Indian—presented -a pistol at my head, and pulled the trigger. -It flashed in the pan; and before he could level another -I closed with him, pitching him back into the -scuppers, where old Charley and Frank lashed him -to a spar, hands and feet. One word to the mates about -his plan of running away with the ship, and I sprung -down in the forecastle, where the mulatto lay on his -back, raving for them to keep the captain back, -while two of the men were rubbing his writhing -body with whale-oil and hartshorn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The second mate and most of the starboard watch -were standing around, looking on helplessly enough, -though the moment the steward’s eye caught mine -he ceased to struggle, moaning and mumbling, like a -dog, till I got my ear close to his mouth, when he -muttered something about searching the run under -the after-cabin, where the powder was kept. The -violence of the spasms interrupted him, and although -there was an urgent meaning in his wild eye, and he -pointed repeatedly aft, in his agony, I was awfully at -a loss what to make of it, until, looking up, I encountered -old Charley’s curious glance, and the ghost -flitted, as it were, across the maze in a moment. The -second mate must have seen the same thing himself, -for without a word on either side, our eyes met in -one startling flash of intelligence, and he followed me -close, as snatching up a heaver, I drove along the -deck, knocking the Arabs to the right and left, tumbling -down the narrow stairs from the poop in my -haste, with two-thirds of the ship’s company at my -back—mates, boat-steerers, forecastle-men, and all—though -the most of them tramped down the companion-way -into the for’ard cabin, where we heard -them battering at the doors and cursing the Arabs; -the carpenter and myself ripped up the table and the -scuttle under it. Parker stood by with a torch; I -jumped down, lowering the light, and you may guess -gentlemen, what I saw; for it seems,” said the master’s -mate, passing his rough hand to his brow, -“that long years, spent in trying to drown the sight, -has hardly given me nerve to tell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was Ellen, herself,” continued he, after a -pause, “lying, motionless, on a heap of old bunting; -but whether life had gone, or no, it was impossible -for me to answer, as I took her up—staggering under -my burthen, light enough, God knows, as it was. -The second mate caught her from me, and I stumbled, -helpless as a child, about the mouth of that -horrid hole, hardly noting its secrets, until the men -burst into the cabin, and I heard old Charley say she -was dead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Where is Mr. Miller?’ said Frank, with an -oath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Here,’ I answered, leaping out among them, -every vein in my body running with liquid fire—the -one thought of revenge on her murderers raging in -my heart, and upon my tongue. However, the -mates—aroused from their stupor at last—threw -themselves upon me, as I glared round for a weapon. -A wild uproar began to rise among the men, crowding -upon each other to catch a look at her face, -hanging over the second mate’s shoulder, with a -look of mute appeal, as he told me afterward, on -the wasted features set in death, by the red torch-light.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In the midst of this, Hadji summoned his soldiers -from deck: I saw his malignant purpose, and my -calmness came back, as I made up my mind that, at all -hazards, he should not approach the corpse. Breaking -from those who held me, I burst through the -throng, and pointing to the half-pikes leveled against -his party, ordered him, in Arabic, to clear the cabin -of his scum. He laid his hand on the hilt of his <span class='it'>krungar</span>, -scowling like a fiend of darkness upon me from -a crowd of his men; but the menacing look of the -mass in front of him—all of whom had armed themselves—not -to speak of the tone of my own voice, -admonished him, devil as he was, to think better -of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘That’s the sort, mates,’ said the carpenter; ‘if -they don’t top their booms at a minute’s warning, -we’ll spit the heathens to the beams, and then hang -Jonas to the yard-arm.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Silence, there!’ said I. ‘One minute more,’ -looking at the eunuch, and grasping the weapon which -some one had thrust into my hand, ‘and it will be too -late.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He felt that he was overmatched, and turning -slowly round, still keeping his baleful glance fixed on -my face, ordered his followers on deck, retiring last -himself, just as I caught Frank’s pike traveling in his -rear to freshen his way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As soon as the cabins were cleared of the Arabs, -I took the second mate a little aside from the rest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Now, Mr. Parker,’ said I, ‘you will take -charge of the Tartar. All I ask is, that you will not -give up the female that Hadji Hamet has confined in -that state-room, to the tender mercies of the sultan, if -you can possibly avoid it—and a cast home for myself, -if you can get an offing for this ship, and I am -allowed to leave Muscat in her. I will pay my passage -in Persian rupees, or if you prefer it, in Spanish -dollars. One thing more,’ said I, seeing that he was -about to interrupt me, ‘I know something of the -country: if you would save yourself a mint of trouble -with the sultan’s divan, you will put Catherton at -once in double-irons, and keep him secure, at least, -until you are clear of the land.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘I, for one, am content to obey -your orders till the v’yage is up. What say you, -my lads, is Captain Catherton fit to be trusted with -the ship, after what has happened?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘No, no!’ was the universal answer, mingled -with execrations and oaths of vengeance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Who, then, shall take charge?’ asked the -second mate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Mister Miller,’ they answered, with one voice, -‘for he only can take the Tartar off this coast.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Well, my lads,’ said I, wonderfully moved, I -confess, seeing that I had something to live for yet, -although, a moment before, I had thought that my -hold on life was slackened for ever, ‘if you will have -it so, I’ll do my best. I tell you fairly that the captain -confessed to me last night, in this cabin, that he -intended to sell ship and cargo, on the passage home, -in return for some private wrong which, he said, one -of the owners had done him—though,’ said I, solemnly, -‘as surely as God’s eye beheld this accursed -deed, yon pale clay was as innocent as the angels of -heaven of aught like crime toward him.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘We know it, captain—we knew it all along!’ -they answered, even those whom I had considered -the most hardened, shedding tears, while curses and -vows of vengeance were freely vented around.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘She was too good for the bloody-minded villain,’ -said the carpenter; ‘and, so help me, if there -is nobody else—’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was time to stop this, as we had quite enough -of blood for that night, so I checked old Charley in -his oath, and called back the Indian boat-steerer, -who, at first, had seemed disposed to side with the -captain, but who was now stealing up the companion-way, -in an empty-handed, errandless way, though I -saw the thing in his eye, and the gleam of a knife in -the sleeve of his shirt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘My lads,’ said I, ‘we will leave him to the -law. He shall not escape, I promise you. Mr. -Parker, you will have Captain Catherton put in -double-irons, and placed in the steerage for the present.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Ay, ay, sir,’ he answered, and accordingly the -villain was well secured, with one of the trustiest -men in the ship standing sentry over him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“After this, the cabin was cleared of all but a -strong guard, armed to the teeth, and I went on -deck, leaving Zuma, who had recovered from her -swoon of terror, kneeling in silence by the body of -the chief. I had resolved to save her as soon as I -could see any possible way, though I knew that -her life and my own, perhaps, depended upon our -getting under weigh, as soon as the weather would -permit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The fury of the squall was over. One of the -mates told me that it had been raining a perfect deluge -a few moments before I came up, and, in fact, -though it was slackening off, the decks were all -afloat, and I could even see by the great flashes of -waste lightning which still illumined the passage, the -spherical shape of the rain-drops, as they fell. I -mention this, gentlemen, to show how deeply the -most trivial incident in that terrible night was impressed -upon my mind, never to be forgotten while -memory lives with me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The wind soon freshened again, blowing fiercely -in gusts over the rugged top of Muscat Island, but -gradually sunk as the atmosphere cleared; the stars -showing themselves, here and there, in patches of -clear sky, before the day dawned. Then, as the sun -rose behind the lofty rocks to the east, the wind -failed altogether, and it seemed fast growing as hot -as before, while a vague notion got into my head, -looking at the Arab soldiers on the poop, that the -events of the past night, terrible as they seemed, -were now but the ghosts of things that had been.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A sort of calm, too, prevailed in the ship, as the -heavy swells began to subside in the cove. The -cook was in his galley, attending to his usual duties, -the blue smoke rising from the funnel, straight as a pine -tree, half-way to the top. The people hung in knots -about the forecastle, apparently waiting for eight -bells to summon them to breakfast, while the mates -stood together on the larboard gangway, with a glass -among them, examining the shore and the wreck of -the Arab frigate, now firmly wedged in between two -precipitous rocks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The black dog of a eunuch, secure, as it seemed, -in the shadow of his master, walked the poop with -as proud a stride as if his foot was already on our -necks—not a muscle of his grim, relentless face -moving beneath his showy turban, flecked, as it was, -with blood, while, as I met his deadly, sinister -glance every time he turned, I fancied to myself—as, -indeed, I had done on former occasions—what a hell -of secrets must lie hidden, from all but God’s eye, in -the black pit of his soul. The pagan wretch was -said to delight in shedding human blood, and in every -variety of torture, having been cognizant of many -acts of atrocious cruelty in the time of the old Imaum. -His only qualities were a brutish devotion to the sultan, -and a species of slow, long-breathed cunning, of -which report said Syed Ben Seeyd had often availed -himself in penetrating the secret designs of his enemies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“However, when I thought of Catherton’s villainy, -it could not be denied, that black or white, -Christian or heathen, human nature devoid of a regulating -principle, was essentially the same, differing -only in the modifications of climes; and, singular as -it may seem to you, several passages of the New -Testament illustrative of the same idea occurred to -me at the time, and I could not help feeling that it -was utterly impossible for me, even if I had been -differently brought up, to deny for a moment—thinking -of the wisdom of the parables—that it was truly -God who had spoken on earth with the lips of man: -reflecting that the thirst for vengeance for a supposed -wrong had made Catherton even more wicked than -Hadji himself, who would probably, under any circumstances, -have disdained such a dastardly scheme of -revenge as the former had partially broached, thinking -to have bribed me to join him, in the situation I -was in at the time, partly by offers of pecuniary advantage, -and partly by his tale, which had so puzzled -me at first, little dreaming that he was the man -who had married Ellen. I was almost confident now -that the whole diabolical story of her guilt had been -one of the mate’s own planning—he, I mean, who -had gone to his account—and horrible as the thing -seemed, I had no doubt <span class='it'>now</span> Parker’s notion was -correct, and that the captain either in fear, remorse, or -hate, or from some curious commingling of the three, -had sacrificed the entire boat’s crew to get rid of his -accomplice. How the body of Ellen, dreadfully emaciated -as it was, came to be found in the run after the -second mate’s account of her loss, was yet a mystery -to me, unless Catherton, with the assistance of the -steward, had palmed that story on the crew, while -he secretly held her confined in the hold to starve by -slow degrees. However, as I had no wish that the -matter should be cleared up in the sultan’s divan, -after my recent promise to the crew, I aroused myself -to make the attempt to get the ship to sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The cove of Muscat is less than a mile in depth -from its entrance at Fisher’s Rock, but how to get -out of it into the current, with no wind, against the -heavy swell, was the puzzle. The two forts were to -be counted as nothing when the ship was once under -weigh, as they merely commanded the passage, -and the risk we ran from the one on the western -shore was not to be thought of, if we had a chance, -when it fell calm enough, to tow the ship out into -the currant setting from the Persian Gulf. The land-wind -was almost certain not to blow before sunset, -and the Arabs were sure to board the ship from the -shore before that time, although not a single craft or -boat of any kind was to be seen afloat, as I swept -the harbor with my glass, and I had not the least -doubt but the Soliman Shah, the corvette which had -anchored off Fisher’s Rock the day before, had been -driven from her anchors with the frigate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Another hour passed, as I anxiously watched for -the swell to go down, when we saw them making -preparations to get off two <span class='it'>balitas</span>, lying aground on -a spit of sand nearly in front of the palace. As I turned -to look at some persons who had appeared on the -divan, a large and airy veranda, overlooking the -sea, the second mate exclaimed that one of the -Arabs was making signals to the shore with his turban. -In the desperate case we were in, it was neck -or nothing; so, as I really began to have some hopes -of getting to sea in the want of crafts to board us, I -instantly ordered two guns to be run in and pointed -aft; the carpenter clapped a bag of musket-balls in -the muzzle of each, and while Parker and the man-of-war’s man -stood by with matches lit, I hailed the -Arabs in their language, giving Hadji notice, that at the -smallest sign of a repetition of the act I would sweep -the poop. This seemed to appal them. A few moments -after, while part of the people were taking their -breakfast on deck, word was brought me that the -steward was easier and wished to see me again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Directing Parker to keep a bright look-out, I -dove down into the forecastle where the poor wretch -was now lying in the cook’s bunk. I almost started -as I looked upon him by the lamp burning at the -beam over his head. His face seemed shrunken to -half its usual size; the cheek-bones stood out, the -eyes were pulled in, and the lips blue and puckered. -His hand was clammy, cold as ice, and shriveled -like a bomboat-woman’s who washed for the fleet. -Though he felt no pain, there was a look of anxiety -in his dim, sunken eyes, as he turned restlessly -round, which, with his fluttering pulse and exhausted -look, told that his hour was come. In fact, he -was sinking fast into the long sleep of death, worn -out, like the elements, by the fierce convulsions -which had racked him. His mind was clear, and he -spoke more calmly than might have been expected, -though his head tossed from side to side like a dying -billow. His voice was small and choked, hoarse as -it seemed, from the agony which had wrung the -sweat like rain from his pores. Anxious as I was to -hear what the wretch had to communicate, it was -with a strong feeling of repugnance that I approached -my ear to his lips, for a film was vailing his eyes and -the death-stupor already clouding his brain. He -roused himself when spoken to, and recognizing me, -confessed in a few broken words which one of the -crew took down, that the mate and he after agreeing -with the captain to drown Ellen, had made up their -minds to secrete her in the run, and suffer her to escape -from the ship at the first port they visited. In -order to deceive Catherton the steward had prepared -a figure when the boats were off and thrown it into -the sea on the night on which Ellen was supposed to -be lost. He said nothing could have tempted him to -murder her, although the captain and the mate had -both sworn to him that she was false. He was certain -that Catherton had lost the mate’s boat intentionally, -and added, that fearful of a similar fate he -had not slept in his hammock more than an hour at -a time since the day of the mate’s death. Immediately -afterward he sunk into a lethargy from which -it was useless to attempt to rouse him. From what -I had heard, coupled with the sights I had seen, I -had no doubt that, either from the difficulty of conveying -her food, or the intention of the mulatto to -starve her, she had sometimes been reduced to the -necessity of seeking food for herself at night in the -cabins. As the after one was generally kept locked, -with the keys in the steward’s charge, she must have -lived there part of the time, more than a fortnight -having elapsed since the night she was thought to -have gone overboard from the stern. This,” said -the master’s mate, solemnly, “may account, gentlemen, -for the man-of-war’s man’s story of the shriek; -but nothing will ever dissuade me from the belief -that it was a moving corpse which I saw that night -in the cabins. That she was locked in the starboard -state-room when I tried the door on the day when -the sultan and his party went through the ship, I have -not the least doubt now—so inscrutably mysterious -is the course of fate! However, to resume my tale—for -the watch is nearly out. I went on deck just -as a boat from the shore was reported to be making -for the ship on the long, angry swells which still -dashed heavily on the western shore, impressing -your mind with a vague yet overawing intimation -of their might, as you heard them break half-mast -high, without a breath of wind, whitening the dark -range of bare rock, and leaving great gouts of foam -hanging in the clefts and ledges far above the sweep -of the back-wash. However, it was easy to see, -watching them steadily for a few moments as you -listened to their heavy, monotonous roar, and watched -the birds hovering over the rocks, that in less than -an hour more it would be calm enough to tow out -with the tide; so I hailed the boat as soon as it came -near enough, directing the man in her to go to the -palace with the message that we intended to send -Hadji and his party on shore as soon as the sea fell. -(As I mentioned before, we had secured all the boats -on the cross-beams over the quarter-deck, so that we -lost none of them when the swell boarded us.) Hadji -attempted to speak, advancing to the break of the -deck as the messenger was cautiously turning his -boat’s head in-shore, but the second mate blew his -match, while a party of musket-men, whom he had -placed under the high bulwarks, lest one of the soldiers -might slip over the stern and swim on shore, -leveled their pieces at his turban. He walked back -to the taffrail sullenly enough, and I now gave orders -to prepare the boats for the attempt to tow the ship out -into the current, which at this season runs at the rate of -about four knots an hour, thinking on the low, sandy -point which we had to double. We soon found that -they had collected a fleet of small boats and catamarans -in the drain, evidently for the purpose of coming -off to the ship, and strings of horses had been attached -to the bailitas, while we could see the Bedouin -Arabs galloping about near the spot, and the divan -crowded with the sultan’s attendants, no doubt -watching every movement in the ship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At ten, we dropped six boats containing thirty-six -men, and as soon as they were in range of the -hawsers—the ship being stern off to her anchors on -the first of the ebb—as I expected, a shot from the -fort on the main whistled past her bow just as the -axes were lifting to cut the cables. Down they came -in quick, effective strokes, and the men gave a long -pull together as the heavy chains rattled out of the -hawse-holes, and once more the old Tartar was in -motion seaward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Frank, my man,’ said I to the man-of-war’s -man, whom I retained on board with some of the -steadiest of the men, ‘jump aft and hoist a red rag of -some sort at the gaff—their own colors, you know—if -it’s only to puzzle them. Stand by, carpenter, to -sweep the poop when I give you the word.’ When -a shot better aimed than the last struck the mizzen-rail, -narrowly missing a shroud, and scattering the -splinters right and left among the Arabs. Down -they went on their faces, out of the way of their -friends’ balls, all except Hadji, who stood it without -flinching, while my hands itched, I confess, for a -chance to send an ounce bullet from the barrel in my -hand through his heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Hurrah!’ shouted Frank from the midst of -them, as up went the cook’s shirt, tacked to pieces -of bamboo to give it spread. I saw them pointing -their glasses at it from the veranda of the palace, -and shouted to the mates to give way strong, for they -were launching their rafts and a whole fleet of boats, -filled with soldiers, whose spears and long match-locks -glistened in the sun now rising over the rocks -to the north-east. The castles and the forts began -now to fire in earnest, sending their iron about the -cove in every direction, though the ship in some -measure shielded the boats from the few guns which -bore upon them. Many balls hurtled through the -air past us, but only four struck her hull, doing no -particular damage. I looked at every flash to see -some of the sticks go, and ten minutes more would -have brought the Arabs down on us with a force -which it would have been worse than useless to resist. -In fact, when I saw them training their match-locks -on the boats, though we were then clear of the -passage in the eddy of the current, I gave up the -game as lost, thinking of calling the men on board, -with the desperate notion of fighting it out to the last -on board, when looking over the side at the ship’s -way, I saw Muscat Tom’s broad flukes and glistening -back, within fifty feet of the sternmost boat. -The soldiers now opened their fire to drive the men -from their work—I caught the second mate’s flushed, -hopeless look, as he turned his head from tugging at -his steering-oar, and then the black fiend’s triumphant -grin, with a malicious glance from the whites of -his eyes, as much as to say: ‘you’re in for it for a -good long spell, my lads’—when the sight of the -whale in the desperate emergency of the case, -seemed to put it into my brain what to do.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Mr. Parker,’ I hailed, ‘have you lines and harpoons -in the boats?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Ay, ay, sir,’ he answered, while the men -looked up at the ship as if they wondered what next.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Cast off the larboard hawser, then,’ I shouted, -‘bend irons on to the starboard one, and strike that -whale. Let the other boats come alongside.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Ay, ay, sir,’ he answered again, just, it seemed, -as he would have done had I ordered him to fasten -to the moon, supposing that it had been shining to -seaward. However, the five boats were alongside -and hoisted up in no time, and Parker, as soon as he -was up to the dodge, wild as it seemed, did the -thing in true whaleman’s style, bending triple plies -of the line to the hawser, driving both irons socket -up in the whale’s back, as he lay like a log on the -sea. For one single instant the enormous animal -remained motionless, while the boat backed off from -his flukes; then I saw his mighty, flexible tail, with -its million stripes of freckled gray, heave up until -his whole back was plainly to be seen to the dorsal -fin, when down it came like a dark mass of iron, -driving a cloud of spray in the air, and off he headed -to sea, the water being too shallow for him to -sound. The hawser stood the surge, and away the -old ship went to her tug, the second mate giving a -chase, while the men echoed back the yells of the -disappointed Arabs amid the crack of match-locks -and the bellowing thunder of the cannon. We soon -had Parker’s boat towing astern, and Tom, if any -thing, increased his speed, stretching the hawser—which, -like the rest of her gear, was bran new that -voyage, as <span class='it'>taut</span> as a harp-string. Every time he -raised the edge of his flukes for a downward stroke -of his tail, the men cheered; in fact, the fellows -danced about the deck like wild men round a war-post, -or negroes under a tamarind-tree; it was no -manner of use to try to restrain them; while the poor -devils of Arabs, with the black at their head, stood -looking their last—with Allah’s name on their lips—at -castle, rock and tower. However, the thought of -what was lying in the cabins seemed to strike the -crew all at once; and then, as they ceased capering -and pitching their hats at each other, fixing their -eyes upon me as one man’s, the old, desolate feelings -came back to my heart all the heavier for the -contrast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Still the whale held right on off the coast, and -we had nothing but to fold our arms and look on, -wondering when the tough, pliable irons would break -or draw out—or looking for him to sound, which, -you know, would cause us to cut the tow-line. The -axe was ready in the second mate’s hands, and we -were already in the strength of the current, which he -took tail on, increasing his speed, of course, toward -some old sleeping haunt of his, as I thought, possibly -in the Gulf of Mageira, under the lee of some low -island or coral reef. The oldest whaleman in the -ship could not wonder enough at the strength of the -monster—a hundred feet long, as he was, and more. -He neither yawed nor slackened his pace, but kept -straight on to double the sandy point broad on our -larboard bow by this time. It was a strange thing, to -be sure, to feel the ship slipping along, stern on to the -current, with a man standing soberly at the wheel -to steady it, all her sails furled, and the whale’s -flukes kicking up a white dust ahead, like one of -Loper’s screw-propellers. Parker told me a story -of a vessel in the Greenland seas being towed by a -‘right whale’ for an hour and a half, in the teeth -of a strong breeze, with the yards brailed aback; so -that, at that rate, there was no estimating the powers -of a full-grown ‘finner,’ a much larger and more -powerful fish of the two; he might tow us entirely -clear of the coast, provided the harpoons did not -break off at the ‘withers,’ or ‘draw,’ which last, the -mate said, was the way in which the matter was -likely to end. Indeed, the event proved his knowledge -of the habits and resources of this species, as -we doubled the point safely enough, at the distance -of two miles, in sight of a body of horsemen, who -pulled up from their useless chase, on the very edge -of the strand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A hundred wild thoughts of things which I had -read of or seen, flashed across my mind, as I caught a -view of the interminable blue expanse before me; -now it was Mazeppa on his wild horse swimming -the ‘bright, broad river’—now a Gaucho scouring -the pampas—now the naked trapper running for life -from the Blackfeet, over the plains of prickly pear—or, -last of all, the voyages of Sinbad the Sailor, which -coming up, as they did, from the days of my boyhood, -when the wreck of the only woman I ever -loved was lying thus strangely in the cabin, with the -eunuch’s black face glooming over it, oppressed me -like some monstrous dream. I was aroused from -this by a voice calling out that there was a large ship -right in the whale’s track. Accordingly, after a -little we made her out with our glasses, rolling on -the long ground-swell, a frigate-built ship, which I -took, from the whiteness of her canvas, to be either -French or American, though the leanness of her -dark hull, with its single tier of guns, as she rose on -the swell when we drove nearer to her, and the improbability -of one of our own cruisers being upon -this coast, made me almost certain she was the first. -Accordingly, when we were within gunshot, up -went the old Bourbon colors at the mast, as the -smoke of a gun puffed out of one of her midship -ports, and you had a notion what sort of a stir was -on her decks at the moment, at the sight of a large -ship bearing down on her in a stark calm, with more -than twice her drift; then you heard the roll of her -drum beating to quarters, as if they thought ’twas -Sathanas himself afloat. To ease their minds, I -ordered the red rag to be hauled down, and the stars -and stripes to be run up at half-mast in their stead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All was still as death, except the surge of the -Tartar’s bows to the strain of the hawser and the -creak of her hamper aloft, as the whale sheered to -port, and we passed within half a pistol shot of the -corvette’s broadside—her crew at quarters staring at -us in a queer enough sort of a way, as if catching a -sight of the American flag, and the whale-boats at -the cranes, they made sure all was right, strange as -the sight was—until, as if to break the spell, their -little mad-eyed captain jumped on the hammock-netting -and hailed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘<span class='it'>Bon voyage au diable, mes amis!</span>’ he shouted, -waving his cap round and round, as if he meant to -jerk it into the sea, to the glorification of some -Yankee invention or other, the moment we slipped -past him—when Hadji’s turban and the scarlet cape -on the poop caught his eye, and he sung out something -which I did not hear, for the whale went down -like a flash, burying the Tartar’s bows to the forecastle, -deep as she was, before Parker, taken by -surprise, could cut the hawser, which, after all, he -had no occasion to do, as you knew by the feel of the -deck, as the ship rose, that the whale was free. -We hauled the slack of the hawser, looking for Tom -to rise, when one of the harpoons was found broken -off at the head, and the other drawn out. I never -saw Muscat Tom again; and it is likely, as the old -hands said, that he never rose from his dive. My -yarn, gentlemen,” continued the master’s mate, “is -nearly spun. The frigate’s boats boarded us, of -course, when part of the tale was rehearsed to her -captain. He was bound to Mocha to look after some -atrocities which had been committed upon subjects -of France, during a recent revolt, and at once offered -to land the eunuch and his men there, and to protect -the Circassian, and carry her back with him to -France. However, when we entered the cabin, it -was found that she was beyond the reach of mortal -arm, whether to shield or destroy. She lay by the -side of her lover, dead by poison, as it seemed, yet -still so beautiful in death as to surprise the Frenchman. -In the end he took charge of all the prisoners, as the -crew of the Tartar in a body stoutly refused to do duty -while Catherton remained in the ship. The French -captain promised to hand him over to the American -authorities on the first occasion that offered, and the -remainder of the day was spent in clearing up the -cabins and taking depositions in French and English.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just before sunset the bodies were removed to -the frigate, that of Ellen in my boat, while Parker -took charge of Zuma’s and the chief’s. At my request -Ellen was buried immediately. Both crews -were mustered in the gangways, and the ensigns -hanging at half-mast as the French chaplain read the -service. The last glimmer of day was fading from -the west as we listened to the prayer, and a star shot -its beams on the spot where the corpse went down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here the master’s mate made a brief pause, during -which seven strokes on the frigate’s ponderous bell -proclaimed that the watch was nearly out. Before -the vibrations had ceased on the ear we heard the -schooner’s, like the reverberations of an echo, faintly -sounding, far to leeward. The moon had sunk; the -sails flapped heavily in the dying breeze, and entranced -as we were, that distant clang seemed to strike -a chord in each listener’s soul. In a low voice the -mate resumed. “A breeze ruffled the water up as -they piped down, and bidding farewell to the Frenchman, -we hastened on board, and made sail on the -ship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was a terrible passage—such as every man in -that ship will remember to his dying day—from the -cape latitudes to Pernambuco, where I put in to recruit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The very next morning after we anchored, an -agent of Don Jose Maria came on board to inquire -after Captain Catherton. You may swear that he -departed, with his sallow visage considerably lengthened, -when he heard the news. I learned privately -from the American consul, in the course of his investigations, -that Don Jose was a man of great -wealth and influence in the province—your very -worthy and hospitable <span class='it'>Senhor de Engenho</span> in the -country, and merchant, slave-dealer and broker in -any kind of business, in which a <span class='it'>mil reis</span> was to be -turned up in the city. I never saw the old gentleman -myself, as he did not do me the honor to show -his powdered head, and the long cue, which the -carpenter particularly instanced, in the ship while -I commanded her, although the second mate was -careful that the counter-skipper whom he sent to ask -after his worthy associate, should take on shore with -him the exact value of the cargo on board, so far as we -had advices respecting the market at home. In fact, -from some estimates which I found among Catherton’s -papers, I had no doubt that old Charley’s -suspicions were correct, and it had been settled, -when the ship touched here on her outward passage, -that Don Jose should become the purchaser of the -ship and cargo. Upon questioning the carpenter in -private, I found that years before he had got hold of -a portion of my history, from a shipmate of his, who -had known me in ——, and whom I recollected to -have met in the West Indies, on the very voyage, -when he pointed me out at the door of a cafe to -Toppin. Singular as it may appear, too, it was not -until we had run up the S. E. Trades, that Parker -showed me the letter which he had found in his jacket -in the Persian Gulf, and which I now discovered was -addressed to myself. The perusal of it had nearly -driven me to share her grave in the waters, victim -as it clearly showed her to have been to Catherton’s -arts from the first, and, as I had supposed, murdered -at last by an infernal conspiracy of his mate’s, or -rather of his wife’s, as was discovered when we -reached the States. It was shown that some resemblance -existed between Ellen and the woman-fiend; -and, from her own confession in the prison, to -which she was consigned for the rest of her life, that -she had been played off on Catherton for his wife, by -the connivance of Jinney. The motive for the victim’s -ruin did not appear so clearly, the woman herself -declaring that she knew not why she hated and -had sworn to destroy her. There was not a single -creature in the smallest degree acquainted with the -facts, who doubted Ellen’s innocence; and the tears -which was shed over her unhappy fate, and the execrations -poured upon her destroyers, were the best -evidences of this. An undue intimacy between the -ship’s owner and the mate’s wife was proved on the -woman’s trial; and out of this, it was supposed, in -some way the accursed plot had its origin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“However, for myself; as soon as the news of -Catherton’s escape from the French frigate reached -the States by another ship, I started again, with a -vow on my soul to roam the world, until I should -hunt him down. Year in and year out, wherever -there was a prospect of meeting him—on the African -and Brazilian coasts—on the Spanish Main—and in -the sea-ports of the East, I sought him with a hatred -which gathered intensity from time. Twice I heard -of him in command of a free-cruising craft, and once -in Port Royal he narrowly escaped me. The third -time, as sailors say, is lucky—the saw lied though, -in this instance,” said the mate, hoarsely, “for I -found him three days ago, cut in two by a round-shot, -on the quarter-deck of yonder schooner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We started to our feet as he said this, partly from -surprise, and partly because we heard the boat-swain’s -mates at the hatchways.