diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-0.txt | 6522 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-0.zip | bin | 139627 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h.zip | bin | 3850400 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/65198-h.htm | 8614 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 228013 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i001.jpg | bin | 398014 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i002.jpg | bin | 200749 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i025.jpg | bin | 410443 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i076.jpg | bin | 59696 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i080.jpg | bin | 34683 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i084.jpg | bin | 28223 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i085.jpg | bin | 50973 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i087.jpg | bin | 21396 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i089.jpg | bin | 26351 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i089b.jpg | bin | 28554 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i090a.jpg | bin | 36007 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i090b.jpg | bin | 34198 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i091.jpg | bin | 31235 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i092a.jpg | bin | 30829 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i092b.jpg | bin | 64449 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i093a.jpg | bin | 31415 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i093b.jpg | bin | 29413 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i095.jpg | bin | 39522 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i096a.jpg | bin | 50674 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i096b.jpg | bin | 66085 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i097.jpg | bin | 25186 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i099.jpg | bin | 29749 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i101a.jpg | bin | 28086 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i101b.jpg | bin | 21730 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i102a.jpg | bin | 26931 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i102b.jpg | bin | 36130 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i103a.jpg | bin | 28288 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i103b.jpg | bin | 20498 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i104.jpg | bin | 38981 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i106a.jpg | bin | 29396 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i106b.jpg | bin | 30054 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i107.jpg | bin | 22215 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i108a.jpg | bin | 46760 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i108b.jpg | bin | 42720 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i109a.jpg | bin | 32538 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i109b.jpg | bin | 30944 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i110a.jpg | bin | 35667 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i110b.jpg | bin | 33921 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i111a.jpg | bin | 21285 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i111b.jpg | bin | 18903 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i112a.jpg | bin | 26091 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i112b.jpg | bin | 30406 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i113a.jpg | bin | 18684 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i113b.jpg | bin | 30044 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i114.jpg | bin | 38482 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i137.jpg | bin | 254026 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i138.jpg | bin | 245763 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65198-h/images/i153.jpg | bin | 900493 -> 0 bytes |
56 files changed, 17 insertions, 15136 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8fb1c71 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65198 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65198) diff --git a/old/65198-0.txt b/old/65198-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 173be2b..0000000 --- a/old/65198-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6522 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 5, November -1841, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Graham's Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 5, November 1841 - -Author: Various - -Editor: George R. Graham - -Release Date: April 30, 2021 [eBook #65198] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada - team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net from page images generously - made available by the Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, VOL. XIX, NO. -5, NOVEMBER 1841 *** - GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE. - Vol. XIX. November, 1841. No. 5. - - - Contents - - Fiction, Literature and Articles - - The Ghost of Chew’s Wall - The Rowsevillers.—No. II - The Reefer of ’76 - The Interesting Stranger - Shakspeare.—No. III - Wiccónsat - The Moonlight Flitting - A Chapter on Autography - The King’s Bride - Indian Traditions.—No. II - Sports and Pastimes.—The Fowling-Piece - Review of New Books - - Poetry, Music and Fashion - - The Pet Lamb - Flight of the Birds - Il Serenado di Venice - Ephemera - With Thee - Sonnets - I Never Have Been False to Thee - Merry England - Marriage - Never Shall My Heart Forget Thee! - Latest Fashions, November 1841 - - Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: Eng. by H. S. Sadd, N.Y., _The Pet Lamb_ _Engraved -expressly for Graham’s Magazine_] - - - - -[Illustration] - - * * * * * - - GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE. - - Vol. XIX. PHILADELPHIA: NOVEMBER, 1841. No. 5. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE PET LAMB. - - - BY ALEXANDER A. IRVINE. - - - I saw her in her artlessness - All innocent and free, - And playfully a favored lamb - She fondled on her knee— - She seemed a vision of a dream, - A glory passing bright, - A being clothed in loveliness - As angels are in light! - - Her tresses sported round about - Her snowy brow divine, - As flowers of the daffodil - Embrace a virgin shrine,— - Such purity was nestled there, - A Sybil’s it might be, - Forever beaming placidly - As starlight down at sea! - - Her smile it had a witchery - To mortal ones unknown, - A language in its mirthfulness - Beyond a seraph’s tone: - It was as if the soul had come - From out its deep recess - And chose a dwelling in her eyes, - So pure their loveliness! - - And softly on her pearly cheek - The dewy lashes lay; - Her lips were parted temptingly - To woo the breeze to stay; - Her snowy neck all droopingly - Defied the lily’s grace; - Her dimpled mouth—I dreamt of heav’n - In gazing on that face! - - She fondled artlessly her pet; - She raised his tiny feet; - And toyed the garland on his neck; - And soothed him, when he bleat, - So sweetly that I might not hear - Unmoved that silver tone, - But longed to leave my hiding place - And woo her for my own. - - A shot re-echoed through the wood, - I saw the smoky wreath— - The lamb was bleeding in her lap - The glancing ball beneath— - I sprang and raised the sufferer - And staunched the ebbing tide, - And carefully I bound the wound, - And sat me by her side. - - I quieted her quick alarm, - I gently soothed her fears, - And o’er the dying favorite - We mingled tears with tears: - I shared her grief, and calmed her woe, - And blamed the sportsman rude— - She raised her swimming eyes to mine - And smiled her gratitude. - - She faintly smiled and dropped her gaze, - Her passive hand I took, - No word was spoke, we only heard - The murmur of the brook; - Her gaze was on the murdered lamb, - Her heart was strangely moved— - She sighed, and oh! the loss she felt, - The void where once she loved. - - Again I soothed her maiden grief, - And sighed whene’er she sighed, - And with such winning sympathy - Her starting tears I dried,— - And when she ceased I sighed myself, - And she besought to know - All artlessly and innocent - The secret of my woe. - - I told her it was all herself, - That I had paused to gaze, - And that her witching loveliness - Would sadden all my days; - And then I sighed, and looked away, - And told her how I grieved, - Not for myself, but for the pang - Her gentle heart received. - - I asked her but to pity me, - And told my grief to part— - Her fingers trembled, and I heard - The beating of her heart, - And all dissolved in sympathy - She yielded to my side— - Was ever virgin love as thine? - My Rosalie, my bride! - - * * * * * - - - - - THE GHOST OF CHEW’S WALL; - - - A LEGEND OF GERMANTOWN. - - - BY OLIVER OLDFELLOW. - - -When a man becomes so far lost to a sense of self-importance, as not -only to tell, but actually to _write stories_,—thus recording his -turpitude in black and white—it is not to be presumed that slight -consequences will deter him from his purpose. Indeed, it is rather to be -supposed that he has made up his mind to despise public opinion, and to -brave all indignation. His hand is sure to follow as his pen may lead, -and whatever he may _resolve_, when the story is written, it is, somehow -or other, sure to find its way into print. The best motives of a writer -may therefore be mistaken, or his strongest resolves puffed to the winds -by a single breath, so that it may well be supposed in what a -predicament we were, when we found our best intentions frustrated, and -had to encounter the wrath and tobacco smoke of our German neighbors, -and were obliged to write this apologetic introduction, and all through -a villanous blunder of our greedy devil. - -The facts are these. We sat down, a few evenings since, after enjoying a -comfortable cup of pure Java,—which we still continue to enjoy, -notwithstanding the anathemas of a fellow with a villanous name, of -“bran bread” repute,—to commit to paper a few notes of a conversation -which we had with a relative long since. Having unluckily fallen into a -doze, our devil, who had been going about for more than an hour roaring -for copy, took a peep into the sanctum, and, seeing how matters stood, -slipt off the following article, “in the crack o’ a thumb,” by way of -filling up an odd form, which, in an unlucky fit of liberality, we had -resolved to squeeze into the present number. It may well be supposed -that, before we had fairly rubbed our eyes open, the _matter_ was blown -to the world, and a whole avalanche of country cousins, who hail from -Germantown, were down upon us. Of course we said at once that the -article was not ours, as no man can be expected to acknowledge his guilt -until it is proved upon him. This, however, did not satisfy them, -although they professed to have no difficulty in believing it, for they -continued to smoke their pipes with such fury, and swore so stoutly in -real jaw-breaking Dutch—for every mother’s son is German, even to the -cut of his pantaloons—that we were glad to get off upon the condition -of making a handsome apology, which we think we have now fully done. - -Among the many delightful villages in Pennsylvania, which owe their -origin to German settlers, and maintain, amid surrounding improvements, -the unchanged marks of ancestry, there is none more prominent than -Germantown. It is but half an hour’s drive from Philadelphia, extending -along the main road for more than two miles, with, for the most part, -old-fashioned stone houses, which date prior to the revolution, -sprinkled plenteously on both sides of the road, forming a village of -most unconscionable length, but—like the pockets of most dandies of the -present day—with no depth or body to support its extensive pretensions. -It is famous in history, as being the ground of a battle during the -struggle for independence, in which victory, though for a time doubtful, -declared for the enemy, in consequence of the incompetency of an -American officer. The present inhabitants are mostly the descendants of -German families—true sprigs of the old branches, imitating most of the -virtues of their forefathers, indulging in no luxuries, pursuing a rigid -economy, and clinging with an unyielding regard to the money bequeathed -them. Nor is this regard in any degree weakened by the devices of those -who have recently settled in the village, and who vainly hope by -improving their houses, fitting up their grounds, and clipping and -beautifying their shrubbery, to induce an imitation of their example. -The old-roof tree stands, as it stood half a century ago, and the very -stones of the building, from between which the mortar has in many cases -long since dropped, grin defiance on the passer by, who dares to harbor -a thought of improvement or repair. The owner is content to _live_ as -his ancestors lived, but would like to _die_ a little richer. The -patrimony, amassed by the hand of unceasing toil, is religiously -bequeathed from sire to son, together with the peculiar habits of -thought and the superstitious sentiments of an age gone by. In many -cases no education has been suffered to weaken or invade, and in others -has been so slight as only to harmonize the mind with the general -character of the place, which at best seems to belong more to a past -generation than to the present. From these causes, things which better -tutored minds scout with scorn, in the one case, are held as true as -matters of religious belief, and in the other are only doubted, not -disbelieved. In fact so thoroughly does superstition, and the gross -follies which an intercourse with the world and education always dispel, -prevail, that many of the inhabitants can tell you to a nicety when -there will be a change of weather, by the belligerent attitude in which -the moon turns up her horns when she grows restive, and that there will -be company when the cat licks her paws, when a fork sticks up in the -floor, or when the old cock brushes up his feathers and crows in the -door-way. There are others who go still deeper into mysteries of this -sort, and can predict to you a birth, a marriage, or a death, by the -kinks in a cow’s tail; but as they are entirely beyond our depth, and -seem to have this knowledge all to themselves, it may be well not to -disturb them in their profound wisdom. Nevertheless, let no young man, -who values the affections of any fair Dutch damsel in Germantown, -venture to present her with a pair of scissors, unless he wishes to -_cut_ the sentimental cord that binds her to him. Thus much we feel in -duty bound to record as a warning to young gentlemen, as many a man has -lost the confidence and affections of his lady love in consequence of -less matters than a pair of scissors. - -It might be expected that a village so contiguous to a great city, would -soon lose these distinctive marks of character, and that the -extravagance, follies and vices of the metropolis would be generally -imitated. Not so, however. With very little exception, the place is as -entirely distinct as if it were miles in the interior. The moral mantle -of Germanism seems to hang like a cloud over the place, and, blended -with the superstition of the portion of inhabitants spoken of, there is -a high-toned morality so imbedded in the hearts of the people, that -honesty and a strict regard to truth, next to making money and keeping -it, may be considered the great texts by which they live. - -It will easily be understood that among a people thus constituted, a -_ghost_ has but to be _seen_ by one of their number, and his appearance -announced, to be generally dreaded. If he has been _seen_, there is an -end of all doubting, and the only thing thereafter to be done, is to -keep out of his way. There will be no use, in such a case, to multiply -arguments about him, but every man must take care of himself. And, what -may seem a little singular, a good sound-minded, rational apparition -will, in all cases, most delight to visit a people who pay him so much -deference; taking especial care to show himself off frequently, and in -all manner of ways, that there may be no doubt that he does exist in one -shape or another, and having established the matter to his own -satisfaction, that it is better to range the upper world, where he can -be _seen_, than to dwell below in the dark, damp ground of the tomb, -where he cannot be seen, where his very existence may be doubted, and -where, at the best, the quarters are most uncomfortably chilly,—we say -a sane ghost, under such circumstances, would naturally grow -familiar—or rather _attempt_ to—and having sought out and established -himself in comfortable quarters, and having enjoyed an oblivious nap -during the day, would seek to regale himself in the evening, after his -own will and pleasure, by little trips by moonlight, over the fields, -around the old barns, and especially on the tops of the _stone -fences_—if any there be—of the neighborhood. A ghost certainly has the -right, if any _body_ has, of doing pretty much as he pleases, and of -keeping out of the dust and gravel of a country side-walk, and of -cutting up his antics, by way of recreation, on the top of a stone wall. -At least these were the sentiments entertained by the ghost in question, -and he took the liberty—unlike most politicians—of acting them out -without regard to consequences. - -One morning, early in November, 18—, the inhabitants of the goodly -village of Germantown were thrown into great consternation and dismay, -by the important intelligence that a ghost had been seen the previous -evening, perched upon Chew’s wall, dressed in white, and rattling a -heavy chain, which some maintained he had been hung in, in consequence -of some great crime. Some said that it was only a log-chain, which he -intended to use, after his own fashion, on the first man he got in his -clutches, while others, with a great show of reason, maintained that the -chain was fastened around _his own ankle_, and that he was no less a -_personage_ than the ghost of the dead soldier who had deserted from the -British during the revolution, and was accidentally shot during the -battle of Germantown, while a prisoner in a baggage-wagon, _as had been -said_, but who, it was very likely, had been murdered during the heat of -the fray, by some enemy in his own ranks—a rival in love, perhaps, or -an heir to some estate, who wished him out of the way. Be all this as it -may, the ghost had been _seen_ upon the wall, and he had a chain about -him in some way, and some unheard of atrocity might confidently be -looked for. The greatest mystery of the affair was that as soon as the -rumor got on the wind, the man who had seen him was no where to be -found, nor could any body tell who he was. Somebody _had_ seen him, -however, and that was enough, and any inhabitant of Germantown would as -soon have doubted the existence of sour-krout—a belief of which -substantial proof was given daily—as to have felt the least incredulity -in regard to the ghost. - -Of course all the inhabitants put on the gravest looks possible, and -kept a sharp look-out, but still nearly a week passed and no tidings of -a renewal of the visit of his ghostship occurred. Sunday morning came, -and the matter was duly canvassed before the church door, prior to the -arrival of the minister. A great many solemn shakes of the head and -knowing winks were given on the subject. It was formally resolved that -fires had better be kept burning in all the ovens for a fortnight, -though it was pretty generally agreed that the ghost had been taken -unawares, and that, whatever his business to that place might be, by -keeping off the wall for a week, it was a pretty good sign that he did -not want to show himself, and therefore he would be more cautious in -future. - -The ghost, notwithstanding all these sage conclusions, resolved to have -his own way in the matter, and accordingly made his appearance _that -very evening_—not in white, nor in the form of a man, but in _black_, -and running on all fours, like a hyena, on the top of the wall, and even -proceeded so far as to throttle a very inoffensive person, and one who -never could have had any thing to do with the murder—if indeed the -apparition was the ghost of the murdered soldier. The facts of this -encounter are these. - -Christopher Burger (such was the name of the person throttled) or -“_Stoffel_ Burger,” as his German friends delighted to dub him in -abbreviation, was a stout, square-built young fellow, of about -twenty-two, who could do his day’s work, and dance the whole night -through in the bargain, without thinking of fatigue. He had fallen in -love, at a quilting party, with Miss Susan Hanz, a blooming Dutch damsel -of seventeen summers; and, like a straight-forward business-like German, -as he was, he resolved to make her his wife. She was, in fact, just the -girl to inspire Christopher with the sentimental. Short, thick, and as -elegantly shaped as a churn, with a full, round, saucy face, lighted up -with a pair of brilliant black eyes, and with a foot, which, if it was -_not_ one of the smallest, could go through “a straight four,” or, for -that matter, if occasion required it, a regular “hoe down,” with a grace -that actually made Christopher’s heart leap, as if it was going to jump -out of his mouth. Nor were these her only claims to regard. The fair -Susan was an only child, and her father had the reputation of possessing -more than one stocking full of _the real currency_, carefully stowed -away in the large walnut chest under the bed. Two or three broad farms -also claimed ’Squire Hanz as owner, and spread themselves out very -temptingly before the eager eyes of “Stoffel.” And then, what a hand at -baking hot cakes!