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The second day after that the Constitution was -lying at anchor with her prize in the bay of Naples; -and to have seen Harry Miller gazing out of a port at -the world renowned shores which environ it—or -turning his back on a crowd of chattering officials, -whom curiosity brought off to the schooner—or in a -shore-boat, with a party on leave of absence, you -never would have supposed, from the look and bearing -of the man, that he had been the relator of that -wild yarn.</p> - -<hr class='tbk120'/> - -<div><h1><a id='act'></a>THE ACTUAL.</h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Away! no more shall shadows entertain;</p> -<p class='line0'>  No more shall fancy paint and dreams delude;</p> -<p class='line0'>No more shall these delusions of the brain</p> -<p class='line0'>    Divert me with their pleasing interlude:</p> -<p class='line0'>  Forever ere ye banished, idle joys;</p> -<p class='line0'>Welcome stern labor-life—this is no world for toys!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk121'/> - -<div><h1><a id='ple'></a>THE PLEDGE.</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 JOHN NEAL.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sampson was a Nazarite. He drank no wine nor strong drink; and so long as he kept the pledge and the secret of -his strength, was indeed a giant. Read the scripture narrative.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then went Sampson down. . . . And behold a young lion roared against him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him, and he rent him as he would have rent a kid; and he had nothing -in his hand.” <span class='sc'>Judges</span> xiv. 5, 6, etc.</p> - -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Brothers! we have pledged ourselves,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like the mighty man of old,</p> -<p class='line0'>By a vow that bindeth fast,</p> -<p class='line0'>By the Future! by the Past!</p> -<p class='line0'>  By their banners now unrolled!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>That the secret of our strength,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Unacknowledged—unrevealed—</p> -<p class='line0'>Setting us apart from others,</p> -<p class='line0'>Undefiled, O, Giant Brothers!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Shall forever be concealed:</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Never to be told on earth,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Never breathed aloud in prayer—</p> -<p class='line0'>Never written—never spoken—</p> -<p class='line0'>Lest our awful vow, if broken,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Bring us bondage and despair.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Brothers! let us all remember,</p> -<p class='line0'>  How that Strong Man self betrayed;</p> -<p class='line0'>He that with a heart of iron;</p> -<p class='line0'>Where he journeyed, heard the lion</p> -<p class='line0'>  Roar against him—undismayed:</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>He, the mightiest of the land,</p> -<p class='line0'>  By the harlotry of Sense,</p> -<p class='line0'>Blind and fettered, came to be</p> -<p class='line0'>A jester at a jubilee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A proverb for his impotence!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And though his strength came back anew</p> -<p class='line0'>  When he bowed himself in prayer,</p> -<p class='line0'>Until he had avenged the wrong</p> -<p class='line0'>That called him up with shout and song</p> -<p class='line0'>  And jeer and scoff—he perished there.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk122'/> - -<div><h1><a id='girl'></a>TO A BEAUTIFUL GIRL.</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. R. BARRICK.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='dramastart'><!----></div> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>I do not love thee—yet my heart is filled</p> -<p class='dramaline'>With a sweet spirit of the beautiful,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Whene’er I sit alone to muse upon</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Thy dark eye beaming in a sea of light,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Thy cheek all flush with summer’s rosy glow,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Thy pure, high brow, so beautiful and calm,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>O’er which the light and glory of thy thoughts</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Beam like the tints of summer’s genial sky</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Above a waveless lake—the low, sweet tones</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Thy gentle voice breathes on the evening breeze—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Thy pure, high heart, the paradise of peace,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Where lovely flowers spring up in beauty wild,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And blossom into hope—where angels come</p> -<p class='dramaline'>On missioned wings from their far homes in heaven,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>To chant their Eden songs.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>                         I love thee not</p> -<p class='dramaline'>With the wild, wayward love of earth, and yet</p> -<p class='dramaline'>If worship be that deep idolatry</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The heathen pays in homage to the sun,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Then I have worshiped thee, for I have bowed</p> -<p class='dramaline'>In passions deep and holy hour to thee,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And at thy shrine of beauty offered up</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The tribute of affection.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>                         I have mused</p> -<p class='dramaline'>On Nature in her morning light, when first</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The sun looks out upon a world of peace,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>When the glad air was vocal with the songs</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Of many warblers in their morning joy,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And thou wast there in all of sight and sound,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Thyself the spirit of the beautiful</p> -<p class='dramaline'>In all to eye and ear. And I have gone</p> -<p class='dramaline'>At evening ’mid the shadows of the wood</p> -<p class='dramaline'>To view the glories of the bursting spring,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And hear the thousand sweet and joyous strains</p> -<p class='dramaline'>That thrilled each warbler in his evening praise,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And thou wast there, thy beauty dearer far</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Than aught in nature seen, and thy sweet voice,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Than all earth’s melodies. I’ve gazed upon</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The sunset sky in its last glowing tint,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And felt the spirit of the twilight hour</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Stealing upon the scene with potent spell,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Yet thou wast there, and in those happy hours</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Thy spirit, like the rainbow o’er a cloud,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Was spanning o’er my bosom.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>                          Thou hast been</p> -<p class='dramaline'>A rainbow set above my wildest storm,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>A star within my else all darkened sky,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>A lovely flower beside my desert path,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>A gentle spirit in my heart of hearts,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>To bless me with its presence.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>                              From the waves,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And from the winds, and from the gentle streams,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Thy voice hath caught a spell, whose lightest tone</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Is very love and sweetness. From the stars,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And from the sky, and from the sunset hues,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>That glow like spirits of the beautiful</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Along the western world, thine eyes have caught</p> -<p class='dramaline'>A brightness and a glory that outvie</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The glowing dreams of fancy. From the heaven</p> -<p class='dramaline'>From whence thou sprang all perfect at thy birth,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And from all love, and from all passion sweet,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>From thought and sense, and from the wide green earth</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And from the sky, and from the glorious stars,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Thy mind and heart have stolen their brightest tints,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Till they are but a mirror of the whole,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The sum end substance of all lovely things,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Thyself the Spirit of the Beautiful!</p> - -<hr class='tbk123'/> - -<div><h1><a id='age'></a>THE FIRST AGE.</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. DIDIMUS.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.2em;'>(Concluded from page 546.)</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.3em;'>BOOK FOURTH.</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>SECTION I.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>O, help me to escape that oblivion which is more -fearful than death! Who would fall with the common -herd, like rain into the ocean—lost in eternity! -Even as the lightning is born of conflicting vapor; is -born to penetrate, change, and subdue. So, of every -age, and of the breath and roar of the people, is born -one to rule, and mould, and make his time. Go then, -and get power. Get it by the sword; since, even -in our day, blood buoys the strong swimmer onward -to greatness. Get it by arts of policy; since men -will be ruled, and most honor those who rule them -most sternly. Get it by the pen; a voice which -fills all time, reaches every ear, fashions the intellect -of millions, and makes it your own. Who -would not float down through endless ages upon a -strain of such music, the multitudinous echo of a -spirit chosen of God? The shade of Tubal rests -upon my hand, and guides it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gentle dew falls in silence, unmarked; the -print of its footsteps disappear before the growing -light; yet the earth acknowledges its presence in -the livelier green it puts on to make glad its children. -In the narrow valley lives an honest worker; one -who, with years of labor, has subdued the hardy -soil. Even now, the yellow grain bends beneath the -weight of its own wealth, and wakes a joy which -ambition never knew. Think you that his days are -unrecorded in the Book of Life? Upon his broad -shoulders rests the State. Ariel’s soul is content.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus, early in time, to these two were given, in -divided empire, the passions which now govern the -sons of Adam; and have built up, giving and receiving -mutual aid, all our glory.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>SECTION II.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>As the adventurer, he who first traversed the Amazon, -lost in the wood which covers, thick, the base of -Chimborazo, shutting out day and night, listened -with large wonder, mixed fear and joy, to the war -of elements unchained within its bowels; so Erix -and Zella, with all their tribe, listened to the first -voice of that strange instrument which Ariel, gifted -of God, after many days, raised high, midway the -mountains and the sea. He had caught and tamed, -to answer to the touch of a skill creative, the sure -interpreter of matter and of mind; and the vast soul -which, in these latter days, is well shadowed forth -in that book of love, called The People. He, in a -page resplendent with holy fire, and with a name -here unrecognized, is given to every true believer as -the builder of the Organ, and inventor of that art -which raises man close to the footstool of his Maker; -and as the notes—new to mortal ears—rose deep, -heavy, filling the forest wide, overcoming the distant -murmur of the sea, overcoming all voices of all life, -rumbling, changed to the clangor of great strifes run -for in the future upon many an unbattled plain, to -close in a hymn so soft, so melting, so full of sweet -acknowledgment of the power by God intrusted to -a noble end: even Zella, who had watched his toils -and marked their purpose, fell prostrate; while Erix -and his brethren, trembling, fled; nor turned till the -music, wild with joy and that laughter which leaps -from youth, and health, and a breast vacant of all -care, soothed their unknown fears, and drew them -with a golden cord, slow tracing back their steps, -again to listen, again to wonder, and again to admire; -till, grown familiar, they expressed with cries, sad -shouts, and gestures violent, their new bliss, and circling, -danced. Then, catching the measure, as -Ariel’s marvelous hand poured forth a song of high -gratitude for the gift of chiefest excellence in all that -store of heaven’s bounty by himself enjoyed, they -gave rhythm for rhythm.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>SECTION III.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, do we know, O God, that thy love endureth -for ever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sweet, even unto thee, was the voice of Adam.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sweet, even unto thee, was the voice of Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our great mother;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our good mother;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fairer than the star of the morning, Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Speak for us, Adam;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Speak for us, Eve;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“These are thy voices,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In Paradise rejoicing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We hear thee, mother,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Glorious,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Amid the flowery paths walking.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, lift from my soul this evil,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Greater than they may bear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And it is lifted, mother;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the breath of flowers thou didst train,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sweet-scented,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the warble of birds thou didst instruct,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To praise the growing light,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the heaving of thy bosom,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pleading,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Face to face,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come to us,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Swell over us,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cover us,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As with a sea of infinite delight,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, matchless beauty of a matchless skill;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Unborn;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fallen through love!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We hear thee,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We feel thee,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Breathing,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Breathing upon our ears;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And it is lifted,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And we rise,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Upon the wings of this music,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Even unto the throne which endureth for ever.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>SECTION IV.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus Ariel played; and from day to day, even as -his brother at the forge found new devices, added -knowledge to knowledge in his high art, to be lost -in that flood which washed, whiter than wool, the -sins, of the world. And from day to day there came, -from tribes far distant, many to whom rumor had -spoken of this joy late found; and of them, one so -fashioned in love’s mould, that she drew after her, -ever as she moved, the eyes of men. Not Aglaia -and her sisters, of the heroic age of poesy universal, -could match her qualities, of an excellence so rare, -that the oldest, who remembered Eve, called her -Eve’s daughter. Now, alone, her sole attendant a -young gazelle, hung with garlands woven by her -hand, and tamed to reflect, in the soft lustre of its -eyes, eyes more soft and more lustrous far, she stood -aloof, then nearer drew, and halting, drank in with -greedy ear, as one long famished, the liquid melody -which floated, beating, upon the air. She listened -till her very breathing hung upon each note, and -grew, or was fined away, in consonance with the -measure; and as the master closed, she bowed before -him, low, in reverence, even to the ground; and -rising, asked—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Art thou of the sons of God?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then first did Ariel’s eyes rest upon the maid there -standing, bright, as a vision from that land which he -in childhood sought, to lose forever; and fire ran -through every vein, and that passion which enforces -unity of person and of will.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fairest of Eve’s daughters, such worship is not -mine. To Him who clothed thee with His beauty, -alone belongs reverence, with prayer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In my father’s house I have seen many like unto -thyself, winged.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whence art thou?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From east of Eden.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And thy father?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who yet lives?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mighty in that glory which is his as the first-born -of all the earth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How looks he?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Noble, even as thyself, with twice thy stature, -majestic; and upon his front supreme burns a star, -inextinguishable, the covenant of mercy for that act -of which I may no further speak.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The blood of Abel!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Deep night overcame them suddenly, and swept -past, as the rushing of a strong wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My father!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then turned the maid and fled; in fleetness outstripping -the garlanded beast which hastened to catch -her steps, retreating, lighter than its own. And as, -upon the plains of Arcady, Melanion did strive with -Atalanta in the race, in king Jason’s time, so Ariel, -pushed by a power that knows no let, followed quick -upon love’s course, nor stayed, till he caught the -frighted deer, full many a league removed, panting, -upon a bed of violets which lay smiling in the sunlight -where the forest opened charily to the sky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, primest work of earth!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, in turn, he worshiped, and bowed, even to -her feet, which, trembling, he embraced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou didst follow me to my hurt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did follow thee for thy love.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“On this side of Eden I may no longer stay.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eden, where is it, if not with thee!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thus do the angels speak, and then—betray.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Powers of the air; false to heaven, they must be -false to thee.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thy comeliness had said thou wast of them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thy comeliness should better have answered thy -doubt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A sweet persuader art thou with thy tongue.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A sweeter persuasion rests upon thy lips.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hist! I hear the flowers moving.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the murmur of the sea, far distant, calling.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What sayest it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Love.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The maid, half-yielding, half-refusing, by doubt -and trust in turn possessed, bent over the fair-eyed -beast recumbent at her side, and stroked its smoking -flanks, and played with the garlands now displaced -and torn, and sought with pliant fingers to renew a -labor which might conceal the passion new-born, -struggling in her breast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou shall forsake thy land and dwell with me; -and here, along these paths, and by the waters whose -words thou hearest, and with the light, and with -darkness, we will all the pleasures prove which God -to our first parents gave when, in Paradise, resting, -he declared all things good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Cain?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sweet cousin?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was my father’s shadow that overcame us, and -I fled, fearing his anger, from the music of thy -tongue.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Great is Cain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Loved is Cain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And thus, alternating, deprecating, amid the violets -standing, they sang in praise of the first-born of -the earth.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>SECTION V.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mighty;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Majestic;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heritor of Adam;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou who didst first receive a mother’s kiss, of -Eve, a mother;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hear us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Greatest, among men, is thy strength;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Greatest, among men, is thy glory,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For thou alone,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of all the living,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hast seen God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, son of earth’s love,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Love’s first fruit,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hear us,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless us,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As thou didst pursue my mother, swift-footed,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As thou didst worship the fair-eyed, beyond -Eden,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So am I pursued, my father;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So do I worship, Cain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heart to heart;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Soul to soul;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of one will;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Melting into one being;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless us;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Even as God hath blessed thee,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All merciful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And thou, oh Sun, effulgent;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And ye woods, whose song is ceaseless;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And broad sea, far distant, speaking;”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And flowers, incense breathing,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bear witness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now do I receive thee,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now do I pledge thee,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Life of my life,”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To an unending joy.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>SECTION VI.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>And Ariel led the maid, quick retracing their late -course, blushing, with eyelids drooping, listening -with face averted to the music of his passion, homeward -to his mother; while the garlanded beast, now -flying before their steps, now halting, showed mimic -war, and caressed its mistress, from whose eyes it -caught security and love.</p> - -<hr class='tbk124'/> - -<div><h1><a id='orp'></a>THE ORPHAN’S HYMN.</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 E. ANNA LEWIS.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Here’s the tomb of my father—how mournful the thought!</p> -<p class='line0'>  That he went to the grave ere my infantile mind</p> -<p class='line0'>One smile of parental affection had caught,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Or his lineaments dear in my heart were enshrined!</p> -<p class='line0'>Yes, my sire! by thy dust I am kneeling in prayer,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Where in days of my childhood so oft I have wept,</p> -<p class='line0'>Imploring thy spirit to soothe my despair,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And at evening and morning sweet vigils have kept.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Ere my young mind could grasp them, they told me thy woes;</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of the virtues that bind thee forever to me;</p> -<p class='line0'>Of the love of thy friends, of the hate of thy foes;</p> -<p class='line0'>  That in features and mind I was like unto thee;</p> -<p class='line0'>And with dawning of thought is thy memory wove,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The grief and the pining that prey on my breast;</p> -<p class='line0'>The longing to soar to thy dwelling above,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And repose in thine arms in the Land of the Blest.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I have never seen parents their children caress,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Or soothe into quiet their heart-breathing</p> -<p class='line0'>When the storm of misfortune around them did press,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But the tears of affection arose to mine eyes:</p> -<p class='line0'>I have ne’er met a maid by the side of her sire,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Or beheld in the festal a father who kept</p> -<p class='line0'>Watch over his daughter, and seemed to admire</p> -<p class='line0'>  His lovely and beautiful charge, but I’ve wept.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>My mother lies by him—blessed saint of the skies!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Remembrance returns thee; how gentle and meek;</p> -<p class='line0'>I behold thee when youth filled with radiance thine eyes,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And beauty and health were illuming thy cheek;</p> -<p class='line0'>When thy delicate form was elastic as air,</p> -<p class='line0'>  When thy bosom was white as the Parian’s glow,</p> -<p class='line0'>When thy beautiful ringlets of long, flowing hair,</p> -<p class='line0'>  In sable threads sprinkled thy forehead of snow.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>How solemn, dear mother! it seems, that the clay,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Relentless and cold, now encumbers the breast,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where, all helpless, so oft I in infancy lay,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And, soothed by thy lullaby, sobbed me to rest;</p> -<p class='line0'>That on earth I shall never behold thee again,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Never more feel thy rosy lips pressing my brow,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or thy fairy hand smoothing my pillow of pain—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy affection and love must forever forgo!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>My sister sleeps next—lovely blossom of heaven!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Ah, why wast thou summoned so early away?</p> -<p class='line0'>Why so soon was the bond of our sisterhood riven,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And I left alone on the cold earth to stay?</p> -<p class='line0'>Why wast thou not spared to delight and to cheer</p> -<p class='line0'>  My desolate heart ’mid depression and gloom;</p> -<p class='line0'>With thy love-breathing counsels to gladden my ear—</p> -<p class='line0'>  With thy songs and thy smiles to enliven my home?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Sleep on, ye beloved! it is better to rest</p> -<p class='line0'>  In the halls of the dead, than to linger in life,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the brain and the bosom with pains are oppressed</p> -<p class='line0'>  And the soul is beleaguered by sorrow and strife;</p> -<p class='line0'>Sleep on! though no blossoms your homes are perfuming,</p> -<p class='line0'>  There are calmness and freedom from discord and care,</p> -<p class='line0'>The lovely and beautiful daily are coming—</p> -<p class='line0'>  And in my pale vesture I soon shall be there.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk125'/> - -<div><h1><a id='rel'></a>RELIGION.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>J. HUNT, JR.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Religion, pure and undefiled,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Before the Father’s sight in bliss—</p> -<p class='line0'>Who will the same in Heaven reward,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Consists in holy deeds, like this:</p> -<p class='line0'>To heed, when cold Affliction’s shaft</p> -<p class='line0'>  Is at the helpless Orphan hurled—</p> -<p class='line0'>The Widow visit, <span class='it'>and</span> to keep</p> -<p class='line0'>  Himself unspotted from the world.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk126'/> - -<div><h1><a id='tit'></a>TITUS QUINCTIUS FLAMININUS.<a id='r2'/><a href='#f2' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[2]</span></sup></a></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Of all the truths at which we arrive through a -calm and dispassionate study of history, none appears -to me more certain than this, that, as regards the -career and course of empires, the rise and fall of -states, there neither is, nor has been, any such thing -as Fortune; that from the beginning of time, to the -events born of the present day, every minute particular, -every seemingly unimportant incident—or, -as men are fond to call it, accident—in the affairs of -nations, is part and parcel of one grand, universal, -all-pervading scheme of divine world-government, -projected before the patriarch kings led forth their -flocks to feed on pastures yet moist with the waters -of the deluge, but not to be fulfilled until time itself -shall have an end.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It can hardly, I think, fail to strike the least observant -of readers, that unless the civilized world -had been for a long period chained together under -the stagnant, and in the main, peaceful despotism of -the successors of the twelve Cæsars, it never would -have been prepared to receive that tincture of letters, -of humanity, and above all, of Christian faith, with -which it became in the end so thoroughly imbued; -that in every case, without one exception, it brought -over to its own milder cultivation, milder religion, -the fiercest and most barbarous of its heathen conquerors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Not a province of the Western Roman empire but -was overrun, devastated, conquered, permanently -occupied by hordes of the wildest, crudest, most -violent, most ignorant of mankind—Goths, Vandals, -Huns, Vikings, and Norsemen, Jutes and Danes, -tribes whose very names to this day stand as the -types of unlettered force and unsparing outrage. -Not a province of that empire, though of its present -population not one hundredth part can trace an approximate -descent from the original Roman colonists, -so vast the influx of the Pagan invaders, but in the -lapse of time conquered its conquerors by the arts -of peace, and so became the germ of that Christian -civilization, that Christian Liberty, which—though -either, or both, may be temporarily obscured for the -moment—we see, in the main, steadily and consistently -pervading the Europe end America of the -nineteenth century.