—his mouth actually watered at the thought. Added to -all this, he well knew that if he succeeded in winning the heart of the -fair Susan, no obstacle would be placed in the way of his happiness by -the ’Squire. In this matter the ’Squire was exceedingly liberal; he -imposed but one condition upon his daughter in relation to the man of -her choice, and that was, that “he must be of a good German family.” To -“_Stoffel_” there could be no objection on this score. His very name -carried the recommendation with it. Moreover, the ’Squire had never had -brother or sister, and therefore there were no rascally cousins to be -mining the fortress in his absence. Had there been any, with stout -purses in their fists, the matter would not have been quite so positive; -for, as an _arrangement of convenience_, and to _keep the money_ from -the hands of _grasping strangers_, every man in the village of which we -write made it a point to marry his cousin—_if he could get her_—and, -if the truth must be told, the strong voice of parental command was -seldom wanting to strengthen his suit. - -Let it not be supposed, however, that a lady with such substantial -claims had never been besieged with lovers. Such _had been_ the case. -But “Stoffel” having so far outstripped his rivals as to attain the -honor of _smoking a pipe alone_ with the ’Squire a few Sunday evenings -previous to the time of which we write, the business was looked on as -settled, and the whole bevy of Dutch beaux were off in the twinkling of -an eye, like a flock of partridges when they have been shot at. - -Christopher, thus having “a fair field and _all_ the favor,” was not the -man to neglect the advantage; so that, on the Sunday night in question, -if an inquisitive eye had been placed at the key-hole of the ’Squire’s -parlor door, he might have been _seen_, or _heard_, actually (we hope -the ladies will skip this passage)—we say he might have been _seen_ -kissing Susan _in the dark_. Atrocious as this conduct was, however, on -the part of “Stoffel,” we are bound, in recording a true narrative, to -say that the lady was not to be frightened at trifles; so, instead of -screaming out, and thus rousing the ’Squire and his blunderbuss, she -took the matter coolly, and, resolving not to be outdone in civilities, -gave him as good as he sent, and, throwing her arms around his neck, -_kissed him_!! These, of course, are little attentions, on the part of -lovers, which should not be wantonly, and without purpose, revealed to -“the cold and heartless world,” and we only mention them to show that -Christopher was a fellow with a pretty stout heart, and thus prepare our -readers for the horrible outrage upon a brave man we are about to -record. And considering, too, that all our lady readers have skipped the -last passage, and are waiting breathlessly, we proceed. - -It was now past twelve o’clock—we are ashamed to record it—for -Christopher, whatever wrong he committed in _going_ to the ’Squire’s -every Sunday evening, when he _returned_, his conscience, on that score, -was generally clear enough, as it was Sabbath no longer. We say it was -past twelve, and Christopher set out for home. He had feasted on the -best the ’Squire’s cellar afforded, and had made way with more than one -mug of his best cider. The parting scene, on the part of Christopher, -had been unusually tender. He was naturally an ardent lover, and the -cider by no means decreased the strength of his attachment. He had used -every argument to bring Susan to the point of acceptance—still she was -coy. Yet Christopher was a man of discernment, and thought that a lady -who would throw her arms around his neck and kiss him in the dark, -(bless us! what will the ladies say to this?) could have no serious -objection to him at bottom, and so, on the whole, he was in a very -pleasant mood with himself, and with all _mankind_ and _womankind_ in -the bargain, as gentlemen usually are when the lady has been kind, and -the parting kiss has been freely given. He felt unusually _happy_, and -could not restrain the kind feelings which bubbled up to his very lips -and found vent in snatches of songs. He was rapidly approaching the -wall—still he thought nothing of ghosts or hob-goblins, but was -ruminating very intently upon the charms of the _substantial_ little -Dutch beauty, and was going over in his mind, very pleasantly, her -qualifications to make him a happy man. He might be said to be in that -state, when a man is walking yet dreaming. He was picturing a neat stone -house, with every _useful_ article of furniture bought and paid for, and -with a horse and cow that he could call his own. Milk punch, too, -naturally enough popped into his head, and then out again, to make room -for thoughts of hot cakes swimming in butter. His song, however, still -went on, as the music was not so difficult of execution as to require -much thought in its performance—when the conclusion of a stanza seemed -suddenly to have been frozen on his lips, and he started back with the -ejaculation— - -“Mine Got! vat ish dat? der spooke—der divel!” - -The cause of his alarm the reader will understand, and so did “Stoffel.” -He had heard it rumored that a ghost in white had been seen airing -himself upon Chew’s wall, and he was not the man to scoff at rumor, and, -even if he had been, there was the identical thing before him, slightly -changed in appearance, it is true, not in white, nor sitting erect, but -in black, running along the wall towards him, like a hyena or a bear; -and, sure enough, as if to establish his character beyond the -possibility of a doubt, _rattling his chain_ with a clangor truly -appalling. - -In any other situation Christopher, perhaps, would have run, but in the -present instance his limbs refused to do their work, his knees knocked -together, his teeth set to chattering, and he seemed rooted to the spot. -Nor can it be supposed that he was a coward, as we think the contrary -has been clearly demonstrated in his valiant exploits in courting. The -ghost, however, as if to settle the difficulty, to clear all doubt in -the mind of Christopher, and to prevent any more profane exclamations, -coolly descended from the wall, and before he knew where he was, knocked -him down “with one blow of his _tail_,” as was afterwards affirmed. - -“So,” said the ghost, “your time has come to die!” - -“Mine Got, nay—I be’s—so young—and pin—tink—to git—marry,” -chattered the horror-stricken Dutchman. - -“You are going to get married; ha! who do you think will have you?” - -“’Squire—Hanz—Sus, me tinks.” - -“When you marry her you will be a dead man,” said the ghost in a hollow, -sepulchral voice, “and unless you stay away from ’Squire Hanz’s two -months from this time, remember I have warned you! you are a dead man! -Beware!” and having released his throat from a loving squeeze, vanished, -as Christopher asserted, “in de ground.” - -When he arose, his brain whirled, and his memory was confused; the sun -was just peeping over the hills, and a group of astonished neighbours -were around him. Christopher told his story, and related the adventure -exactly as it had occurred, excepting what related to Susan, that he -kept close in his own bosom—why? we cannot say. Some believed him, but -others, of the most knowing, shook their heads—guessed he had drank too -freely of the ’Squire’s cider, and wondered how he knew “the ghost -vanished in the ground when he was lying on his face in the dirt.” - -Christopher asserted, and swore Dutch to substantiate it, that he “had -been _choked on the back of his neck_ until he saw stars,” and that -after _that_ the ghost disappeared, and he knew nothing more of the -matter until he found the mob around him. - -This was conclusive! And as the contagion spread, it was ascertained -that the ghost had been exceedingly obliging, and had appeared in a -variety of forms and costumes “to suit customers.” A stout troop of good -wives roundly asserted that he had crossed the road in the form of a -white calf, as they were proceeding to meeting, and that when they -screamed out he disappeared. One had seen him in the habit of an old -woman, dangling a great bunch of keys at her girdle, but it was plain he -was no old woman at all from the whisker on one side of his face, which -proved him to be the dead soldier. Moreover, he kept rattling the keys -with tremendous fury, and held up his forefinger significantly; as much -as to say “if you disturb me I’ll knock you down.” - -Another averred that as she was walking along, she heard a terrible -flapping of wings, and looking up she saw, what at first appeared to be -a flock of wild-geese, but they quickly changed into boys, and in an -instant all vanished but one, and he was a man with a long white flowing -robe, with which he took good care to cover his head, so that she could -not see whether he had whiskers or no, and therefore could not say -whether it was the dead soldier or not. In short, nearly all the _old_ -women had seen him, or had a ghost story to _tell_, which answered the -same purpose, so that the good Dutchmen shook their heads to no purpose, -for the more they shook them the more confused they became. - -The consequence was, that after the existence of the ghost was thus -substantiated, he resolved to confirm the testimony by taking up his -quarters for the winter at once. This he did by establishing himself in -a neat two story brick house, which was formerly located at the place -now called “The Seven Oaks.” Thus having made himself perfectly at home, -and we presume feeling himself so, for no body pretended to disturb him -in his selected quarters, he took his recreations in various ways. -Sometimes he would appear with a winding sheet around him, and a flame -of fire coming out of his mouth, then he would walk inhabited like a -bear, or he might be seen in the form of a dragon with a huge tail. To -vary the entertainments, he would appear with horrible horns on his -head, and a tail like a fish, and would go sweeping over the ground as -if he were gliding in water. He appeared, too, at various places, though -his favorite resort was the top of the stone wall, which he would often -bestride, as if it were a full-blooded charger, and would go whistling -down the wind,—stone wall and all. What rendered this last feat the -more surprising was, that when morning came the wall looked as unmoved -as if nothing had happened, but the ghost was nowhere to be found. - -It could not be supposed that things should continue in this state -forever. Accordingly a number of the more aged inhabitants having put -their heads together, it was thought advisable to devise some energetic -measures to relieve themselves of his ghostship. Whereupon every man -stuck his pipe in his mouth, and set to smoking and thinking with great -energy and decision. After due reflection, various measures were -proposed, but none so feasible as that proposed by ’Squire Hany, who -having a pipe about a foot longer than any of the others, came to the -sagest conclusion. - -His proposal was in substance, that a meeting be called on the next -evening, and that a committee should be appointed to watch the ghost, -and if possible, to shoot through him with silver bullets; when, it was -affirmed, he would dissolve into thin air at once. And lest the ghost -should be aroused to commit some deed of dire interest, as soon as the -news of these hostile proceedings reached his ears, it was thought -advisable that all the inhabitants should close their doors at sundown, -nail horse shoes over them, and, to save candles if not their necks, -they should go to bed at dark. - -A large meeting of the indignant inhabitants, in accordance with this -decision, assembled at “The Green Tree,” when, after calling “Stoffel -Burger” to the chair, the following resolutions, which had been drawn up -with great care and precision for the occasion, were unanimously -adopted:— - -[1]“_Resolved_, That a committee of eight be appointed _to shoot the -ghost_.” - -“_Resolved_, That Stoffel Burger be chairman of the committee to point -him out, so that the silver bullets be not thrown away, and also, to -save powder, that _nobody shall shoot the ghost till they see him_.” - -To the first branch of this resolution Stoffel felt inclined to demur, -and said that as he had already been choked by the ghost, he would -rather not get in his clutches again. The meeting, however, had made up -their minds—as most town meetings generally do—before hand, and would -hear of no excuse. It was therefore further - -“_Resolved_, That the meeting defray the expenses of the committee, -provided they follow instructions, and that all the inhabitants be -commanded to nail horse shoes over their doors, so that the ghost may be -shot down without mercy.” - -We said the resolutions were unanimously adopted, but there was one -young gentleman who, in the outset, stoutly opposed them, but who, -nevertheless, afterwards gave them his hearty support. He was a good -looking fellow, about five feet ten in height, with a piercing black -eye, a most intelligent face, and a whisker trimmed with such exquisite -taste that every girl of the village would take a peep out of the corner -of her eye and admire them while passing. His tongue, too, was as -slippery as an eel, and he could say the softest and most honied words -in a way that actually put the stout Dutch phrases completely out of -tune. Nevertheless, he spoke German like a book, and no man could exceed -him in driving a bargain, so that, having come from a German settlement -in the east, he went by the name of “The Dutch Yankee.” He never -obtruded his advice in any case, and only suggested in this, “whether -these hostile proceedings might not inflame the anger of the ghost, and -lead to hot work.” - -The valor of the meeting, however, was too highly inflamed to listen for -a moment to prudential hints, when they had the iron argument of horse -shoes ready in case of danger, so that after selecting the committee and -charging them to “be true to their country in this sudden and trying -emergency, and to meet promptly the next evening and perform their -duty,” the meeting adjourned. - -On the following evening the committee accordingly met at “The Green -Tree,” armed to the teeth, each man having, in addition to his musket -charged with the fatal bullet, a long butcher knife to be ready for -extremities. The host of “The Green Tree” was in excellent spirits, and -the committee resolved at once to be so too if it could be done by dint -of good liquor. So in order to be prepared for the fierce encounter, and -to strengthen his nerves, each man knocked off his half-pint at the -outset. And as the generous inhabitants had agreed to pay expenses, -there could be no harm, so thought both the committee and the host, in -drinking another, and as each felt braver the more he drank, the -experiment was repeated in homœopathic doses until the hour of twelve, -when, we will venture to assert, a stouter hearted set of men never set -out on a perilous expedition. - -It is strange, however, how soon the cold wind of a winter night will -unstring the nerves and set the teeth to chattering, for no sooner were -the valiant committee within sight of Chew’s wall, and had been a little -chilled through with the night breeze, than each man was seized with a -tremendous shivering of cold, and each feeling weaker than the other, it -was with great difficulty that they could get on, for want of a leader. -It was stoutly maintained that “Stoffel” should go before, as he was -commissioned by the meeting to point out the ghost. To this Stoffel -agreed, but maintained that he could not show him to the committee, -unless they were with him. It was finally settled that no man should -have the _honor of going alone_, but that they should all march up -abreast, and at the signal given fire a platoon into him. So they set up -at once a terrible yelling, in order that the ghost might see that they -were in earnest and prepare for the consequences. - -Whether it was that the ghost heartily despised their bullying mode of -procedure, and determined to show that there was no flinching on his -part, by meeting them more than half way, or that the heads of the -committee were rather giddy with having been confined in the close air -of a bar-room for so many hours, and had thus caused them to -miscalculate distances; certain it was, that before they were aware of -their position, Stoffel espied the ghost and pointed him out at not more -than thirty yards distance. Every man instantly cocked his musket, and -affirmed that it was _moving_, and that owing to the dreadful proximity -of the ghost, every thing else was dancing around them. Accordingly they -instantly poured a dreadful volley into the offender and took to their -heels. - -Whether the ghost was hit or not, it was clearly ascertained the next -morning that the committee had succeeded in putting two silver balls -into a great, ugly old post, which had long been a serious annoyance, -and had split the rails of a contiguous fence most shockingly. There -were not wanting those who were severe and uncharitable enough to say -that the committee had got a little drunk, and had fired _at_ the post. -This, however, was deemed a gross slander, and it was unanimously agreed -that if the ghost had stood where the post was, he would have had a ball -through him to a certainty. - -As for “Stoffel,” having done this daring deed, nobody caught him -passing the wall for some weeks after, and he gave people pretty clearly -to understand that he did not intend to for some weeks to come. What -tended to confirm the inhabitants in the opinion that the vigilant -committee had extirpated the dreaded visitant, and that there was -nothing like silver bullets and horse shoes to quiet ghosts, whether in -doors or out was, he did not appear on the wall—when, unluckily for our -friend “Stoffel” and his milk punch and hot cakes, “The Dutch Yankee,” -who possessed the true blood, succeeded in winning the heart of the fair -Susan, and actually eloped with the bouncing little Dutch beauty, much -to the amazement of the ’Squire, and the horror of the astounded -“Stoffel,” and actually carried the enormity so far, as to write -“Stoffel” an invitation to the “home-bringing,” a month or so afterward; -coupling the request with a promise that the ghost should not be allowed -to disturb him either in passing or repassing Chew’s wall without due -revenge. “Stoffel” did not like the tone of the invitation, or -considered that his valor in courting and shooting ghosts was -established, so he declined. - -That the ghost still held his quarters privately somewhere in the -neighborhood, and enjoyed many a pleasant little trip by moonlight for -his own private gratification after that, was not doubted by the good -people of the village, although he only condescended to show himself to -particular favorites, by _occasional glimpses_ when passing the wall. -Lately, however, he has been more chary of his visits, and it is -supposed that the rail road rather interfered with his calculations, and -that the eternal whizzing of steam and the ringing of bells, rendered -his quarters uncomfortable—particularly since his house has rudely been -pulled down over his head, and a new one erected on the same site, -without regard to his convenience. - -There were not wanting people who pretended to laugh at the whole affair -after the elopement and marriage of the fair Susan, and it was -maintained that the Yankee was often seen to twist his face and laugh to -himself, when he was ploughing up the old ’Squire’s ground. Yet nobody -in Germantown, _who had heard the clanking of the chain_, ever ventured -to doubt the existence of the ghost, and if any of our readers are -inclined to disbelieve the story, the horse shoes can yet be seen nailed -over some of the doors, and the bullet _holes_ can yet be shown in the -posts by the road side,—some of the inhabitants having dug the bullets -out with the characteristic reflection, “that it was a pity that good -silver should be thrown away, _even after ghosts_.” - - G. - ------ - -[1] Note. This, of course, all occurred before the Germantown Telegraph -was started, or we should refer to the files of that valuable paper for -a full report of the proceedings, and thus save ourselves a vast deal of -trouble in copying a vile, old, dusty, Dutch manuscript. - - * * * * * - - - - - FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS. - - - BY MRS. E. C. STEDMAN. - - - Speed on! speed on, to your Southern home, - Ye who ’mid the fleecy clouds may roam! - The hoarse voice of Winter comes fast on the breeze— - Its roaring is heard in the tops of the trees, - And swift as your flight, is the march of Time— - Away, away, to a milder clime! - - Ye’re wearied with seeking in vain for food, - ’Mid the leafless boughs of your native wood; - And here will ye carol your songs no more, - Till the reign of the winter-king is o’er; - Till Spring, in new beauty, comes dancing on, - And ascends flower-crowned to her vernal throne. - - But your voices shall gladden the fairy bowers - Of the genial South, through these winter hours, - Where your golden wings may unfettered rove - Through the flowery dell, and the orange grove; - Or bathe in the spray of those crystal streams, - Which forever glide free in the sun’s glad beams. - - Then away! ere hastens cold winter’s night; - He who watcheth the sparrow, directs your flight: - We envy your freedom, ye songsters fair! - And fain would fly, too, from this piercing air; - But the Power divine, which doth bid you roam, - Binds us, and our joys, to a Northern home. - - But, thanks to that Power! from the frosts of Grief— - From the Winter that blighteth Affection’s leaf; - From the chilling blast of Misfortune’s breath, - The ransomed _spirit_ may flee at death, - To a clime where perpetual Summer reigns - O’er the fadeless flowers of celestial plains. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE ROWSEVILLERS.—No. II. - - - THE CAPTAIN’S COURTSHIP. - - -The cloth had just been removed, at my second dinner with the club, when -the President called on a Mr. Rowley for a story. He tossed off a -tumbler of Port—to clear the cobwebs, as he said, from his throat—and -began. - -“You all know I am a lawyer, and that men who would be witty have a way -of quizzing our profession by saying that we cannot tell a story without -dragging in our craft. I have no objection to the notion of these smart -gentlemen, and shall not even trouble myself to refute them, but go on -with my story. - -“When I was a student, just after the close of the late war, I used to -pay occasional visits to Mount Holly, which was even then a passable -county town, and remarkable for its pretty girls, its gay winters, and -the quantity of wine drunk by its bar. There wasn’t a lawyer in the -place who couldn’t carry his two bottles, and as for wit, these -barristers were famed for it from Cape May to Hackensack. But it is not -so much with the Mount Holly bar as with Captain Slashbey, one of the -clients of the wittiest member there, that my story has to do. - -“I first met the gallant captain on a hunting excursion into the pines. -He was a portly little gentleman, with a rubicund face, a constant flow -of humor, and an opinion of his own good looks rather singular, I must -say, at forty-five. He had very short legs and a very round person, and -altogether reminded you of a fat pigeon walking upright. He had been in -the service during the war, and at the reduction of the army, finding -himself pretty well in debt, and without a _sous_ in his pockets, had -settled at Squankum, a place in the very heart of the cedar swamps. And -very convenient it was for Slashbey, for, like Galway, in Ireland, a -sheriff’s writ hadn’t been seen there in the memory of man. It was once -attempted to execute a capias there, but the forgemen and squatters rose -in a mass, and though the light horse were ordered out, the arrest had -to be given up. Now the captain was a popular man in Squankum, and -therefore was as safe as in a sanctuary. He thirsted now and then, it is -true, for the good things of civilized life afar off, and would often -make a dash into Mount Holly, like a guerilla, taking care, however, to -retreat before his creditors had wind of his approach. But at length he -grew tired of this life,—I’ll thank you for the bottle—and determined -to extricate himself from it by marrying an heiress; for the captain was -a gallant man, you must know, and, like Will Honeycombe, had a high -notion of his own powers. - -“There was a merry little vixen at the county town—a gay witty -black-eyed rogue as ever lived—who was, in the captain’s opinion, the -very pattern for a wife. She would have made an anchorite forswear his -creed, and was besides an heiress to a very pretty fortune. Undaunted by -the crowds of suitors for her hand, Slashbey determined to enter the -lists, nothing doubting, on the faith of certain smiles with which she -always welcomed him, that he would carry off the prize. He began his -preparations like a Napoleon. He bought a new pair of buff cassimeres, -endued a shining blue coat with metal buttons, and ordered a wig from -the most fashionable _perruquier_ in Philadelphia, for unluckily the -captain was as bald as a cannon ball. Thus accoutred, he laid regular -siege to his charmer, dancing her and sleighing her whenever he could -venture out of his cedar swamps without being chased by a bailiff. The -heiress smiled on the captain, her suitors cursed the lucky rival, and -Slashbey spent his time betwixt studying his glass and singing ‘none but -the brave deserve the fair.’ - -“It was just when he thought he was on the point of success that a grand -ball was given at ——, and the captain, determining to carry his -charmer by assault, forgot his usual prudence and escorted the heiress -in his gig. Never did the little fellow look more gallant. I was at the -ball, and faith! could scarcely keep my eyes off him. His wig was curled -irresistibly, his new coat shone with resplendent lustre, his cassimeres -fit him as a mould does a bullet, and he sported his new buff gloves -with more vanity than a rider does his colors at a race. But, alas! his -glory was destined soon to wane. One of his rivals, whose nose the -captain had valorously pulled, determining on revenge, had informed the -sheriff of Slashbey’s whereabouts, and just as he was leading his -charmer triumphantly to the dance, the myrmidons of justice pounced on -him, and after a desperate struggle he was secured, on the charge of an -assault and battery. But this was not the worst. Before the court opened -the next day, a dozen writs in civil suits had been lodged against his -body. The captain was beside himself. He trembled at the _exposé_ of his -affairs—he trembled for his heiress. - -“‘We could laugh this battery out of court,’ he said; ‘but what the -devil can I do with these creditors? I’m a ruined man. And to come just -now, the infernal rascals! Oh, Anna Matilda!’ he exclaimed with a -love-lorn look of his crow-feet eyes, ‘it’s all up with you and your -fortune now. What would the fellows of the tenth say if they heard of -it?’ - -“‘Cheer up,’ said his attorney laughingly; ‘your case will come up among -the first, and we may yet find a way to get you off. It’s all the result -of envy. These young boys can’t endure that Mars and Apollo should meet -together in your person,’ and the barrister winked wickedly to me, as -Slashbey, marshalled by the sheriff, preceded us into the hall of -justice. - -“It was with a rueful countenance that he took his seat in the court. -The room was densely filled with the usual motley assemblage at a county -sessions. Loafers half in rags, and shopmen in the latest cut, portly -farmers with huge mud-stained boots, and drovers carrying heavy loaded -whips, here a sober Quaker with a broad-rimmed beaver, and there a gay -young lawyer with more wit than briefs, long men and short men, fat ones -and lean ones, some with merry round faces, and others with countenances -as sour as crab-apples, officers and loungers, attorneys and clients, -filled up every vacant space outside the bar, whiling away the time -until the appearance of the judge, by speculating on the prospects of a -crop, or discussing the points of a case set down for trial at the term. -At length his honor made his appearance, and, bustling and bowing -through the crowd, assumed the bench, wiped the perspiration from his -rubicund face, coughed with judicial gravity, and ordered the crier to -open the court. That high functionary accordingly started to his feet, -and in a nasal twang mumbled over a formula which no one could hear -distinctly, but which appeared to be a recapitulation of the iniquities -of those in authority generally, and of his honor in particular, as it -ended with a hope that God would save the commonwealth and the honorable -court. After the crier sat down, a very lean man, with a very sharp -nose, and a very squeaking voice, called out ‘John Smith,’ whereupon a -little fat man jumped up and said ‘here;’ but the clerk, without seeming -to notice him, went on and called Joseph Thomson, Zerubabel Thomson, -Joab Johnson, and the Lord knows how many more Thomsons and Johnsons, -all of whom severally jumped up and said ‘here.’ Then, the jury being -empannelled, the case came on, and the attorneys got into towering -passions, and seemed as if they could have eaten each other up, while -the jury smiled and nodded, and their foreman—the little fat -man—stroked his chin and looked extremely wise. After this was gone -through with, there was a general buzz through the room, when suddenly -the judge cried ‘order,’ and then the sheriff cried ‘order,’ and the -sleepy constables and tipstaves opened their eyes and echoed ‘order’ -more lustily than either; whereupon his honor turned over one or two big -books bound in white calf,—ah! this is prime Port—consulted his notes -for a moment, and then proceeded to sum up the evidence and charge the -jury. - -“The next case was that of Slashbey—and the same formality was gone -through with until about half of the jury had been sworn, when the -attorney-general rose to acquaint the court that the panel was exhausted -and that therefore he prayed a _tales_ from the lookers on. These few -and simple words of the attorney-general acted on the spectators like -the upsetting of a crowded bee-hive. Instantly there was a great rush -towards the door. Drovers and farmers, shopmen and gentlemen, staid -Quakers and burly topers, all started in the race at once, tumbling and -scrambling over each other in their haste to reach the entrance, while -the tipstaves shouted ‘order’ until they were hoarse, and the sheriff -and his deputies sprang to the door in order to close it before the -egress of their prey. It was a moment of general confusion, and Slashbey -was forgotten in the _mêlée_. Even the judge had eyes only for the -scrambling fugitives. - -“‘Now,’ said I, nudging Slashbey, who sat by me not far from the -casement; ‘now’s your time—clear the window at a leap—my horse -Thunderer is fastened not twenty yards off—ride like the devil, and -don’t draw rein till you get to Squankum.’ - -“Slashbey understood my plan as readily and rapidly as I had conceived -it, and, just waiting to see that the coast was clear, he placed his -hands on the sill, and, portly as he was, shot through the open window -like a bomb, unseen by all except his honor, who caught sight of the -fugitive’s coat tails as they disappeared outside. - -“‘An escape!’ shouted the judge, starting to his feet; ‘sheriff, your -prisoner. The captain’s off.’ - -“On the instant the talesmen were forgotten, and sheriff, deputies, -tipstaves and freeholders turned around, with open mouths and curious -eyes. It was a minute or more before the matter could be explained, and -by that time I saw that Slashbey had got mounted. I shouted ‘stop thief’ -at this, and sprang out of the window, as if in pursuit, followed by the -sheriff and his constables, tumbling helter-skelter over each other -after me. The officers no sooner caught sight of the fugitive than they -roared lustily to stop him, while the sheriff bawled for the ‘_posse -comitatus_’ like a bull of Bashan. It was no time to respect property, -so I followed the example of the officers, and sprang on the first steed -I came across, eager to see the fun. - -“The court house stood nearly at the opposite end of the village, from -that out of which led the road to Squankum, and when I mounted my horse, -Slashbey was scouring down the main street some hundred yards ahead. -Before a minute, however, the sheriff and his pack were in full cry at -the fugitive’s heels, while as many of the spectators as could find -horses and vehicles started off, a few to aid the law, but most to enjoy -the sport. And, by my faith! what a sight it was! Foremost in the chase -gallopped the sheriff, his hat off and his queue flying behind, bawling -himself red in the face by cries of ‘stop thief,’ ‘head him off,’ -‘maintain the laws,’ amid the laughter of some and the shouts of others -of the crowd. At every few leaps Slashbey would turn his face ruefully -around to see whether his pursuers gained on him or not—reminding one -of Tam O’Shanter, of blissful memory, when he saw the witches yelling -after him. The captain would never have won the prize at Astley’s for -horsemanship, and now, what betwixt his hurry and affright, he rode like -a frightened monkey at a circus. Gilpin did not create more excitement -in his famous race. The shopmen left their counters, the blacksmith -hurried from his forge, the school children followed the pedagogue to -the window, and the very chanticleers, unwilling to let the hubbub go by -without they partook in it, flapped their wings on the garden fences and -crowed lustily. But with your leave, I’ll pause to fill my glass, for a -man telling a story is like a steam-engine—he can’t get on without he -keeps the fire blazing. - -“The race was now at its height. The uproar was tremendous. Up flew the -windows, and out popped the heads. The women shrieked, the pigs -squealed, the men laughed, the boys cheered, and a dozen curs hurried -yelping and snapping at Thunderer’s heels, who, alarmed at the hue and -cry around him, pricked up his ears, snorted, and fairly taking the bit -in his teeth, went off at a frantic pace. You would have died with -laughter had you seen Slashbey then. Holding on to the rein with one -hand, he grasped the mane desperately with the other, and, sticking his -feet up to the heels in the stirrup, he leaned forward until he lay -almost prostrate on the horse’s neck, while the tails of his coat flying -up behind disclosed the fair rotundity beneath, over which his shining -new buff cassimeres were stretched as tight as a drum-head. At every -leap he bounced three feet from the saddle. The shouts of the _posse_ in -his rear increased, while the captain’s rueful looks behind became more -frequent. Some cried ‘murder,’ others bawled ‘stop thief.’ The -perspiration poured down the captain’s cheeks. He gasped for breath. -And, to crown all, as he got opposite his charmer’s dwelling, a puff of -wind swept off his wig—for his hat had been left in the court house in -his hurry—and the envied locks sailing away to the rear amid convulsive -shouts of laughter on the part of the crowd, betrayed the bald pate of -Slashbey glistening like burnished silver in the sun. - -“‘Go it, fat ’un, and never mind the scratch,’ roared a ragged -spectator, who was fairly dancing with delight. - -“‘Hip—ho—heave ahead there,’ shouted another, shieing a missile at the -fugitive. - -“‘Whow—whow—whoa,’ halloed others, running out in front of Thunderer -and waving their arms and hats before his eyes, but scampering hither -and thither as soon as the frightened steed drew near. - -[Illustration] - -“The captain felt his heart sink within him at this accumulation of -disasters, and he could scarcely summon courage to look up, but he made -a desperate effort, and—oh! shades of the gallant tenth—there was his -mistress at the window pointing to his glossy pate, and laughing until -the tears ran out of her eyes. - -“The captain felt that his last hope was gone, and in a moment of -despair would have reined in his horse, but Thunderer took the matter in -his own hands and kept on at a thrashing pace, amid the shouts and -pelting of the crowd. He dashed down the cross-street, clattered over -the bridge, and in a few minutes crossed the brow of the neighboring -hill in a cloud of dust. The motley group in pursuit kept on, but when -Thunderer’s mettle was up there wasn’t his match in the whole county, so -that before long, one after another of the _posse_ drew in, leaving only -the sheriff and his deputies in pursuit. These, too, gave out before -they reached the vicinity of the enchanted land, in other words, the -cedar swamps this side of Squankum. - -“The joke clove to the captain’s name closer than a brother. The little -vixen of an heiress had all along been coquetting with “the gallant -warrior,” and now she was the loudest among the laughers at her wigless -beau. She filled up Slashbey’s cup of sorrow by marrying, shortly after, -the gallant whose nose the captain had pulled. - -“What branch of the service,” asked a spooney lieutenant from the bottom -of the table, after the laughter had somewhat subsided, “did you say -your friend belonged to?” - -“I didn’t particularize,” coolly said the narrator, “but I believe it -was the _flying_ artillery.” - - * * * * * - - - - - THE REEFER OF ’76. - - - BY THE “AUTHOR OF CRUIZING IN THE LAST WAR.” - - - THE SHIPWRECK. - -The arrival of our battered fleet in the Texal, was the signal for a -diplomatic war betwixt the ministers of England, Holland and France. The -result of this encounter of wits, was the secret transfer of the -captured ships to the latter power, and an order from the Prince of -Orange to quit his dominions. Accordingly, Paul Jones, having superseded -Landais in command of the Alliance, put to sea on the 27th of December, -1779, and, after running the gauntlet of the channel fleet, and -approaching near enough to the Downs to examine its force, reached the -roads of Groix on the 10th of February, 1780, in safety. As these things -are matters of history, I briefly pass them over, the more readily -because I did not myself accompany the commodore; for having found a -letter from my captain, lying for me at Holland, requiring my return to -Paris, I seized the first opportunity and started for France within a -fortnight after the capture of the Serapis. - -Our run through the straits was pleasant, and we had every prospect of a -speedy voyage until our second day out, when the wind freshened into a -gale, and before night it was blowing, as the old tars had it, “great -guns and marlinspikes.” Every thing, however, was made fast and clean, -and toward midnight I sought my hammock, and in a few moments, with a -sailor’s carelessness, had forgotten our danger in sleep. How long I -slept I cannot tell, but I was suddenly aroused from my slumbers by the -heeling of the ship, and as I started up in my berth, I heard the salt -water dashing through the cabin, and roaring in the hold as if the -bulk-heads were giving way. The lights were out, and I could see -nothing, but I knew by the sound that the water was pouring in a -cataract down the companion way, and that all escape therefore by that -path was cut off. Could the ship be sinking?—had she broached -to?—where were the crew? were the questions that rushed through my mind -at that awful moment. I listened a second to hear, if I could, any sign -of my fellow passengers in the cabin; but the place appeared to be -deserted. Knowing that no time was to be lost, I sprang to the window in -the stern, but—Good God! the dead lights were in, and all escape by -that way was closed on me. Louder and louder roared the waters into the -cabin, already they were dashing their cold spray around me, and in a -few seconds they would submerge my berth. Death stared me in the -face—death, too, in its most horrid guise. My brain whirled, my knees -shook, my skin felt cold as the grave, and my usually buoyant heart sank -within me. But these feelings triumphed only for a moment. My native -resolution came speedily to my aid, and I determined to die, since die I -must, like the old philosopher who wrapped his garments around him and -lay down as if to a pleasant sleep. At this instant I suddenly -remembered that the cabin had an outlet overhead, and groping my way -along, half buried in water the while, I caught hold of the frame work -of the binnacle, and dashing the glass out with my hand, raised myself -up, and, the next minute, crawled on deck. For an instant—so terrific -was the violence of the gale which swept past me—I could neither see, -hear, nor stand. The rain and hail beating fiercely against me, pinned -me down to the spot which I had first gained, while the thunder of the -hurricane that went whistling and roaring by, seemed to forebode the -approach of the final day itself. Oceans of water deluged the deck, -hissing past me like the scornful laughter of fiends. At length I -managed to raise my head and cast a glance at the scene around me. The -darkness was almost impenetrable, but sufficient light existed to -convince me that the decks were deserted, and that the ship was lying on -her beam-ends, with cataracts of water rolling momently over her -windward side. Oh! God, what a ruin! Officer and man, passengers and -crew, all, all had been swept away by the devouring surge, and I alone -was left, preserved almost by a miracle. I gazed to leeward, but only a -waste of driving foam met my eye—I looked astern, nothing but the green -monsters of the deep, rolling mountain high, were seen. At this instant -another deluge of foam whistled past, blinding my eyes with spray, and -jerking me with a giant’s power from my hold. Buried in brine, bruised, -despairing, and almost stunned, I thought my hour had come, and -breathing a momentary prayer to heaven for mercy, I resigned myself to -death. Suddenly my hand struck against something, which, with an -instinctive love for life, I grasped. My progress was instantaneously -checked, and, although the resistance almost snapped my arms from their -sockets, I still clung to the object I had caught. When the billow had -whirled past, and the spray had ceased to blind my eyes, I saw that I -had seized one of the posts of the bulwarks. Taking advantage of a -momentary lull, I crept to a place of greater security, and sat down to -ponder over my chances of escape. - -All through that awful night I clung to my frail support, expecting -momently to be swept from it into eternity. Language cannot describe my -feelings. No pen can paint the horrors of those long and dreary hours. -The air grew intensely cold: the rain became hail. The sky, if possible, -lowered more gloomily, and the billows rolled higher and higher around -me, while the deep tones of the tempest mingled with the chafing of the -surges, rose up over all like the wild choral symphony which we dream of -as forever rising from the world of ruin and despair. Borne aloft on the -waves, or hurried down into the abyss, drenched, bruised, and -bewildered, I saw no gleam of hope. Beneath me was the boiling -deep—above me the sky seemed settling bodily down. Now the gale -whistled shrilly past, or now wailed moaningly away to leeward. Darkness -and terror were all around me. - -At length the morning dawned, but slowly and despairingly. The gale -somewhat subsided, too; but its violence was still terrific. In the -eastern firmament there was a dull, misty light, hanging like a belt -along the seaboard, but the sun itself was completely obscured. By the -faint glimmer thus thrown around the scene, I hoped to distinguish some -approaching sail. It was in vain. Nothing met my vision, save the wild -waste tossing to and fro in agony. Again and again I looked,—but again -and again in vain. At length I caught sight of what would have seemed to -a landsman to be the foam on the crest of a far off wave, but which I -knew to be a sail. How my heart throbbed as I watched the course of the -approaching craft! I soon made her out to be a ship driving before the -gale under a close reefed main-course, and as she approached nearer, I -saw that she was an English man-of-war. Captivity was better than death, -and I did not, therefore, hesitate. I shouted aloud. But I might as well -have lifted up my voice against the thunder. I waved my arm aloft. It -was in vain. I clambered up on the weather-quarter, and once more waving -my arm, shouted with superhuman strength. The head of the frigate came -gallantly around, and with a cry of joy, I saw the man-of-war make -towards me. Big tears of gratitude rushed into my eyes, and my throat -parched with emotion. On came the noble stranger, swinging her tall -masts gracefully, and in a few minutes she was close on to me. I could -see the look-outs gazing towards me. In a little space I should be -rescued. At this moment a billow broke over me again, but, undaunted by -the drenching, when I rose to the surface, I turned gaily in the -direction of the frigate. God of my fathers!—she was not to be seen! I -gazed with a throbbing heart to windward, and there was the man-of-war, -edging away from me as if unconscious of my presence. I gazed -speechlessly on her. The truth broke agonizingly on me. The frigate had -approached the wreck, and not seeing me, had thought all on board lost, -and resumed her course. In vain I shouted, and in vain I waved my arm -frantically on high. I felt from the first there was no hope, and at -length, giving over every effort, I crouched down once more in that -state of complete exhaustion, both mentally and physically, which -ensues, when the excitement of hope is followed by the certainty of -despair. - -The day wore on. The tempest slowly abated. Yet no welcome sail met my -vision, unless a few far off crafts which crossed the seaboard, hull -down, and which brought no hope, could be called welcome. As hour after -hour wore away, my hold on life grew weaker and weaker. My physical -powers, I felt, could not much longer endure this exposure to tempest -and cold. Already the blood seemed at a stand in my extremities, and I -fancied I felt the cold chill shuddering up to my heart. A drowsiness -came over me. But rallying myself, I beat my hands and stamped my feet -to invigorate, if possible, the vital current. At length I paused from -pure exhaustion. Still no aid appeared. My spirits at length flagged. I -felt that utter prostration which, by taking away the spring of hope, -deprives us of all motive for exertion, and is the sure forerunner of a -death of despair. I lost all longing for life. The sensation of cold -subsided. I felt no pain. A dreamy bliss crept soothingly over my -soul—the sea, the sky, the air, the wreck swam around before -me—visions such as no mortal eye hath seen or imagined, thronged on my -brain—an exstacy I cannot describe, but which makes my hand even now -tremble with rapture, possessed me,—and then all is blank. - -Again, and I dreamed. I seemed to be in the centre of a vast void, a -universe of darkness and obscurity. Yet all was not gloom. For amid the -shadowy firmament appeared a fair bright face beaming upon me like an -angel’s from the clouds—a face whose features were written on my inmost -heart, so soft and seraphic was their expression! I knew it—it was that -of Beatrice. The mild blue eye, the hair of wavy gold, the brow that -rivalled a Madonna’s, and more than all, the smile which now appeared -all glorified, told me that face was hers. And it gazed on me with pity -and love. And then I heard a voice—like and yet unlike hers, for the -tone was that of Beatrice, but even sweeter, and, oh! how heavenly! The -very air seemed music. Was she, indeed, a beatified spirit sent to waft -me onward to a brighter world? - -But once more all was dark—a voiceless void! I had but one feeling, and -that was of being. I knew not, heard not, saw not. I could not think. -But my soul was, as it were, agony itself. - -At length a light broke in on that void. My brain swam and I faintly -opened my eyes. Was I yet an inhabitant of earth? The bed, the curtains, -the room beyond convinced me at length that I lived. I feebly raised -myself up and gazed around. A footstep approached. Overcome with -faintness I sank down. A hand put aside the curtains, a cry of joy broke -from the intruder, a hot tear-drop fell on my face. I looked up, and -there was Beatrice! - -“My own—” I faintly articulated. - -“Hush!