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That this state of things could have existed, by any -reasonable probability at this day, in the event of -Darius or Xerxes having overrun and occupied -Western Europe, with their oriental hordes—in the -event of Carthage having subdued Rome, and filled -Italy, Greece, Gaul, Spain, Britain, with her bloody -fiend-worship, and her base Semitic trade-spirit—in -the event of Mark Antony having won the day at -Actium, and broken up the heritage of Rome, like -that of Alexander, among a dozen jarring dynasties, -instead of leaving it to be centralized into an almost -universal empire—in the event of the Saracen having -destroyed the paladins of Charles Martel at Tours—of -the Turks having conquered the Mediterranean -at Lepanto, or Continental Europe under the walls -of Vienna—few will be found, I think, so hardy as -to assert.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Strange, therefore, as it may appear at first sight, -the first germs of existing institutions may be said to -have been sown on the banks of the Ilissus, the Eurotas, -and the Tiber; and the deity, whom the blind -superstition of the early Romans venerated as the -war-god Quirinus guarding the wave-rocked cradle -of Rome’s twin founders, was, in truth, the Lord of -Hosts, watching over the infancy of that peculiar -and appointed people which should make smooth his -way before him, and prepare the nations to receive -the faith of civil and religious freedom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For all this wonderful accomplishment of wonderful -designs, however, we shall find that the instruments -are purely human, although the ends may -be divine—that, although the men are never wanting -to do His work, when done it must be, it is for the -most part, if not always, in blindness, in sin, in -wrath, and in the madness of ambition, that they do -that work, imagining themselves, vainly, busied -about their own miserable ends; and for the doing -it they are alone accountable. But not so of the -nations, which, having no life hereafter, no individual -identity in the world to come, meet their rewards -or punishments here, where their virtues or -their vices have required them, and thrive or perish -as they work toward the completion of His infinite -designs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nowhere, perhaps, in the whole course of history, -is this supervision of the Most High, which even religious -men are wont unthinkingly to call Fortune, -more clearly visible, than in the events of the Second -Punic War.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At home the republic, though undaunted and unequaled -of all times in heroism, was weeping tears -of blood at every pore, and resisting only with a -persistency savoring almost of despair, abroad it was -only by the exercise of sacrifices and self-denial -almost superhuman, that she was enabled to maintain -her foothold in her provinces of Sicily and Spain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It seems to us, when we read how Capua, the -noblest of her allied cities, opened her gates and made -common cause with the enemy, how twelve of the -thirty colonies of the Latin name refused their contingents -of men and money; how all the north of Italy, -then Cisalpine Gaul, from the Var to the Rubicon, was -in tumultuous arms against her; how all the proud -and magnificent cities of La Puglia and Calabria were -leagued with the terrible invader; it seems, I say, as -if one superadded call on her resources must have -remained unanswered; one more war-trumpet blown -by a new enemy must have sounded her death-note.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And there was one moment when it appeared that -this contingency was close at hand. In the year of -the city 540, while all the south of Italy was in arms -with Hannibal from Capua down to the Gulf of -Taranto, and all the north was in that tumultuous -state of disorganization which with Celtic populations -is ever the herald of coming insurrection, Sardinia -suddenly broke out into armed and open rebellion. -Sicily, also, in which Hiero, the fast and faithful -friend of Rome, had lately died at a very advanced -age, rejected the Roman alliance, and a war of extermination -was raging in that beautiful island between -the partisans of the two rival powers, and the -forces which each could spare from the home conflict -to aid its faction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this crisis, Philip of Macedon, the descendant -of Alexander, and at that time the most powerful of -European princes, entered into an alliance, offensive -and defensive, with Hannibal, and would in the -course of that very summer have crossed the Adriatic -and invaded Italy with some five-and-twenty thousand -men, sixteen thousand of whom were the -hitherto unconquered phalanx, provided with that -arm, in the greatest possible perfection, the want of -which had robbed Hannibal of the fruits of all his -great pitched battles—I mean an efficient artillery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In this respect the Greeks were unsurpassed; the -Greek engineers were the wonder of the world, as -was subsequently shown at the siege of Syracuse; -and how great soever the superiority of the Romans -to the Carthagenians in this arm of service, it was as -nothing to the skill of the Greek artillerists, and the -excellence of the Greek machinery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What this combination might—I should rather say -might not—have effected, it were difficult to show; -more difficult to show how Rome could have resisted -it. For my part, having examined the question -in all its lights, I am of opinion that, had this alliance -gone into effect, and Philip acted with energy and -steadiness of purpose equal to his bravery and ambition, -Marcellus never would have taken Syracuse, -nor Scipio conquered Spain; but that from both those -countries triumphant reinforcements would have -poured in to Hannibal, over the Alps, across the -Straits of Messina, that an Italian Tama would have -sealed the doom of Rome, and a Punic ploughshare -razed the foundations of the capitol.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But such—it is well for humanity—was not to be -the issue of the war. Philip’s ambassadors, returning -with the treaty signed and ratified by Hannibal, -were taken by the Roman squadron off the Calabrian -coast, and sent to the city with their papers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A year elapsed before the treaty could be renewed; -and, meantime, the Romans, awakened to a perception -of their danger, found means to enkindle the -Ætolians and Illyrian pirates against Philip, and in -the end to organize a Greek confederation against -Macedon, which gave its active and ambitious sovereign -plenty of work to do on his own side of the -Adriatic. At a later period he found cause to repent -that he had ever meditated intervention.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such strokes of fortune, so historians call them, as -that capture of the ambassadors of Philip, which, -perhaps, saved Rome—as that strong gale which -blew on Christmas Eve on Bantry Bay, dispersing -Hoche’s armament to the four winds of heaven—such -strokes, I say, of fortune, I hold to be the visible -agencies and instruments of God’s providence, in the -government of nations, to the welfare of the world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From Rome that peril was averted. The arms of -Macedon abstained, perforce, from the shores of devastated -Italy. The arms of Syracuse, of Spain, were -wrested from the hands which would have wielded -them in the behalf of Carthage. The arms even of -the unbridled Numidians were turned against the -masters whom they had served so fatally for Rome. -And out of the furnace of that scathing war, the -giant form of the chosen republic emerged, without -one hair singed, one thread of its vestments injured; -and that, like the faithful sons of Israel, by the -especial providence of the Almighty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Years passed, and events hurried toward their -consummation. Yet still, though from this date the -tide of Hannibal’s affairs began to ebb, and that of -Rome’s to flow with a healthier, prouder current, it -was not until twelve more terrible campaigns had -been fought out in vain, that the star of the great -Carthaginian set in blood at Zama, and the name of -Carthage herself, all but one brief spasmodic sound -of fury and despair, went out and was forgotten from -among the nations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then rousing herself, like a galled lioness, Rome -went forth to avenge and conquer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hitherto she had fought at home for existence, -henceforth she fought abroad for dominion; and -abroad as at home, until her mission was accomplished -and His work done fully to the end, she was -invincible, as the fruit of her labors is eternal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The war, which had been undertaken against -Philip by the Romans shortly after his giving them -the first offense, had languished from the beginning -on both sides, and peace had been concluded between -the contending parties some three years before the -decisive victory of Zama.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So soon, however, as peace was concluded with -Carthage, in the year of the city 552, B. C. 200, true to -the latter part at least of her famous motto,</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Parcere devictis et debellare superbos</span>,<a id='r3'/><a href='#f3' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[3]</span></sup></a></p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Rome sought at once a cause of war, whereby to -chastise Philip for the comfort given to her enemies -in her worst time of need. Nor sought long in vain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A deputation from the Athenians came seeking -succor; the arms of Philip were too near their -borders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>War was declared, the Consul Sulpicius landed at -Dyrrachium with a regular army, and the campaign -commenced by a series of operations in the valley of -the river Erigon, in Dassaretia, the object of Philip -being to prevent that of the consul to secure his -junction with his Dardanian and Ætolian allies. -Several sharp skirmishes occurred, in all of which -the Macedonians were worsted with loss, and in -one instance Philip narrowly escaped being taken -prisoner; whereupon he retreated through the mountain-passes, -throwing up strong field-works in every -available position, but avoiding a general action.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His works all proved useless, being either forced -or turned without difficulty by the active and movable -legionary tactic of the Romans, against which -it became at once evident that so ponderous and unwieldy -a body as the phalanx could not manœuvre -or fight, in broken ground, with a hope of success.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the end Philip retired at his leisure into his hereditary -kingdom, and the consul having stormed and -garrisoned the small town of Pelium, on the Macedonian -frontier, fell back to Apollonia on the Illyrian -sea-coast, without accomplishing his object.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still his campaign had not been useless, for he had -snatched the prestige of invariable success from the -phalanx, had established the incontestible superiority -of the Roman soldiery of all arms to the Greek, and -had defeated the Macedonians on every occasion, -when they had ventured to await battle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is not a little remarkable, and proves clearly the -singular adaptability of the Romans to all martial -practices, that whereas, scarce twenty years before, -we find their cavalry the worst in all respects but -personal valor in the known world, and their light -troops unable to compete even with the barbarian -allies of Hannibal, we now observe them superior in -both these arms, owing, as it is distinctly stated by -all the writers, to the superior excellence of their -weapons<a id='r4'/><a href='#f4' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[4]</span></sup></a> and equipment, even to the far-famed -targeteers and life-guards of Macedonia.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the following year, Sulpicius was superseded -by the new consul, Publius Villius Tappulus, who, -taking command of Sulpicius’ legions at Apollonia, -advanced up the open valley of the Aöus, now Vioza, -with the intention of forcing the famous passes, -variously known as the Aoi Stenæ, or Fauces Antigoncuses, -and now as the defiles of the Viosa, rather -than turning them by way of Dassaretia, as had been -done previously by his predecessor. The judgment -was sound, the execution naught. For, after marching -to within five miles of the western extremity of -the defiles, he fortified his camp in the plain, probably -in the valley of the Dryno,<a id='r5'/><a href='#f5' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[5]</span></sup></a> above its junction -with the Vioza, reconnoitered the position of Philip, -who was very strongly posted in an intrenched camp -at the most difficult point of the pass, <span class='it'>à cheval</span> on the -river, and occupying both the mountain sides, and -there lay perfectly inactive until he was himself relieved -by Titus Quinctius Flamininus, his successor -in the consular dignity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This man, of the early Roman leaders, was in many -respects one of the most remarkable; in one particular, -with the single exception of Caius Julius -Cæsar, the great Dictator, he stands alone, in honorable -contrast to his merciless and cruel countrymen—though -quick and vehement of temper, he was a just -man, and both merciful and courteous to conquered -enemies. The one blot on his character, to which I -shall come hereafter, must be ascribed to the policy -of his country, under direct orders from which he -was unquestionably acting, not to his own wishes or -disposition, to which nothing could be more abhorrent -than the duty imposed upon him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Plutarch informs<a id='r6'/><a href='#f6' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[6]</span></sup></a> us that, in his time, “it was -easy to judge of his personal appearance,” which, -unfortunately, he has not described, “from his statue -in brass at Rome, inscribed with Greek characters, -which still stands opposite to the hippodrome, nigh -to the great Apollo from Carthage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As, however, the whole tenor of Plutarch’s life is -laudatory, and for that gossiping anecdote-monger singularly -correct and clear, we may take it as a fact that -the nobility of his person was not unequal to that of -his character; which I consider the finest recorded -of any Roman general or statesman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is said,” continues the author,<a id='r7'/><a href='#f7' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[7]</span></sup></a> I have already -quoted, “to have been of a temperament impulsive -and vehement both in his likings and dislikings, but -with this distinction, that he was quick to wrath which -quickly passed away, but prompt to kindness which -endured to the end. He was very ambitious and -very fond of glory, ever anxious to be the actor himself -in the best and greatest deeds, and rejoicing in -the acquaintance rather of those who needed benefits -themselves, than of those who could confer them -upon others, esteeming those as material for the promotion -of his own virtue, these as rivals of his own -glory.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I will add that I can find him guilty of no act—almost -alone of his countrymen—of political dishonesty, -or of social turpitude. To his country he was -a zealous, ardent, and profitable servant; to his -friends and associates faithful and true; to his enemies -just and clement; and to the provincials, subjected -to his dominion, a governor so affable, beneficent -and equitable, that when he left their shores -they mourned as for a countryman, almost a father of -the country.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As a general, he committed no military error; and -although his command was limited to little more than -two campaigns, they were campaigns of the most -important—important not merely to his own country, -but to the science of war, in general—since they established, -beyond a peradventure, the superiority of -the tactic and armature of the legion to those of the -phalanx; in other words, of the line to the column -tactic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I give to him this credit, unhesitatingly; for, although -Pyrrhus was at last beaten by the phalanx in -Italy, it was rather by dint of numbers and aid of circumstances -than by military skill; and further, it is -evident that the great bulk of his armies consisted of -targeteers, little different from the legionaries, and -of Samnites, Tarentines, and other Italian soldiery -precisely similar to them, in arms and array.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again, although Sulpicius had demonstrated the -superiority of the individual Roman, to the individual -Greek, heavy footman; he had not—nor any one -else hitherto—defeated a phalanx, unless with a -phalanx.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>When Greeks met Greeks then was the tug of war.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>For the rest, the battles of Paullus Æmilius against -Perseus, were but the battles of Flamininus against -the father of Perseus, less ably fought, though on the -same principles at last successful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fact remains, that from the battle of Cynoscephalæ, -of which anon, to the end of ancient history, -it was an admitted fact that, unless on a very narrow -and perfectly level field, where both its flanks were -securely covered, the phalanx could not receive battle -from the legions with a chance of success; and -that as to delivering battle on wide, open plains, -where rapid manœuvring and counter-marching -could be resorted to, such an idea was preposterous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Flamininus was educated to arms from his very -boyhood, and that in the terrible Italian campaigns -of Hannibal; through which he served with such -distinction that he had already attained the post of -tribune of the soldiers, equal to the modern rank of -lieutenant-colonel, under that daring and distinguished -leader Marcus Marcellus, and was on the field when -he was slain, rashly periling himself in an affair of -outposts near Venusia, in the year of Rome 546, -B. C. 208, and in the sixtieth year of his own age.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After the death of his great commander, Flamininus -was appointed governor of Tarentum,<a id='r8'/><a href='#f8' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[8]</span></sup></a> in the -capacity of quæstor, on its recapture by Fabius -Maximus; and there displayed no less ability in the -administration of justice than he had previously -evinced skill and courage in warfare. Seven years -afterward—at the early age of thirty years—he was -elected consul; and, although opposed by the veto<a id='r9'/><a href='#f9' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[9]</span></sup></a> -of the tribunes Fulvius and Manlius Carius on the -ground that he lacked twelve years of the legitimate -age, and that he had never filled the intermediate -grades of ædile and prætor, he was confirmed by -the senate, and received Macedonia as his province, -by lot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fact is, that the wars of Hannibal had by this -time taught the Romans that an overstrict adherence -to prescriptive formulæ, in times of national peril, is -disastrous; and that to meet the ablest adversaries -the ablest men must be had, whether all the theoretic -requisites to their election had been complied with -or not.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Therefore Scipio, the elder Africanus, was sent to -Spain with proconsular rank and a consular army, before -he was of the just age to fill a prætorship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Therefore Flamininus was elected consul at thirty, -although the constitution expressly declared that no -one should hold that dignity until he should have fully -attained his forty-second year.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such laws may be, perhaps, generally wise; but -the breach of them is always so. Nor does history -show any instances, worth remark, of youthful genius -elevated by the popular call to early station, and -subsequently found unworthy, from the days of Alexander, -Scipio, and Flamininus, to those of Pitt and -Napoleon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nor do I believe that the appointment of the consuls -was really, though it was ostensibly, left to the -chance of a lot, at least in times of actual war, and -national emergency; since we invariably find the -best man sent to the place where he was required, -which could not always have occurred fortuitously. -Doubtless those who superintended the balloting had -some method of determining the result, as had the -augurs and haruspices with regard to omens and sacrifices.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Flamininus was not only elected consul at thirty, -but obtained the seat of the great war for his province, -and was empowered to pick nine thousand -men, horse and foot, out of the Spanish and African -veterans, inured to all that was known of warfare in -those days by the campaigns of Hannibal and Scipio.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A grand occasion, indeed, and a superb command -for an untried commander.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It appears that on his entering upon his office, -Flamininus was detained some time at Rome, in order -to superintend a fast and expiatory sacrifice on -account of certain alleged prodigies of evil import; -but it is certain that he had understood the consequences -of the dilatory operations of his predecessors, -and was resolute not to fall into the like error. He -sailed from Brundusium for the island of Corcyra, -now Corfu, which he occupied with eight thousand -foot, and eight hundred horse, much earlier in the -season than the preceding consuls had been wont to -take the field: and, instantly passing over to the -main, in a single line-of-battle ship, hurried onward -by forced journeys to the camp, and superseded Villius, -in the face of the enemy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few days afterward, his reinforcements coming -up, he called a council of war to determine whether -a direct attack, or a flank movement through Dassaretia, -was to be preferred. The council, of course, determined -any thing rather than direct action: but -Flamininus, perceiving the facilities afforded by the -geography of that broken, mountainous, forest-clad -region, intersected by deep ravines and impracticable -torrents, to the protracting of the war, resolved to -take the bolder and more prudent course of trying -conclusions, at once, with an enemy whose object it -evidently was to act purely on the defensive, and to -avoid delivering battle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet, determined as he was, the difficulties of the -ground were so great, and so skillfully had Philip -availed himself of every defensible point, or coigne -of vantage, that many days elapsed before he could -decide on the mode of assault.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The river Aöus, now Vioza, an extremely large -and powerful river, augmented at every half-mile by -fierce mountain torrents, along the valley of which is -the most direct pass into Macedonia proper, at this -point breaks its way through a chain of exceedingly -abrupt and precipitous, though not very lofty mountains, -and forms a gorge of six miles in length, closely -resembling that picturesque defile of the Delaware, -with which many of my readers are doubtless familiar, -known as the Water-Gap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Forced into a space, two-thirds less than its ordinary -breadth, the Aöus has here cut its way through -the solid rock, between the mounts Asnaus and Aëropus, -now Nemertzika and Trebusin, respectively -to the left and right of the defile, which here runs -nearly south-eastward. The right-hand mountain, -Aëropus or Trebusin, is the loftier of the two, descending -in a sheer wall of perpendicular and treeless -rock to the brink of the only road, scarped out of the -living limestone like a cornice above the torrent, -which bathes the base of the opposite hill, leaving no -level space between.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The mountain on the opposite or left bank of the -river,” says Colonel Leake, whose topography of the -Grecian battles founded on minute personal inspection, -is no less valuable than interesting, “is the northern extremity -of the great ridge of Nemertzika, Asnaus, much -lower than that summit, but nearly equal to Trebusin -in height. At the top, it is a bare, perpendicular precipice, -but the steep lower slope, unlike that of its -opposite neighbor, is clothed with trees quite to the -river. Through the opening between them is seen a -magnificent variety of naked precipices and hanging -woods, inclosing the broad and rapid stream of the -insinuating river.”<a id='r10'/><a href='#f10' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[10]</span></sup></a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The road,<a id='r11'/><a href='#f11' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[11]</span></sup></a> difficult in any event to an army, if defended, -is impracticable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In this prodigiously strong pass Philip had taken -post, occupying the narrow road with the phalanx, -and having his main body hutted comfortably among -the loose crags of Aëropus, on a conspicuous summit -of which was pitched his own royal pavilion, with -the banner of Alexander waving over it. The slopes -of the opposite hill, Asnaus, was held by Athenagoras -his lieutenant, with the light troops, and all the flanking -crags and salient angles of the precipitous hills -were mounted with the tremendous military engines, -which, though of common use in the defense and attack -of fortresses, had never been brought into field -service until now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Immediately in front of this stern mountain gateway -extended a small plain, midway between the -Roman camp and the Macedonian lines, and here, after -a fruitless parley and attempt at accommodation, -from which both parties retired so much exasperated -at their mutual pertinacity, that the river, which divided -them, alone prevented their personal conflict, -the light troops met in action from both armies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is scarce to be conceived how, with such obstacles -against them, the Romans could have escaped -destruction; but it is almost ever the case in mountain -warfare that the attacking party is successful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gray mists of the early summer morning were -still nestling among the crags, and brooding in the -deep glades of the hanging woods, when the long, -shrill blasts of the Roman trumpets announced the -impetuous rush of the light troops; and on they went, -headlong and invincible, carrying all before them, -and driving in the Macedonian skirmishers like the -foam of the Adriatic before the fury of the south-east -wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no dust upsurging from the rocky road -to shroud their advance, no smoke-clouds to veil -them from the shot of the enemy’s artillery, with their -bright armor flashing in the sunbeams, as they streamed -down the gaps in the mountain summits, and their -blood-red banners and tall plumes tossing in the light -morning air, on they came, dazzling and unobscured, -a fair mark for the deadly missiles, arrows shot off in -volleys, vast javelins which no human arm could launch, -and mighty stones hurled from the catapults, as if from -modern ordnance, which tore their ranks asunder, -and leveled whole files to the earth at a blow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But their extraordinary discipline and admirable armature -enabled them to endure the storm; and they -made their way through all opposition, until they met -the phalanx, bristling with its impenetrable pikes, its -flanks impregnably protected by the rocks here, by -the river there, and its narrow front offering no point -assailable. Then they were checked; but, even then, -not beaten back, so stubborn was their Roman hardihood, -so firm their resolution to be slain, not conquered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All day long did that deep glen quake and shudder -to the dread sounds of the mortal conflict; the thundering -crash of the huge stone-shot, shivering the -trees and shivered on the crags; the hurtling of the -terrible <span class='it'>falaricæ</span>; the clash and clang of steel blades -and brazen bucklers; the whirlwind of the charging -horse; the shouts and shrieks and death-groans; the -thrilling trumpets of the legions; the solemn pæans -of the phalanx.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Only when the sun set, and the full, round moon -came soaring coldly up above the tree-tops, flooding -the bloody stream of the Aöus, and the corpse-incumbered -gorge, with silver radiance, did the weary and -shattered hosts draw off to their respective camps, -from a strife so justly balanced, that none could say -which had come off the better, none judge on which -side the more or the better men had fallen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That night, Flamininus sat in his tent alone, -anxious, uncertain how to proceed, so terrible had -been the loss of life, and so small the advantage; -when a shepherd was introduced, sent by Charops, -the prince of the Ætolians, who should conduct a detachment, -by a wild mountain foot-path, to a height -in the enemy’s rear, domineering his whole position.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Four thousand chosen veterans of infantry and -three hundred horse, under a tribune of the soldiers, -were detailed, instantly, for the service, which would -occupy three days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They should march all night long, such were their -orders, for the summer moon was at its full, and the -nights light as day and far more pleasant, as being -soft with fragrant dews and the cool mountain air. -By day, they should halt in some deep, bosky dell -or forest glade, to rest and refresh themselves securely. -So far as the nature of the ground should -admit, the cavalry would lead the way, then halt on -the last level. The vantage ground once gained, -they should kindle a fire on the summit, but abstain -from all active demonstration, till they should perceive -the action in the defile at its height. Such were -their orders; and in high hope they parted, carrying -with them as a guide the shepherd, in chains, as a -precaution against treachery, but encouraged by great -promises, if faithful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the two following days, Flamininus skirmished -continually with his light troops against Philip’s outposts, -relieving his men by divisions, more to divert -the attention of the enemy from the stratagem which -was in progress, than with any design to harass him; -though in both points of view he succeeded admirably; -for the superiority of the Roman light-infantry -soldier to the Greek skirmisher was great indeed, -and the Macedonians lost many and good men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the third<a id='r12'/><a href='#f12' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[12]</span></sup></a> morning, secure that all had gone -well so far, by the immovable attitude of the enemy, -neither elevated by any unexpected success, nor -shaken by any suspicion of his danger, the consul -drew up his legionary cohorts, in solid column of -maniples, along the rocky road, before the sun had -yet risen, and while the mountain mists still covered -the distant peaks with an impenetrable veil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His light troops, advanced on both flanks, pressed -forward along the difficult hill-sides, dashing the -heavy dew in showers from the dripping underwood, -and threatening the camps of Philip and Athenagoras -both at once, with loud shouts and a storm of missiles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then were renewed the splendor, the obstinacy, -and the carnage of the first encounter. Again the -Roman voltigeurs drove in the enemy’s outposts; -and beat back the targeteers, who sallied from their -works eager for the fray, from post to post, till they -came within the range of the artillery, when in their -turn they began to suffer heavily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But at this instant the sun arose; the mists melted -gradually away from the bare peaks, which now -stood forth glittering in the hazy sunshine. With indescribable -anxiety the eyes of Flamininus were -riveted upon the distant crag, indicated as the decisive -point. There was a vapor floating round it dull -and indistinct, and browner than the blue mist -wreaths—but was it, could it be, the smoke-signal?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a time all was an agony of doubt and suspense. -His officers gathered about the consul; the legionaries, -seeing their commanders’ eyes all turned in -one direction, gazed that way also, anxious if ignorant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Browner the vapor grew and browner; now it -soared upward, black as a thunder-cloud, darkening -the azure skies, a manifest smoke-signal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jove! what a shout arose from the now triumphant -cohorts!—what a thrilling shriek of the shrill trumpets, -answered faintly and remotely, as if from the -skies, by another Roman blast, but liker to the scream -of the mountain-vulture than to the clangor of the -pealing brass!—what a clang as of ten thousand stithies, -when the Spanish blades smote home upon the -Macedonian targes!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet still the men fell fast on both sides, although -the Romans won their way, in spite of artillery and -pike and sling-shot, at the sword’s point; for the -Greeks still fought stubbornly, and plied their dreadful -engines with deliberate aim at point blank range, -unconscious that they were surrounded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then came the Latin cheers, and the clang of -arms, out of the clouds, rolling down the mountain -side, on their flank, in their rear; the rush of charging horse!