—not a word yet,” she said archly, placing her fingers to her -lips with a smile. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE INTERESTING STRANGER. - - - OR, DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. - - - BY EMMA C. EMBURY. - - -On a hot sultry afternoon, in the August of 18—, a tall, pale, -melancholy-looking gentleman alighted from the stage-coach at the door -of the Eagle Tavern, in Buffalo, and, after a few minutes’ conversation -with the bar-keeper, was ushered into a handsome private parlor, while -his baggage was carried to one of the finest bed-rooms in the house. -Perhaps, had the stranger mingled carelessly with the loungers on the -piazza, after his arrival, he would have attracted little more attention -than the companions of his wearisome journey, for, excepting a slight -moustache on his upper lip, there was nothing to distinguish him in -external appearance. But his quiet, grave deportment, and the desire for -seclusion which he exhibited, excited the curiosity of the news-mongers, -and a thousand conjectures concerning him were immediately set afloat. -The stranger, however, seemed little disposed to satisfy the spirit of -inquiry which prevails so extensively in American hotels; for, after -taking possession of his apartments, he appeared no more that evening, -and the waiter, who carried to him his supper, could only say that “he -was a _real_ gentleman, for he had given him a hard dollar—that he wore -a flowered silk dressing-gown and embroidered slippers, and that he was -going to stay in Buffalo a month.” The next morning the interest which -he had excited extended itself to the no less curious gossips of the -gentler sex; and, when the bell rang for dinner, many an eye was turned -to the closed door of Room No. 2, in the hope of seeing its inmate -emerge from his retirement. They were not doomed to disappointment. -After all were seated at table, the stranger glided quietly into the -dining-hall, and took his seat at the foot of the well-filled board, -apparently unconscious of the piercing glances which were directed -towards him. Notwithstanding the profusion of dainties which were -officiously offered him by the waiter, whose heart had been won by the -“hard dollar” on the previous night, he merely tasted a single dish, and -refusing all the luxuries of the dessert, finished his frugal meal with -a bit of dry bread and a glass of iced water. His abstemiousness and -abstraction of manner excited the attention of every one, and when he -silently rose to leave the table, many a glance followed his -slowly-receding form. The ladies had not failed to observe his stately -figure, his fine aquiline nose, the melancholy softness of his dark -eyes, and the beauty of his hands, which were small, white and tapering, -as, according to Napoleon and Byron, all aristocratic hands should be. -They at once decided that he was a person of some distinction; perhaps -an English nobleman incognito, or at least a rich and well-born -Southerner. But a week had elapsed before he chose to give any other -idea of his rank and station than might be derived from the register of -the hotel, where he had inscribed, in a very elegant hand, the name of -“Charles Stuart Montague, New Orleans.” Polite, courteous and -gentlemanly to every one whom he chanced to encounter, particularly to -females, he soon won the suffrages of all by his civilities, while he -excited general sympathy by his uniform sadness of deportment. - -Among the inmates of the house was the Hon. Mr. Windlespin, an extensive -land-holder and an ex-member of Congress, who, with his two daughters, -had recently returned from a visit to France, and now occupied -elegantly-furnished apartments in the hotel. The saloon appropriated to -this family was directly opposite to that occupied by Mr. Montague, and -the ladies were dying with curiosity to learn something about their -handsome neighbor. The heat of the weather compelled both to leave open -the doors of their respective apartments, and the many furtive looks -which the two Misses Windlespin cast into the tempting room had enabled -them to catch a glimpse of a richly-enchased writing-case upon the -centre table, and a guitar leaning against the chimney-piece, while they -had several times enjoyed the opportunity of watching the solemn step of -the melancholy stranger, as, attired in the said silk dressing-gown, he -paced the limits of his apartment. They reflected much upon the singular -mystery which seemed to involve him. What could make him so unhappy? He -was evidently rich, handsome, and, as they were willing to believe, -accomplished—for the mournful strains of a flute were sometimes heard -at the dim twilight, and occasionally a few chords on the guitar, struck -as if with a trembling hand, resounded through his lonely room. What -could be the cause of such deep despondency? - -But Mr. Montague had not been quite insensible to the vicinity of the -elegant Misses Windlespin. A graceful bow had frequently marked his -consciousness of their presence as he passed the open door of the -parlor; and, more than once, he had paused at the entrance of the -dining-hall, while they swept by to take their places at table, -acknowledging his politeness by a profound courtesy _à la mode de -Paris_. In the course of the changes which daily occur at a public -table, Mr. Montague had gradually moved up, until, as one of the oldest -boarders in the house, he occupied a seat next to the Windlespin family. -A fine opportunity was now offered for those civilities which cost so -little and are often productive of so many pleasant results. By degrees -the abstraction of the melancholy gentleman was beguiled by the charms -of his fair neighbors, and the ladies noticed, with no small degree of -satisfaction, that they could induce him, not only to prolong his stay -at table, but also to exchange his frugal fare for the dainties which -they so much enjoyed. In short, an acquaintance between them had fairly -commenced, and they mutually congratulated each other when the -“_interesting stranger_” actually accepted an invitation to pass an -evening with them. - -Miss Grace Windlespin was a sentimentalist, while her sister Catharine -affected vivacity and brilliancy. The elder was all poetry—the younger -all fun and frolic. Grace spoke in a gentle voice, and raised her blue -eyes sweetly and languidly to the face of those whom she addressed; -while Kate (for so, in imitation of Shakspeare’s heroine, she affected -to be styled) turned the full light of her bold laughing glances on -every one worth looking at. The one delighted in the soft pleasures of -sensibility—the other in the ready repartee and saucy jest. In short, -the sisters were alike in nothing except their excessive affectation. -Neither of them exhibited her natural character; all was assumed for -effect, and each had studied the part best suited to her style of -beauty. The slightly-bending figure, pale complexion and long chestnut -ringlets of Grace were admirably suited to her very _poetic_ manner; -while the blonde hair, rosy cheeks and somewhat dumpy person of her -merry sister were equally well suited to the devil-may-care character -which she chose to assume. - -Their father was one of those kind of persons who are constantly engaged -in visionary schemes of wealth. Nobody better understood how to puff up -a bubble—nobody was better skilled in “mapping out” landed -estates—nobody possessed in such perfection the gift of -“_fortune-telling_” as the Hon. Mr. Windlespin. Originally a country -shop-keeper in Jersey, his first start in life had been rather an odd -one. Taking advantage of the mania for “real estate speculations,” which -pervaded the whole country, he, in company with several others, -projected a new city, to be located upon their extensive and somewhat -barren farms. Accordingly a large hotel was built, a meeting-house -erected, a school-house raised, and some half dozen dwelling-houses were -ranged along what was meant to be the main street. In an incredibly -short time all was completed, and every thing was ready except the -people who were required to occupy the infant city. These were still to -be found, and the company began to discover that it would be exceedingly -inconvenient to pay “_interest monies_” without some assistance. At this -juncture the genius of Mr. Windlespin devised an expedient for bringing -their new settlement into notice. He advertised in all the papers that a -purse of fifty dollars would be “_danced for_” by twelve _Communipaw -negroes_—the dancers to be selected from as many as chose to try their -skill previous to the grand effort. The scene of these new _Athletæ_ was -to be the extensive plain which fronted the hotel at -“_Scipio-Africanus_”—for such was the sounding title which Mr. -Windlespin, after a careful search into an old copy of Lemprière’s -dictionary, had chosen for the incipient city. The idle, the dissolute, -and the shiftless—the people who are most easily led to change their -habitations, like wandering Arabs, are the very men who were most likely -to be attracted by such a queer and novel amusement. Accordingly Mr. -Windlespin’s plan succeeded admirably. On the day appointed for the -selection of the sable candidates for _saltatory honors_, several -hundred people were assembled in and about the hotel, while a still -greater number of the dark race were gathered to exhibit their skill. -Certain rules were laid down for the governance of the assembly—a place -was cleared for the exhibition—the negroes came forward by tens, and he -who could tire down all his companions was set aside as worthy to -compete for the prize. The first day was consumed in this important -investigation; _thirty_ first-rate professors of the double-shuffle and -heel-and-toe exercise had been chosen, and the following day was to be -devoted to the selection of the appointed _twelve_, from this reduced -number of candidates. The hotel was filled to overflowing—the dwelling -houses were no longer empty shells; but, furnished with camp beds, -offered shelter and repose to the wearied spectators, and even the -meeting-house was appropriated to their accommodation. The second day -was similarly spent, except that the concourse of visiters had -increased, and the excitement of the scene had produced sundry brawls -and broken heads. The third and last day was appropriated to the -performance of the selected twelve, and the final adjudication of the -purse. Never had there been such gyrations, such circumflexions, such -saltations as were then witnessed. Never had a victory been purchased at -such a sudoriferous expense. One after another, the dancers withdrew -exhausted, until only three were left, who seemed to bid defiance to -fatigue. Hour after hour they continued their exertions, until they -seemed to be converted into mere machines, and with staring eyes, -stiffened limbs, and shining faces, appeared like monstrous images, -moved by some mechanical force. At last the spectators became completely -tired with this exhibition of perpetual motion. They insisted that the -prize should be equally divided between the three indefatigable dancers, -and thus the singular entertainment closed. - -But Windlespin had not been idle during those three days. His brandy was -very excellent—he made “glorious” rum punch—his cigars were real -“Habanas,” and his customers had fully enjoyed the manifold creature -comforts which he offered them. When they prepared to return home, most -of them carried in their pockets the deed of a building-lot in the town -of Scipio-Africanus, for which they had paid ten per cent. of the -purchase-money, and given a bond and mortgage for the remainder; while a -few, being persuaded that the neighborhood of such a hotel was a most -desirable addition to the comforts of a family, concluded to take -immediate possession of the houses already erected. Thus did the -incipient city receive its earliest inhabitants, and though it has never -yet been obliged to enlarge its borders in consequence of -_over-populousness_, it still drags on a sickly existence, having, -however, exchanged its original euphonious title for the more simple but -no less expressive one of “_Niggertown_.” - -Mr. Windlespin’s grand stroke of policy remained yet to be shown. As -treasurer of the company, as well as officiating master of the hotel, -all monies derived from the custom at the bar, as well as from the sale -of building-lots, had passed through his hands. After the affair was -over, he called a meeting of the company, exhibited a statement of -expenses and receipts, and after deducting the former, paid over the -latter to the various members, reserving to himself a handsome -commission for his trouble. He did not think it necessary to inform his -confederates of the fact that every thing had been purchased on credit, -and that, so far from paying the expenses, he had, by using their names, -rendered them liable for the debt which had been incurred, but quietly -pocketing the lion’s share of the spoils, he bade adieu to the limits of -“Niggertown,” in order to try his luck in a new field. - -Such was Mr. Windlespin’s first essay in fortune-hunting, and several -affairs of a similar nature had so increased his means, that he found -himself quite a respected resident in one of our northern cities, almost -before he was aware of his elevated position in society. He was finally -chosen a member of congress for the district, and though, owing to some -dubious transaction, his seat was disputed, and he magnanimously -resigned what he knew he could not keep, yet he never relinquished the -prefix of Honorable, to which the choice of his constituents entitled -him. Shortly before the appearance of Mr. Charles Stuart Montague upon -the scene, Mr. Windlespin had taken his daughters to Paris, where they -received the benefit of foreign polish for six weeks, and then returned -as highly accomplished as a modern boarding-school, a journey in a -French diligence and a taste of French cookery could make them. They -meant to marry, and to marry rich, and therefore each had chosen a part -which, while it offered a wide field, was likely, as they supposed, to -occasion no rivalry. - -Mr. Windlespin was too wily to be long in doubt as to Mr. Montague’s -circumstances. He managed to discover that he was a widower, sorrowing -over the recent loss of a beloved wife, and that he had come to the -north with the double motive of dissipating his grief, and purchasing a -certain description of merchandise, which he designed to send to the -city of Galveston, where a branch of his widely-extended commercial -house was established. This news was of course communicated to the young -ladies, and while Grace became doubly sentimental, Kate, the amiable -romp, determined to wile him from his vain regrets by the charms of -gayety. Leaving his daughters to pursue their matrimonial plans, Mr. -Windlespin determined to make the most of his present opportunities, -and, if possible, to gain some percentage on account of the interesting -stranger. He accordingly sounded a friend, a careful old Scotchman, who -dealt largely in the kind of goods required by Mr. Montague, and -endeavored to secure a handsome commission from him, in case he brought -him so profitable a customer. But the crafty old fellow was not to be -caught with fair promises; he required proof of Mr. Montague’s ability -to become a cash customer, and accepted an invitation to meet him at Mr. -Windlespin’s apartments. But the scene which met his eyes when he -entered the parlor at early twilight, was not calculated to give him a -very exalted opinion of his anticipated dealer. The elegant Mr. -Montague, attired in pantaloons of spotless white, with gaiters of the -same snowy hue, extending within an inch of the toe of his shining -boot—a blue silk fancy jacket, fastened to his waist by a sash of -crimson net—an embroidered collar, turned back from his throat, and -embroidered ruffles dangling over his delicate hands, seemed to the -rough old borderer like the very personification of effeminacy and -folly. But when he only half rose from his graceful attitude, and -extended the tip of his finger to the visiter, while he directly turned -from him to continue his flirtation with the sisters, Mr. MacDonald lost -all patience with himself for having been foolish enough to expect any -benefit from such a “popinjay.” But even Mr. MacDonald could not read -the character of the “interesting stranger.” Early on the following -morning, he had scarcely reached the counting-room, when he was -surprised by a visit from Mr. Montague, and the old man could scarcely -identify the hero of the past evening’s manœuvres in the keen and -practised man of business who now addressed him. - -“I never talk on business in the presence of ladies, sir,” said the -elegant gentleman, “and this, I hope, will account for my silence on the -subject last evening; if I am rightly informed, however, you are the -very person to whom I was advised to apply by my friend Mr. Tickler, of -New Orleans.” - -“Ah, Mr. Tickler, cashier of the Sugarcane Bank, you mean; an old friend -of mine,” answered Mr. MacDonald, “did he give you letters to me?” - -“No, sir,” answered Mr. Montague; “when I left New Orleans, I was not -certain whether I should visit Buffalo, or limit my journey to New York, -and therefore I brought no letters to any one in this city. However, you -probably know your friend’s hand-writing, and, if so, these papers will -answer our purpose better than a mere empty introduction.” With these -words he drew from his pocket-book sundry certificates of deposit in the -Sugarcane Bank, which bore the signature of the cashier. - -“That is his hand, sure enough, and a crabbed fist he writes too,” said -Mr. MacDonald, after a close scrutiny of the proffered papers. While -examining the signatures, the careful old man had not forgotten to -glance at the amounts, and he thus learned that the sum of _thirty -thousand dollars_ was at that moment lying in the Sugarcane Bank to the -credit of Mr. Charles Stuart Montague. - -“I am desirous of purchasing some twenty or thirty thousand dollars -worth of goods,” said the gentleman, carelessly, “and if I can get them -sufficiently cheap here to pay the cost of transportation to New York, I -would rather buy in Buffalo than hunt among the Pearl street jobbers in -that Babel of a city. I mean to pay cash, and shall ship the goods -immediately to Galveston.” - -“What an immense business those southern merchants must do,” mentally -exclaimed Mr. MacDonald; “he speaks of dollars as if they were pebbles.” - -Mr. Montague continued: “If you are disposed to let me have the -specified articles at fair prices, with a liberal discount for cash, I -will immediately make arrangements to have them sent on. However,” he -added, noticing the cautious Scotchman’s hesitation, “perhaps you had -better take till to-morrow to think about it, and, in the mean time, I -will look round the market, and may possibly be able to find better -bargains than you can afford me.” - -“Hang the fellow’s boldness,” thought Mr. MacDonald; “if he were a rogue -he would not be so indifferent about the matter.” He determined, -however, to consult Mr. Windlespin before he made his decision, and -therefore fixed upon the following day to settle the affair. Mr. -Windlespin took the opportunity offered by Mr. Montague’s daily visit to -his daughters, and in the course of a private interview with the -merchant, entered into a negotiation with him by which he, Mr. -Windlespin, bound himself to take half the risk, on condition of -receiving half the profits of the sales made to Mr. Montague. Mr. -MacDonald preferred this method to the original proposition of a certain -percentage, as it gave him the opportunity of gaining an advantage over -both the parties. Accordingly Mr. Montague was waited upon by Mr. -MacDonald, and a close and hair-splitting negotiation was carried on for -some time, which resulted in the purchase of goods to the value of -twenty thousand dollars, which were to be delivered to Mr. Montague’s -agent in New York free of all expenses. In return, Mr. Montague handed -to Mr. MacDonald certificates of deposit to the amount of twenty-five -thousand dollars, which were easily negotiable in New York at three per -cent. discount; and as some time would be required to complete the -transaction, the stranger agreed to prolong his stay in Buffalo until -the delivery of the goods in New York. - -In the meanwhile, the elegant widower was managing equally well in his -love affairs. He listened to Kate’s wild sallies with a languid smile, -and patted her round cheek or clasped her luxuriant waist in a most -brother-like or rather _cousin-like_ fashion. To Grace he was all -courtliness and gentleness; if he took her hand it was with an air of -timid respect, which would have done honour to a “_Paladin -chivalresque_,” and if he ventured to hang over her, as she sat in one -of her sentimental attitudes, it was with a look of tender melancholy -which melted her very heart. Each believed herself the favorite. Kate -could draw him from his trance of grief, and Grace was allowed to -sympathise with him. He talked to one of the gayeties of New Orleans—to -the