—In -an instant they broke, disbanded, -scattered, deserted their defenses—all was over.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the first instance the panic and route of the Macedonians -were absolute; and so utterly disheartened -and terror-stricken were the men, that, had it been -possible to pursue them effectually, the whole army -must have laid down its arms or have been cut to -pieces.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ground,<a id='r13'/><a href='#f13' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[13]</span></sup></a> however, was for the most part impracticable -to cavalry, and their heavy armature -rendered the legions as inefficient in pursuit as formidable -in close combat. About two thousand only -of the Macedonians fell, more in the battle than in -the route; but the whole of the formidable defenses, -on which they had expended so much time and toil, -were carried at a blow, all their superb artillery, -their camp, their baggage, rich with the barbaric -pomp of the Macedonian royalty, all their camp followers -and slaves, remained the prizes of the victors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Philip, after he had fled five miles from the field, -that is to say, so far as to the eastern extremity of the -defile he had fruitlessly endeavored to defend, at -length perceiving that he was unpursued, and suspecting -the reason, halted on a steep knoll covering -the entrance of the pass, and sending out parties along -the ridges and through the ravines with which they -were familiar, soon collected all his men about his -standard save those whom he had left on the field of -battle, never to rouse to the trumpet or rally to the -banner any more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thence he retreated rapidly down the valley of the -Aöus, or Vioza, in a south-easterly direction to a -place called the camps of Pyrrhus, supposed to be -Ostanitza, near the junction of the Voidhomati and -Vioza,<a id='r14'/><a href='#f14' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[14]</span></sup></a> where he passed the night; and thence by a -prodigious forced march of nearly fifty miles reached -Mount Lingon on the following day, where he remained -some time in doubt whither to turn his steps, -and how to frame his further operations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mount Lingon is the eastern and loftiest extremity -of a great chain of hills; dividing Macedonia proper -from Thessaly on the east and Epirus on the west. -It forms a huge, triangular bastion, its northern base -overlooking Macedonia, and its apex facing due -southward, which is in fact the water-shed between -the three great rivers, Aöus or Vioza flowing north-westward -into the Adriatic, Penëus or Salamosia -flowing eastward into the gulf of Saloniki, and Arecthus -or Arta, which has a southerly course into the -gulf of the same name, famous in after days for the -naval catastrophe of Actium.<a id='r15'/><a href='#f15' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[15]</span></sup></a> The flanks of this -ridge are steep, difficult and heavily timbered, but its -summits are green with rich, open downs, and watered -by perennial springs and fountains, an admirable -post of observation, and commanding the descent -into all the great plains of Northern Greece. After -mature deliberation, Philip retreated still south-eastward -to Tricca, now Trikkala, on the Penëus; and, -though with a sore heart, devastated his own country, -wasting the fields and burning the cities. Such -of the population as were capable of following his -marches, with their cattle and movables, he swept -along with him; all else was given up as plunder to -his soldiers, so that no region could suffer aught more -cruel from an invader than did Thessaly at the hands -of its legitimate defender. Pheræ shut her gates -against him, and since he could not spare the time to -besiege it, for the Ætolians were coming up with -him rapidly, having laid waste all the country around -the Sperchias and Macra and made themselves masters -of many strong towns, he made the best of his -way back to the frontiers of Macedonia.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the meantime, the consul, after his victory, followed -so hard on the track of his defeated enemy, that -on the fourth or fifth day, after reorganizing his forces -and taking up the pursuit in earnest, he reached -Mount Cercetium some fifty miles in advance of -Philip’s deserted station on Lingon, where he had -given rendezvous to Amynander and his Athamanians, -whom he needed as guides for the interior of -Thessaly. Thereafter, he stormed Phaloria, received -Piera and Metropolis into surrender, and laid siege -to Atrax, a strong place not far from Larissa, on the -Penëus, about twenty miles above the celebrated -pass of Tempe, in which Philip lay strongly intrenched -watching his movements, and not more than -forty from the shores of the Ægean. This small -place, however, garrisoned by Macedonians, offered -so stubborn a resistance that Flamininus was unable -to take it, until the season was waxing so far advanced, -that, finding the devastated plains of Thessaly -utterly inadequate to the support of his army, and -having no harbors on the coast of Acamania or Ætolia -in his rear, capable of receiving transports sufficient -to supply him, he judged it best to raise the siege, -and fall back to winter-quarters in Phocis, on the -shores of the gulf of Corinth, leaving the whole of -Thessaly ruined, and its principal towns either -destroyed by Philip, or occupied by his own garrisons.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During these proceedings of the consul by land, his -brother, Lucius Quinctius, who commanded the fleet -destined to co-operate in the war, acting in conjunction -with Attalus and the Rhodian squadron, had -made himself master of Eretria, Calchis and Carystus, -the strongholds and principal towns of Eubœa, -winning enormous booty, and stationed himself at -Cenchreæ, at the head of the gulf of Eghina, whence -he was preparing to lay siege to Corinth, the most -opulent and splendid of all the Greek cities, now held -by a strong Macedonian garrison, backed by a powerful -faction within the walls, for Philip.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marching down into Phocis without opposition, -for except the garrisons of a few scattered towns -there was no force, on this side Macedonia, adverse -to the Romans, Flamininus took Phanotea by assault, -admitted Ambrysus and Hyampolis to surrender, -scaled the walls of Anticyra, entered the gates -of Daulis pell-mell with the garrison which had sallied, -and laid regular siege to Elatia, which was too -strong to be taken by a <span class='it'>coup-de-main</span>. The capture -and sacking of this town was the last military operation -of the campaign.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A political event occurred, however, at the close -of it, which was even of greater influence in the end, -than all the victories of the year, the ratification -namely of a treaty of alliance between the powerful -Achæan confederacy and the Roman republic, by the -consequences of which, joined to the events of the -past campaign, all northern Greece from the Isthmus -of Corinth to the line formed by the Aöus and Penëus -rivers, and the ridges of Lingon and Cercetium, was -united under the eagles of the republic against -Philip. Within that region, however, the two splendid -cities—Corinth, the siege of which by Attalus -and Lucius Quinctius had proved unsuccessful, and -Argos—still held out for the king, and it was evident -that another campaign would be needed for the termination -of the war.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Well satisfied with his success, as he had indeed -cause to be, for few campaigns on record have more -fully and masterly accomplished their end, Flamininus -retired into winter-quarters in the island of Corfu, -while Attalus and the proprætor Lucius laid up their -fleets in the Piræus, and passed the season of inactivity -within the walls of Athens.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the winter, after the election of the new -consuls, Caius Cornelius Cethegus, and Marcus Minutius -Rufus, but before it was known whether the -conduct of the war would be continued to Flamininus, -or one of the consuls appointed his successor, a sedition -broke out in the town of Opus, and the inhabitants -admitted the Romans. The Macedonian garrison, -however, still held out, and while Flamininus -was preparing to reduce it, a herald arrived from the -king, demanding an interview in order to treat of -peace. To this the consul, naturally desirous to conclude -the war himself, acceded, and a singular interview -followed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A place was appointed on the shore of the gulf of -Tituni near Nicæa, and thither came the Roman -general, Amynander king of the Athamanes, Dionysodorus -envoy of Attalus, Agesimbrotus admiral of the -Rhodian fleet, Phæneas prince of the Ætolians, and -with them two Achæans, Aristænus and Xenophon. -These overland. But Philip came across from Demetrias, -now Volo, with one ship of war and five -single-banked galleys, and casting anchor as close as -might be to the shore, addressed the confederates from -the prow of his ship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Flamininus proposed that he should land, in order -that they might converse more at their ease; and, on -the king’s refusing, inquired who it was of the company -whom he feared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I fear none but the immortal gods,” was the -haughty reply; “but I distrust many whom I see -around thee, and most of all the Ætolians.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That,” replied the Roman, “is a peril common -to all who parley with an enemy, that they can place -confidence in no one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, Titus Quinctius,” answered Philip, “but -Philip and Phæneas are not equal inducements to -treason; and it is one thing for the Ætolians to find -another general, and for the Macedonians to find another -king such as I am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To this argument there was no reply but silence.<a id='r16'/><a href='#f16' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[16]</span></sup></a> -Nor, when they came to speak of conditions, could -any terms be effected among so many jarring interests; -but it was agreed at length that ambassadors -should be sent by all the contracting parties to the -Senate. A truce was proclaimed for two months, -Philip withdrawing, as a security for his good faith, -the garrisons from all the towns of Locris and Phocis; -while Flamininus, in order to give color to the -proceedings, sent with the ambassadors Amynander -king of the Athamanes, Quinctius Fabius, his wife’s -nephew, Quinctius Fulvius, and Appius Claudius, -all members of his military family.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After awhile the delegates returned. The Senate -had given no decision. The province and war of -Macedonia, when the consuls were about to cast lots, -had been continued to Flamininus as imperator, the -tribunes Oppius and Fulvius having strongly represented -the impolicy of removing general after general, -as fast as each got accustomed to the country and was -ready to follow up a first success by a final victory. -The argument prevailed, and the option of peace or -war was left to the imperator. The Senate was not -aweary of the strife, and Flamininus was athirst for -glory, not for peace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No further parley was granted to Philip; and these -terms only dictated to him, that he must withdraw -his forces from the whole of Greece into his own proper -dominions, north of the river Aöus and the Cambunian -mountains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was of course tantamount to a resumption of -hostilities; and both parties, it appears, prepared -with equal alacrity and confidence for the final -conflict.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first operation of Philip, who, on finding the -necessity of drawing all his resources to a common -centre, began to despair of maintaining Corinth, -Argos, and his Achæan cities, was to deliver them -over for safekeeping to Nabis, tyrant of Lacedæmon, -on condition that in case of his being successful -against the Romans they should be restored to himself, -otherwise they should belong to Nabis.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No sooner was that done, however, than the treacherous -tyrant, desirous only to retain his new -power, made peace with the Ætolians, furnished the -Romans with Cretan auxiliaries to act against Philip, -and even entered into illusory negotiations for the delivery -of Corinth and Argos, than which nothing was -further from his mind, until at least he should have -plundered them of all they contained most valuable, -and this, with his wife’s aid, he lost no time in doing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These circumstances, however, were but as mere -preludes to the great strife which was about to be determined -in the broken and uneven country of north-eastern -Thessaly, not far from the ground on which -Flamininus had closed his last campaign, to the southward -of the Penëus, whither both parties were -already collecting their powers and drawing to a head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Almost before the opening of the spring both leaders -were on the alert, and active in preparation; partly -by stratagem and the insinuation of a menace, if not -its reality, partly by persuasion, Flamininus had the -address to bring over the Bœotians, as he had already -brought over the Achæans, to the Roman alliance; -and thenceforth, every thing in his rear being secure -and friendly, he had nothing to do but to look forward -and bend up all his energies and powers to the destruction -of the enemy before him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To this end he was well provided; for when his -command was continued to him, five thousand infantry, -three hundred horse, and three thousand mariners -of the Latin allies, were voted him as a reinforcement -to his late victorious army.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With these admirable troops, then, he broke up -from Elatia, his last conquest, about the vernal equinox, -and marching north-westerly by the great road -through Thronium and Scarphea, on the gulf of Tituni, -arrived at Thermopylæ, where by a preconcerted -plan he met the Ætolians in council, and three days -afterward, encamping at Xynias in Thessaly, received -their contingent of six hundred foot and four hundred -horse, under Phæneas their chief-magistrate. Moving -forward at once with the celerity and decision which -mark all his operations, his force was augmented by -five hundred Cretans of Gortyna, under Cydas, and -three hundred Illyrians of Apollonia, all light infantry -skilled with the bow and sling; and a few days afterward -he was joined by Amynander with twelve hundred -Athamanians, completing the muster of the -allies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Philip meanwhile was laboring under the sore disadvantage -which is sure to afflict, and in the end -overthrow, all nations which engage in long careers -of conquest. Incessant wars, since the days of Alexander, -had worn out the manhood of Macedonia. His -own wars had consumed the flower of the adults, and -those who remained were the sons of mere youths or -of octogenarians, begotten while the men of Macedonia -were fattening foreign fields with priceless gore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As in the last campaigns of Napoleon, Philip’s conscriptions -of this year included all the youth of sixteen -years, while they recalled to the standard all -the discharged veterans who had yet power to trail a -pike.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So certainly in all ages will the like causes produce -the like effects.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of this material, however, he had constructed a -complete phalanx of sixteen thousand men, the flower -of his kingdom, and the last bulwark of his throne. -To these were added two thousand native targeteers, -two thousand Thracians and Illyrians, about fifteen -hundred mercenaries of all countries, and two thousand -horse. With this power he lay at Dium, now -Malathria, on the gulf of Saloniki awaiting the Romans, -by no means despondent, but rather confident -of success. For although the last campaign had gone -against him, as a whole, still the repulse of the Romans -from the walls of Atrax by hard fighting, seemed -to counterbalance the forcing of the gorges of the -Aöus, while it was undeniable that the phalanx had -fully maintained its ancient renown, and was, for all -that had yet been proved, invincible in a pitched -battle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No less secure of victory, flushed with past -triumphs, and athirst for future glory, Quinctius pressed -on, resolved on the first occasion to deliver battle, his -forces being, as nearly as possible, equal to those of -the king, though he had a superiority of about four -hundred horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On hearing of the Roman advance, Philip broke up -from Dium and marched upon Larissa, intending to -deliver battle south of the Penëus, with a view probably -to the subsequent defense of the defiles of -Tempo, in case of disaster; while Flamininus having -failed in an attempt to surprise the Phiotic city of -Thebes, marched direct upon Pheræ, previously ordering -his soldiers to cut and carry with them the -palisades, of which at any moment to fortify the casual -encampment of the night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Both leaders, thus aware of the enemy’s proximity, -yet unaware of his exact position, encamped and fortified -their camps, the Roman at about six, the Macedonian -at four miles’ distance from the town of -Pheræ.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the following day, light parties being sent out -on both sides to take possession of the heights above -the town, which would seem to be the western slopes -of Karadagh, formerly Mount Calcodonium—described -by Leake as gentle pasture hills, interspersed with -groves of oak, but swelling, a little northward on the -way to Larissa, into steep, broken hills, topped with -bare limestone crags—they came in sight of one another -so unexpectedly, that they were mutually amazed, and -neither charged the other, but both sent back for -orders to head-quarters, and were ultimately drawn -off without fighting. On the second day, both leaders -sent out reconnoitering parties of light-armed infantry -with some horse, and these encountered on the hill -above the suburbs of Pheræ to the northward. It so -happened that Flamininus had ordered two squadrons -of Ætolian horse on this duty, wishing to avail himself -of their familiarity with the country; and these, -overboiling with courage and emulous of the Roman -renown, so soon as they discovered the enemy, dared -the Italians to the test of superior valor, and charged -the Macedonians with such metal and prowess that -they cut them up very severely; after which, having -skirmished for a considerable time with no decisive -results, they drew off, as if by mutual consent, to their -own encampments.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ground about Pheræ, being much incumbered -with orchards, groves and gardens, and cut up by -stone walls and thorn hedges, was very unsuitable for -a general action, and both leaders, perceiving this, -moved early the next morning by different routes, the -great ridge of Karadagh intervening between their -lines of march, and intercepting all sound or sight, -upon Scotussa, a town some ten miles distant in a -westerly direction, lying at the base of the hills, and -on the verge of the plain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Romans marched to the southward, Philip to -the northward of the dividing ridge; and, unaware -how nearly they were intrenched, both erected their -palisades for the night almost within hearing of their -countersigns and trumpets.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The third morning, after they had decamped from -Pheræ, was exceedingly thick and foggy; but in spite -of this Philip, who had passed the night on the banks -of the Onchestus, persevered in marching upon Scotussa, -where he hoped to find ripe corn in the plain -for his troops. The darkness, however, increased, -and ere long one of those tremendous thunder-storms, -for which all the limestone countries of upper Greece -are so famous, or rather infamous, burst over his head, -with hail, and wild whirling wind-gusts, and forked -lightnings, and compelled him to halt at once and intrench -himself, at the northern base of the bare, craggy -hills, forming the summits of the Calcodonium, known -as the Cynoscephalæ or dog’s heads, though the resemblance -does not go far to justify the appellation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So soon<a id='r17'/><a href='#f17' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[17]</span></sup></a> as it cleared a little, though the mist was -still so dense that one could scarce see his own hand, -he sent out a detachment to occupy the heights of -Cynoscephalæ. At the same moment Flamininus sent -out his troops of horse and a thousand voltigeurs from -Thetidium, where he lay, to feel for the enemy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These latter fell suddenly into the ambushed outpost -of the Macedonians, neither discovering the -others till they were at half spear’s length in the -gloom. After a momentary pause of amazement, they -fell on fiercely, and among the slippery crags, in the -dense mist and drizzling rain, the strife reeled blindly -to and fro, all striking at once, none parrying, and -friend as often injuring friend, as enemy enemy. On -both sides, rumor reached the camps, and the Romans -being hard pressed and giving way, Flamininus, who -was nearest to the scene of action, reinforced his men -with two thousand infantry under two tribunes, and -five hundred Ætolian horse of Archedamus and Eupolemus.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the arrival of these, the skirmish was exchanged -for close combat; and the encouragement given to -the Romans, by the prompt succor, doubling their -courage, nor that only, but their physical strength, -they charged home so vehemently, that they broke -the enemy, and drove them to the steep crags; the -din of battle receding from the lines of Flamininus, -until the cries of his own men, and the shouts of the -victorious legionaries, aroused and alarmed Philip in -his camp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He, expecting nothing on that day less than an engagement, -had sent out his men to forage in the plain; -but as he saw how things were going, and as the -mist was beginning to melt away before the sunbeams, -and the clear blue to show above, he ordered -up Heracleides the Gyrtonian, commander of the -Thessalian cavalry, find Leon, the Macedonian master -of the horse, and Athenagoras with all the mercenaries -save the Thracians, and launched them -vigorously against the enemy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rallying upon themselves the broken and disordered -troops who had preceded them, these in turn -laid on with so heavy a hand, and so furious an impetus -that they bore the Romans back bodily, and -drove them over the brink of the heights in consternation -and disorder toward their own intrenchments; -nor would they have failed to do fearful execution -on them, if not utterly to destroy them, but for the -devoted gallantry of the handful of Ætolian horse, -who charged them time after time; and, when repulsed, -rallied and charged again; and so gained that -invaluable time, which, as it was in this case, is often -victory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this moment, seeing that the defeat of his cavalry -and light troops was not only serious in itself, -but was seriously dispiriting the rest of his army, -Flamininus drew out his legions in order of battle, -harangued them briefly in words of fire, which kindled -every soldier’s heart to like passion, and led -them straightway into action.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Almost simultaneously Philip, to whom tidings -had been brought that the enemy were utterly disordered -and in flight, and who was compelled by the -urgency of his officers and the eagerness of his men -to give battle, contrary to his own better judgment, -which knew the ground to be unfavorable to the phalanx, -led the right wing of it up the northern ascent -of the heights, directing Nicanor, surnamed the elephant, -to bring up the centre and left wing close at -his heels. On reaching the summit, which had been -left vacant when the Macedonian light troops drove -back the Romans, he formed line of battle by the left, -and thus gained the ground of vantage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But while he was yet in the act of forming his -right, the mercenaries were upon him, crushed in by -the advance of the solid cohorts; for Flamininus had -rallied his light troops in the intervals of his maniples, -and was carrying all before him with great -slaughter, himself leading his left wing, the right -and centre being a little retired, with the elephants -in front.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Philip thus labored at once under a double disadvantage, -when, believing himself the assailant of a -disordered foe, he found himself assailed—a perilous -thing in warfare—and, secondly, when he was compelled -to encounter an enemy in full array of battle, -while above one half of his own power was in -column of march, and as yet unready to deploy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Up to this moment, the day had been one of accidents -and vicissitudes; from this moment it was one -of the finest generalship and the finest fighting, and -in the end the best fighting carried it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mindful of the rule never to receive a charge but -on a charge, so soon as he saw Flamininus’ eagles -face to face with him, Philip rallied the retreating -horse and mercenaries upon his targeteers, with -whom he covered his right flank, and ordered the -phalanx to double the depth of its files and prepare to -charge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We have all seen, and all know the effect, of two -poor lines of modern infantry bringing their muskets -from the shoulder to the charge; the thrill which -the sudden clash and clatter, and the quick flashing -movement sends to the boldest heart—what then -must have been the effect on the spectator, when -sixteen serried ranks brought down their huge sarissæ, -twenty-four feet in length, from the port to the -level—the rattle of the massive truncheons sloping -simultaneously, like a whole field of bearded grain -before a sudden blast, the clang of the steel spear -heads against the brazen bucklers, and the glimmering -flash of seven points protruded in advance of -every shield in the front line.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such was the spectacle which met the eyes of the -legionaries as they crowned the heights of Cynoscephalæ, -but no thrill did it send to those stern -hearts, but that of ardor and of emulation. Never -was such a war-cry heard as burst that day over the -rugged hills, for not only did the combatants on both -sides, as they rushed to hand and hand encounter, -shout with their hearts in their voices, but all who -saw it from a distance swelled the tremendous diapason.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The clang might have been heard at a mile’s distance, -as the pike-points of the phalanx smote full -upon the bosses of the long legionary shields, and -bore back the loose lines by sheer force, orderly still -and unbroken, while the Spanish broadswords of -the Romans hewed desperately, but in vain, into the -twilight forest of the impenetrable sarissæ.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Stubbornly the Romans fought and long; and when -at length broken, they were not beaten; when borne -backward foot by foot they still disdained to fly; but -fell where they stood, and died fighting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Flamininus, who had the true eye, the true -inspiration of a great general, ever the keenest and -the clearest in the most direful turmoil of the headiest -fight, had marked, like Wellington at Talavera, -a gap in the enemy’s array.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Leaving his broken right wing to its fate, he rushed, -confident at one glance of victory, to the head of his -centre, and charged, with his elephants in front, by a -rapid oblique movement, full upon the left wing of -the phalanx, as it mounted the heights in marching, -rather than in fighting, order. Here, before it could -form, almost before it could level its long pikes, it -was pierced in a hundred places at once; and, in -almost less time than is required to describe it, the -fierce Spanish broadswords of the legionaries, fleshed -in its vitals, had reduced it to a weltering mass of -inextricable confusion and almost unheard of carnage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Roman left, cheered by the triumph of their -comrades, rallied upon themselves and returned to -the charge; and simultaneously an unordered movement -of a tribune of the soldiers, which should have -rendered him immortal, although his name has not -survived, decided the victory, as completely as did -a like inspiration, on the part of the unrewarded Kellerman, -decide that of Marengo.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This nameless tribune—a shame that he should be -nameless—when the enemy’s left and centre fled, -wheeled with a mere handful of men round the rear -of Philip’s right, and, gaining the very summit from -which he had descended, at the moment when the -Romans rallied in its face, fell like a thunderbolt on -the unguarded rear of its yet unbroken masses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In any event, a rear or flank attack upon the phalanx, -so ponderous a column that it could even when -unassailed with difficulty form a new face, was perilous; -here it was fatal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The battle was ended as by a thunder-clap. Of the -Macedonians eight thousand fell in the field, five -thousand laid down their arms; their camp was -taken, but before the victors entered it, it had been -sacked by the Ætolians; their king, not tarrying to -burn his papers at Larissa, fled without drawing -bridle through Tempe into Macedonia.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of the Romans seven hundred lay dead in their -ranks on the field; so true is Sallust’s apophthegm, -that audacity is as a rampart to the soldier, and flight -more perilous than battle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not a battle only that was won, but a war -that was ended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet never was a battle won which was so nearly -lost, except Marengo; which it in several points -resembles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the first place, like Marengo, it was in fact not -one, but two battles, in which the victors of the first -were the vanquished of the second.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the second place, like Marengo, its last and -crowning success was due to an unordered, self-originating, -charge of a subordinate officer, with a -mere handful of men on the flank or rear of a victorious -column.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But in this, unlike Marengo, it was the eagle eye, -the prompt decision, and the lightning-like execution -of the general in chief, not the shrewd observation of -a second in command, that redeemed the half lost -battle, and changed the pæans of an exulting conqueror -into groans of anguish and despair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With Cynoscephalæ, terminates the splendor of -Flamininus’ military career, but not the splendor of -his life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Philip at once sued for peace, and the general, -aware that a war had broken out between Antiochus, -King of Syria, and Rome, and dreading Philip’s co-operation -with him, if driven to despair, at once -granted him terms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He withdrew all his garrisons from Greece; delivered -all his fleet, with the exception of ten galleys; -paid an indemnification of a thousand talents, for the -expenses of the war; gave up his son Demetrius as -a hostage, for his faithful observance of the conditions; -and, to his credit be it spoken, ever continued -true in his allegiance to the Romans.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At first, apprehending trouble from Antiochus, the -Senate determined to keep Roman garrisons in the -three strongholds of Chalcis, Corinth, and Demetrius; -but so loud were the complaints of the Greeks in -general, of the Æolians in particular, and so consistent -did they appear to Flamininus, that he used -the great personal weight and influence he had gained -with the people and the Senate, not to obtain personal -honors, wealth or distinction, but to procure -the complete liberation of Greece, and the withdrawal -of every foreign soldier from her confines.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The proudest hour of his life, save one, was when -he sat in his curule chair at the Isthmian games, a -spectator of the show, and heard the Roman trumpet-blast -command attention, and the Roman herald -make proclamation—“The Senate, and the Imperator, -Titus Quinctius, having subdued King Philip -and the Macedonians, give to the Corinthians, Locrians, -Phocians, Eubæans, Achæans, Pthiotians, -Magnetians, Thessalians, and Perrhæbians, liberty, -immunity from garrisons, immunity from tribute, -and the right of self-government, according to their -own constitutions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At first men heard not, or hearing, believed not, -for very joy, that such happiness could be; and they -called upon the herald to repeat his proclamation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then such a shout arose as rang from sea to sea -across the Isthmus. The like of it was never heard -before or afterward in Greece. And what has often -been said hyperbolically, to lend grandeur to descriptions -of the human voice, was then actually seen to -happen;<a id='r18'/><a href='#f18' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[18]</span></sup></a> for crows winging their way over the -amphitheatre fell into the arena, stunned by the concussion -of the air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As one man, the whole theatre stood up. There -was no more talk of the combatants. Every one -spoke of Flamininus, every one would touch the -hand of the champion, the liberator of Greece.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I said the proudest day of his life, save one. For -he had one prouder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two years longer he tarried among the Greeks, as -commissioner to see the treaties carried out; and for -a short time he fell into odium with the people he -had liberated, for that, when he was warring against -Nabis, the cruel tyrant and usurper of Lacedæmon, -and might have dethroned him, he made peace, and -suffered him to retain his blood-bought dominion. -Some were so base as to attribute this to jealousy -of Philipœmen. His own statement, and our knowledge -of his character bears out that statement, asserts -that he could not destroy Nabis, without destroying -Sparta, and that in preference to destroying -Sparta, he suffered Nabis to go free.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But when he left the shores of Hellas, after interceding -twenty times, and mediating successfully -between the Greeks and his successors, the -Ætolians much desired to make him some great gift, -that should prove their great love and veneration. -But the known integrity of the man deterred them; -for it was notorious that he would receive naught -that savored of a bribe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At last they bethought them. There were in -Greece twelve hundred Roman citizens, who had -been captives to Hannibal, and by him sold as slaves. -Their sad case had of late been sadly aggravated, as -slaves themselves and bondmen, they all saw their -countrymen, many their kinsmen, some their brethren -or their sons, free, conquerors, and hailed as -saviors of the land, to which they were enslaved.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Titus had grieved for them deeply; but he was too -poor to ransom them, too just to take them by the -strong hand from their lawful owners. So the -Ætolians ransomed them at five minæ<a id='r19'/><a href='#f19' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[19]</span></sup></a> the head; -and, as he was on the point of setting sail, brought -them down to the wharf in a body, and presented -them to him, the gift of liberated Greece. “A gift -worthy,” says Plutarch, “of a great man, and a -lover of his country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A gift, say I, which none would have offered but to—what -is far greater than a great—a good man. A -gift which proves alike the character of the givers, -and the receiver. An honor, as few gifts are, to -both.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I care not that in Flamininus’ triumph those twelve -hundred ransomed Romans, of their own free will, -walked with shaven heads and white caps, as manumitted -slaves, and that the people of Rome had no -eyes for the hostage prince, or the barbaric gold, or -the strange Macedonian armor—had no eyes for -Flamininus himself, but only for the twelve hundred -manumitted Romans.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I do care that the Ætolians knew, from their -knowledge of the man, that there was one invaluable -gift which it would gladden the heart of the incorruptible -of men to receive at their hands, richer than -untold gold, inestimable jewels, the priceless liberty -of freeborn Romans.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It does not belong to the military career of Flamininus, -but it does to the history of his life, that in -after days he was sent by the Senate ambassador to -Prusias, king of Bithynia, for the purpose of compelling -the surrender into their hands of the aged, -exiled, down fallen Hannibal; and that, rather than -fall into those pitiless hands, which never refrained -the scourge and axe from the noblest foeman, the old -man had recourse to the</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Cannarum vindex et tanti sanguinis ultor,</p> -<p class='line0'> Annulus.”<a id='r20'/><a href='#f20' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[20]</span></sup></a></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Nor do I choose to pass it over in silence. Since -it is to be remembered that the highest pride of a -Roman was to do his duty; and his duty was whatever -his country ordered. So that, however odious -the task imposed, and we know too much of this -man’s character not to be sure that the embassy to -Prusias was odious, a consular of Rome had no choice -but to obey Rome’s bidding.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was, moreover, much in the pertinacity -with which Hannibal journeyed from barbarous court -to barbarous court, in the hope of kindling a fire-brand -for Rome’s conflagration, even after his own -country was prostrate beyond the chance of resurrection, -to palliate if not justify the rancor of Romans. -The inextinguishable hater has no right -to complain if the hatred against himself be inextinguishable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The last office held by Flamininus, was the censorship—the -highest, noblest, purest dignity in the -gift of the state; and never—at least in those days—bestowed -on any but the noble and the pure. It was -the Corinthian capital to the career of the honored -and honorable Roman magistrate, and such was Titus -Quinctius Flamininus.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After this he passes from our sight, and is heard of -no more in history.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was a great general, a great statesman; perhaps -of the greatest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But he was something more than a general, more -than a statesman—he was every inch a man.</p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_2'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f2'><a href='#r2'>[2]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>We have been favored by Mr. Charles Scribner of -New York, with the advanced sheets of Mr. Herbert’s -new work, “The Captains of the Roman Republic,” from -which we select the following spirited sketch of Titus -Quinctius Flamininus. We give it as our decided opinion -that this work will prove superior to its predecessor, -“The Captains of the Old World.”</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_3'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f3'><a href='#r3'>[3]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>“To spare the conquered and subdue the proud”—the -former of which she never did.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_4'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f4'><a href='#r4'>[4]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Livy, xxxi. 34, 35.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_5'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f5'><a href='#r5'>[5]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Col. Leake, Travels in Northern Greece, i. 385.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_6'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f6'><a href='#r6'>[6]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Plutarch, Vit. Flamini.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_7'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f7'><a href='#r7'>[7]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Ibid.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_8'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f8'><a href='#r8'>[8]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Livy, xxxiii. 8.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_9'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f9'><a href='#r9'>[9]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Ibid.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_10'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f10'><a href='#r10'>[10]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Leake. Travels in Northern Greece, vol, 1, p. 385.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_11'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f11'><a href='#r11'>[11]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Plutarch. Flamininus 3.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_12'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f12'><a href='#r12'>[12]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Plutarch, vit. Flaminini. IV. V. Livy, xxxii. 12.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_13'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f13'><a href='#r13'>[13]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Livy, xxxii. 12.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_14'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f14'><a href='#r14'>[14]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Leake. Travels in Northern Greece, i. 296.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_15'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f15'><a href='#r15'>[15]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Livy, xxxii. 13.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_16'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f16'><a href='#r16'>[16]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Livy, xxxii. 32.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_17'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f17'><a href='#r17'>[17]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>All the details of this action are from Polybius. Reliquiæ -Lib. xviii.; who is here singularly clear and vivid -in his description.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_18'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f18'><a href='#r18'>[18]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Plutarch, vita Flaminini, x.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_19'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f19'><a href='#r19'>[19]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>About twenty pounds sterling.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_20'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f20'><a href='#r20'>[20]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>The Ring, avenger of Cannæ and of so much blood.—<span class='it'>Juvenal. Satire X.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>An allusion to the poison, by which he died, and which -he was said to keep concealed in a ring.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk127'/> - -<div><h1><a id='our'></a>OUR MINNIE’S DREAM.</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 A REVERIST.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Her dream is like this book-mark red,</p> -<p class='line0'>Which has long lain buried</p> -<p class='line0'>  Within a hallowéd tome;</p> -<p class='line0'>If to unfold the page, soul-bid,</p> -<p class='line0'>Mark the contrast, all unsaid,</p> -<p class='line0'>Of the fresh deep ruby—wed</p> -<p class='line0'>  To the fastness dear of home—</p> -<p class='line0'>And the faded outside hue</p> -<p class='line0'>Of a token all too true</p> -<p class='line0'>  From its claspéd cell to roam.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>All that the idle world hath kenned</p> -<p class='line0'>Is like the faded, visible end</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of that lore-lettered mark;</p> -<p class='line0'>Dim, sadly paled its pristine hues,</p> -<p class='line0'>In streaming through earth’s chilling dews,</p> -<p class='line0'>Obedient to imperious muse.</p> -<p class='line0'>  The folded end, still perfect, bright,</p> -<p class='line0'>In keeping here of household faith,</p> -<p class='line0'>Awaits Heaven’s kindly angel, Death,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To open it to truer light.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk128'/> - -<div><h1><a id='sonn'></a>SONNET.—PLEASURE.</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. ALEXANDER.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Hues how fantastic dost thou still assume,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Deluding man, amid life’s sweetest scene,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Spreading o’er all his way gay, gorgeous green,</p> -<p class='line0'>With fairest flowers, which but a moment bloom—</p> -<p class='line0'>Like evening cloud which golden Sol hath decked,</p> -<p class='line0'>  All evanescent, fading soon away;</p> -<p class='line0'>  So, Pleasure! grasped, thou hastest to decay,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Bidding each rising hope in bud be checked—</p> -<p class='line0'>  In Eden, erst, truth-like didst thou appear.</p> -<p class='line0'>    Thy right hand holding sweets surpassing fair,</p> -<p class='line0'>    Till, with her sombre train sin entered there,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To drag man thence, an exile full of fear—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Farewell, false Pleasure! and again, farewell—</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy guests, the Wise hath told us, “are in depths of hell.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk129'/> - -<div><h1><a id='nell'></a>NELLY NOWLAN’S EXPERIENCE.</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. S. C. HALL.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I broke off in my last without an ending, which -I could not help; I am not a bit more mistress of my -own time than if I was a born lady, and oh, aunt -dear, but I <span class='it'>do</span> pity them ladies—you’d never believe -how hard they work—not with their heads or their -hands, but in a way twice as bad. You think it hard -enough to put on your things of a Sunday. Oh! if -you knew the dressing and undressing, the shopping, -the driving round and round and round in a place -they call a park—where there’s no sign of a mountain -or any thing to raise the spirits—the visiting! not -having a bit of friendly talk with those they like, but -wearing the life and liveries off their servants, posting -from house to house, and just leaving little squares of -<span class='it'>pasteboard</span> at the doors.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Has Lady Jane Vivian never inquired how I -am?’ asked my poor mistress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Never, Ma’am,’ I said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, she had a puzzled look on her face, and -there it ended for awhile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Ellen,’ she said again, a few days after, ‘Mrs. -Brett tells me, Lady Jane Vivian called every day, -and left cards.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I was fairly bothered about the cards.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Sure, Ma’am,’ I said, ‘what would make her -leave the cards here, we’re no gamblers;’ this was -when first I was own maid to my mistress—so she -smiled again, and said how it was I did not understand -that ladies left their names printed on pasteboard -squares; and that was the same thing as a visit. -Well! I had my own thought of what a cold, unnatural -thing it was to send a square of pasteboard up -to a poor sick lady, instead of comforting her, with -a bright smile and kind words, and all sorts of cheerful -discourse. But I supposed it was manners, and -every people have their own; and then she asked -for the <span class='it'>cards</span>. Now, the mistress of the house we -lodged in, scrambled up every bit of them pasteboards -with a title, and stuck them round the looking-glass, -in her little, dingy back-parlor, for a nobility show. -So I had to go and ask her to pick out all the Lady -Jane Vivians, which she did, and gave them with a -toss of her head, saying, ‘She did not want such a -scrap of an ould maid’s title for the matter of that, she -had lords and dukes! calling on her, before now.’ It -was on the tip of my tongue to say, ‘Calling on your -lodgers, you mean, ma’am,’ but I held my peace. -Well! would you believe it? My own mistress was -as proud of them five bits of pasteboard, as I’d be of -five shillings! And she bade me bring her a fine -chaney dish with a small tea-party painted on it, up -in the air and down on the earth, beside a little railway, -and little tufty houses one atop of the other, -and bells at the corners—a fine ancient dish it is, like -nothing on the earth or in the sea, which she says -shows its imagination; well, she takes every one of -the cards up in her poor, thin, trembling fingers, and -then she rubs them clean and puts them right; the -Misters and Mistresses, and the young Misses all -down below, and the Sirs and Lords and Ladies on -the top; mighty neat entirely to look at; and all the -time, the darling! she was railing at the vanity of -the lodging-house woman who wanted to show off -the fine names, and never seemed to think that she -was doing the same thing; to be sure, she had a right -to them, and right is right; but the vanity, to my -thinking, was all one. I had a deal more to tell you -about <span class='it'>that</span> church—but <span class='it'>one who knows</span> said, it was -fitter for me to hold my tongue; the reason is this, -that it’s better for us, you understand, to keep on -never heeding them, and not to put them in mind of -what they are doing, and they will all walk, as easy -as any thing, back to the fine, true, ould, ancient -church of Rome: they call it <span class='it'>High Church</span> now, but -if they’re let alone, <span class='it'>one who knows</span> says, they’ll -soon be higher, on the highest pinnacle of St. Peter’s! -so all we have to say, aunt dear, is just good luck to -every poor traveler on the <span class='it'>right road</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mind Mary Considine, who you used to -call the blue-bell of the Shannon? She was the -beauty of the place, I have heard, when she married -her own first cousin, Ned Considine? don’t you also -mind telling me how cruel hard she was to be pleased; -and how, after she had married him, she said she -intended taking a house, but changed her mind, and -took Ned, and was greatly disappointed in taking him, -for he was very deaf?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, who should I chance to find out but this -very Mr. and Mrs. Considine; and indeed it’s little -remains of beauty she has now; the country, or rather -the town life, does not agree any how with beauty, -living as they do, at the back of ‘God speed,’ in a -small court; though, as you will see by’n bye, they -have lashings<a id='r21'/><a href='#f21' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[21]</span></sup></a> of money: they’ve one son and a -daughter. I met the young girl (she was born to -them, I may say, in their old age, a last rose of their -summer) at mass, and I think we knew each other -by nature: my mistress gave me leave to run over -and see her, and when she came to me took great -delight in her smiling, innocent face, and the sweet -voice I told her she had; and she sang some of the -Irish melodies like an angel, if you can think of an -angel singing any thing but holy psalms. And this -young Mary is well brought up, quite above the common; -reading and writing is nothing to her; and as -to other accomplishments she’s wonderful; and can -tell every fortune out of a book, except her own! -Now, among the many prides her mother has gathered, -the one that bothers Mary the most, is that -she does not like any body to think she is Irish; she -thinks she <span class='it'>turns her tongue</span> so purty on the English, -and as my poor mistress says (for she heard her at -it) with a brogue, a rale Cork brogue; not the same -as our pretty, delicate Leinster accent; but (as the -mistress says) ‘a brogue strong enough to carry St. -Paul’s to St. Peter’s,’ and so I thought, <span class='it'>particularly -now, when it’s on the road</span>. My mistress says it’s -quite absurd to look at her courtesey; and when you -talk to her of her country, to hear her cry out—‘Why -then, how did you know I was Irish?’ The -Irish divert my poor mistress a great deal. She encourages -me to tell all about my country, and she -has been more like a mother than a lady to Mary -Considine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But about poor Mary. She was overjoyed that -her father and mother took so to me, and, indeed, so -was I, for the music of home is in Mary’s sweet -voice; and it is the next best thing to being in my -own land, to hear her sing ‘The Exile of Erin;’ and -then, while the tears are wet on my cheek, she tunes -up ‘Shielan-a-guira,’ with a heart and a half; her -eyes are so beaming with light, that you wonder -where the dark place is in them, and yet <a id='its'></a>it’s all the -time a light in darkness. I can’t discourse you now -her features one by one, but altogether: the poor -Irish never pass her in the street without a blessing, -or the English without a stare—still I saw that Mary -was far from happy. I have not much time to watch -or inquire, but I could not sleep for thinking of her—Mrs. -Considine’s mouth was full of the titles of the -great quality she’d see in the Park, and she traveled -about with a book she called a peerage, in her -pocket, while poor Mary would show me the bits of -flowers she’d pick out of the grass, or bring my mistress -a bunch of violets from Covent Garden Market. -As to her father, he hardly ever stirs out, except to -watch that his son, who has a situation at Blackwall, -does not spend his pence on an omnibus—he -makes a fair god of his money; how the priest gets -over it I don’t know, for he’s the greatest miser -I ever heard of—a fair neager<a id='r22'/><a href='#f22' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[22]</span></sup></a>—not like his countrymen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, aunt; at last poor little Mary let me into -the very heart of her trouble. She was in love—in -love with maybe you think some delicate dandy chap -of an Englishman; for Mary is very little—a fairy of -a thing, (God bless us!) that might pass for a real -‘fairy’ in her own country—as thin as a willow-wand, -as straight as a bullrush, but small, you understand. -I wanted her to tell me who it was, and -she used to hide her face and cry, and then look up, -blushing like a rose among the dew-drops. At last, -she said she’d <span class='it'>show</span> him to me next evening; she -was going to confession, and he would do the same, -and meet her at the door. So away they went. -There were three or four young men at the door, one -with a sky-blue tie and a fine waistcoat. I was so -sure <span class='it'>that was him</span>, that I never looked at any one -else; but she passed on, tossing her head disdainfully -at the blue tie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘He’s not here,’ she whispered; and the little -creature trembled on my arm. She soon made a -clean breast, and I waited, as I had leave to do; the -sky-blue tie waited also, but Mary was too quick for -him, she darted round the corner, while he was admiring -his own shadow, thrown by the full moon on -the wall, and I after her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Come on,’ she said, almost breathlessly; ‘come -on; that’s the man my father wants me to marry, -but <span class='it'>I’ll die first</span>!’ We walked fast, but she took, -as I thought, the wrong turning—I told her so, but -she looked up in my face, and smiled. It was a narrow -court, and at the far end, a smith’s forge. I -heard the bang of the hammer, and saw the light, all -in a glow, and a thousand sparkles like falling stars! -Mary got under the shadow of the houses—she crept -on, the hammer going, the fire glowing, the sparkles -falling all the time, and the shadow as of a giant, -forging the red bar, as if the hammer was a wand. -Well, she avoided the door, but drew me on to a slit -in the window, still keeping in the shadow—‘that’s -him,’ she whispered. Aunt, dear, the sweetheart -that mite of a little beauty had set her love on, was—just -there and then—a rale giant! He looked -strong enough to fling a thunderbolt, and active -enough to make a play-fellow of the lightning. -When he stopped, and threw back his hair, I thought -I had never seen so noble a head, but his face looked -pale in the flashing light. Mary never spoke but the -one word, she never sighed, nor signed to him in any -way, yet he wiped his brow, pulled down his sleeves, -and came to the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Mary, Mary,’ he whispered, and his voice was -as soft as the coo of a wood-quest.<a id='r23'/><a href='#f23' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[23]</span></sup></a> ‘Speak, Mary, -I know you are there, it’s no use hiding from me, I -know it as well as if my eyes were looking into yours, -and as if you had told me so.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I am here, Philip,’ she said. ‘My friend was -with me, and as you were not at the Priest’s, I thought -you had something to do particular.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Yes, Mary,’ he answered; ‘but <span class='it'>that</span> did not -keep me. Your father came here to-night; he gave -me clearly to understand, and without civility, he -did not wish me to continue to keep your company; -he said, your mind, as well as his own, turned another -way.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘And you believed him?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Her voice was like the murmur of a young bird -in its nest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I believed my own eyes,’ he answered, folding -his great arms over his chest, his eyes glaring in his -dusky face like coals of fire. ‘I went to the Priest’s -door, and saw that clean, done-up youth, with his -blue tie round his throat, and his boyish hands, only -fit to finger a yard measure, scenting the place with -his white pocket-handkerchief. O, Mary, fancy my -hands dangling a scented handkerchief!’ and he -dashed them passionately forward. ‘When you did -change,’ he added, ‘you might have chosen a man—not -a monkey.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘And you misdoubted me,’ she said, standing firm -and straight in her pride. ‘Well, then, Philip, I’ll -just say good-bye at once;’ and then she struggled -and struggled to untwist something from her neck, -and flung it right in through the window. The fire, -which had been flickering and flickering, flamed up, -and there, lying on the black floor, shone a little -golden locket, and a broken velvet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To my dying day, I shall never forget the look -that strong man cast from the locket to Mary, but I -know he could not see <span class='it'>her</span> face, it was in the darkness -<span class='it'>to him</span>, though I saw, plain enough, her quivering -lips and glowing cheeks—he stamped on the -locket, and I heard it scrunch beneath his foot. -She flew like a rapid over a rock of the Shannon, -and was away in a minute—I turned to follow her, -but the strong grasp of the smith was on my -shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Why did she come here at all?’ he said, and his -voice was deep and husky. ‘What brought her? -why should she come to torture me? it’s all along of -the old man’s love of money, and her mother’s mad -love of fine names. She told me my name, Philip -Roche, was vulgar. O, to think of the love I bore -her, slaving by day and night to make her a home, -keeping to my pledge, and working—and well able to -do it—on water.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mary, I told him, knew nothing of it, she had no -hand in it: I wanted to tell him how she took me to -the door to see <span class='it'>him</span>, and not finding him there, drew -me to the forge—her innocent heart full of love for -him, and for him alone; the thoughts came fast -enough into my head, but I could not speak them—I -was bewildered, the despair written in his face -haunted me—the look he gave, and the iron hand on -my shoulder, stupefied me altogether, and though we -walked on fast—fast after her—I trembled in every -limb, and lost all power of speech.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Words he certainly spoke betimes, and they -hissed off his lips, as water hisses off a smoothing-iron. -We tramped faster and faster, past the houses, -and under the light of the lamps, and through the -people, until we came to the court where they lived—<span class='it'>there</span> -he stopped in sight of the door, and such a -sight it was to him!—for there, on the very step, -waiting to have it opened, stood Mary Considine, and -the blue neck-tie. I cannot tell you, aunt dear, how -it was that I felt so interested for that strange, strong -smith, Philip Roche, whom I had never, to say rightly, -seen. No wonder the people stopped and stared after -him, for he was without a hat, and his long hair <span class='it'>tossicated</span> -about his head: I looked up to him, and maybe -it was best that I could not see his features, I only -heard him mutter—‘Do you see, do you see? Has -she <span class='it'>no hand in it now</span>?’ He staggered forward, but -I caught him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Have patience,’ I said; ‘have patience, it will -all come right, she has no hand in it.’ He threw me -off as if I had been a child, and the last I saw of him -was his head above the people that had gathered -round the court. I walked quietly on, and when I -entered the house there stood Mary, white as a sheet, -while Mr. and Mrs. Considine were doing all manner -of civilities to the young man, who was acting the -gentleman, smiling and bowing and twisting a seal—set -the likes of him up with a seal—at the end of his -watch-chain—a seal which was big enough for the -rapper of a hall-door—and dangling a ring he had on -his starved, crooked, little finger, right in the foolish -old man’s eyes. ‘And wont you sit down, Mr. Henry -Highley,’ said one, ‘and wont you stop for <span class='it'>tay</span>,’ says -the other. And seeing me staring at him, Mrs. Considine -adds—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘A young lady-friend of my daughter’s, who -stops mostly with a friend of her own at the West-end.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, aunt, I didn’t care about her calling me a -lady, but I couldn’t bear being put on a level with -my mistress, a rale lady born.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I said, ‘my mistress lives at the West-end, -sure enough.’ Mrs. Considine frowned at me, and -Mary left the little room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Come back, Mary,’ called her father; ‘bring -her back,’ whispered her mother.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was well I followed her—she had fainted: I -laid her on the bed, and did all I could for her. -When she was coming to herself, she put up her -hand—I thought, maybe, to feel for the locket, but -that might be my fancy. It was long before I could -make her deaf father understand that she was too ill -to return, but her mother saw it at once, and after -we put her to bed, and she drank a cup of tea, and -said she thought to go to sleep, we left her—I staid -a few minutes below, though I saw the old man -wished me gone. And now, aunt, don’t be angry, -but I think I could have found it in my heart to give -that <span class='it'>Cub-een</span> of a fellow, a glass of poison: his face -was not only vicious, sharp, and thin, and active, like -a rat’s—but he had his eyes every where. I saw -him weigh the tea-spoon on his fore-finger in a balancing -sort of fashion, and then look at the mark to -be sure it was silver: he drew the old people on in -such a way, getting more out of Mr. Considine than -ever was got out of him before, as to his property -and means—getting him to talk of interest and bankers, -and the like: and the old man cursed the savings -banks, and said money was never so safe as in one’s -own house, and that the best of all banks for him -was his leather bag—the more I looked at Mr. Henry -Highley, the more I hated him, and sorry enough -was I to know that young Considine had gone a journey -for his employer, and was not to the fore, when -most wanted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I stole up for another look at Mary. She was, -or <span class='it'>pur</span>tended to be, asleep; but it was put into my -heart to kneel down and pray for her. The words -were not many, but the Lord knew their meaning. -I dipped my finger in the holy-water cup, that hung -at the head of her bed, and signed the blessed sign -over her forehead, without touching her. She looked -so helpless, and so lonely there—her young innocent -face, still wet with tears, turned up to the heavens—the -moonlight was hindered from shining on her by -the fog that hangs about the London streets by day -and night; and maybe so best, for moonlight lays -heavy on a throbbing brow, and is not over lucky, -particularly—as you know—when it’s full moon. So -I did not go into the little room again, but hurried -home, for I had overstaid my time by more than an -hour. I was near my own street, when who came -to my side but Mr. Henry Highley: and he said, it -was dull walking my lone,<a id='r24'/><a href='#f24' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[24]</span></sup></a> and he’d see me home, -and I told him I had the sight of my eyes, and could -see myself and him too. And he said I was very -witty, and I said, I was sorry I could not return the -compliment. Then he thought to fish out about my -mistress—she must be a rich lady to keep the likes -of me. And I answered riches had nothing to do -with that: I did not want to sell myself, or buy any -one, and that I should be happier to serve for love -than for money; but he stuck to the question—Had -she plate and jewels? So, turning sharp on him, I -said that any one would think he was a house-breaker, -and I laughed: this was at the door; and -there was a policeman passing, who stopped. Well, -aunt, Mr. Henry Highley, without another word—with -your leave or by your leave—whisked off.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘What do you know of that young man?’ inquired -the blue-coat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Nothing pleasant,’ I said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Where did you meet him?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘You are neither judge or jury, to be questioning -me,’ I answered; for it isn’t the nature of an Irish -girl to put up with a policeman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I mark you,’ he said very stiff—but they are all -that—‘and when the time comes, young woman, I’ll -find a way to make you tell,’ and he walked off.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, aunt dear, sure I had enough of walking on -and off that night! My mistress was angry; but I -did as you told me often enough—instead of making -excuses, and inventions, which come mighty pleasant -and natural, I just told the plain truth—quiet and easy—all -except the last, for I did not wish to make her -uneasy, as I was myself, having a cruel bad opinion -of Mr. Henry Highley.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s mighty <span class='it'>quare</span> how, in this wonderful city of -business and bother, how your little, peaceful sayings, -darling aunt! and the songs you sung to the -wheel of a winter’s evening, with none but the -pusheen-cat, and myself, and a cricket or two to the -fore, come into my head, or one of Watts’ hymns, -in the very bustle of the town: I often dust the room -to ‘Aileen Mavourneen,’ and brush my lady’s hair -to ‘Eveleen’s bower,’ played on the chords of my -heart. Sometimes, when I draw back the curtain, -and shade the light of the pale night-lamp, with my -hand, for fear it might wake her—the mistress I -mean—for I never lay down until she is asleep: often, -when I watch her features, worn with pain, yet -so still, and gentle-looking, and see her pale, pink -lips, half open, and such a sweet smile on them, I -think—the sleeping face differs so from the waking -one—that angels must be whispering the joys that -will come. When the last dull sleep is ended, aunt, -I am sure I should go mad if I thought that dear innocent -woman, so tortured in this world, yet so -meek in herself, so thoughtful and generous to the -poor, so kind in her judgments, so fond to take the -sorrows of all who have sorrow into her bosom, and -turn them to blessings—I should indeed break my -heart, if I believed that, for reading the one book another -way, we should never meet in the world that’s -to come. I can’t believe it, so there’s enough about -it. As I looked at her, the song of ‘The Angels’ -Whisper,’ came for a second time into my head that -night, and then I <span class='it'>crooned</span> over that ‘Savourneen -delish’ you are so fond of; and that brought poor -Tom and his motherless children before me! Aunt, -dear—maybe I didn’t use Tom well! I couldn’t -help it: though you often told me I should not cast out -dirty water until I could get clean—not a grate compliment -to Tom either!