other, of the domestic happiness he had enjoyed there; and when, at -length, he was induced to exercise his musical talents in their behalf, -he played fandangos on the guitar for the lovely Kate, while he poured -forth the mournful voice of the wailing flute for her sentimental -sister. But, notwithstanding all her exquisite sensibility, Grace -Windlespin beheld with secret satisfaction the returning cheerfulness of -the bereaved widower. He talked less of departed joys, and seemed less -despairing of future peace. The miniature of his lost wife was no longer -pressed to his lips with all the fondness of passionate love whenever -his feelings were overpowered by tender recollections, and, though he -still wore it about his neck, it was suspended upon a _hair chain_, the -gift of the gentle Grace, and _presumed_ to be a tress from her own -chestnut locks, though in reality derived from the store of a -fashionable barber in the neighborhood. His watch-guard was braided by -the hands of the lovely hoyden who had laughingly promised him her -garter for the purpose; and, in short, each had reason to suppose -herself the true magnet of attraction. - -But matters were now drawing to a crisis. The goods were now sent on to -New York, and Mr. Montague received tidings that they had been duly -received by his agent. The certificates of deposit were negotiated by -two of the Wall street brokers, and Mr. MacDonald, after paying himself, -handed to the young southerner the balance. It became necessary, -therefore, for Mr. Montague to repair to New York, in order to -superintend the shipment of his merchandise, and he felt himself obliged -to settle his “_affaire du cœur_” before his departure. - - “How happy could I be with either, - Were t’other dear charmer away,” - -sung the “interesting stranger,” as he reflected upon his position -between the rival beauties. But he managed with his usual adroitness. -The gentle Grace contrived to secure an uninterrupted interview with -him, and received a proffer of his heart and hand, both of which gifts -she lovingly accepted, together with a delicate locket, containing some -of her adorer’s raven hair, set in a circlet of aqua-marine -gems—“emblems,” as he said, “of her transparent guilelessness of -character.” A merry game of romps with Kate afforded him a chance of -whispering a declaration in her ear also, and an elegant diamond ring, -“only less brilliant than her own bright eyes”—to use his elegant -phrase—was received by her as a pledge of betrothment to Mr. Charles -Stuart Montague. Having arranged these little matters to his -satisfaction, he departed, leaving his flute, his guitar, and his -writing-case, in charge of the ladies until his return. Meanwhile the -sisters—each imagining she had outwitted the other—kept their own -secret, and patiently awaited the moment when the lover should return to -claim his bride. - -Scarcely a month had elapsed, however, when intelligence of a most -startling nature was received. The certificates of deposit, which had -been forwarded by the New York brokers to their agents in New Orleans, -when presented to the bank for payment, were pronounced to be -_forgeries_! An inquiry was immediately instituted respecting Mr. -Charles Stuart Montague, and the result of the investigation was, that -no such person was known to the cashier of the Sugarcane Bank, and that -the signatures to the certificates, though admirably well executed, were -only _excellent imitations_ of the rugged characters in which Mr. -Tickler usually traced his name. But the length of time which was -required to ascertain that fact, had afforded the gentleman full time to -complete his plans. The goods which he had purchased in Buffalo, had -been sold at auction by his confederate, as soon as they reached New -York. Mr. Montague arrived there in time to divide the spoils; and, -instead of shipping the merchandise, they concluded to ship _themselves_ -for Texas; while Mr. Windlespin and Mr. MacDonald, who had endorsed the -certificates, were left to reimburse the brokers, and to pocket their -own loss. - -The ladies were filled with amazement and grief, and, in the first -overwhelming burst of anguish, revealed to each other the alarming fact -that Mr. Montague was actually _engaged to marry both_! His writing-case -was opened, and found to contain some rose-tinted note paper—a stick of -pink sealing-wax, and an agate seal, with the impressive motto, -“_toujours fidèle_.” But, upon further examination, a private drawer was -discovered, containing the following letters: - - “Dear Jack, - - “Why the deuce don’t you get on faster with your Buffalo scheme? - It will cost as much as it is worth if you stay much longer. I - believe you like the trade of gentleman, for whenever you take - it up you let every thing else hang by the eyelids till you get - into some scrape which drives you ahead. What do you expect to - gain by courting those two girls when you can’t marry either of - them if they were as rich as Jews? For my part I don’t see the - use of playing the devil when there is nothing to be gained by - it. By the way, I promised to send the enclosed letter as the - only means of preventing Mistress Molly from advertising you, as - she does not know where you are. I hope you will be duly - grateful to - - “Your friend, - “T. M.” - -The enclosure was still more curious: - - “U are a big Scamp and a Blackhearted villin. If u hav no - Kumpashum fur me u mite Hav sum for ure own Flesh and - blude—here I am a Washin and goin out to dase work to Feed ure - seven starvin childer wile u are a travellin About jist like a - jintleman—u ought to Bee ashamed so u ought and if u dont cum - home and luke after us I will Advertis u in all The papers. Any - Boddy would no u by ure discrepshun u most insinivatin man—oh - wen I think Of ure butiful Long hare and ure Hansume face I - culde forgiv u every thing only cum back and i will forgiv u and - i will werk fur u agin jist Like i alwase did so as to Save ure - Little wite Hands so no more at present from ure - - “afecshunate Mary Mugson.” - -About two years after the events just recorded, Miss Grace Windlespin -(who had long since discovered that her aqua-marine locket, like her -sister’s diamond, was as false as the lover’s heart) was led to the -hymeneal altar, as the phrase is, by a very respectable _tailor_; while -Miss Kate had tamed down her wild spirit so far as to marry a country -school-master—an elderly widower, with several children. The truth was -that Mr. Windlespin’s land speculations had ended in total ruin, and the -ladies had no time to pick and choose among their admirers, when they -daily feared the exposure of their actual circumstances. They were -married with great parade, however, and immediately after the ceremony -the happy couples set off on a bridal tour—the two husbands having no -doubt that the father’s wedding gift would pay all such little extra -expenses. Among the places of note which they visited was the famous -Auburn prison. The time chosen was the hour when the inmates are usually -led out to dinner, and the ladies stood quietly regarding the gangs of -men, who, with folded arms and locked step, moved forward, as if with a -single impulse, like some complicated machine. Suddenly Grace uttered a -loud shriek, and threw herself tenderly on her husband’s bosom. One of -the prisoners had dared to look at her as he passed, and, unobserved by -his keeper, had even given her a knowing _wink_. Kate kept her own -counsel about it, and did not appear to notice the insolent look of the -handsome felon; but, notwithstanding his shaven head and prison garb, -she, as well as Grace, had recognised the features of “the interesting -stranger”—the elegant Mr. Charles Stuart Montague—alias—Jack Mugson, -the swindler! - - Brooklyn, L. I. - - * * * * * - - - - - IL SERENADO DI VENICE. - - - The sunlight has faded away from the sky, - Bright day has departed, the night draweth nigh; - Then come to the lattice, love, hither and see, - Where waits the gondola, swift-gliding and free. - - The moon is uprising in glorious light, - Her beams on the waters are trembling and bright; - Then haste to thy lattice, love, hither and see, - Where waits the gondola, swift-gliding and free. - - Not a cloud is above, nor a wave here below, - All is quiet and still, save the river’s soft flow; - Oh! come to thy lattice, love, hither and see, - Where waits the gondola, swift-gliding and free. - - Then, away! then, away! let us pass the calm hours, - With the sweet words of love, and with Fancy’s fair flowers - Ere the rose-fingered morn shall appear and renew - The songs of the birds and the pearls of the dew. - Valeria. - - * * * * * - - - - - SHAKSPEARE.—No. III. - - -BY THEODORE S. FAY, AUTHOR OF “NORMAN LESLIE,” “THE COUNTESS IDA,” ETC. - - - LADY MACBETH. - -Shakspeare should be read at least once a year. This is to the mind what -an excursion in the country is to the body—a strengthening, -health-producing process. Each perusal will not be a repetition of the -preceding. On the contrary, no two perusals will ever be alike. Read him -as _a boy_, you will be dazzled and delighted: read him year by year -after, and you will, with each year, behold beauties, sealed to you -before, from your own comparative narrowness of mind and want of -experience. Each event of your life will render you fitter to study him. -Each new acquaintance you form—each history you read—each science you -study—each country you travel into—each step you advance in life—each -friend you lose by treachery or death, will prepare you still further. -Could you go on adding to your experience much more than has ever -(except in Shakspeare’s own case) been added to that of mortal man, each -new progress would still enlarge your capacity for appreciating him. All -men comprehend him differently. The king reads him as he would listen to -the princely counsels of a royal father. The beggar may find in him -something applicable to himself, and something likely to make him -happier and wiser, which he himself had before never thought of—or of -which he had only formed a vague idea. The statesman—the general—the -prince royal—the husband—the father—the wife—the lover—the -unfortunate—the happy—may all come here, and carry away, from the -boundless reservoir, something apparently intended for themselves. He -seems to have described or alluded _to every thing_. He seems to have -taken in the whole range of human nature. - -Poor _old general Montholon_, who was with Napoleon at St. Helena—one -of the most faithful of the friends who have adhered to the fallen -family—is the companion of the Prince Louis Napoleon, in his late -_invasion_ of France. Nearly all were very young men. This white-headed -old soldier appeared among them strangely. Had they succeeded, it was -doubtless their hope to give respectability to their cause by his -presence. - -The same thing is proposed in Julius Cæsar, by the conspirators, -respecting Cicero. - - “_Cassius._ But what of Cicero? shall we send him? - I think he will stand very strong with us. - _Casca._ Let us not have him out. - _Cinna._ No, by no means. - _Metellus._ O, let us have him; for his silver hairs - Will purchase us a good opinion, - And buy men’s voices to commend our deeds: - It shall be said his judgment ruled our hands; - Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, - But all be buried in his gravity.” - -I am not going to reprint the beauties of Shakspeare. Instances like the -above—_a case_—an event—a feature of human nature—are so common that -they need not be pointed out. Thousands of years hence, as the -numberless crowd of unexpected events come on, it will be found that -this poet has already described them. - -These thoughts occurred to me the other evening after taking up casually -a volume of Macbeth—perhaps one of the most tremendous portraitures of -human nature that ever came from the pen of man. The play opened by -chance to the scene where the remorse-haunted queen walks in her sleep. -Surely no human writer ever set down, in the same number of words, a -more terrific picture. It has upon me almost the effect ascribed to -Medusa’s head. It nearly turns me to stone. We know that but few of the -great Greek tragedies have descended to the modern reader, but neither -in them, nor in any of the ancient or modern writers, is there a scene -more highly conceived, more perfectly executed, or acting with more -power upon the heart and the imagination. I have not read any comments -or commentators, German or English, respecting it, and therefore very -probably may omit some of its peculiarities. I think it _the_ scene of -Macbeth, the climax and moral of the tragedy, and perhaps the finest and -most extraordinary piece of writing in the whole of the author’s works. -No where in the range of literature is there to be seen such a frightful -fragment of human nature. I can never read it without feeling the blood -grow cold in my veins, and receiving a most painful heart-sick -impression of the evils which hang over the mortal state, when not -protected by moral and religious principle; and I can perfectly -understand an anecdote related of Mrs. Siddons, who, on attempting to -study the part alone in her room at night, became so frightened that she -called her maid as a companion. Perhaps the Shaksperian theorist, who -has discovered that the purpose of our poet’s works was to make an -illustration of the truth of Christianity, by putting within every -man’s, every boy’s reach the whole compass of experience to be derived -from a hundred eventful lives, had an eye upon this scene among others. -It certainly has to me a profound metaphysical and religious meaning, -and is best explained by supposing it, like Othello, a gigantic enigma, -of which Christianity is the solution. To represent human nature thus, -without offering any remedial or softening consideration, was not -characteristic of the sweet, gentle and sunshiny imagination of the -poet. His whole works, taken together, do not leave any such shadow on -the imagination. He is no misanthrope—no infidel. He points with his -wand to human nature as she is, unguided, unsustained, unprotected by -the Supreme Power. He draws the blood-stained yet heart-crushed queen, -not to appal us with a danger to which we are subject, but to point out -one which we can avoid. - -The scene is very short, and I will give it, that the reader may the -more readily understand me. - - Act V. Scene I. - _Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a Waiting Gentlewoman._ - - _Doct._ I have two nights watch’d with you, but can perceive no - truth in your report. When was it she last walk’d? - - _Gent._ Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her - rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her - closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, - afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while - in a most fast sleep. - - _Doct._ A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the - benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this - slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actual - performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say? - - _Gent._ That, sir, which I will not report after her. - - _Doct._ You may, to me; and ’tis most meet you should. - - _Gent._ Neither to you, nor any one; having no witness to - confirm my speech. - - _Enter_ Lady Macbeth, _with a Taper_. - - Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my - life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. - - _Doct._ How came she by that light? - - _Gent._ Why, it stood by her; she has light by her continually; - ’tis her command. - - _Doct._ You see, her eyes are open. - - _Gent._ Ay, but their sense is shut. - - _Doct._ What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands. - - _Gent._ It is an accustom’d action with her, to seem thus - washing her hands; I have known her continue in this a quarter - of an hour. - - _Lady._ Yet here’s a spot. - - _Doct._ Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, - to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. - - _Lady._ Out, damned spot! out, I say!—One; two; why, then ’tis - time to do ’t; Hell is murky!—Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and - afraid? what need we fear who knows it, when none can call our - power to account?—Yet who would have thought the old man to - have had so much blood in him? - - _Doct._ Do you mark that? - - _Lady._ The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? What, - will these hands ne’er be clean?—No more o’ that, my lord, no - more o’ that: you mar all with this starting. - - _Doct._ Go to, go to; you have known what you should not. - - _Gent._ She has spoke, what she should not, I am sure of that: - heaven knows what she has known. - - _Lady._ Here’s the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of - Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh! - - _Doct._ What a sight is there? The heart is sorely charg’d! - - _Gent._ I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the - dignity of the whole body. - - _Doct._ Well, well, well,— - - _Gent._ Pray God, it be, sir. - - _Doct._ This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known - those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in - their beds. - - _Lady._ Wash your hands, put on your night-gown; look not so - pale.—I tell you yet again, Banquo’s buried; he cannot come out - of his grave. - - _Doct._ Even so? - - _Lady._ To bed, to bed; there’s knocking at the gate.—Come, - come, come, come, give me your hand; what’s done cannot be - undone: To bed, to bed, to bed. (_Exit Lady._ - - _Doct._ Will she go now to bed? - - _Gent._ Directly. - - _Doct._ Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds - Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds - To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. - More needs she the divine, than the physician.— - God, God, forgive us all! Look after her; - Remove from her the means of all annoyance, - And still keep eyes upon her:—So, good-night: - My mind she has mated, and amaz’d my sight: - I think, but dare not speak. - - _Gent._ Good-night, good doctor. (_Exeunt._ - -There is not _a single word_ of this scene which can be spared—not one -which is not impregnated with blood and horror. You feel the very -silence of the sick, midnight apartment. Ye see the pale ashy -countenance of the terror-stricken gentlewoman, and sympathize with her -in having her lot cast in such an abode of guilt and danger. You see -that she has called up all her energy and presence of mind, as in a -great crisis, to enable her to conduct herself wisely, and to escape -with safety from this den of royal murderers. You can see her cautious -step—as if she started even at the creaking of her own shoe—the -rustling of her own robe, or the sighing of the wind around the distant -turrets of the castle. You have here a most admirable character, and, -except that she is but so short a time on the stage, almost as worthy -the genius of Mrs. Siddons as that of Lady Macbeth herself. Were I a -young actress, desirous of making my appearance before the public, I -should choose to study thoroughly and represent well this character -first,—a very great effect might be given to it. - -The doctor is also done to the life. He is, in all respects, not only -the medical man, but the medical man of coolness and experience. The few -words he utters are full of curiosity, but not of the unbridled horror -of his companion. He has doubtless, before, witnessed scenes enough of -pain and anguish, and he is at first disposed to consider the -gentlewoman as an exaggerator of the mysteries she professes to have -beheld, and to treat the whole thing physically as a disease, till the -truth becomes too apparent, and even his cool mind is convinced. - -Lady Macbeth herself is the very _ne plus ultra_ of the tragic. She has -more terror in her step and eye, than a mere mortal ever had before. -Waking remorse would not have been, by any means, so appalling. The fact -of her being asleep is a great accessory. That pale face—those fixed, -staring, dead eyes—the countenance emaciated by disease, and the long -consuming fire of conscience—the step, solemn, slow, measured and -unearthly—and the dark, dim and shifting imagery of the past, which -floats to and fro through her imagination, form altogether a spectacle -shocking and almost insupportable. - -Let us take this extraordinary scene to pieces, and examine a little -into its mechanism. One of the wonders of it is that there is no resort -to _style_—no description—no bursts of eloquence—no lava-like -eruption of passions. There are indeed but very few words said at all. -The sick lady has, at first, no terrors for the doctor, and the -gentlewoman has often beheld the same thing before. There is no stage -effect—no management—no melo-dramatic cunning. The doctor even shows -his coolness and incredulity, and makes a careless general remark. The -transcendant genius of the poet felt, intuitively, that the situation of -his characters here was so complete as to absorb the reader, and render -unnecessary any but the simplest language. The whole scene is quiet, -hushed and professional. Even the blank verse of the rest of the tragedy -is laid aside, and the characters speak in common-place perfectly -natural prose. Let us see what this almost supernatural terror consists -in. - -The doctor first says, we may suppose with a certain half unintentional -degree of disappointment, that he has been already watching two nights -to see something which the waiting-woman has reported to him respecting -the queen, and yet he has seen nothing. - - “I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth - in your report.” - -A little impatient, a little incredulous, perhaps, he adds: - - “When was it she last walked?” - -This is a stroke of nature and probability at the very outset. It takes -from the scene the air of a fiction. It sends the mind of the spectator -back to the two past long nights, when the doctor, tolerably tired out, -has been watching in vain. This is just as things happen in life. We -have to watch and watch for every thing—even for the most true—before -it appears. We feel also, even with the first apparently unimportant -word spoken, a certain tremor at the intimation given of the domestic -gloom which must reign in the royal household—an attack immediately -expected from a powerful and inexorable foe—the queen sick—mysterious -things, we know not what, hinted with pale face and trembling lips—and -the guilty being, who had sold her eternal soul for her present -position,—we see her _in_ that position, all the promised triumphs and -pleasures neutralized by disease and remorse, and she herself _watched_ -by her servants, night after night, when she little dreams herself the -subject of such a combined inquisition. - -The gentlewoman