—yet to be obliged, after a -few words, to be a mother all out to three sharp -children; and if <span class='it'>he</span> was cold and weary, and didn’t -smile and talk every day the same, to have the -creeping chill steal over me like the shake,<a id='r25'/><a href='#f25' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[25]</span></sup></a> that -he was thinking of his first wife, and maybe comparing -us in his own mind—that would drive me as -wild as the other thing I tould you of a while ago; -and yet, I own to you, I have thought more of poor -Tom since I left home, than ever I did while I was -there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The next day, and the next day, and the next -passed, and no word from Mary, and my mistress -was ill. Once I ran as far as the turn to the -lane, and looked down at the forge. The fire was -burning low, and there was no sound of the hammer -on the anvil. At last, Mrs. Considine herself called; -she was very full of prate: she had the dirty red -book, as usual, half sticking out of her black bag: -she said, that indeed Mary had demeaned herself by -taking up with nothing but a smith, a great friend of -her brother’s, and one she would not deny who had -done him more than one good turn, and would be -right well to do in the world if he had a little capital -to push him on, which neither her nor her husband -would give to a man of the name of Roche. -Roche, indeed! Roches were as plentiful as black-berries, -and as common, where she came from. Set -her Mary before the priest with a Roche? No, no; -Mr. Henry Highley was the man for their money, so -nice a gentleman; for every sovereign her husband -laid down as Mary’s fortune, he would lay down another, -or could two! And such <span class='it'>jewelery</span> as he had; -rings for every finger, and fine watches, one set with -precious stones—which had belonged to his grandmother—a -Talbot itself! There was all about the -family printed in the peerage, and sure it wouldn’t -be <span class='it'>there</span> if it wasn’t true—but indeed she couldn’t -tell what was come over Mary: she had no pride, -no spirit in her; her husband would weigh the -watches in his hand, and look at the rings all day, -and ask what they were worth over and over again, -and take them to bed with him, if he was let, he had -such delight in them. But they might be so much -<span class='it'>pinchback</span>, for any thing Mary cared; they would -have the wedding at once, and when it was over, -she’d know better. Mr. Highley was so fond of -her, he wouldn’t hear of delay, not even until her -brother came home! She let on that Mary, when -married, would be too grand company for the likes -of me, but that <span class='it'>she</span> would not be proud. I might -look in sometimes, she’d be glad to see my mistress -when they got into a new lodging, which Mr. Highley -said they must after the wedding—for <span class='it'>his</span> sake, -dear, sweet, well-born, well-bred young gentleman!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like her impudence, it was: <span class='it'>My mistress itself!</span> -<span style='font-size:smaller'>MY MISTRESS!</span> visit with her: och hone! -What would the cards on the fine china dish say to -it, if they could but speak? But, aunt dear, what -do you think I did, when she, and her bag, and her -book were cleared out of the house? I told my -mistress every word she had said. Now it was a -mercy that she was quite herself that morning, and -sure enough she has a head almost as clear for business -as our dear <span style='font-size:smaller'>QUEEN’S</span>! God bless it for ever, -for a right, royal, noble head!—the Queen’s, I mean—She -did not ponder long, but laying her spectacles -in her Bible, for a mark, she set it besides the china -dish.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Ellen,’ she said, ‘have you ever seen the policeman, -who spoke to you, since that night?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I said I had: that very morning he was on -our beat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Bring him to me, Ellen.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My heart was <span class='it'>leping</span>—leping up into my mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Bring him into the house?’ I repeated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘into the house.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Have I done any thing wrong, ma’am?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So she smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Nothing, but very right: do as I tell you.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That ‘Do as I tell you,’ is the same thing as -‘Hold your tongue.’ So, aunt dear, if you please, -you must just fancy me looking for a real, living -policeman; and for a wonder, I found him when he -was wanted. He soon stood like a <span class='it'>statute</span> before -my mistress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She told him word for word what I have told -you: he noted it all down in a bit of a book, and was -mighty particular over the number of rings and the -Talbot watch; he then looked at me, and my mistress -nodded for me to leave the room. Now, wasn’t -that too bad?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never felt more hard set to put up with any -thing in my born days; but I went—and, only my -mistress has nerves, wouldn’t I have banged the -door? When the bell rung he was gone: she told -me I was to go over in the evening, and see Mary. -When I got there, Mrs. Considine was watching for -the postman, who was coming down the court. She -took a letter from him, which I saw was directed to -Mary: she read it hastily, and tossed it into the fire. -‘My relations,’ she said, with a toss of a different -kind, ‘hearing of the fine match Mary is going to -make, write constantly to get them situations.’ A -double story—I was so ashamed for her. Aunt dear, -God bless you for teaching me that there is no such -thing as an ‘innocent lie.’ The old miser of a man -was in a little inner room they have, divided by a -passage from the one we were in, where they sleep -themselves: the windows open into a lane, dark as -dungeon by day or night. He was fumbling at his -leather bag, and came out talking to himself, muttering -such things as these—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘At first he said it should be guinea for guinea; -but now, it’s two guineas for one—two guineas for -one! Ah! Nelly Nowlan, a fine match! The -smith had nothing but his four bones, and would -have wanted my hard-earned, little savings, and no -guinea for guinea, or one to two:’ and his eyes, so -dim and glassy, rolled within their seamed lids, and -he rubbed his skinny, bloodless hands together, as if -joy and gold were all one. ‘Money makes the man,’ -he continued, ‘all England owns that: they are a -wise people, the English, they never ask <span class='it'>what you -are</span>, but <span class='it'>what you have</span>. When my pretty daughter -sits on her own car, wont every one bow to her and -I? O, if I was back in my own place, instead of poor -ould Ned Considine, wouldn’t I be Mr. Edward, sir, -with a ’squire to it! Ah, ah, I know the world, but -the world does not know me!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Has there been no letter?’ I heard the low, -trembling voice of Mary inquire, as she entered the -house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘The girl’s foolish to be asking after letters. -One from Ireland, from our people, wanting places,’ -was her mother’s reply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When Mary saw me, she burst into tears, and -hung about my neck like a child. She whispered -that she was not long for this world, that Philip had -forgotten her, that she should never be happy more. -She would obey her parents and die—my mistress -had warned me to hear all and say nothing. I comforted -poor Mary as well as I could, and was asked -to the wedding the next day—I told my mistress, and -again she saw the policeman. O, aunt, wasn’t it -cruel of the mistress not to trust me? I didn’t care -what she had to say, but I did want to be trusted. -She said she did not fear my zeal, only my discretion. -Wasn’t it hard?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I went to the wedding—there was the Priest, a -fine, ould, ancient Clargy, of the right sort: there -was the bridegroom, looking pale and wicked, with -as much finery on him as would set up a jeweler’s -shop. There was the father and mother, all excited; -there were a couple of bridesmaids, new-fangled acquaintances, -and two or three strangers, friends of the -bridegroom’s, that Mr. and Mrs. Considine made a -great fuss over, and called by the finest of names: -there was a dinner, half-laid out in an upper room, -that no one on the banks of the Shannon ever saw -the like of: little puff things, all ornamented out by -a real confectioner, in a white apron, such a sight of -folly and nonsense. I was quite set on one side, and -looked on any thing but kindly by the whole of them, -except the old man, who kept on talking about his -money. They seemed all unnatural to me, as if they -only wanted the bride as a part of the ceremony, -while all over the world, if a woman is ever as a -queen, <a id='its2'></a>it’s from the morning till the evening of her -wedding day, what she is after that depends upon another. -The bridesmaids kept going in and out, and -at last, one had the manners to tell me, the bride -wanted me. I knew that long ago.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She was standing like a spirit, all in white, in the -middle of her little room. She seemed turned into -stone, stiff and stark as a corpse in its shroud: her -mother was wringing her hands by her side, her face -like scarlet, and if ever she spoke with a brogue she -did then.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Och Mary a lanna machree!—Sure it isn’t disgracing -us you’d be, going back of your word, Mary, -my own darlin’ child. Sure, darlin’, I hated the -very ground yer father walked on, even after I had -married him a good while. I was disappointed in -him, dear: but when I got over thinking of love, -and all that sort of nonsense, when my heart dried -up, and I was all head, I knew what a fine, savin’ -man I had got, who understood the value, even of a -brass farthing: he was <span class='it'>ould</span> enough to be my father—let -alone yours; but what does that signify, he -helped me to grow ould before my time: and look at -the money he’s able to give you, and win you, Mary -<span class='it'>mavourneen</span>—what’s come to you, child? sure you -consented all out, and what ails you now?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I pressed her cold hands within mine: they felt -turned into bone, cold and hard and dry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘You’re murderin’ your own child, Mrs. Considine,’ -I said: ‘you are killing her as surely as if -you put a pistol to her head, or poison to her lips.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The wicked old man called to Mary from the bottom -of the stairs to go down, and added a curse on -her delay: the bridesmaids—one in particular, who -was as hard as the rest at first, had kept on saying—God -forgive her—that love one side was like a fire, -and would soon catch the other—now looked terrified, -and pity-struck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Again the call and the curse were repeated: -Mary started, as if from a dream: she drank off a -glass of water from her mother’s hand, who kept repeating—‘That’s -a jewel, there’s a darlin’, <span class='it'>corra -machree</span> was she,’ and such like nonsense; to which -the poor girl made no reply, but pressed her hands -on her temples, and whispered to me—‘Pray to God -for me!’ She walked straight into the room: the -bridegroom met her with ‘Sweet Love,’ and a -flourish of his pocket-handkerchief, a smile on his -lips—but such oak-sticks between his eyes. She put -him on one side with her little hand, and advancing to -the priest, knelt down reverently before him: there -was a hush in the room, nothing heard but the clink -of the gold in the leather bag the old man was shaking -out of pride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, it would have melted a heart of stone to look -at that young creature! Tears overflowing her face, -so that she could not speak, and her hands wrung together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The bridegroom whispered something to her -mother about her being nervous, but it would soon -go off: I could have killed him! He then handed -round the ring for us to look at; aye, while <span style='font-size:smaller'>SHE</span> was -weeping and trembling at the priest’s feet. When -he held it to me, I struck it down. Aunt, I could -not help it! What a look he gave! It rolled along -the floor; but his attention was drawn to Mary’s -words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Father,’ she sobbed, to the priest, ‘save me—save -me from my own people; save me, a young, -helpless girl; save me from marrying him I hate. -Oh, do not let them put the sin of a false oath upon -my young head—I cannot love him. Father, you -know I owned to you in holy confession, but ten -days past, that I loved another—that I love him still. -I will never, never speak to him, or write to him, or -ask to set eyes on him again; I will quit the world, -and go into a holy house if you think me fit for it—but -oh, save me, save me from perjuring my soul—save -me,’ she repeated wildly, ‘or I shall go mad!’ -To see the holy priest raise her up; to see him place -her in his own chair; to see him put his hands upon -her head, and hear his words of comfort! ‘Trust in -me, my dear child; I will never join a willing to an -unwilling hand; be calm, my child; and you,’ he said, -turning to the bridegroom, ‘and you, have <span class='it'>you</span> the -feelings of a man, to stand by and see this, and wish -to keep her to her promise?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I never promised him—I never promised him,’ -sobbed Mary—‘the most I ever said, and that was in -anger and agony—was—that I would do my parents’ -bidding. Father! Mother!—you cannot be so cruel -at the last.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Considine edged up to his reverence—‘Talk to -her, holy father,’ he muttered, ‘talk to her: he’s so -rich—rings, and watches and <span class='it'>goolden</span> guineas two to -one, holy father, think of that? two to one! her mother -married me for my goold, and we’ve been happy—two -to one, holy father!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Begone!’ said the priest sternly, in such grand -English, ‘and do not dare to stain this holy sacrament -by the money-loving spirit that crushes your soul to -destruction. If this dear child persists in her refusal, -I myself forbid the marriage.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, aunt dear, the lep I gave, and found myself at -his holy feet as if he was the Pope of Rome! and surely -no pope could have looked more like a guardian angel -than he did at that minute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I must speak with you in private,’ said the -bridegroom to his intended father-in-law as meek as -a lamb, ‘just one word;’ and he laid his hand so -gently on the old man’s arm: ‘this can be arranged.’ -They went out of the room together, Mrs. Considine -exclaiming, while clapping her hands so vulgarly! -‘<span class='it'>Och-e-yah!</span> the poor, dear young man! Ah, then! -Och Mary, my <span class='it'>gra</span> girl, how could you have the heart -to refuse such a match? and he, after promising you -a car—a cab, I mean, of your own. Och Mary, darlin’, -be friends with him, Mary <span class='it'>Machree</span>! <span class='it'>Och yah!</span> -poor broken-hearted crayther that I am!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She kept on that way for some time, until a fall, -which shook the house, and the dull, hoarse scream -of murder startled us into silence. The priest and -myself rushed to the door; but the two groomsmen -came between us, exclaiming, ‘It was in the court.’ -I saw the whole thing then, like a flash of lightning, -bright and clear. Again the cry. We cleared the -way somehow; the window of their bed-room was -open, and the poor old man, blinded by the blood -which gushed from a wound in his head, was groveling -on the floor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We lifted him up: his fingers kept on grappling -the air, while his cries of ‘Murder!’ and ‘Help!’ -were broken by such words as ‘My money! my -bag! my hard-earned money! catch him! two to one -indeed! Oh let me after him!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was an awful sight—the roars of the old man -for his money, the shrieks of Mrs. Considine, the -still more terrible calmness of Mary, who, while -binding up her father’s head, said ‘This is my doing.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There was a scuffling at the outward door. -‘Keep a brave heart, Mary Considine,’ said the priest, -‘he’s not hurt to signify.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘A hundred and fifty in the bag, not a farthing -less, the murdering young villain; oh, I can’t live—I -wont live.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Shame upon you,’ said the silver voice of the -fine old priest. ‘Give God thanks for your deliverance, -first from the man, next from your money.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘They are both here,’ said my policeman, who -came upon us unawares; ‘it would be strange if we -were not up to Bill Soames. We caught him on the -bound, but I managed badly this time; I ought to -have saved you that tap on the head, old gentleman; -though I must say it serves you right, to want to give -that poor girl to a fellow once tried for bigamy, and -a house-breaker to boot!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aunt, I tore a silk handkerchief to ribands, trying -to keep my hands off the blue tie, who stood as -if nothing had happened, between two other policemen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It’s but a step to the court, and the magistrate -is sitting,’ continued the superintendent; ‘half an -hour will send my old acquaintance to his quarters.’ -Of course there was plenty of people outside; and in -the midst of it all the two groomsmen had cleared the -table of every spoon, and Mr. Considine’s own watch, -during the time we were with the old man. Oh, -what a deliverance for poor Mary!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My heart flew into my mouth—I was as light as -a lark leaving the corn-field for the sky in the early -morning, and from the same cause, both thankful for -the new light!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I was <span class='it'>so</span> happy!—‘He’s of a <span class='it'>high family</span>, -ma’am,’ said the policeman, with a knowing look at -Mrs. Considine; ‘all that I heard of, traveled at the -expense of government, while some—you understand -me?—’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He made a sign round his throat, not pleasant to -look at, while Mrs. Considine’s grief took a new -turn, and she bemoaned the disgrace to her family, -and the loss of the family plate! It was delightful -how brisk the old man grew when he knew that his -money was found—he called the cut a scratch, and -said ‘his head would be all the better for a taste of -the ould times,’ and away they went, the whole -party—barring<a id='r26'/><a href='#f26' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[26]</span></sup></a> his reverence, and Mary, Mrs. Considine -(who declared nothing should force her to -enter a police-court) and myself—were cleared out -of the house, and I had the satisfaction of seeing Mr. -Henry Highley in the grasp of two policemen; Mary -came wonderful to herself, considerin’, and went to -her room. I peeped through a crack, and saw her -on her knees before the image of the blessed Virgin. -Mrs. Considine continued sobbing, and exclaiming -all the time she wandered about the house—I was -just going to see how they were getting on in the -court, when the priest called me back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Nelly,’ he says; I made my courtesy—‘Nelly,’ -he says again—‘it is a beautiful dinner.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Indeed, your reverence,’ I answered, ‘it would -be <span class='it'>that</span> certainly when the solid things come on the -table; there was to be a roast turkey, and a ham, -and such a lovely piece of boiled beef—poor Mrs. -Considine was bemoaning it all to me not a minute -ago.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘A ham, a roast turkey, and a fine piece of -boiled beef,’ repeated his reverence slowly, ‘besides -all the kickshaws—and wine?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘The finest of port, (thick round the bottles with -age) and champagne, that the villain of a bridegroom -brought,’ I answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Say nothing about who brought it, Nelly, if -it’s <span class='it'>there</span>, and he’s not,’ said his reverence—he -paused awhile, but I knew by the twinkle of his -eyes, he was thinking of something past the common—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It’s a mighty fine dinner, Nelly!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It is, your reverence.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Nelly, it’s a sin and a shame to have such a -dinner as that in the house, and no wedding.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘True, for your reverence.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Nelly, we must have a wedding!’ and he looked -me through and through.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Your reverence,’ I said—hardly knowing how -to answer, ‘knows best; but I don’t see how at this -present time; it’s my ignorance, your reverence.’ -He shook his head and smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I know the secrets of more hearts than one, and -instead of going down to the court, just step away to -Philip Roche, and tell him what happened and how -Mary kept true to her old love, and let him dress -himself at once—we’re not tied to canonical hours -like our neighbors—and tell him from me, to come -here, and before the evening’s out, Nelly, we’ll have -a wedding, and a dinner, and a dance!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, how I flew! There was Philip in the thick -of cold iron, reading a paper about emigration. I -never saw a man so altered: he was but the ghost of -himself, bent and bowed and broken-hearted, he -seemed, and his voice as changed as himself, he -knew me at once, and knew that it was <span class='it'>her</span> wedding -day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It’s all over by this time, I know,’ he said, -with a ghastly smile; ‘and I suppose you have -brought me the bride-cake tied with green riband.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Here was the place,’ he continued, going across -a little yard, ‘where I thought she might live quiet -and content; a pretty, bright room for London, and -two others inside it—she could sit in that window -at her sewing, and sing; and, if she raised her head, -see me at work at the forge—she never even answered -my letters—for I was too hasty that evening; -but it’s over now. She never can be any thing -more to me; yet this day’s post brought me a letter, -telling of an uncle’s death in New York, who has left -a good thousand English pounds, to be divided between -my brother and myself; so I’ll just sell off, -and go after it. Old Considine might have kept his -money; it was not <span class='it'>that</span> I wanted; but it’s all over!’ -Such a wail as there was in the voice of the strong, -broken down man, like the <span class='it'>sough</span> of the winter’s -wind, I could keep silent no longer. I believe he -thought me wild—mad; I could hardly begin my tale -for joy—joy throbbing in my heart—joy beating in -my throat, and keeping back my words. I got it -out at last, all that passed in one little hour, on which -depended so much happiness or misery; oh, aunt, he -is such a great darlint! Not a bit of exultation over -Mr. and Mrs. Considine; only bitter reproaches to -himself for not having understood Mary better; wondering -if she could ever forgive him!—and so glad -her father was not badly hurt. Oh, how my heart -warmed to him! And when, at last, I bid him trust -all to his reverence, to see how quickly he dressed! -and maybe <span class='it'>he</span> didn’t look like an O’Brian, or an -O’Sullivan, or some of the great, grand O’s—so -plenty about Killarney in the ancient times. I didn’t -know my own shadow on the wall, side-beside his; -and yet he was so overcome, that at times he stopped -from downright weakness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The priest opened the door with his own blessed -hands: they had returned from the police-court, and -his reverence had both the old people crying. I -don’t think Mr. Considine heard all he said; but, -indeed, his heart was softened; he was ashamed of -having been imposed on by a well-known London -thief; and who can say that he was not grateful for -his deliverance? for, next to his money, he loved his -child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Come in, Philip Roche,’ said the priest; ‘there -has been a bit of a misunderstanding here, which we -are sorry for; but it’s well to forget and forgive. -Mrs. Considine says she never believed Mary thought -so much about you, or she would not have put between -you: if you can make friends with the little -girl up-stairs, we’ll have the wedding!—and the -dinner!—and now, Nelly Nowlan, I trust to you to -bring Mary Considine down, without telling her why. -Leave that to me.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, then, isn’t that priest a rale minister? The -delight he took in his little innocent plot, and all to -make those young people happy! He hid away -Philip in the back-room, and Mary came with me, -easy enough, when I told her her father and mother -were crying.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Now, Mary, my child,’ says the priest, ‘you’ll -obey me, wont you?—that’s right. I must give you -a penance, Mary: I saved you from one husband, -my darling—I have found you another!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The life that had come slowly back to the poor -girl seemed leaving her altogether, but Philip could -not bear it—he rushed forward, and caught her in -his arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t tell you what he said, aunt, or what any -one said; but in less than five minutes the priest had -opened his book.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘What will be done for a ring?’ sobbed Mrs. -Considine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had picked up the one I struck from the hand -of that wicked man, and said so.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Use <span class='it'>his</span> ring!’ exclaimed Philip; and he flung -it into the fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Oh, the sinful waste!’ screamed old Considine; -‘it was pure gold.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He would have raked the fire out to find it, but -the priest commanded him to be still. Oh, but he’s -a fine man; only terrible in anger. Aunt, I’ll tell you -the truth; if I had a very heavy sin, it’s not to him -I’d go.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘The key of the door will do as well,’ he said; -‘it’s the <span class='it'>sign</span> of the Eternal Union we want, nothing -more.’ No one gainsaid him, and in another five -minutes they were bound together in the sight of -God and man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘And now for her fortune, Mr. Considine,’ said -the good priest, so considerate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The young smith stood straighter than ever on the -floor; straight and firm. With one arm he drew his -little bride to his heart, the other he held out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It would all feel to me like a dream,’ he said, -‘but for this.’ He pressed her more closely to him, -bent down and kissed her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Keep your money, Mr. Considine; cross or coin -of yours, sir, I’ll never touch. Mary was all I ever -cared for, and only this blessed morning did I learn -that it has pleased God to give me what you think so -much of. Mary, your husband has five hundred -good pounds of his own: keep your money, Mr. Considine, -I never cared for it; but I must say—’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘<span class='it'>No more</span>,’ interrupted the priest. ‘Let us have -in some of our good friends and neighbors; and, -Nelly Nowlan, sure it’s a comfort that the beautiful -dinner wont be wasted.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And so, aunt darling, there’s an end of Mary -Considine; for in all the books I read my mistress, -there seems an end of a woman when she marries—a -wife and a mother go for nothing! And maybe, I -haven’t something to tell you about <span class='it'>that</span>, for sure -enough, the women (some of them) want to change -places; now who do you think with, aunt? I am -sure your simple head would never find out. Shall -I tell you next time?”</p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_21'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f21'><a href='#r21'>[21]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Plenty.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_22'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f22'><a href='#r22'>[22]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Neager, <span class='it'>i. e.</span> miser.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_23'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f23'><a href='#r23'>[23]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Wood-Pigeon.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_24'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f24'><a href='#r24'>[24]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>“My lone,” alone.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_25'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f25'><a href='#r25'>[25]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shake,” ague.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_26'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f26'><a href='#r26'>[26]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Except, putting aside.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk130'/> - -<div><h1><a id='toad'></a>TO ADHEMAR.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>E. A. L.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thy voice flows o’er my list’ning heart, like sound</p> -<p class='line0'>  From fairy fount, or lute in land of dreams,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And full thy loveliness upon me teems,</p> -<p class='line0'>With thy bright presence lighting all around,</p> -<p class='line0'>Until my pulses leap like rills unbound.</p> -<p class='line0'>  I see again thine eyes’ effulgent beams—</p> -<p class='line0'>  I walk with thee along the laughing streams—</p> -<p class='line0'>Thro’ whispering groves—o’er flower-bespangled ground,</p> -<p class='line0'>And feel thy glowing touch my heart-strings thrill,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As I upon thy doating arm recline,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Listing thee speak, from out thy spirit’s shrine.</p> -<p class='line0'>Love-freighted words, whose heavenly music still</p> -<p class='line0'>Steals softly o’er my weary, thirsting soul,</p> -<p class='line0'>Exerting o’er it aye a calm and sweet control.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk131'/> - -<div><h1><a id='rev'></a>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</h1></div> - -<hr class='tbk132'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Course of the History of Modern Philosophy. By M. Victor -Cousin. Translated by O. W. Wight. New York: D. -Appleton & Co. 2 vols. 8vo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The thinking portion of the reading public are under -great obligations to Mr. Wight for his vigorous and accurate -version of Cousin’s master work, and to the -Messrs. Appletons for the beautiful dress in which it fitly -appears. It belongs, indeed, to that rare class of works -which illustrate the intellectual history of the age in which -they are produced; and it deserves the attention of all -readers who desire to take the first step in acquiring a -taste for metaphysics. It is composed of two courses of -lectures, originally delivered in Paris to large and enthusiastic -audiences, whose admiration of the splendid -eloquence of the lecturer soon compelled them to love the -subject likewise; and when published, their influence was -felt in every country into which the French language and -literature penetrates, and caused a revival in philosophy, -which somewhat amazed its hard and dry cultivators from -its peculiarity and its extent. These lectures, indeed, -made metaphysical science popular everywhere. Men -and women read Victor Cousin as they read Scott and -Byron. His bold and dazzling generalizations, expressed -in a style of singular clearness, energy and vehemence, -stimulated the most jaded minds; and the dictatorial confidence -with which he settled all the problems of history, -philosophy and religion, and the ease with which his -solutions were comprehended, made him the universal -favorite. There was something captivating, too, in the -theory by which he reconciled all the various systems in -his eclectic and electric method. There are four systems, -sensualism, idealism, skepticism, and mysticism, each having -its root in consciousness, each containing an element -of truth, and each wrong as an exclusive system. Select -from these what is true, place the four partial truths in -their relations, and the result is the eclectic philosophy. -This is a loose, short-hand statement, in unphilosophic -language, of Cousin’s scheme.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It must be admitted that Cousin’s system did not long -hold its ground. After the first surprise was over, the -metaphysicians <span class='it'>par eminence</span> began to attack him with -great fury, and gave him some blows from which he has -never recovered; and the public, who had been carried -away by his eloquence, forgot him as soon as another -novelty appeared. The result has been, that of late he has -not been estimated according to his real merits. He most -certainly has not done what he pretended to do. He has -not reconciled the philosophers or the philosophies; he -has hardly formed a school; his disciples have expired, recanted, -or left the inclusive for some more satisfactory exclusive -system. But he is still a metaphysician of uncommon -power, acuteness, insight, genius; his works are full -of important truths and principles, which stimulate the mind -to independent thought; his information is immense; and -he is the most brilliant, comprehensible and readable of all -the historians of philosophy. He is to metaphysical history -what Macaulay is to civil history; and we do not see -why the present work is not as capable of holding the -pleased and breathless attention of the intelligent reader as -the “History of the Revolution of 1688.” There is in -both writers the same confident manner of settling controversies -about which centuries of disputants have -wrangled; and, on the first blush, it seems impossible to -resist the statements of either of them, as both drive -directly at the common sense of men; are clear and brilliant, -while their opponents are obscure and dull; and -never leave the impression of an undefined something outside -of the limits of their respective systems, to puzzle and -torture their readers with a latent doubt. “I wish,” said -Lord Melbourne, “that I knew any thing as well as Tom -Macaulay knows every thing.” This “I know,” and “I -am sure,” this absence of self-distrust, is as characteristic -of Cousin as Macaulay; and the mischief is that after reading -either, we are apt to be as satisfied as they are themselves, -and think we have thoroughly mastered the matter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It would be impossible in our limited space to convey -an idea of the contents of these volumes. Beginning with -the proposition that philosophy is a special want and necessary -product of the human mind, and the last development -of thought, Cousin proceeds to show that it has -existed in every epoch of humanity, is a real element of -universal history, and contains the explanation of its -various parts. He thus explains Indian Civilization by -the Bhagavad-Gita, the age of Pericles by the philosophy -of Socrates, the sixteenth century by the philosophy of -Descartes, the eighteenth century by the philosophy of -Condillac and Helvetius. He then states the psychological -method in history, a method which is neither empirical or -speculative, but combines the two, seeking in history the -development of the human reason. After stating the fundamental -ideas of history, which are the fundamental ideas -of the human reason, namely, the Infinite, the finite, and -the relation between the two, he treats the great epochs -of history as answering to the successive development of -these ideas. The influence of geography, of nations, and of -great men, in history, is then stated with great eloquence, -force, and subtle complication of truth and paradox. Some -vigorous sketches of the historians of humanity and philosophy, -in which their merits are luminously exhibited and -their defects acutely analyzed, are followed by a view of -the philosophy of the 19th century. The eclectic tendency -of European society and philosophy is noted, and the -necessity is shown of a new general history of philosophy -to explain the new movement of thought. Next follows -a picture of the eighteenth century, with the character and -method of its philosophy. Its different systems are not -peculiar to that century; and the origin, natural development, -relative utility, and intrinsic merit of Sensualism, -Idealism, Skepticism, and Mysticism, the four classes into -which all ideas fall, are vigorously and clearly stated. The -history of these is then given, in a splendid review of the -Hindoo, Greek, Scholastic, and modern philosophies; and -the sensualism of the eighteenth century is traced to all -its sources. A criticism of Locke, running through ten -lectures, and generally considered to be the ablest of -Cousin’s productions, concludes the work.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It will be seen, even from this bold outline, that all the -questions which have puzzled human reason, and to which -it has at different periods given different answers, are -stated and discussed in Cousin’s work. The splendor -and the beauty, the unwearied energy and the rapid movement -of his style, carry the reader on to the end with -hardly a pause of distrust or fatigue; and we hope that a -translation, executed with such a lavish expenditure of -intelligence and industry as Mr. Wight’s, will meet with -its due reward in an extensive circulation. Certainly nothing -which can by courtesy be called a library can afford -to be without it.</p> - -<hr class='tbk133'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Works of Daniel Webster. Boston: Little & Brown, -6 vols. 8vo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This beautiful edition of the works of one of the greatest -statesmen that the country has produced, contains all the -speeches and legal arguments in the former editions of Mr. -Webster’s writings, together with the numerous orations -and addresses he has made since the year 1841, and the -masterly state papers which he produced while Secretary -of State in the administration of General Harrison. To -these are added the celebrated letter to Chevalier Hulseman, -written while in his present station. The collection -is edited with much care and ability by the Hon. -Edward Everett. The biography of Mr. Webster by the -editor, is a clear, candid, elaborate, and somewhat frigid -view of his whole life as a statesman and lawyer, giving -an accurate statement of the various circumstances under -which the great efforts of his mind were produced, and -placing the reader in a position to appreciate their importance. -The tone of the biography is cautiously moderate, -indulging in none of the fervors of eulogy or exaggerations -of friendship, and, on the whole, not coming up to the -enthusiastic praise with which Mr. Webster’s powers are -commonly mentioned by those who have had most occasion -to dread or decry their exercise. Mr. Everett seems -to have felt too acutely the delicacy of his position, as the -biographer of a living friend; and, shrinking from the responsibility -of pouring out in glowing words his own admiration -of his subject, is content to import all such perilous -matter from the dashing and vivid pages of Mr. -March.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It seems to us, also, that Mr. Everett gives little evidence -in his biography of a sustained and vigorous conception -of Mr. Webster’s mind and character. We do not -mean that his epithets are not appropriate, that his judgments -are not accurate, that his generalities are not abstractly -just; but he evinces no power of diffusing the results -of analysis through the veins of narration, of making -the reader feel constantly that he is following the life of a -man as peculiar and individual as he is great. The Websterian -quality of the subject never flashes once out from -Mr. Everett’s elegant sentences. Take any page from the -biography and compare it with any paragraph in the -speeches, and the defect we have noticed will be apparent -to the most unapprehensive reader. There is no mental -and moral agreement between them. It would seem to be -one duty of the biographer to translate into intelligible -form the vague impression which the works of the subject -of the biography leaves on the most superficial mind; to -detect, to fix, to embody the subtle spirit which, emanating -from character, gives unity and individuality equally -to the events of a man’s life and the productions of a man’s -mind. A man of the large dimensions and massive force -of Mr. Webster, whose personality stamps itself so readily -upon the imagination, and groups fit words round its own -image by a kind of magnetism, offers few obstacles to a -right psychological treatment; and we are somewhat -astonished that a man of Mr. Everett’s various talents and -accomplishments should have failed in this important -part of the biographer’s duty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We trust that this collection of Mr. Webster’s writings -will have an extensive circulation, were it only for the -good influence it is calculated to exert on the literature of -the country. To one party in the United States they are -invaluable as containing the best exposition they possess -of their political principles—to all parties they must be -attractive for the many electric passages of purely patriotic -eloquence with which they teem; but to the author they -are especially valuable as models of style. We use the -word models not in its usual sense, for we certainly would -not give any one the ridiculous advice to imitate the diction -even of Mr. Webster; but we would advise every -one to follow Mr. Webster’s own method of composition, -which is simply the method of common sense and common -honesty. The great literary sin of the day is pretension; -and it is refreshing to read a man who, comprehensive and -powerful as he is, modestly accepts the limitations of his -genius, never borrows a thought or an emotion, and rarely -uses a word which he has not a right to use. If we compare -him for a moment with men who gain popularity by -debauching in language, we feel at once the force of that -expression which austerely limits itself within the bounds -of character, and stamps on every sentence the authority -of personal experience.</p> - -<hr class='tbk134'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>A Journey through Tartary, Thibet and China. By M. -Huc. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 2 vols. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>These quaint and interesting volumes are the record of -the travels of a Catholic Missionary in countries of which -the reading world knows little or nothing. The sketches -of scenery, manners, customs, religion, and character, are -very graphic, and the style of composition is so direct and -simple that the words form pictures in the mind without -any effort on the part of the reader. The views of the -religion of Thibet are very clear, and add to our knowledge -of its philosophic basis. The mind of M. Huc almost -realizes the ideal of the observing faculty. He sees distinctly, -and gives us exactly what he sees, without modifying -it by his own opinions or sentiments. To read his -book, is next to walking or riding by his side, and seeing -the strange objects he describes with our own eyes. His -illustrations of Tartar life are especially graphic and -amusing. Here is a specimen. “When not on horseback, -a Tartar is generally quite idle, and passes a great -part of the day crouched in his tent, drinking tea, and -sometimes he lounges about like a Parisian dandy, though -not quite in the same way. When he has a mind to see -what is passing in the world, he mounts his horse, and -goes galloping away into the desert, without heeding in -what direction, and whenever he sees the smoke of a tent -rising, he makes a call, and has a gossip.” His description -also of the Jonathan Wilds and Dick Turpins of Tartary -is quite edifying. “The robbers,” he says, “are in -general remarkable for the politeness with which they -flavor their address. They do not put a pistol to your -head, and cry roughly, ‘Your money or your life,’ but -they say in the most courteous tone, ‘My eldest brother, -I am weary of walking on foot. Be so good as to lend me -your horse!’ or, ‘It is very cold to-day—be kind enough -to lend me your coat!’ If the eldest brother be charitable -enough to comply, he receives thanks; if not the request -is enforced by two or three blows of the cudgel, or, if that -is not sufficient, recourse is had to the sabre.” It is the -custom of these polite gentlemen, however, to rob none -the less thoroughly because they use the amenities of -genteel life. The poor traveler who falls into their hands -is not only deprived of horse, camel, money and goods, -but he is stripped of every rag of clothes, and left, with an -elegant bow and smooth farewell, to die of cold and -hunger. This is the very method of genteel society -everywhere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The shrewd and remorseless avarice of the Chinese is -illustrated in these volumes to perfection. From the emperor -to the trader, all prey on the poor Tartars. Thus -M. Huc meets a member of a great commercial house in -Pekin, at Blue Town, and enters into a conversation with -him. The merchant claims the missionary at once as one -of his own trade, which, with Spartan brevity, he describes -to consist in eating Tartars. “Eaters of Tartars!” -exclaims good M. Huc, “what is the meaning of that?” -to which the other answers, “Our trade—yours and mine—is -to eat the Mongols—we by traffic, you by prayers.” -On the missionary’s assuring him that he paid for every -thing as he went along, and that his mission was purely -disinterested, the merchant almost choked himself with -laughing at the folly of a man who should venture into -such a country for any other purpose than to prey upon its -inhabitants; and then proceeds to describe the mysteries -and moralities of the Wall street of China. We commend -his system to our glorious army of shavers and capitalists. -You see, he says, these Tartars “are simple as children -when they come into our towns. They want to have -every thing they see—they seldom have any money, but -we come to their help. We give them goods on credit, -and then, of course, they must pay rather high. When -people take away goods without leaving the money, of -course, there must be a little interest of thirty or forty -per cent. Then, by degrees, the interest mounts up, and -you come to compound interest; but that’s only with the -Tartars. In China the laws forbid it; but we, who are -obliged to run about the Land of Grass—we may well ask -for a little extra profit. Isn’t that fair? A Tartar debit -is never paid—it goes on from generation to generation; -every year goes to get the interest, and it’s paid in -sheep, oxen, camels, horses—all that is a great deal -better than money. We get the beasts at a very low -price, and we sell them at a very good price in the -market. Oh! it’s a capital thing—a Tartar debt! It’s -a mine of gold.” This is but one specimen of a Chinese -“eater of Tartars.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>M. Huc’s volumes are full of equally piquant sketches, -and we know of few tourists who seize with such inevitable -tact on incidents and peculiarities which illustrate -the morals and the habits of whole classes of people. The -work is one of the most original and novel yet published -in “Appleton’s Popular Library of the Best Authors”—a -collection of which no lover of readable books should be -without.</p> - -<hr class='tbk135'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Maiden and Married Life of Mary Powell, afterward -Mistress Milton. New York: D. Appleton & Co. -1 vol. 18mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>It appears to us that this volume is fully as felicitous as -“Lady Willoughby’s Diary.” Like that it is in the form -of a journal, written in the orthography and style of the -seventeenth century. The simplicity with which the -whole is conceived and wrought out is exquisite. The idea -of the book is taken from the well-known incident of Milton’s -first courtship and marriage; and its charm consists -in accounting for the disagreement between the couple on -grounds of nature which do not appear in the bold statement -of the fact. It is a delicious volume, full of the -essential spirit of poetry, and pure, tender, simple and -refined throughout.</p> - -<hr class='tbk136'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Yellowplush Papers. By William M. Thackeray. -New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 18mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is one of the earliest and best of Thackeray’s delightful -works. It is a sort of autobiography of a London -footman, Charles Yellowplush, comprising very vigorous -sketches of his various masters, and written in a style -which inimitably combines shrewdness with vulgarity. -The spelling alone is a work of genius. The portion relating -to Mr. Deuceace has passages of great power and -pathos as well as humor, and exhibits the utter lack of sentiment -and principle, the hard demoniacal selfishness of a -true London blood, with extraordinary closeness to the -fact. “Mr. Yellowplush’s Ajew” and “Epistles to the -Literati,” are also riotous with mirth. Bulwer Lytton’s -coxcombry is caricatured in these last very ludicrously.</p> - -<hr class='tbk137'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Putnam’s Semi-Monthly Library for Travelers and the -Fireside. New York: George P. Putnam. 6 vols. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is one of the cheapest and best edited literary enterprises -ever started in the United States. It is published -in semi-monthly volumes, each of which is printed in large -type on fine white paper, contains some two hundred and -fifty pages, and is placed at the low price of twenty-five -cents a volume. Two volumes are given to prose and poetical -comicalities, carefully selected, humorous cuts and all, -from “Hood’s Own;” three volumes consist of capital -selections from Dickens’ Household Words, entitled -“Home and Social Philosophy,” “The World Here and -There,” and “Home Narratives;” and the last is an -original production, written by Mr. Olmstead, and called, -very aptly, “Walks and Talks of an American Farmer -in England”—an exceedingly interesting book, in which -the author gives, in a homely but expressive style, his -experiences among the farming population of England. -We trust that Mr. Putnam’s admirable plan will be fully -carried out, and that his success will be as complete as his -enterprise is commendable. The price is hardly one-third -of the usual cost of American reprints of equal elegance -of execution.</p> - -<hr class='tbk138'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Lyra and Other Poems. By Alice Carey. New York: -Redfield. 1 vol. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>We wish that we had sufficient space this month to do -justice to the qualities of mind and character impressed on -this beautiful volume; but we shall be compelled to defer -an elaborate view of its merits. The first glance at its -pages will reveal to the reader the extreme sensitiveness -of the writer’s mind to all that is beautiful, and tender, -and sublime, and the swift felicity with which she embodies -the most evanescent shades of emotion, and the -most subtle meanings of natural objects. We regret that -so large a portion of the poems should be so sad in their -tone, as Alice Carey’s genius is by no means bounded by -the serious side of things, but can sing cheerily as well as -mournfully. The present volume, however, has more -“hearse-like airs than carols.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk139'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Isa; A Pilgrimage. By Caroline <a id='chese'></a>Chesebro’. New York: -Redfield. 1 vol. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This powerful story has a peculiar interest from its -bearing on the fashionable ethics of certain novelists, who -inculcate libertinism under the guise of liberality of thought -and nobility of sentiment. The authoress shows the depraving -influence of this philosophy on the noblest natures. -Her insight into the workings of passion is remarkably -bright and clear; and the vigorous movement of her narrative -fastens the reader’s interest to the end. The chief -fault of the book is its unrelieved intensity.</p> - -<hr class='tbk140'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Tales and Traditions of Hungary. By Theresa Pulszky. -New York: Redfield. 1 vol. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>To those who are interested in the recent struggles of -the brave and unfortunate Hungarian people for national -independence, this volume will be heartily welcome. It -gives us glimpses into the manners of the people, and exhibits -the strong foundations on which the national character -rests. The work has been popular in England, and -its authoress, now a resident in the United States, has republished -it with additions. We hope it will meet with -a large share of popular favor.</p> - -<hr class='tbk141'/> - -<div><h1><a id='lit'></a>LITERARY GOSSIP.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:0em;'>“<span class='it'>The Household of Sir Thomas More.</span>”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.3em;'>“<span class='it'>The Maiden and Married Life of Mary Powell.</span>”<a id='r27'/><a href='#f27' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[27]</span></sup></a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two of the most exquisitely finished and delightful -works that have come before our eyes in years, have lately -been reproduced from the English press by two of our -New York publishers, without any hint in regard to authorship, -or indeed to the aim and nature of the books, -whether fact or fiction. Their names stand above, and the -personages to whom they have relation will be recognized -as the great and good chancellor of Henry VIII., barbarously -and illegally put to death for his refusal to take the -oath of supremacy, and for his opposition to the unjust -divorce of Katharine and marriage of the king with Anne -Boleyn; and as the unhappy wife of that greatest of poets, -but sternest and most impracticable of husbands, John -Milton. No hint, as I have observed, is given as to authorship, -but it is I think impossible that we shall be mistaken -in ascribing both to the same pen; for, although the -wielder of that pen has chosen to maintain an absolute incognito, -his mark—though I am not altogether clear that -for <span class='it'>his</span> we might not better read <span class='it'>her</span>—is not to be confounded -with that of any other; nor do we recognize any -other in England or America at all comparable to this.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In both works we find the same delicate and delicious -freshness, like the perfume from a rich clover-field after a -summer shower; the same truthfulness to nature; the -same intimate acquaintance with the spirit of the times, -the character and circumstances of the supposed writers; -the same natural and artless pathos; the same simplicity, -and, if I may so speak of writing evidently fictitious, the -same authenticity and genuineness of style.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So perfect indeed is the skill and tact of the handling, -and so admirably is the whole character of either work -kept up, that it cannot be doubted, had they been put forth -as genuine ancient memoirs, recovered by any accident you -will, their success as forgeries would have been as complete -as that very remarkable—but to me very dull—book, -“The Amber Witch” of the Pastor Meinhold, or the supposititious -letters of Shelley and other notables of the nineteenth -century, which have recently created so much wonder -and excitement in the literary world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What is to me, however, even more remarkable than -the excellence of these chaste and unpretending little fictions, -is the total absence of bruit or loud encomium with -which they have issued both from the English and American -presses; for in good sooth we have hardly heard them -named, while they are in every respect the cleverest and -most highly wrought, and in their own line the very best -fictitious works that we have seen in years.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fiction they undoubtedly are, in some sense; but fiction -of some such nature—far be it from me to write profanely—as -the parables of our ever-blessed Saviour, and in their -humbler sphere and lesser degree improvable to the same -good end. There is not one line in either from which any -mental alchemy could extract one grain of evil counsel or -unholy thought; on the contrary, there is not one which -prompts not to good works, and faith, and reliance in the -mercy and justice of the Most High.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After the Holy Bible itself, we are cognizant of no reading -which may be put more fitly into the innocent hands -of a beloved daughter on a Sunday afternoon, than either -of these beautiful and touching little volumes; and to render -the effects more certain, as more salutary, so far is there -from being any effort or straining after religionism, moralizing -or lay-preaching, so apt to frustrate their own ends, -that the whole tenor of each flows so naturally and with -so much probability forward, the thinkings, doings and -speakings of the actors springing so spontaneously from -the causes, that we read on enthralled, engrossed, with a -tear often stealing to the eye, hardly able to believe that -we are not perusing the real memoirs of real authors; and -think nothing of the moral until the book is closed and the -paramount interest ended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is an evil sign in relation to the influence and tone of -the press-criticism of any countries, when we find the -vulgar absurdities and exaggerations of Cockton, the trivial -and overdone flippancies of Albert Smith, or even the brilliant -eccentricities of Thackeray, over-lauded to the skies, -while such gems of nature, verisimilitude and poesy, as -these little volumes, creep forward, almost unushered, -timid and unknown to fame, into the gradual favor of the -public.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In one word, I know not nor conjecture to what dead or -living author, male or female, of either hemisphere they -may be attributed; but I do know there is not one—no! -not Sir Walter himself—who would not derive fresh reputation -from their authorship; and in order to substantiate -this my opinion, I proceed to extract somewhat largely -from the former work, which—although I have hitherto -spoken of them in general terms, and in common, as cognate -compositions, and I doubt not by the same pen—is by -many degrees the abler and more perfect, as far as the -more agreeable and fascinating volume.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is not a syllable in it which might not have been -penned in her <span class='it'>libellus</span> by sweet Margaret More, bravest -and best of English daughters—not one, which did not -probably, in some shape or other, pass through her living -brain—not one, to make an end of it, which, as we read, -we do not implicitly believe, for the moment, to be of her -actual penning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is, moreover, a fine, free humor, singularly characteristic -of the age and the characters of “The Household -of Sir Thomas More,” which is lacking, and which -would perhaps have been out of place, in the “Maiden -and Married Life of Mary Powell;” but which nevertheless -beautifully relieves the soft and tender melancholy of -the memoir.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is, however, in truthfulness, if I may not absolutely -say truth, that Margaret’s libellus is most clearly superior; -for we are constrained, in justice, to say that the portraiture -of John Milton in his domestic relations, however -great his public glory, is most overweening flattery, and -that the happiness ascribed to the latter portion of “the -married life of Mary Powell,” is as pure a fiction as ever -emanated from the fancy of the wildest romancer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But to return to our “A Margarettâ More, libellus, -quindecim annos nata, Chelseiæ inceptus;” here we have, -in her own words, the incident—not accident—of its inception.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“On asking Mr. Gunnel to what use I s<sup>d</sup> put this fair -<span class='it'>libellus</span>, he did suggest my making it a kinde of family -register, wherein to note y<sup>e</sup> more important of our domestic -passages, whether of joy or griefe—my father’s journies -and absences—the visits of learned men, theire notable -sayings, etc. ‘You art smart at the pen, Mistress -Margaret,’ he was pleased to say; ‘and I would humblie -advise your journalling in y<sup>e</sup> same fearless manner in the -which you framed that letter which soe well pleased the -Bishop of Exeter, that he sent you a Portugal piece. -’Twill be well to write it in English, which ’tis expedient -for you not altogether to negleckt, even for the more honorable -Latin.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Methinks I am close upon womanhood. . . . . ‘Humblie -advise,’ quotha! to me, that hath so oft humblie sued -for his pardon, and sometimes in vain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis well to make trial of Gonellus his ‘humble’ advice: -albeit, our daylie course is so methodicall, that -’twill afford scant subject for y<sup>e</sup> pen—<span class='it'>Vitam continet una -dies</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Here, again, we are introduced to the younger members -of the household in their moments of home-merriment and -simple occupations, as usual at that unsophisticated day, -before fear or grief fell upon their happy circle—and what -was ever writ more naturally and unaffectedly?</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“This morn, hinting to Bess that she was lacing herselfe -too straightlie, she brisklie replyed, ‘One w<sup>d</sup> think ’twere -as great meritt to have a thick waiste as to be one of y<sup>e</sup> -earlie Christians!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“These humourous retorts are ever at her tongue’s end; -and, albeit, as Jacky one day angrilie remarked, when she -had beene teazing him, ‘Bess, thy witt is stupidnesse;’ -yet, for one who talks soe much at random, no one can be -more keene when she chooseth. Father sayd of her, half -fondly, half apologeticallie to Erasmus. ‘Her wit has a -fine subtletie that eludes you almoste before you have time -to recognize it for what it really is.’ To which, Erasmus -readilie assented, adding, that it had y<sup>e</sup> rare meritt of -playing less on persons than things, and never on bodilie -defects.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hum!—I wonder if they ever sayd as much in favour -of me. I knowe, indeede, Erasmus calls me a forward -girl! Alas! that may be taken in two senses.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk142'/> - -<p class='pindent'>“Grievous work, overnighte, with y<sup>e</sup> churning. Nought -w<sup>d</sup> persuade Gillian but that y<sup>e</sup> creame was bewitched by -Gammer Gurney, who was dissatisfyde last Friday with -her dole, and hobbled away mumping and cursing. At alle -events y<sup>e</sup> butter w<sup>d</sup> not come; but mother was resolute not -to have soe much good creame wasted; soe sent for Bess -and me, Daisy and Mercy Giggs, and insisted on our churning -in turn till y<sup>e</sup> butter came, if we sate up all nighte for’t. -’Twas a hard saying; and mighte have hampered her like -as Jephtha his rash vow: howbeit, soe soone as she had -left us, we turned it into a frolick, and sang Chevy Chase -from end to end, to beguile time; ne’erthelesse, the butter -w<sup>d</sup> not come; soe then we grew sober, and, at y<sup>e</sup> instance -of sweete Mercy, chaunted y<sup>e</sup> 119th Psalme; and, by the -time we had attayned to ‘Lucerna pedibus,’ I heard y<sup>e</sup> -buttermilk separating and splashing in righte earnest. -’Twas neare midnighte, however; and Daisy had fallen -asleep on y<sup>e</sup> dresser. Gillian will ne’er be convinced but -that our Latin brake the spell.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A few pages farther, we are let into the secret of the -who, and the wherefore, of the aforesaid merry damsels, -“Daisy and Bess, and Mercy Giggs, and I,” who are to -be our delectable companions through many a mirthful, -many a melancholy page.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“As we rose from table, I noted Argus pearcht on y<sup>e</sup> -window-sill, eagerlie watching for his dinner, which he -looketh for as punctualie as if he c<sup>d</sup> tell the diall; and to -please the good, patient bird, till the scullion broughte him -his mess of garden-stuff, I fetched him some pulse, which -he took from mine hand, taking good heede not to hurt me -with his sharpe beak. While I was feeding him, Erasmus -came up, and asked me concerning Mercy Giggs; and I -tolde him how that she was a friendlesse orphan, to whom -deare father afforded protection and the run of y<sup>e</sup> house; and -tolde him of her gratitude, her meekness, her patience, her -docilitie, her aptitude for alle goode works and alms-deeds; -and how, in her little chamber, she improved eache spare -moment in y<sup>e</sup> way of studdy and prayer. He repeated -‘Friendlesse? she cannot be called friendlesse, who hath -More for her protector, and his children for companions;’ -and then woulde heare more of her parent’s sad story. -Alsoe, would heare somewhat of Rupert Allington, and -how father gained his law-suit. Alsoe, of Daisy, whose -name he tooke to be y<sup>e</sup> true abbreviation for Margaret, but -I tolde him how that my step-sister, and Mercy, and I, -being all three of a name, and I being alwaies called Meg, -we had in sport given one the significative of her characteristic -virtue, and the other that of y<sup>e</sup> French Marguerite, -which may indeed be rendered either pearl or daisy. And -Chaucer, speaking of our English daisy, saith</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>‘Si douce est la Marguerite.’ ”</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Next, a little further yet, we have dear Margaret’s -thoughts upon herself and her own attractiveness—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“A glance at the anteceding pages of this libellus me-sheweth -poor Will Roper at y<sup>e</sup> season his love-fitt for me -was at its height. He troubleth me with it no longer, nor -with his religious disquietations. Hard study of the law -hath filled his head with other matters, and made him infinitely -more rationall, and by consequents, more agreeable. -’Twas one of those preferences young people sometimes -manifest, themselves know neither why nor wherefore, -and are shamed, afterwards, to be reminded of. I’m -sure I shall ne’er remind him. There was nothing in me -to fix a rational or passionate regard. I have neither Bess’s -witt nor white teeth, nor Daisy’s dark eyes, nor Mercy’s -dimple. A plain-favoured girl, with changefule spiritts—that’s -all.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>And within but a brief space we find her much in error, -as to its degree, and its effect on William Roper, which -she records as thus in the libellus.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Soe my fate is settled. Who knoweth at sunrise what -will chance before sunsett? No; the Greeks and Romans -mighte speake of chance and of fate, but we must not. -Ruth’s <span class='it'>hap</span> was to light on y<sup>e</sup> field of Boaz; but what she -thought casual, y<sup>e</sup> Lord had contrived.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Firste, he gives me y<sup>e</sup> marmot. Then, the marmot -dies. Then, I, having kept y<sup>e</sup> creature soe long, and being -naturalie tender, must cry a little over it. Then Will -must come in and find me drying mine eyes. Then he -must, most unreasonablie, suppose that I c<sup>d</sup> not have loved -the poor animal for its own sake soe much as for his; and -thereupon, falle a love-making in such down righte earneste, -that I, being alreadie somewhat upset, and knowing -’twoulde please father . . . . and hating to be perverse . . . . -and thinking much better of Will since he hath studied soe -hard, and given soe largelie to y<sup>e</sup> poor, and left off broaching -his heteroclite opinions. . . . I say, I supposed it must -be soe, some time or another, soe ’twas noe use hanging -back for ever and ever, soe now there’s an end, and I pray -God give us a quiet life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Noe one w<sup>d</sup> suppose me reckoning on a quiet life if -they knew how I’ve cried alle this forenoon, ever since I -got quit of Will, by father’s carrying him off to Westminster. -He’ll tell father, I know, as they goe along in the -barge, or else coming back, which will be soon enow, -though I’ve ta’en no heed of the hour. I wish ’twere cold -weather, and that I had a sore throat or stiff neck, or -somewhat that might reasonablie send me a-bed, and keep -me there till to-morrow morning. But I’m quite well, and -’tis the dog-days, and cook is thumping the rolling-pin on -the dresser, and dinner is being served, and here comes -father.”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk143'/> - -<p class='pindent'>But with this extract the happy days of the household -are ended; doubts, darkness, dangers and the shadows of -the valley of death henceforth begin to close around and -above them; and if, as the old Greeks and Romans deemed, -a good man struggling nobly in the toils of necessity were -a spectacle for the eyes of gods, then were the sufferings -of Sir Thomas and his household of the grandest and most -glorious.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, he has thwarted the uxorious, cruel tyrant, offended -unto death the ambitious Anne Boleyn, and brought -his head into jeopardy by denying the supremacy of a layman -in affairs ecclesiastical.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And lo! how gently, and with how exquisite a harmony -of circumstances, he breaks to his favorite child his own -distinct anticipation of his coming doom.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ever since father’s speech to us in y<sup>e</sup> pavillion, we -have been of one heart and one soul; neither have any of -us said that aught of the things we possessed were our -own, but we have had all things in common. And we -have eaten our meat with gladness and singleness of heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This afternoon, expressing to father my gratefull sense -of our present happiness. . . . . ‘Yes, Meg,’ returns he, ‘I -too am deeply thankful for this breathing space.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Do you look on it as no more, then?’ I sayd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘As no more, Meg: we shall have a thunder-clap by-and-by. -Look out on the Thames. See how unwontedlie -clear it is, and how low the swallows fly. . . . . . . How -distinctlie we see the green sedges on Battersea bank, and -their reflected images in the water. We can almost discern -the features of those poor knaves digging in the cabbage -gardens, and hear ’em talk, so still is y<sup>e</sup> air. Have -you ne’er before noted these signs?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘A storm is brewing,’ I sayd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Aye, we shall have a lightening-flash anon. So still, -Meg, is also our atmosphere just now. God is giving us -a breathing space, as he did to the Egyptians before the -plague of hail, that they might gather their live stock -within doors. Let us take for example them that believed -and obeyed him; and improve this holy pause.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just at this moment, a few heavy drops fell agaynst -the window pane, and were seen by both. Our eyes met; -and I felt a silent pang.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Five days before the Passover,’ resumed father, ‘all -seemed as still and quiet as we are now; but Jesus knew -his hour was at hand. E’en while he yet spake familiarly -among the people, there came a sound from heaven, and -they that stood by said it thundered; but <span class='it'>he</span> knew it for -the voice of his dear Father. Let us, in like manner, when -the clap cometh, recognize in it the voice of God, and not -be afraid with any amazement.’ ”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Again she visits him in the tower, by especial favor, -after the blow has descended, and his fate, all but the -doom, is fixed, and so, “ye who have tears prepare to -shed them now.”</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“. . . I minded to put y<sup>e</sup> haircloth and cord under my -farthingale, and one or two of y<sup>e</sup> smaller books in my -pouch, as alsoe some sweets and suckets such as he was -used to love. Will and Bonvisi were awaiting for me, -and deare Bess, putting forthe her head from her chamber -door, cries pitiously, ‘Tell him, dear Meg, tell him . . . -’twas never soe sad to me to be sick . . . and that I hope -. . . I pray . . . the time may come . . .’ then falls back -swooning into Dancey’s arms, whom I leave crying heartilie -over her, and hasten below to receive the confused -medley of messages sent by every other member of y<sup>e</sup> -house. For mine owne part, I was in such a tremulous -succussion as to be scarce fitt to stand or goe, but time and -the tide will noe man bide, and, once having taken boat, -the cool river air allayed my fevered spiritts; onlie I coulde -not for awhile get rid of y<sup>e</sup> impression of poor Dancey crying -over Bess in her deliquium.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think none o’ the three opened our lips before we -reached Lambeth, save in y<sup>e</sup> Reach, Will cried to y<sup>e</sup> steersman, -‘Look you run us not a ground,’ in a sharper voyce -than I e’er heard from him. After passing y<sup>e</sup> Archbishop’s -palace, whereon I gazed full ruefullie, good Bonvisi beganne -to mention some rhymes he had founde writ with a -diamond on one of his window-panes at Crosby House, -and would know were they father’s! and was’t y<sup>e</sup> chamber -father had used to sleep in? I tolde him it was, but -knew nought of y<sup>e</sup> distich, though ’twas like enow to be -his. And thence he went on to this and that, how that father’s -cheerfulle, funny humour never forsook him, nor his -brave heart quelled, instancing his fearless passage through -the Traitor’s Gate, asking his neighbours whether <span class='it'>his</span> gait -was that of a traditor; and, on being sued by the porter -for his upper garment, giving him his <span class='it'>cap</span>, which he sayd -was uppermost. And other such quips and passages, -which I scarce noted nor smiled at, soe sorry was I of -cheer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At length we stayed rowing: Will lifted me out, -kissed me, heartened me up, and, indeede, I was in better -heart then, having been quietlie in prayer a good while. -After some few forms, we were led through sundrie turns -and passages, and, or ever I was aware, I found myselfe -quit of my companions, and in father’s arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We both cried a little at first; I wonder I wept noe -more, but strength was given me in that hour. As soone -as I coulde, I lookt him in the face, and he lookt at me, and -I was beginning to note his hollow cheeks, when he sayd, -‘Why, Meg, you are getting freckled:’ soe that made us -both laugh. He sayd, ‘You should get some freckle-water -of the lady that sent me here; depend on it, she hath -washes and tinctures in plenty; and after all, Meg, she’ll -come to the same end at last, and be as the lady all bone -and skin, whoso ghastlie legends used to scare thee soe -when thou wert a child. Don’t tell that story to thy children; -’twill hamper ’em with unsavory images of death. -Tell them of heavenlie hosts awaiting to carry off good -men’s souls in fire-bright chariots, with horses of the sun, -to a land where they shall never more be surbated and -weary, but walk on cool, springy turf and among myrtle -trees, and eat fruits that shall heal while they delight them, -and drink the coldest of cold water, fresh from y<sup>e</sup> river of -life, and have space to stretch themselves, and bathe, and -leap, and run, and whichever way they look, meet Christ’s -eyes smiling on them. Lord, Meg, who would live that -could die? One mighte as lief be an angel shut up in a -nutshell as bide here. Fancy how gladsome the sweet -spirit would be to have the shell cracked! no matter by -whom; the king, or king’s mistress. . . Let her dainty foot -but set him free, he’d say, ‘For this release, much thanks. -. . . And how goes the court, Meg?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘In faith, father, never better. . . . There is nothing -else there, I hear, but dancing and disporting.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Never better, child, sayst thou? Alas, Meg, it pitieth -me to consider what misery, poor soul, she will shortlie -come to. These dances of hers will prove such dances that -she will spurn our heads off like footballs; but ’twill not -be long ere her head will dance the like dance. Mark you, -Meg, a man that restraineth not his passions, hath always -something cruel in his nature, and if there be a woman toward, -she is sure to suffer heaviest for it, first or last. . . . -Seek Scripture precedent for’t . . . you’ll find it as I say. -Stony as death, cruel as the grave. Those Pharisees that -there, to a man, convicted of sin, yet haled a sinning woman -before the Lord, and woulde fain have seen the dogs -lick up her blood. When they lick up mine, deare Meg, -let not your heart be troubled, even though they shoulde -hale thee to London Bridge to see my head stuck on a pole. -Think, most dear’st, I shall then have more reason to weep -for thee than thou for me. But there’s noe weeping in -heaven, and bear in mind, Meg, distinctlie, that if they -send me thither, ’twill be for obeying the law of God rather -than of men. And after alle, we live not in the bloody, -barbarous old times of crucifyings and flayings, and immerseings -in cauldrons of boiling oil. One stroke, and the -affair’s done. A clumsy chirurgeon would be longer extracting -a tooth. We have oft agreed that the little birds -struck down by the kite and hawk suffer less than if they -were reserved to a naturall death. There is one sensible -difference, indeed, between us. In our cases, preparation -is a-wanting.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hereon, I minded me to slip off y<sup>e</sup> haircloth and rope, -and give the same to him, along with the books and suckets, -all which he hid away privatelie, making merry at the -last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘ ’Twoulde tell well before the council,’ quoth he, -‘that on searching the prison-cell of Sir Thomas More, -there was founde, flagitiouslie and mysteriouslie laid up -. . . a piece of barley-sugar!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then we talked over sundry home matters; and anon, -having now both of us attayned unto an equable and chastened -serenite of mind, which needed not any false shows -of mirth to hide y<sup>e</sup> naturall complexion of, he sayth, ‘I -believe, Meg, they that have put me here ween they have -done me a high displeasure; but I assure thee on my faith, -mine own good daughter, that if it had not beene for my -wife, and you, my dear good children, I would faine have -been closed up, long ere this, in as straight a room, and -straighter too.’ ”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>While he is yet in prison, and his sentence yet unpassed, -although certain, Margaret—for she has now been for some -time the wife of good William Roper—loses her baby; for -when do sorrows ever fall singly—can any thing than this -be more beautiful, more true?</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'>“Midnight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The wild wind is abroad, and, methinketh, <span class='it'>nothing -else</span>. Sure, how it rages through our empty courts! In -such a season, men, beasts, and fowls cower beneath y<sup>e</sup> -shelter of their rocking walls, yet almost fear to trust -them. Lord, I know that thou canst give the tempest -double force, but do not, I beseech thee! Oh! have -mercy on the frail dwelling and the ship at sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear little Bill hath ta’en a feverish attack. I watch -beside him while his nurse sleeps. Earlie in the night his -mind wandered, and he told me of a pretty ring-streaked -poney noe bigger than a bee that had golden housings and -barley-sugar eyes; then dozed, but ever and anon kept -starting up, crying ‘Mammy, dear!’ and softlie murmured, -‘Oh,’ when he saw I was by. At length I gave -him my fore-finger to hold, which kept him ware of my -presence without speaking, but presentlie he stares hard -toward y<sup>e</sup> foot of the bed, and says fearfullie, ‘Mother, -why hangs yon hatchet in the air, with its sharp edge -turned towards us!’ I rise, move the lamp, and say, ‘Do -you see it now?’ He sayth, ‘No? not now,’ and closes -his eyes. After a good space, during the which I hoped -he slept, he says in quite an altered tone, most like unto -soft, sweet music, ‘There’s a pretty little cherub there -now, alle head and noe body, with two little wings aneath -his chin; but, for alle he’s soe pretty, he is just like dear -Gaffer, and seems to know me . . . . . and he’ll have a -body agayn, too, I believe, by-and-by . . . . . . . Mother, -mother, tell Hobbinol there’s such a gentle lamb in -heaven!’ And soe, slept.</p> - -<hr class='tbk144'/> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s gone, my pretty . . . . . ! slipt through my -fingers like a bird! upfled to his own native skies, and yet -whenas I think on him, I can not choose but weepe . . . . . -Such a guileless little lamb! . . . My Billy-bird! his -mother’s owne heart. They are alle wondrous kind -to me . . . .</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How strange that a little child shoulde be permitted -to suffer soe much payn, when of such is the kingdom of -heaven! But ’tis onlie transient, whereas a mother makes -it permanent, by thinking it over and over agayn. One -lesson it taughte us betimes, that a natural death is not, -necessarilie the most easie. We must alle die. . . . . . -As poor Patteson was used to say, ‘The greatest king that -ever was made, must bed at last with shovel and spade.’ -. . . . . and I’d sooner have my Billy’s baby deathbed -than King Harry’s, or Nan Boleyn’s either, however -manie years they may yet carry matters with a high hand. -Oh, you ministers of evill, whoever you be, visible or invisible, -you shall not build a wall between my God and -me . . . . . . I’ve something within me, grows stronger -and stronger, as times grow more and more evill; some -woulde call it resolution, but methinketh ’tis faith.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>And then comes the terrible catastrophe, the glorious devotion, -the patient martyrdom, the heroic womanhood. -Throughout the whole of this exquisite little volume, the -interest, the tone, the vigor, the pathos, the poetry, the -sublimity, is ever on the ascendant; and in this splendid -passage it reaches its climax. Almost as we read, we -see what passeth; altogether we feel it to our own heart’s -core; scarcely can we refrain to accept it as fact not fiction. -What writer of any day has effected much more than -this?</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“And then came ye frightfulle sentence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes, my soul, I know; there were saints of old -sawn asunder. Men of whom the world was not worthy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“. . . . . . Then he spake unto ’em his mind, how that -after lifelong studdy, he could never find that a layman -mighte be head of the church. And bade his judges and -accusers farewell; hoping that like as St. Paul was present -and consenting unto St. Stephen’s death and yet both -were now holy saints in heaven, soe he and they might -speedilie meet there, joint heirs of e’erlasting salvation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Meantime poor Bess and Cecilie, spent with grief and -long waiting, were for once carried home by Heron, or -ever father returned to his prison. Was’t less feeling, or -more strength of body, enabled me to bide at the Tower -wharf with Dancey? God knoweth. They brought him -back by water; my poor sisters must have passed him. . . . -The first thing I saw was the ax, <span class='it'>turned with its edge toward -him</span>—my first note of his sentence. I forct my way -through the crowd . . . . . some one laid a cold hand on -my arm; ’twas poor Patteson, soe changed I scarce knew -him, with a rosary of gooseberries he kept running through -his fingers. He sayth, ‘Bide your time, Mistress Meg; -when he comes past, I’ll make a passage for ye’ . . . . . -‘Oh, brother, brother! what ailed thee to refuse the oath? -<span class='it'>I’ve</span> taken it!’ In another moment. ‘Now, mistress, -now!’ and flinging his arms right and left, made a breach -through which I darted, fearlesse of bills and halberds, and -did fling mine arms about father’s neck. He cries, ‘My -Meg!’ and hugs me to him as though our very souls -shoulde grow together. He sayth, ‘Bless thee, bless thee! -Enough, enough, my child; what mean ye, to weep and -break mine heart? Remember, though I die innocent, ’tis -not without the will of God, who could send ’s angels to -rescue me if ’twere best; therefore possess your soul in -patience. Kiss them all for me, thus and thus’ . . . . . . -soe gave me back into Dancey’s arms, the guards about -him alle weeping; but I coulde not thus lose sight of him -forever; soe, after a minute’s pause did make a second -rush, brake away from Dancey, clave to father agayn, and -agayn they had pitie on me, and made pause while I hung -upon his neck. This time there were large drops standing -on his dear brow; and the big tears were swelling into his -eyes. He whispered, ‘Meg, for Christ’s sake don’t unman -me; thou’lt not deny my last request?’ I sayd, ‘Oh! -no;’ and at once loosened mine arms. ‘God’s blessing be -with you,’ he sayth with a last kiss. I could not help -crying, ‘My father! my father!’ ‘The chariot of Israel, -and the horsemen thereof!’ he vehementlie whispers, -pointing upward with soe passionate a regard, that I look -up, almost expecting a beatific vision; and when I turn -about agayn, he’s gone, and I have no more sense, nor -life till I find myself agayn in mine own chamber, my -sisters chafing my hands.</p> - -<hr class='tbk145'/> - -<p class='pindent'>“Alle’s over now . . . . . they’ve done theire worst, -and yet I live. There were women coulde stand aneath -y<sup>e</sup> cross. The Maccabees’ mother—. . . . . yes, my -soul, yes; I know—naught but unpardoned sin . . . . . -The chariot of Israel.</p> - -<hr class='tbk146'/> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dr. Clement hath beene with us. Sayth he went up -as blythe as a bridegroom to be clothed upon with mortality.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rupert stoode it alle out. Perfect love casteth out -feare. Soe did his.</p> - -<hr class='tbk147'/> - -<p class='pindent'>. . . . . . . “My most precious treasure is this deare -billet, writ with a coal; the last thing he sett his hand to, -wherein he sayth, ‘I never liked your manner toward me -better than when you kissed me last.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They have let us bury his poor mangled trunk; but, -as sure as there’s a sun in heaven, I’ll have his head!—before -another sun hath risen, too. If wise men wont -speed me, I’ll e’en content me with a fool.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I doe think men, for ye most part, be cowards in -theire hearts . . . . moral cowards. Here and there, we -find one like father, and like Socrates, and like . . . . . . -this and that one, I mind not theire names just now; but -in y<sup>e</sup> main, me thinketh they lack the moral courage of -woman. Maybe, I’m unjust to ’em just now, being crost.</p> - -<hr class='tbk148'/> - -<p class='pindent'>. . . . . . “I lay down, but my heart was waking. -Soon after the first cock crew, I hearde a pebble cast -agaynst my lattice, knew ye signall, rose, dressed, stole -softlie down and let myself out. I knew the touch of y<sup>e</sup> -poor fool’s fingers; his teeth were chattering, ’twixt cold -and fear, yet he laught aneath his breath as he caught my -arm and dragged me after him, whispering, ‘Fool and fayr -lady will cheat ’em yet.’ At the stairs lay a wherry with -a couple of boatmen, and one of ’em stepping up to me, -cries, ‘Alas for ruth, Mistress Meg, what is’t ye do? -Art mad to go on this errand?’ I sayed, ‘I shall be mad if -I go not, and succeed too—put me in, and push off.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We went down the river quietlie enow—at length -reach London Bridge stairs. Patteson, starting up, says, -‘Bide ye all as ye are,’ and springs aland and runneth up -to the bridge. Anon returns, and sayth, ‘Now, mistress, -alle’s readie . . . . . readier than ye wist . . . . . come -up quickly, for the coast’s clear.’ Hobson (for ’twas he) -helps me forth, saying, ‘God speed ye, mistress . . . . . -Gin I dared, I woulde goe with ye.’ . . . . Thought I, -there be others in that case.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nor lookt I up, till aneath the bridge-gate, when casting -upward a fearsome look, I beheld y<sup>e</sup> dark outline of the -ghastly yet precious relic; and, falling into a tremor, did -wring my hands and exclaim, ‘Alas, alas, that head hath -lain full manie a time in my lap, woulde God, woulde -God it lay there now!’ When, o’ suddain, I saw the pole -tremble and sway toward me; and stretching forth my -apron, I did in an extasy of gladness, pity, and horror, -catch its burthen as it fell. Patteson, shuddering, yet -grinning, cries under his breath, ‘Managed I not well, -mistress? Let’s speed away with our theft, for fools and -their treasures are soon parted; but I think not they’ll -follow hard after us, neither, for there are well-wishers to -us on the bridge. I’ll put ye into the boat, and then say, -God speed ye, lady, with your burthen.’</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>If I have quoted very largely, it is from the assurance -that the best criticism of the author is to let him be heard -for himself; and that his own words must needs be far -more interesting, as more touching, than any criticism, -how eloquent or analytical soever; much more, than a -mere string of laudatory comments—for in this instance -criticism is limited to pure laudation—intended to illustrate, -and link together in something of connection, the -choicest passages of this choice volume.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With the last page of the book this article shall close, -and the writer rests right confident that he has proved his -position and won his case, by the evidence; that the Libellus, -a Margarettâ More, is the book of the season, and -one that must endure for all seasons, so long as the English -tongue, and the fame of one of its brightest ornaments, -endureth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At another time, Mary Powell may furnish us with a -theme for more varied disquisition, if more limited quotation.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Flow on, bright shining Thames. A good brave man -hath walked aforetime on your margent, himself as bright, -and useful, and delightsome as be you, sweet river. And -like you, he never murmured; like you, he upbore the -weary, and gave drink to the thirsty, and reflected heaven -in his face. I’ll not swell your full current with any more -fruitless tears. There’s a river whose streams make glad -the city of our God. He now rests beside it. Good Christian -folks, as they hereafter pass this spot, upborne on thy -gentle tide, will, maybe, point this way, and say—‘There -dwelt Sir Thomas More;’ but whether they doe or not, -<span class='it'>vox populi</span> is a very inconsiderable matter, for the majority -are evil, and ‘<span class='it'>the people</span> sayd, Let him be crucified!’ -Who would live on theire breath? They hailed St. Paul -as Jupiter, and then stoned him and cast him out of the -city, supposing him to be dead. Theire favourite of to-day -may, for what they care, goe hang himself to-morrow -in his surcingle. Thus it must be while the world lasts; -and the very racks and scrues wherewith they aim to overcome -the nobler spiritt, onlie test and reveal its power of -exaltation above the heaviest gloom of circumstance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>“Interfecistis, interfecistis hominem omnium Anglorum -optimum.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_27'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f27'><a href='#r27'>[27]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Published respectively by Charles Scribner and Appleton -Bros. New York: 1852.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk149'/> - -<div><h1><a id='talk'></a>GRAHAM’S SMALL-TALK.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.3em;font-weight:bold;'>Held in his idle moments, with his Readers, Correspondents and Exchanges.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Our New Suit.</span>—It is not our purpose to show off—to -take airs, to be proud, to refuse to speak to anybody, -simply because our new suit has come home, and we are -giving it its first holyday airing—but our new type, our -new coat which covers it, and the very superior quality of -our whole rig is rather stared at, we know—or we should -not mention the fact. Excessive modesty has been our -weakness—it is the besetting frailty of most Magazine -publishers, as is fully evinced in their prospectuses. Humility -is tenderly nursed and taken out riding, until it has -a consumptive look, and is pronounced “too good for this -world.” Yet it is the fashion. Nobody—least of all -Godey—or Sartain or Harper—presumes to say a word in -self-praise—then why should Graham set himself up and -play Captain Grand, even if he is a little stouter and haler, -and has a greater extent of territory over which he can -gaze like Selkirk,</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Monarch of all he surveys;”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>and like Alexander, sigh for “more worlds to conquer.” -Why should <span class='it'>he</span> be proud? That question rather -startles us; but the answer is at hand—because he has the -greatest Magazine in the world—and the prettiest girls, -and the <span class='it'>most of ’em—to read it</span>! It is estimated that -60,000 beautiful women are in love with <span class='it'>Graham</span>—the -Magazine, of course—and Graham is as proud as Lucifer -about it; and Graham prides himself, too, that his subscribers -<span class='it'>read</span> his book, and are not satisfied with the picture -books, which in younger days had so many charms for -innocent eyes; when the whale in the spelling-book -spouted hugely, even to the top of the page, and the camel -had a hump that was a wonder—when stale love-stories -and most sickly verse, with fragments disjointed of the -veriest cold meats of literature were a marvel—when -homilies upon graces, made up of whalebones—the last -agony of fashion which it is agony to look at—were food -for dreams.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We hold you by the button, reader, merely to mention the -various excellencies which crown the feast; that our <span class='it'>new -type</span> and finer paper, are worthy of special mention. -Whether anybody ever had such type—or paper—or ever -will have, is not the question; for in these days of special -self-sacrifice, it will not do to be too modest, but—<span class='sc'>Our -book is Grand for June</span>.</p> - -<hr class='tbk150'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The Fast Press.</span>—No allusion is made in the title of -this article to the extremely fast press which prints -Graham—nor to the press which is fast upon the International -Magazine—nor ironically to the slow teams which -drive some of our cotemporaries with their small editions -dismally along; nor yet to the American Press—which is -rather progressive—but to <span class='it'>Hoe’s</span> immortal invention—the -which, in compliment to the Press of the Union, we illustrate -in our present and next issues in our usual happy -manner. The entire establishment of Col. Hoe is to be set -forth in pictured beauty before the readers of Graham in the -June and July numbers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We have paid the artists $400 for the drawings and -engravings, and merely mention the fact that those who -suppose <span class='it'>first rate wood engravings</span> are cheap, may take -breath and reform their calculations. No indifferent old -block, is ever put off upon our readers as a choice and rare -engraving—nor do we submit to any imposition from -engravers. Our work <span class='it'>must</span> be of the first order—or it is -not ours. Some that we have rejected, we see elsewhere, -and the publishers appear to be proud of their bargains—and -cry, excelsior!</p> - -<hr class='tbk151'/> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='sc'>Graham for May</span>, with twelve engravings and 112 -pages of reading, is already on our table—the gem of the -season. Long live Graham. Why don’t such a clever -fellow get married? That’s what we want to know—and -so do the ladies. Then, friend Graham, you would not -be troubled so much with your <span class='it'>batch</span> of ‘love letters.’ ”—<span class='it'>Gazette, -Hallowell, Me.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fact is, we have been thinking of it, for—the last -thirteen years—but every month we have to get up a very -beautiful woman for the Magazine, and we are always -head over ears in love with a new feature. Some of -these times we shall settle down quietly and be “a love of -a husband”—see if we don’t!</p> - -<hr class='tbk152'/> - -<p class='pindent'>“We think that Godey will have to acknowledge himself -beaten this month by Graham; but we wish to ask Graham -two questions, and hope he will answer truthfully. The -first is, if he is a married man: the second, who engraved -the ‘Jolly Good Fellows?’ ”—<span class='it'>Southern Argus, Houston, -Miss.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Godey says his “Book” is a “<span class='it'>peculiar</span> Magazine in all -respects—containing matter that does not appear in other -magazines, and all other matters that do.” So you see, -friend Argus, that he dodges the question, which is what -we never did. Devereux engraved the “Jolly Good -Fellows.” As to being married—that is another question!</p> - -<hr class='tbk153'/> - -<p class='pindent'>Our friend Duval, of “The Phœnix,” Camden, Ala., -throws up his cap and hurras for Graham, and says we -are “ahead of all cotemporaries, and understand our business.” -It is very evident from the following from the -Phœnix, that the <span class='it'>merchants</span> of that place do <span class='it'>not</span>. “Persons -at a distance, looking over the columns of our Camden -papers might very reasonably come to the conclusion that -we have no merchants or business men in Camden. Well, -that is pretty near the truth—we have none who <span class='it'>fully</span> understand -their <span class='it'>business</span>, or they would more frequently -make use of the columns of their village papers, to inform -the country people that they <span class='it'>want</span> their patronage. Our -merchants seem to think that all their customers are in -town, and <span class='it'>see</span> the arrival of their new goods, never thinking, -perhaps, that their country customers wait to hear -the news.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How any man, who has a desire to do business, can -overlook the manifest advantage of letting people <span class='it'>know</span> -he has goods to sell, is a marvel—and that large wholesale -dealers in our Atlantic cities should overlook the advantage -of advertising in the distant papers of business towns, -is to be set down as a piece of stupidity only equaled by -the tortoise, which shuts its shell that it may not be seen. -<span class='it'>Wherever your customers are likely to come from—there -should be your advertising cards.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk154'/> - -<div><h1><a id='hour'></a>HOUR OF FOND DELIGHT.</h1></div> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i237a.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0014' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'>COMPOSED BY ALEXANDER LEE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'>Presented by LEE & WALKER, 188 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i237b.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0015' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i238.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0016' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>What an hour is this,</p> -<p class='line0'>Joy and love o’erflowing,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ev’ry sense of bliss,</p> -<p class='line0'>O’er our feelings throwing;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy sweet image, love,</p> -<p class='line0'>Round my heart is twining,</p> -<p class='line0'>Brightly from above,</p> -<p class='line0'>The silver moon is shining:</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Moonlight! Moonlight!</p> -<p class='line0'>Hour of ev’ry fond delight!</p> -<p class='line0'>Moonlight! Moonlight!—</p> -<p class='line0'>Hour of ev’ry fond delight!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>    <span style='font-size:smaller'>SECOND VERSE.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>All is silent now,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Philomel thou hearest,</p> -<p class='line0'>From yon cypress bough,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Sounds to lovers dearest;</p> -<p class='line0'>Daylight be for those</p> -<p class='line0'>  Who for wealth aspiring,</p> -<p class='line0'>Give me sweet repose,</p> -<p class='line0'>  While the moon is shining.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Moonlight! &c.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk155'/> - -<p class='line' style='margin-top:2em;font-size:1.1em;font-weight:bold;'><a id='notes'></a>Transcriber’s Notes:</p> - -<p class='noindent'>Table of Contents has been added for reader convenience. Archaic spellings and -hyphenation have been retained. Obvious typesetting and punctuation errors have been corrected -without note. Other errors have been corrected as noted below. For -illustrations, some caption text may be missing or incomplete due to condition of -the originals available for preparation of the eBook.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the first article <span class='it'>NEW YORK PRINTING MACHINE, PRESS, AND SAW WORKS.</span>, the <a href='#bot2'>footnote</a> -was added to clarify the meaning of a sentence which may be confusing to some modern day readers.</p> - -<div class='lgl' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>page 592, believed to the real.” ==> believed to <a href='#tobe'>be</a> real.”</p> -<p class='line'>page 600, The butcher’s looked: a ==> The <a href='#butch'>butchers</a> looked: a</p> -<p class='line'>page 609, in livery where already ==> in livery <a href='#were'>were</a> already</p> -<p class='line'>page 656, in them, and yet its all ==> in them, and yet <a href='#its'>it’s</a> all</p> -<p class='line'>page 659, queen, its from the ==> queen, <a href='#its2'>it’s</a> from the</p> -<p class='line'>page 665, By Caroline Chesboro’. ==> By Caroline <a href='#chese'>Chesebro’</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>[End of Graham’s Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 6, June 1852]</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 6, -June 1852, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, JUNE 1852 *** - -***** This file should be named 60202-h.htm or 60202-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/2/0/60202/ - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at https://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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