relates more particularly what she has seen, though with -a guarded care, which not every gentlewoman in real life, under such -exciting circumstances, would have the prudence to observe; but -Shakspeare’s people are not only living but very sensible persons. To -the question: - - “When was it she last walked?” - -she replies: - - “Since his majesty went into the field.” - -Here at once is another stroke. It tells the _occupation_ of the king; -called to a fearful contest and absorbed in it, the deadly secret is -transpiring unopposed, undreamed of by him, behind his back, in the -centre of his household, and from the lips of the very being who has so -often taunted his weakness, and urged him with haughty scorn onward in -his guilty and blood-tracked career. So little power has man over -destiny! Thus is guilt beset. These are the nameless, unimaginable -dangers it runs, when, bold and self-confident, it thinks itself equal -to a contest with the Deity, who, seated in the clouds, strikes it with -its own arm, and baffles its plans with the toils it has woven for -others. - - “Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise - from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, - take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards - seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most - fast sleep.” - -There is nothing more appalling to me than a person walking in his -sleep. It is such an image of death aroused from the grave—such a type -of the spiritual world—such a contrast to the same being when awake, -that I could never look upon my most intimate friend in such a state -without a thrill of fear, as if I were gazing upon his spectre—without -perfectly comprehending Hamlet’s account of his own feelings in looking -upon a ghost. - - ——“and we fools of nature - So horribly to shake our disposition - With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls.” - -This statement of the waiting-woman, so simple, natural and true, is -enough to arouse in a moment the curiosity of the most indifferent -stranger, and to inspire him with an inexpressible anxiety to know what -it means, and to what it will lead. - -The doctor, however, is a man of the world, and is not so easily worked -on. He replies with a mere generality: - - “A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit - of sleep and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry - agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, - what at any time have you heard her say?” - -Here there is a peeping out of curiosity on the part of the honest -physician, who is eager to learn all that may be acquired of what has -the appearance of an interesting secret. But his companion does not mean -to go further than prudence and self-security require. She replies at -once in a way which, while it balks curiosity, sharpens its appetite. - - “That, sir, which I will not report after her.” - -What would any doctor say in such a case? - - “You may to me; and ’tis most meet you should.” - -He is aroused. He wishes—he is determined to know this mystery, and -therefore pleads the privilege and necessity, as well as the prudence of -his profession. “You may tell _any_ thing to _me_. Of course I shall -never reveal. I am the depositary of a thousand family secrets. Besides, -if I am to treat the patient, I _must_ know what is the matter with -her.” - -But the waiting-woman is not going to be driven from her determination. -She has obviously received _a deep-seated fright_. Her whole -self-possession is called up for her defence and guidance. She is a -single woman, in a lonely castle, and in a really awful position, -accidentally the holder of a secret involving the reputation, if not the -life and death of those in power, and the fate perhaps of nations. Were -she to hint her suspicion that her royal mistress was a murderess—that -the fierce king, now desperate with the danger impending over his -kingdom, had gained the throne by a foul assassination—how can she be -sure that the doctor will not go to the king and betray her, to -ingratiate himself into the favor of his royal master? Courts are not -the places for too light confidences—particularly of such secrets. In -such case the truth or falsehood of the statement would be little -inquired into, and she would be probably hurled from the battlements or -immured to starve in some dark dungeon. She is—you feel she is, quite -in earnest, and quite right to reply: - - “Neither to _you_ nor _any one_; having no _witness_ to _confirm - my speech_.” - - * * * * * - - - - - EPHEMERA. - - - BY CHARLES WEST THOMSON. - - - Well might weep the sentimental Persian, - Looking o’er his host of armed men, - When on Greece he made his wild incursion, - Whence so few might e’er return again. - - Well might he weep o’er those countless millions, - Dreaming of the future and the past, - As he gazed, amid the gold pavilions - Round his throne, upon that crowd so vast. - - Musing, with subdued and solemn feelings, - On the awful thoughts that filled his soul— - One of those most terrible revealings - That will sometimes o’er the spirit roll. - - Thoughts, that of that multitude before him - Panting high for fame—athirst to strive— - Ere old Time had sped a century o’er him, - Not, perhaps, would one be left alive. - - That those hearts, now bounding in the glory - Of existence, would be hushed and cold; - Not their very names preserved in story, - Nor upon fame’s chronicle enrolled. - - All to earth, their proper home, departed; - Light heart, strong hand, all gone to kindred clay; - And, in their vacant room, a new race started, - Careless of the millions past away. - - Well might weep he—well might we, in weeping, - Make our offering at sorrow’s call— - When we ponder how our days are creeping, - Like the shadow on the wall. - - When we think how soon the sun-beam, setting, - Will depart, and leave it all in shade— - And our very friends will be forgetting - That the daylight o’er it ever played. - - Life, upon a swallow’s wing is flying, - O’er the earth it sparkles and is gone; - All our days are but a lengthened dying— - One dark hour before the eternal dawn. - - Riches, glory, honor, fame, ambition— - All as swiftly fly, as soon are fled; - Or, if gathered, mend they our condition? - What delight can these afford the dead? - - Chase no more the phantom of the dreaming— - Weary is the hunt, the capture vain; - When thy arms embrace the golden seeming, - It will vanish from thy grasp again. - - Trouble not thy heart with anxious carings— - Thou art but a shadow—so are they; - Let the things of Heaven deserve thy darings, - They alone will never pass away. - - * * * * * - - - - - WITH THEE. - - - BY MRS. C. H. W. ESLING. - - - With thee, at dewy morn where e’er I wander, - Are my fond thoughts—still close to thee they cling; - O’er each departed hour they love to ponder, - That, pass’d with thee, seem’d like the hours of spring. - - Yes—every vanish’d joy is like a treasure - Glean’d from the mighty casket of the past, - Dearer than low-breathed music’s echoed measure, - When its soft spell around our souls is cast. - - With thee at noon, when summer winds are stealing - Thro’ the green leaves in harp-tones rich and sweet, - On the bright sward in lowly homage kneeling, - With thee my prayers—my prayers of fondness meet. - - What tho’ mine eye thro’ dreary distance faileth - In its deep search to hail thy welcome form? - What tho’ my cheek thro’ long, long watching fadeth, - And my sad heart leaps not so freshly warm? - - Still unto thee no eyes beam brighter lustre, - No vermeil cheeks thy early love’s outshine; - Around no heart do richer feelings cluster, - Than swell in that which is so wholly thine. - - Why do I mourn that mountain billows sever? - Vain may they strive our spirits to divide, - For am I not, mine own one, with thee ever? - E’en as thou art forever at my side. - - * * * * * - - - - - WICCÓNSAT. - - - A LEGEND OF ST. MARY’S. - - - BY MRS. MARY M. FORD. - - -On the eastern bank of a small river, which enters the Potomac a few -miles above its confluence with the waters of the Chesapeake Bay, are -still to be seen vestiges of the earliest settlement in Maryland; once -the village of Youcómaco, but quietly yielded by the natives to the -white colonists, who there built a town, calling it St. Mary’s. -Subsequent events led to its desertion for a more advantageous location, -and the ravages of time have left little to tell of its former state. It -has faded away, unnoticed and unsung, yet its name is still seen on the -older maps of our country. The river, which once bore the appellation of -St. George’s, is now called St. Mary’s, but whether in memory of the -deserted town, or not, is uncertain. - -Ruins are happily so scarce in our young and thriving republic, that the -simple legend which gives a name to my story, may awaken some interest -among those, to whose imaginations the solitary remains of the past seem -to speak in the breathings of the winds that sweep over their ruins. The -circumstances which led to its narration, by one who had heard it in the -mother country, and in whose family its memory had been handed down, -were as follows:— - -Many years ago, as the last lingering sunbeams were fading from the sky, -giving place to the mellow twilight; and a ruddy tinge was on the bosom -of the waters, where the little river of St. Mary’s mingled its -tributary stream with the waves of the broad Potomac; a small vessel had -just anchored within the mouth of the former river, on which is -established a port of entry. The craft seemed awaiting the boarding -officer, who, at a point further up the river, was just entering his -boat. He appeared very young, and, from the open gaiety of his fine -countenance, seemed to enjoy corresponding lightness of heart. He raised -a small telescope to his eye, and exclaimed to the two colored men who -were loosening the boat— - -“It must be a Yankee schooner; be quick Basil! Luke!” - -“Aye, aye, Massa Frank,” replied Luke, “all ready—that’s an eastern -craft, sure.” - -The light barge was soon on the waves, and the youth took the helm, -while the strong arm of his companions were engaged with the oars. - -The visitors approached the vessel’s side almost unperceived; and when -the young officer ascended to its deck, he found the captain anxiously -absorbed in examining an old map, which was spread out before him. The -expression of his weather-beaten face, as he raised it to return the -salutation of his visitor, showed evident signs of being puzzled. - -“Where are you from?” inquired the landsman. - -“From Plymouth.” - -“What cargo?” - -“Why, a good many notions, of which you will know presently.” - -“And whither bound?” - -“Why that’s what I’m looking for on this old map, for I see nothing like -it on shore; aye, here it is, St. Mary’s, the town of St. Mary’s, -sir.”[2] - -“There is no such town in the state, sir,” replied the youth, “this -river and the county bear that name; there is some mistake.” - -“Massa captain clear out for de county,” said Basil, grinning. - -“De boss lose his reckoning dis time,” rejoined Luke. - -“Be more respectful, and return to the boat,” said the young officer, -checking their glee; then turning to the captain, he continued, “This -map is an old one; there was formerly a town named St. Mary on this -river—it was the first settlement in the state, and built in the time -of the Calverts, but it has passed away and been forgotten for a -century.” - -The disappointed face of the mariner was not the only one agitated by -the news. The sailors belonging to the vessel had joined the group, and -their rough appearance was strongly contrasted with the tall and elegant -figure of a passenger, who had been drawn by the conversation from the -cabin, and now stood leaning against the companion way. - -The young Marylander, who had not before perceived the stranger, -thought, as he returned his salutation, that he had seldom looked on a -countenance so interesting. It was youthful, but there was a shade of -melancholy on the fine features, which, however, served only to confine, -not hide the flashes of an enthusiastic spirit, which glanced from his -full dark eye. - -“We are out of soundings, Mr. Egerton,” said the captain, “I might as -well have cleared out for a port in the moon.” - -“The fault was mine, sir,” replied the person called Egerton, “and I -regret having thus led you astray;” then, turning to the young American, -he continued, “The disappointment is also great to me, sir, for the -haven we sought was the home of my forefathers. I am a stranger in this -country, having lately arrived from England. On landing at Plymouth I -found this schooner loading for a southern port—and, wishing to visit -Maryland immediately, I induced this worthy but too obliging man to -bring the cargo hither. The silence of history has left the annals of -Maryland so much in the shadow, that a foreigner feels doubtful whether -a literal construction should be put on the desertion of a town, -particularly when your port of entry also bears the name of St. Mary’s.” - -“Well,” interrupted the captain, smiling, “don’t feel uneasy about me, -for the cargo is of that accommodating nature which will suit another -town as well.” - -The customary business was soon despatched, and the officer was leaving -the vessel, but his eye lingered on the interesting stranger. There was -something in his appearance that won his heart, and, after a moment’s -hesitation he thus spoke. - -“This seems to have been your place of destination, Mr. Egerton. Will -you excuse the blunt freedom of an American, if I ask you to accompany -me to the shore? My uncle’s dwelling is in sight. I act as his deputy in -official business, but with much more pleasure I use another privilege, -and tender you the hospitalities of his roof. Although the town, the -principal object of your visit, is no more, yet if you can content -yourself a few days with us, you can explore the ruins. Oakford is the -name of my uncle. I bear the same, with the simple addition of Frank.” - -The stranger caught his offered hand. - -“I feel grateful for your kindness,—the ruins! did you say? It would -indeed be a gratification to view them—I will, with pleasure, avail -myself of your polite invitation; the ruins! are they extensive?” - -“Oh, no,” replied young Oakford, smiling, “there are but few relics left -by time and weather—some remains of walls and foundations—but the most -interesting are the ruins of an ancient church—among whose dilapidated -pews a respectable audience of weeds have accumulated.” - -“Weeds, growing in the holy temple of my fathers! what a sublime yet sad -subject for reflection! I must see them!” - -The young American again smiled at his companion’s enthusiasm; and, as -the shadows of evening were fast closing around them, he hurried his new -friend in his preparations to leave the vessel. The good-natured captain -declined an invitation to accompany them, as he had made arrangements to -continue his voyage farther—and, cordially shaking the hand of his -departing passenger, refused to receive any extra compensation for the -trouble occasioned. The rough, but kind-hearted sailors also refused, -but the generous feelings of the young man were not to be checked thus, -and he forced into their unwilling hands the expression of his thanks, -as he took a kind leave of them. - -Darkness had veiled the landscape when the boat reached the shore, and -the warm-hearted Marylander, drawing the arm of the young stranger -within his, hurried him up the long avenue leading to the mansion, -assuring him that his uncle would be as much gratified as himself by -this acquisition to their society. “So, feel perfectly at ease, for we -southerners use very little ceremony.” - -The event proved it so, for Col. Oakford, a fine looking man, just past -the meridian of life, received him with that easy politeness and frank -cordiality of manner which relieved him from all embarrassment. He soon -discovered that his guest possessed high literary attainments—and, -enjoying those advantages himself, the conversation became interesting, -and they parted at the hour of rest, mutually pleased with each other. - -The next morning arose in clouds and rain. “No _ruins_ to-day,” said the -young Briton, as they met in the breakfast room. But, although the -weather prevented any outward excursion, a well filled library offered a -pleasing substitute. - -Young hearts soon assimilate, and friendships in early life are quickly -formed—hence, when the sun at last broke through the clouds, on the -evening of the third day, the two youths felt on terms of intimacy and -attachment. On the fourth morning, the lively Frank aroused his friend -before sunrise, to view, what he imagined must be to him, a novel and -imposing sight. They descended to the open piazza, and young Egerton -looked around in vain to discover the woods, the hill, the river; all -was enveloped in a thick fog, and had the appearance of a surrounding -lake. At this moment the sun rose, and the vapor broke on the bosom of -the stream. - -“See,” said Frank, “the river is throwing off his night robes—observe -how gracefully he rolls and folds them.” - -Huge white sheets of vapor were indeed majestically receding down the -current; others floated like snow wreaths on the hills of the opposite -shore—the green sides of which, were at intervals visible through the -breaking mist, and seemed struggling beneath its might. In gradual -succession the forests and dwellings of men appeared, and in a few -minutes this atmospheric envelope was lost in the increasing warmth of -the sun’s beams. - -“How singular and beautiful,” said the stranger. “Is it often thus?” - -“Very frequently; at some seasons each morning renews the scene; but you -are not very robust, and must be content to view it seldom, for this -recreation is far from healthy. The poets of your native isle may sing -of ‘walks at early dawn, through dewy meads,’ but such strolls would -make a short life here.” - -On entering the parlor they met the Colonel. - -“What think you of the night bath which these lowlands take?” said he, -smiling. - -“That the morning effect is beautiful,” replied Egerton, “but the whole -must be injurious to health.” - -“You are right, it is ever so to strangers, but we, who are sons of the -mist, fear no harm from our native atmosphere. Yet do not think this -characteristic of our general climate. On the contrary, the northern -states, with their rock-bound sea coasts, have a clear bracing -atmosphere; the middle states, also, with their varied surface of -mountain and valley, and most parts of the southern, are equally -healthy. Our own upper counties, and the neighboring inlands, or forest -places, as we term them, are not sickly. It is only where the land is -low, and as bountifully supplied with bays, inlets and streams as here, -that this effect takes place; but see, ‘aunt Nora’ waits with the -breakfast.” - -The aged colored housekeeper, called by this familiar appellation, had -been the faithful nurse of the Colonel’s infancy, and, in return, was -treated by him with great kindness. She was busied at a little table, in -a corner of the room, from which she despatched, by the younger hands of -her grandson, Luke, to a larger table in the centre of the apartment, -the fine coffee, and more solid comforts of a Maryland breakfast, of -which the young friends hastily partook, and then made arrangements for -their visit to the _ruins_. - -The boat was soon in readiness, and they set out, accompanied by Basil -and Luke. As the light bark glided along the shore, Frank pointed out -several places endeared by the recollections of his childhood. Through -an opening in the trees peeped the unobtrusive walls dedicated to -country learning, with its play ground, so often the scene of his boyish -gambols, and its clear spring under the shade of a sycamore near the -river, where a solitary cow was now stooping to drink. - -“See, Frank,” cried his friend, “she is profaning your Helicon fount!” - -“Nay, let her drink, Egerton,” he replied, “for, as she is not likely to -draw more romantic inspiration than _I_ did from its waters, the spring -will lose none of its power from her draught.” - -“But you have gained what is worth more, sentiments pure and -disinterested, with a mind happy and free. ’Tis true, you seldom make -reminiscences—but, if you were like me, an orphan, and a native of a -clime where, at every step, you meet some relic of the past, you would -feel differently. Your country has but a short path to retrace, and is -too young to boast of olden days.” - -“And yet,” replied Frank, archly smiling, “there were times to which we -might refer, as equal to any that shed glory on ancient chivalry.” - -“Granted, and the treasure they left you may well render you careless of -other relics.” - -“Many thanks for your liberality, my dear friend,” said Frank, “and now -for the _ruins_.” As he spoke, the direction of the boat was changed, -and they swiftly crossed the river. Egerton sprang first on land, and -was soon deeply engaged in examination, but found Frank’s words too -true. Time and weather had indeed been ruthless ravagers; besides, it -appeared that many materials had been removed, perhaps to repair the -cottages of the neighboring poor. But some remains of what seemed to -have been the walls of a large store house, part of an embankment where -once had stood a fort, pits filled with rubbish, which had been cellars, -and crumbled walls, with here and there a fallen chimney, gave -melancholy testimony to the change. Nor had the church met a better -fate. The broken in roof still clung to the shattered wall on one side -only, and hung like a dark banner, half suspended over the desolation -below; the decayed floor had descended into the mournful cemetery -beneath, leaving some of the baseless seats clinging to the side wall. -Weeds, too, were there, whose flowers seemed to bloom in mockery. In the -sad home of the buried dead all was confusion, broken tombs, and heaps -of rubbish. The young Briton sat down on a fragment of the ruined wall, -and Frank shared in the melancholy of his friend, as they viewed the -desolate scene. Egerton at length broke silence. “You have, no doubt, -wondered at the deep interest I feel with regard to these ruins. Many -circumstances have led to it, particularly a little tale related to me -by a maiden aunt, to which I listened with great delight in childhood; -and when, in after years, I was deprived of my beloved parents, I would -sometimes beguile my sorrows by a recurrence to its sad remembrance. -Thus it became more interesting to me, and I soon felt a desire to visit -the location of scenes so connected with my family, and with the fate of -an Indian chief of the Youcómaco tribe, called Wiccónsat, the principal -subject of the legend. If it will give you any pleasure, I will relate -it while we rest on these sad ruins.” - -“Really, my dear friend,” replied Frank, “I feel almost as sentimental -as yourself.” - -“Then I will take advantage of your serious mood and commence my simple -tale.” - -“Among the early settlers at St. Mary’s, were the parents of Rosalie -Egerton. She was an only daughter and beautiful. An accomplished mother -had taught her many things of which few other females of the colony -could boast. She accompanied her harp with the songs of distant lands, -and with her needle embroidered scenes from the old world. Yet she loved -to wander amidst the wild grandeur of her native forests, accompanied -only by her little brother, for the neighboring Indians were harmless -and friendly. - -“Wiccónsat was the son of an aged chief of the Youcómacoes. He was tall -and elegantly formed, and straight as an arrow from his quiver. Mild and -contemplative, he became a favorite among the settlers, from whom he -learned not only to read and write, but many of their useful arts. But -he had listened to the breathings of Rosalie’s harp, as he lingered near -her dwelling, and had gazed after her fair form, as she wandered in the -forest, until the Indian’s life had lost all charms for him. The smile -of happy youth had fled, and when he sought his father’s wigwam, his eye -was sad and restless. The old chief saw with sorrow the change. - -“‘A spell hath come o’er thee, Wiccónsat,’ he kindly said; ‘my son is no -longer the same. When in childhood I first saw thy little hands bend the -bow, I fondly thought thou would’st rival the hunting fame of thy -father, and, when age had weakened my strength, should danger threaten -our tribe, thou would’st head the chiefs in combat. The locks of -Orrouiska are now gray, and his hand feeble. The supplies of his wigwam -are scanty, for his son lingers among the better habitations of -strangers. But I know thy secret. Thy hopeless love is placed on the -fairest of the white fawns, one as far above thy reach as was the -rainbow of yesterday. For though the son of a once powerful chief, the -poorest of the pale faces would reject thy alliance. Then arouse thee, -Wiccónsat, and despise their pride. The Great Spirit made us all equal, -and the brightest of our Indian maidens would be proud of thy love. If -thou dost prefer the plough of the white man to the bow of the hunter, -’tis well, but turn the furrow in thy own fields.’ - -“The youth answered not, but with a deep sigh, taking his quiver full of -arrows, went out to the chase. He wandered on through the forest, -forgetful of his first intention, until he found himself near the -river’s bank, and by the dwelling of Rosalie, and soon beheld the -maiden, with her little brother, in a small boat, which they had -contrived to move out a few yards into the deep water. As she arose to -reach some blossoms from the overhanging trees, her balance was lost, -and she fell into the stream. In a moment the young Indian had plunged -in to her relief, and bore her in safety to the bank. The cries of her -brother had alarmed the family, who hurried to the river, and Wiccónsat, -yielding his lovely burthen to her parents’ arms, hastened to escape -from their grateful acknowledgments, to enjoy in solitude the delightful -feelings that crowded his heart. It seemed a new era in his existence, -and fairy dreams floated in his imagination. With buoyant and unwearied -footsteps he pursued the chase, and returned to his father’s cabin -loaded with the choicest game, the reward of his toil. - -“‘Come, dear Oskwena,’ said he to his young sister, who ran to welcome -him, ‘prepare a feast for our father, while I dress these skins, to make -a softer couch for his aged limbs.’ - -“‘Gladly, brother,’ she replied, ‘but hast thou brought me any beads or -ornaments from the colony?’ - -“‘No, thou art too good and comely to need these trifles. Thy lover will -prize thee more without them.’ - -“‘Thou art mistaken, brother, for Potawissa loves to see my dark hair -braided with beads, and their bright strings encircling my neck. Thy -talk will do for the white fawns, with their cheeks like the wild rose -and foreheads like the mountain snow; but the darker hue of Indian maids -wants other ornaments.’ - -“‘Thou hast well described the white fawns, sister,’ answered the young -chief, ‘and shalt indeed have a gay necklace; but thou hast never heard -the song of her who is brightest among them. Why the blest sounds on the -air, which are said to call our fathers to the spirit-land on high, are -not sweeter.’ - -“‘Hush, hush,’ cried Oskwena, ‘how canst thou talk thus? I would not -hear her strain, for it hath sadly altered thee.’ - -“The bright visions of Wiccónsat were soon dispelled, for, with the next -vessel from England, arrived a young relative of Rosalie’s family, who -brought news of their having succeeded to an estate in their native -country, to take possession of which they now made preparations to leave -America. The charms of the maiden made an immediate impression on the -heart of the young and accomplished Briton. His amiable qualities soon -won her love, and, with the approval of her parents, it was arranged -that their marriage should take place on their arrival in England. - -“The sad intelligence soon reached Wiccónsat, to whom the grateful -family had shown many marks of attachment, little suspecting the sorrows -they were preparing for the youthful chief. They knew not the secret -homage of his heart, for its trembling hopes had never been breathed to -the beautiful object of his love. In the innocence of grateful -friendship, she presented him with an embroidered belt worked by her own -hands, and assured him that she would never forget her generous -preserver.—But when the day of their departure had arrived, and -sorrowful friends crowded the vessel’s deck to take their last farewell, -Wiccónsat was not there. Rosalie and her parents shed tears of regret, -as the sails were spreading to waft them from their happy American home, -and as their eyes sought its peaceful roof, they discovered near it, on -a point of the river’s shore, the solitary figure of the young chief. It -was at this spot he had rescued the maiden from a watery grave. She -eagerly waved her white handkerchief in token of farewell, and the next -moment saw the belt she had given him, floating on the air in a -returning adieu. In a few minutes the vessel parted from the shore. - -“Many years after this, an interesting youth, accompanied by his tutor, -arrived at St. Mary’s, from England. I know not in what state they found -the town, but the youth’s first inquiries were for an Indian chief, -called Wiccónsat, who had in early years saved the life of his mother. -He was shown a lonely wigwam, on a point near the river. James Egerton, -for it was my great grandfather, took an early opportunity of visiting -it, but first inquired into the present character of its inmate. ‘He is -mild and peaceful,’ said his informant, ‘and is sometimes called the -Indian Hermit, for he seldom appears abroad except when hunting or -fishing. He has lived thus for many years, is always melancholy, and -dislikes the visits of the curious: ’Tis thought some misfortune in his -youth has led him to prefer solitude.’—Thus informed, the young James -proceeded to the river’s side. From description, he knew where had stood -the home of his mother’s children, but sighed to perceive it in ruins, -and leaning on a fragment of the broken wall, plucked a leaf from the -vine that still clung to it, then, with lingering footsteps, sought the -point. Seated on a rustic bench at the door of the cabin was a figure -which he knew must be the chief, for he raised his tall, majestic form, -and advanced to meet him, but paused suddenly, and gazed earnestly and -inquiringly on his face. - -“The youth felt abashed, but with some effort addressed him: ‘Excuse -this intrusion, good chief; I am the son of her, whose life you once -saved.’ - -“The recluse caught his offered hand. - -“‘And art thou indeed her child? oh! yes, that eye, that smile had awoke -my memory before you spoke. Welcome art thou to the desolate Wiccónsat.’ -After some conversation, the youth drew from his bosom two small books, -richly bound, and presented them as tokens of remembrance from his -mother. The chief pressed them to his lips. ‘These will beguile many -lonely hours, but, oh! hadst thou but brought me one lock of her hair. -It was the colour of thine,’ he added, as he passed his hand over the -rich brown curls of the son of Rosalie. ‘Alas! good chief,’ he replied, -‘sorrow, rather than time, has robbed those locks of their beauty. Death -has bereaved my beloved mother of her parents and of several children. I -alone survive.’ ‘And can sorrow reach one so good? Then why should I -repine?—From this point, dear boy, I saw thy mother and her parents -depart, and here I raised my lonely habitation. For years, I indulged -the vain hope of their return, and whenever I saw a large vessel enter -the river, I silently mingled with the crowd on the shore. But wearied -hope has long since fled, memory alone remains.’ - -“‘And yet you may again behold my parents, for it is their intention to -visit Maryland in a short time.’ Surprise and joy beamed in the -countenance of the Indian, and from that hour he continued cheerful, but -his greatest present enjoyment arose from the frequent visits of his -young friend, to whom he daily became more attached. ’Tis true, the -tutor of James disapproved of his spending so much time with one whom he -considered an untutored savage, but the warm-hearted boy knew his Indian -favorite to be possessed of pure and lofty principles, with noble and -generous feelings. - -“Wiccónsat now mingled once more with the white inhabitants, and pointed -out to the inquiring youth whatever was interesting. The remains of the -Indian village were still visible, and the few chiefs that visited the -town still fondly called it Youcómico. But their tribe had removed to a -greater distance, and there was now little communication between them -and the colonists. - -“Several months elapsed and the time drew near when the young Briton -expected once more to embrace his parents. They had informed him, by -letter, of their intention to embark on board the Huntress, which would -sail in two weeks, and nearly a month had passed since the reception of -this letter. It was probable then, that they were near the American -coast.” - -Here the narrator paused. - -“Why do you not proceed?” asked Frank. - -“Because I think it will be better to finish the story as we return. It -grows late, and I wish to gather some little remembrance.” - -From various parts of the ruins he now selected something to carry with -him, and was loading Basil and Luke with similar trophies, who appeared -to place little value on them, as they dropped some at every step. At -length they returned to the boat, in which they deposited the cumbrous -relics, and left the shore. But a new object excited the curiosity of -Egerton, and, with a look of entreaty, he turned to his friend. - -“You have been very patient and kind, dear Frank, and now we are in the -boat, let us go a little further up the river! That point above must be -the spot on which stood the wigwam of Wiccónsat.” - -“You will find it a difficult matter to prove that,” returned Frank, -“however, we will go.” - -“It’s a good place for fishing,” said Basil, “and we have a line.” - -The first object that struck their view on landing at the point, was a -collection of half decayed boards. - -“See here! conviction strong!” cried the delighted Egerton. - -“Nonsense,” said Frank, “they are the remains of some old fishing hut or -flat boat. Indian wigwams are not made of boards.” - -“How incredulous you are,” returned his friend. “Surely the melancholy -chief had been long enough among white men to adopt their materials.” - -“Very well, shall we load the boat with them as relics?” - -“You are jesting; but I should really like to rebuild it, if we had -time. Where are Basil and Luke?” - -“More profitably employed—fishing; but we will return in a day or two, -and try whether a wigwam can be made of it.” The young Briton had seated -himself on one of the boards, and seemed lost in contemplation, while -Frank quietly withdrew to see the luck of the fishers—who, in the -meantime, had not forgotten the two youths, but, in their simple phrase, -were discussing the point at issue: - -“Why, Old Nora could tell him plenty about the Ingens,” said Basil, “for -her grandmother told her, and she saw a power of ’em in her time—but he -only seems to care about one—and I can’t say I ever heard Nora go over -such a strange name as that.” - -“They were smart, them chiefs, in their time,” observed Luke, “for they -say our folks learned to make the canoes from ’em, and I’d put ’em -against any boat that swims.” - -“But they won’t hold much of a crew, Luke, let alone passengers, and as -there’s four of us, and a heavy load of Massa Egerton’s nelics, as he -calls them; besides, it’s lucky we’ve got something bigger to float home -in.” - -Their angling had not been very successful in the short time they had -engaged in it, and at Frank’s request, the boat was again put in -readiness for their departure. - -Once more on the water, Frank reminded his friend of the promised -conclusion of his story. - -“I thought you had forgotten it,” replied Egerton, smiling, “but I will -with pleasure gratify you. I believe we left my ancestor expecting the -early arrival of his parents at St. Mary’s, and I will now proceed to -give you the other portion of the legend. - -“One evening, after his usual visit to the wigwam, James was slowly -returning to his lodgings. Lost in thought, he did not at first perceive -that heavy clouds were gathering in the sky, but the sudden darkness -made him quicken his pace. - -“‘You are late this evening, Master James,’ said his tutor, as he met -him at the door, ‘you waste a great deal of time with that wild Indian, -and I am glad your parents are coming to take charge of you.’ ‘I am glad -too,’ thought his pupil, but he did not say so, and soon after retired -to rest. - -“The sleep of innocent youth is ever sound, and a severe storm which -arose had been raging some time before it broke his deep slumber. - -“He started from his pillow, and his first thoughts were fears for his -parents’ safety. The wind roared fearfully, and the rain beat in -torrents against his chamber window. He looked out on the thick darkness -that obscured every object, and his heart sunk within him at the dreary -view. Overcome with the distress of his feelings, he leaned against the -casement, and gave vent to the friendly tears that often relieve the -sadness of boyhood. Suddenly a faint and distant flash of light broke -through the gloom. It was gone, but a sound followed which, even amid -the howling of the storm, could not be mistaken. It struck on the ear of -the weeping boy, with startling certainty. - -“‘It is, oh! yes, it is a signal gun of distress, oh! my mother! my -father!’ and sinking on his knees, he breathed an agonized prayer for -their safety, then starting to his feet, he hastily threw on his -clothes, and hurried down stairs without knowing his object. The house -stood near the river, and on opening the door he saw some person moving -along the bank. He approached; it was the chief. ‘Is it you, Wiccónsat? -oh! what a night!’ The Indian pressed his hand in gloomy silence, and -stood in a listening attitude, with his face turned towards that part of -the horizon from whence the flash had appeared. Another gleamed across -the dismal night, and the sullen peal that followed, fell, like the bolt -of death, on their hearts. - -“‘It is a call for aid,’ exclaimed the chief, ‘and perhaps thy mother’s -life is in danger.’ ‘And my father’s too,’ added the shuddering boy. -‘Alas! Wiccónsat, what can we do?’ ‘I follow that light,’ he answered, -as the flash of another minute gun shone. - -“‘Oh! take me then with you, good chief, leave me not here in suspense!’ - -“‘Alas! my boy, this stormy night ill suits thy tender frame. Wait thou -till morning breaks, then thou canst follow with some of the townsmen. -The light seems near the mouth of the Potomac.’ - -“‘Who speaks below,’ said the tutor’s voice from the window; ‘surely, -Master James, you are not out on such a night?’ ‘Indeed I am,’ replied -the youth, ‘there is a vessel in distress, it may be the Huntress, in -which my parents are expected; surely I cannot sleep now.’ - -“‘Well, well, if that’s the case, it’s bad enough, but I think it’s not -probable; however, I’ll be down directly.’ By this time several of the -neighbours had joined them, and they determined to proceed in the -supposed direction of the vessel. By the first dawn of light they found -themselves on the shore of the Potomac river, near its entrance into the -Chesapeake Bay. The rain had ceased, and daylight, as it broke from the -clouded east, shewed to their anxious gaze, a dismasted vessel, which -appeared in a wrecked and sinking state. Two boats, crowded with the -crew and passengers, were seen contending with the raging waves, -endeavouring to reach the land. Some water casks which had been washed -on shore, were eagerly examined by the distressed James, to discover the -name of the vessel. It met his eye, and with a cry of terror he threw -himself into the arms of the Indian. - -“‘It is the Huntress! oh! Wiccónsat! my parents will be lost!’ - -“‘Hast thou no confidence in the Great Being thy mother worships?’ he -softly said, as he pressed him to his breast, but his eye was fairly -fixed on one of the boats, in which he thought he could distinguish the -garments of a female. The foaming waters seemed to threaten instant -destruction to the frail barques, as they tost from wave to wave, -sometimes half hid in the surf that broke over them. At this moment a -mingled cry reached the shore, and but one boat was seen, the other was -’whelmed beneath the waters. Wiccónsat broke from the clinging arms of -the youth, and plunged into the waves. For some time he was lost to -their view, but his strong and sinewy arms forced a passage to the scene -of distress, and in a short time he was seen returning, supporting, with -one arm, the form of a female. The young James, who had been forcibly -withheld from following, now rushed to meet him, and Rosalie (for it was -she) opened her eyes to be clasped to the bosom of her son. She lived, -she breathed, and the first word that trembled on her lips was the name -of her husband. Scarcely had she spoken, ere the generous chief had -again thrown himself into the waves. But his strength was exhausted by -previous exertion, and when, with difficulty, he had nearly reached the -overturned boat to which the husband of Rosalie, with others, now clung, -a floating piece of the ship’s mast struck him on the temple. In the -mean time, the other boat had safely landed its crew, and was despatched -to the aid of the sufferers, who were all, with the exception of two, -saved. - -“Rosalie had been conveyed to the nearest house, and restoratives were -applied, which soon brought her to a state of recollection. She -recognized with joy, the form of her husband, as he knelt by the side of -her couch, and pressed, with a mother’s fondness, the hand of her -affectionate son. But her eyes wandered around the room as if in search -of another object. ‘It was a dream then,’ she murmured, ‘it was not his, -but thy dear arm that drew thy mother from the waves.’ - -“‘Alas! no, it was he, the generous and the good,’ replied her son. - -“‘Wiccónsat! brave chief! but why those looks of anguish; is this, my -son, a time for sorrow, when Heaven has been so kind? And my preserver, -where lingers he?’ - -“‘Where his bright virtues will be best rewarded,’ replied her husband, -solemnly. - -“‘What mean you? Surely he is safe.’ - -“‘He perished in an attempt to save my life.’ She heard no more, for she -had fainted in the arms of her son, and it was long ere she revived, to -mingle with theirs her tears of unavailing regret. - -“In the afternoon the body of the generous Indian was washed on shore. -With every mark of respect it was conveyed to the town, and preparations -made for its interment on the following day at the point, in a spot once -pointed out, by the chief, to young Egerton. The grief of this -affectionate boy burst without restraint, as he leaned over the body of -his departed friend, and his tears flowed afresh, when he was shown a -folded paper, which had been found in his bosom. It was wet through, and -contained the faded belt, the treasured gift of Rosalie. - -“Intelligence of the sad event was conveyed to the sister of the chief, -and the next day, accompanied by her husband and sons, and several -warriors of the Youcómaco tribe, Oskwena arrived, just as the funeral -procession was moving to the grave. Time had altered this once beautiful -daughter of the forest; there was a mildness in her look of grief, as -she left the canoe, and led by her two sons, approached the open grave, -where, seating herself by its side, she silently awaited the mournful -train that bore her brother to his last home. She uttered a faint cry as -her eye rested on the coffin, and her whole frame shook with agitation, -when it was lowered from her sight. - -“The chiefs arranged themselves in gloomy silence around the grave of -him, who, in early youth, had been the boast of their tribe, and heard, -rather than listened, to the funeral service. It was scarcely ended, -when the hitherto restrained grief of Oskwena burst forth. She tore from -her dishevelled locks the rude ornaments of her tribe, scattering them -on the ground, but a necklace of beads she retained in her hand, and -wept bitterly as she looked on it. - -“‘It was thy gift, Wiccónsat,’ said the mourner, ‘thy face glowed with -youth and hope on the happy day thou gavest it. Our aged father blessed -his children, for he had not then passed to the spirit-land above. The -beads are bright yet, but thou art faded and gone. I can gaze on them no -more, they shall be hid with thee,’ and she dropped them into the grave. -The spectators looked on her with pity and disturbed her not, as in a -low voice she chaunted a wild funeral melody. When she ceased, several -young maidens of St. Mary’s, arrayed in white, approached, and scattered -flowers around the grave. The oldest son of Oskwena stood, with his -father, among the chiefs. To him the beauty of the white maidens was -new, for he had never before been allowed to visit the town. - -“‘Who are they?’ he asked, eagerly leaning forward, but then the stern -Potawissa drew him back, as he replied in a low voice, ‘It matters not, -it is enough that they cannot be aught to thee. Look not on their fatal -beauty, but let that lonely grave warn thee of danger. It was hopeless -love for a pale face like theirs, that induced thy mother’s brother to -forsake the tribe that idolized him; to lead a life of solitude, and at -last to perish for her sake. And now he sleeps not with the bones of his -fathers, and the talk of the white man is heard by his grave, instead of -the bold death song of our chiefs. Nay, thou art gazing still; turn from -them boy,’ and suddenly drawing him round, he held him firmly until the -fair group had retired. A faint shriek from Oskwena drew his attention. -He saw the attendants were filling up the grave, and hastened to remove -her sinking form. In a few minutes the crowd had dispersed, the chiefs -again entered their boats, and young Egerton, with his father, alone -remained on the silent shore. - -“The family remained but a short time in Maryland, for the health of -Rosalie had sustained a shock from which it never recovered. She faded -before the agonized view of her husband and son, and died shortly after -their return to England. As one of their descendants, I have long wished -to visit the scene of their sorrows, and in doing so, I have formed a -friendship which, believe me, dear Frank, will always be cherished in my -heart. The kind hospitality of your good uncle made me forget I was a -stranger, and though we must part in a few days, time or distance will -never erase the remembrance of my American friends.” - ------ - -[2] A fact. - - * * * * * - - - - - SONNETS. - - - BY HENRY B. HIRST. - - - GERTRUDE. - - There is a sweet expression in thy face, - My gentle one! leading the thoughts away - From earthliness, and this vile orb of clay,— - Bidding my spirit in its yearnings trace - Something immortal in the beauties there! - I do not worship loveliness—but look - On woman’s face, as on a speaking book, - Where God hath stamped his image clear and fair! - And thine is one so radiant of him, - So calm and pure, one cannot fail to see - Such purity of soul portrayed in thee, - That other faces by thy side grow dim, - And, bowing down unto thy brighter worth, - I deem thee one too fair and chaste for earth! - - IANTHE. - - High thoughts are chiseled on that lofty brow! - Proud consciousness of virtue in thy smile! - Thy cheeks, the blush of, speaks thee free from guile; - Thine eyes have in their spiritual flow, - A dignity and grandeur, and a glow - Which lift the gazer’s spirit up on high, - As soars the eagle to the sun-lit sky! - Thou art a thing to worship! and I throw - My soaring spirit conquered at thy feet,— - But not to beauty, tho’ ’tis unsurpassed, - But to the wealth of intellect ’tis cast; - Deeming the earth beneath the proudest seat, - Where I would sit, and on perfection gaze, - Sunning my soul beneath thine eyes’ soft rays! - - * * * * * - - - - - THE MOONLIGHT FLITTING; - - - OR, THE MISTAKE. - - - BY ELIZA VAN HORN ELLIS. - - - CHAPTER I. - -The moon shone serenely clear over hill and dale, her silver rays -playing on the dull gray earth with sportive fancy, while not a zephyr -seemed upon the wing, and all nature slumbered in the stillness of a -warm summer evening, when, from one of the neat white cottages of the -village of ——, issued two figures, completely enveloped in cloaks, -notwithstanding the thermometer stood at nearly ninety. Not a word was -spoken, but with stealthy steps they chased their shadows along the -silent streets for a good half mile; although twice or thrice one of the -figures paused and heaved convulsively, whether from lack of breath or -agitation seemed doubtful. At length they stopped before a cottage, -whose proximity to the church bespoke the _parsonage_; a light twinkled -through the casement; the muffled fugitives rapt gently at the door; it -was opened, and they entered. - -The old moss-grown church clock had just proclaimed, in solemn tones, -the hour of nine, on the next morning, when two ladies, whose looks -bespoke them far upon the road of _time_—clad in black silk bonnets and -mitts—came slowly down the streets, shaded by the spreading elms. These -good gossips appeared deeply engaged in conversation, looking so -intently into each other’s face, that sundry fowls, young pigs, and -small dogs miraculously escaped a sudden and violent death. - -“Can you believe it yet, Mrs. Potts?” cried the lesser of the two -ladies; “such a reflection upon our quiet village—good gracious and -powers! preserve us from such assurance.” Thus saying, she rolled up the -balls of her eyes, and clasped her hands together with pious fervor. - -“Not only that, my dear Miss Clapper, but such an example to the -daughters of the place!” and Mrs. Potts sighed, as she thought of her -six damsels, who still remained in single blessedness, notwithstanding -the many little innocent manœuvres to which mammas will sometimes have -recourse. - -“Yes, indeed, it behoves you, Mrs. Potts, to keep a sharp look-out. Will -you visit her—the good-for-naught?” - -“W-e-ll, what do you think about it? If _we_ cut her all the village -will. What say you?” - -“To be sure, to be sure, that’s true; her place in society depends upon -_us_, my dear. She gives such pleasant parties, such excellent soft -waffles, and then one meets sometimes such agreeable people from the -city there, which gives the girls a chance, you know, (winking -knowingly,) that it would be a pity to throw her off.” - -“I agree with you, my dear Miss Clapper—and—after all, she’s honestly -married, although she stole away, like a thief in the night.” - -“Suppose we just stop and ask Katy a few questions. May be they wish to -keep it a secret. Here we are by the house—shall we stop?” - -“I have no objections, my dear; but you’ll get nothing out of that piece -of sour-crout.” - -“I’ll pump her; leave me alone for _that_.” - -Accordingly the two loving, neighborly gossips rapt at the door of the -white cottage from whence had stolen forth the fugitives the night -previous. - -The loud knock announced the aristocracy of the village; the door -opened, and the sharp bluish features of Katy filled up the aperture. -Her small _gravy_ eyes blinked for a moment when she beheld the -visitors; the next Katy stood the personification of gravity. - -“Well, Katy,” cried Miss Clapper, in her most dulcet tones, “how _do_ -you do this fine morn? all well, I hope,” making an effort to open wider -the door. - -“Why, yes, Miss; a very fine morning, and we are all well, thanks be to -goodness,” answered Katy, holding the door still closer, and protruding -her nose still farther, so that the sudden slam of the door would have -deprived that venerable spinster of that most conspicuous of all -features, a _red nose_. “Sorry I can’t ask you both in—but nobody’s -home.” - -“Ah! so, then, it’s true, what we heard this morning,” said Mrs. Potts. - -“Can’t say, indeed, Marm, as I don’t know what you might have heard.” - -“Oh! only that your mistress ran off last night and was married, and -went away this morning in the village hack,” almost screamed Miss -Clapper. - -“And so my mistress _is_ married, and I know some that would like to be -in her shoes, if they could but get the chance.” - -“Well, well, Katy, no offence is meant,” cried Mrs. Potts; “when will -the bride be home?” - -“She bade me tell you, Marm, and Miss Clapper, (and she wants you to -tell the village) that on Thursday evening the doors will be thrown open -and the candles lighted, and you will see _her_ and _plenty_ of wedding -cake and good wine.” Thus saying, she gently closed the door. - -“So! it’s no secret after all,” cried Mrs. Potts; “Katy made no bones at -confession.” - -“No! the old she devil! how I hate that creature—she always _Miss-es_ -one so—never calls me any thing but _Miss_!—_Miss!_—She shan’t read -it on my tomb-stone, if I can help it,” muttered _Miss_ Clapper. - -Faithfully did these village circulars perform their agreeable task. -Before the sun sank to rest, every individual, from the lady of the -member of the legislature to the shoe-black in the inn, had heard the -news, and had formed dreams of the coming event. The bride and -bride-cake—beaux and belles, had been reviewed in the mind’s eye o’er -and o’er again. - - - CHAPTER II. - -When a young man, Mr. Hopkins arrived upon the spot where now stands the -village of ——, with his bundle upon his stick, his sole fortune. He -became what may be termed a squatter. It was then a dreary waste of -girdled trees, and patches covered with black stumps. But his untiring -perseverance and systematic industry were rewarded in time by beholding, -from his cottage door, the fields of waving corn and the golden wheat, -where once lurked the savage and prowled the ravenous beast. - -In course of time, the place became settled; the present village sprang -into existence; Mr. Hopkins “grew with its growth, and strengthened with -its strength;” in short, Mr. Hopkins became a rich man, and consequently -a man of consequence. - -Mrs. Hopkins (poor good soul) died ere she could enjoy the wealth that -her patient labors had assisted her husband in accumulating. She left -one daughter, christened Dinah, and two sons. Upon the death of the “old -man,” the sons moved to a strange land, (that is, about a hundred miles -from their native vale.) Miss Dinah, or rather Diana, as she chose to be -called, after the immortal Die Vernon, remained upon the “old place,” to -uphold, as she properly said, the dignity of the Hopkinses. - -Thus years wore away. Miss Die became the tyrant of fashion in her own -village. She read Shakspeare, doated on Byron, and was subdued by Sir -Walter Scott’s works. She languished and quoted poetry for nearly forty -years. In youth, she scorned the rustic beaux that kneeled at her -shrine; and, as years sped onward, none “bowed nor told their tale of -love,” until, at length, Miss Die began seriously to think of a visit to -her brothers, when the kind _fates_ brought Mr. Micalf to the village, -and there left him to the mercy of Cupid. - -The _major_ (as he was familiarly called) was rather short of stature, -with an alderman’s corpulency,—famous for his good-nature, intolerable -indolence, and devotion to whiskey-punch and the noxious weed. Being -asthmatic, he seldom had recourse to any exertion—a long walk would -cause him to puff and blow at least for a minute, ere he could catch -breath to utter a word. Still Mr. Micalf found breath enough to become a -successful wooer—and Miss Die persuaded her swain to elope with her by -moonlight, as she could never survive the stare of the plebeians by the -light of “gaudy day.” - -It ever remained a doubt in the village, what was the exact age of the -major. Many were of an opinion that sixty winters had frosted his brow. -Others again asserted that he did not number, by a score, as many years -as his bride. These latter, however, were the ladies. - -Thursday arrived—and, after a weary watching from many a beaming eye, -the sun at length disappeared behind the distant mountains, and twilight -gently threw over the glowing sky its mantle of sombre gray. Lights -flitted to and fro through the houses; an unusual bustle hummed through -the quiet streets; the horses, disturbed after a day of labor, to be -brought forth and harnessed to whatever vehicle their masters could -boast of possessing, hung down their weary heads, with slow and measured -steps patiently submitting to the yoke of bondage. - -The sudden glare of lights, that streamed through the casements of the -white cottage over the gravel walks, announced that preparations had -ceased, and that visitors were momentarily expected. - -There was the bride, her tall gaunt figure arrayed in white, flitting -from room to room, not knowing where to station herself to make the best -impression, and inwardly chafing at the perfume of tobacco that met her -olfactory nerves, and the loss of her reticule, wherein were the keys of -sundry closets and so forth, when the door opened and Mr., Mrs., and the -four Misses Potts, with Miss Clapper, beheld the bride upon knees and -hands, looking under an immense old-fashioned settee for her lost -treasure. - -Mrs. Micalf looked up, sprang to her feet, uttered a faint scream, and -for a moment hid her face—then yielded her cheek to the salutations of -the six ladies, and with much coyness permitted Mr. Potts to touch the -tip of her ear. - -“Well, I declare, I think you served us a pretty trick, Mrs. Micalf—a -lady of your years to make a moonlight flitting—oh, fie!” cried Miss -Clapper, in a querulous voice. - -“Oh, spare me, dear friends; I feel the full force of the imprudence of -the step. But be this my excuse, ‘I’ve scanned the actions of his daily -life,’ and flatter myself I have secured happiness.” - -“And Mr. Micalf to steal away so—he who hates walking so. Why, I -thought it would almost have killed him to walk so far.” - -“You are right, old lady,” cried the groom, who had entered unperceived, -and slapping Miss Clapper upon the shoulder; “I can’t believe it yet; I -haven’t drawn a long breath since—wheugh!—But Die would not be married -any other way, though I told her we were making a couple of old fools of -ourselves—wheugh—u—u—Never mind, Die, don’t be cast down at being -called old—we all know you were young once! ha, ha! wheugh—u! Come, -Potts, let’s go and drink good luck to midnight walks.” - -“Mr. Micalf is so boisterous when he is in good spirits, and he does so -love to plague me!” cried the bride, the quivering of her nostrils and -upper lip expressing the workings of the inward passions. - -Knock succeeded knock, and the influx of visitors, with the oft-repeated -“wish you joy, wish you joy,” soon restored harmony to the spirits of -the bride, who was in extacies at the crowd that had gathered around -her. She quoted poetry, right and left; forgot, for the moment, that -tobacco and punch existed; and some assert that even the major was -forgotten! That was but scandal, however. Nevertheless, the major -enjoyed seven pipes and five tumblers of punch, without once hearing the -sound of Die’s voice; a luxury which, in the warmth of his feelings he -solemnly whispered to Potts, had not been permitted him since his -moonlight trip. - -The hours sped onward—the merry laugh that rang so loud and clear from -the midst of a group of young folks who were playing “hunt the slipper,” -“my lady’s toilette,” &c. caused the heads of the matrons to turn from -each other in high displeasure at the interruption of some tale of -scandal! - -The happiest moments, still the fleetest!—the hour arrived—the guests -departed, and the mistress of the _fairy_ scene began to wonder what had -become of her lord. Looking through the empty rooms, peering in every -corner by the aid of a feeble night-lamp, and almost suffocated with the -vapor of candle-snuff, she was startled by the sonorous notes from her -husband’s nasal organ. “I do believe the ass has gone to bed,” she -mentally ejaculated. Rushing into her room, she beheld the head of the -major, with his blue and white night-cap snugly resting upon her fine -linen _day_ pillow-cases. Jerking the pillows from under the offending -head, she screamed: - -“Major! why, Micalf, you are sleeping upon my beautiful cases with real -thread-lace borders!” - -“Bless me, what is the matter? Is the house on fire? O Lord, I smell -smoke—fire!—fire!” - -“Do be quiet now, and don’t make a fool of yourself; it’s only the -pillow I wanted.” - -“Oh, Die! is that you? You have frightened the very life out of me. Give -me something to put under my head; my neck is almost broke.” - -“There, my dear, is the night pillow. Now, never presume to go to bed -again, until the cover is turned down and the day cases removed, -and—bless me, how you have tossed the bed! Why, major, major, are you -asleep already?” - -“What is it, for heaven’s sake? Am I never to know what rest is again?” - -“But, my dear—major, I say, shall I tuck you up snugly?” - -“No! the devil! I don’t want to be reminded of my coffin every night by -being tucked up,” and away went the clothes from the foot and side. “Oh, -how I wish——” groaned the major, as Mrs. Micalf again patiently -smoothed them down. The wish died upon his tongue, but it was embodied -in his dreams:—Once more he was the quiet possessor of the snug little -room, and no less snug little bed, at the “Full Moon,” the atmosphere -dense with tobacco-smoke and the vapor of whiskey-punch regaling his -nose—when the shrill, sharp voice of his help-meet, at dawn of day, -dispelled the illusion, and, with the sun, he arose with the comfortable -thought that he was not the only being that had sold peace and happiness -for _gold_. And, ere the honey-moon had expired, Mr. and Mrs. Micalf -began to perceive that they had made a great mistake in their moonlight -flitting. - - * * * * * - - - - - I NEVER HAVE BEEN FALSE TO THEE. - - - A NEW SONG. - - - BY GEORGE P. MORRIS. - - - I never have been false to thee! - The heart I gave thee still is thine; - Though thou hast been untrue to me, - And I no more may call thee mine! - I’ve loved, as woman ever loves, - With constant soul in good or ill:— - Thou’st proved, as man too often proves, - A rover—but I love thee still! - - Yet think not that my spirit stoops - To bind thee captive in my train!— - Love’s not a flower, at sunset droops, - But smiles when comes her god again! - Thy words, which fall unheeded now, - Could once my heart-strings madly thrill! - Love’s golden chain and burning vow - Are broken—but I love thee still! - - Once what a heaven of bliss was ours, - When love dispelled the clouds of care, - And time went by with birds and flowers, - While song and incense filled the air!— - The past is mine—the present thine— - Should thoughts of me thy future fill, - Think what a destiny is mine, - To lose—but love thee, false one, still! - - * * * * * - - - - - A CHAPTER ON AUTOGRAPHY. - - - BY - - -[Illustration: signature of Edgar A. Poe] - -Under this head, some years ago, there appeared, in the Southern -Literary Messenger, an article which attracted very general attention, -not less from the nature of its subject than from the peculiar manner in -which it was handled. The editor introduces his readers to a certain Mr. -Joseph Miller, who, it is hinted, is not merely a descendant of the -illustrious Joe, of Jest-Book notoriety, but that identical individual -in proper person. Upon this point, however, an air of uncertainty is -thrown by means of an equivoque, maintained throughout the paper, in -respect to Mr. Miller’s middle name. This equivoque is put into the -mouth of Mr. M. himself. He gives his name, in the first instance, as -Joseph A. Miller; but, in the course of conversation, shifts it to -Joseph B., then to Joseph C., and so on through the whole alphabet, -until he concludes by desiring a copy of the Magazine to be sent to his -address as Joseph Z. Miller, Esquire. - -The object of his visit to the editor is to place in his hands the -autographs of certain distinguished American _literati_. To these -persons he had written rigmarole letters on various topics, and in all -cases had been successful in eliciting a reply. The replies only (which -it is scarcely necessary to say are all fictitious) are given in the -Magazine, with a genuine autograph fac-simile appended, and are either -burlesques of the supposed writer’s usual style, or rendered otherwise -absurd by reference to the nonsensical questions imagined to have been -propounded by Mr. Miller. The autographs thus given are twenty-six in -all—corresponding to the twenty-six variations in the initial letter of -the hoaxer’s middle name. - -With the public this article took amazingly well, and many of our -principal papers were at the expense of re-printing it with the wood-cut -autographs. Even those whose names had been introduced, and whose style -had been burlesqued, took the joke, generally speaking, in good part. -Some of them were at a loss what to make of the matter. Dr. W. E. -Channing, of Boston, was at some trouble, it is said, in calling to mind -whether he had or had not actually written to some Mr. Joseph Miller the -letter attributed to him in the article. This letter was nothing more -than what follows:— - - Boston, ——. - - Dear Sir, - - No such person as Philip Philpot has ever been in my employ as a - coachman, or otherwise. The name is an odd one, and not likely - to be forgotten. The man must have reference to some other - Doctor Channing. It would be as well to question him closely. - - Respectfully yours, - W. E. CHANNING. - To Joseph X. Miller, Esq. - -The precise and brief sententiousness of the divine is here, it will be -seen, very truly adopted, or “hit off.” - -In one instance only was the _jeu-d’esprit_ taken in serious dudgeon. -Colonel Stone and the Messenger had not been upon the best of terms. -Some one of the Colonel’s little brochures had been severely treated by -that journal, which declared that the work would have been far more -properly published among the quack advertisements in a spare corner of -the Commercial. The colonel had retaliated by wholesale vituperation of -the Messenger. This being the state of affairs, it was not to be -wondered at that the following epistle was not quietly received on the -part of him to whom it was attributed:— - - New York, ——. - - Dear Sir, - - I am exceedingly and excessively sorry that it is out of my - power to comply with your rational and reasonable request. The - subject you mention is one with which I am utterly unacquainted. - Moreover it is one about which I know very little. - - Respectfully, - W. L. STONE. - Joseph V. Miller, Esq. - -These tautologies and anti-climaces were too much for the colonel, and -we are ashamed to say that he committed himself by publishing in the -Commercial an indignant denial of ever having indited such an epistle. - -The principal feature of this autograph article, although perhaps the -least interesting, was that of the editorial comment upon the supposed -MSS., regarding them as indicative of character. In these comments the -design was never more than semi-serious. At times, too, the writer was -evidently led into error or injustice through the desire of being -pungent—not unfrequently sacrificing truth for the sake of a _bon-mot_. -In this manner qualities were often attributed to individuals, which -were not so much indicated by their hand-writing, as suggested by the -spleen of the commentator. But that a strong analogy _does_ generally -and naturally exist between every man’s chirography and character, will -be denied by none but the unreflecting. It is not our purpose, however, -to enter into the _philosophy_ of this subject, either in this portion -of the present paper, or in the abstract. What we may have to say will -be introduced elsewhere, and in connection with particular MSS. The -practical application of the theory will thus go hand in hand with the -theory itself. - -Our design is three-fold:—In the first place, seriously to illustrate -our position that the mental features are indicated (with certain -exceptions) by the hand-writing; secondly, to indulge in a little -literary gossip; and, thirdly, to furnish our readers with a more -accurate and at the same time a more general collection of the -autographs of our _literati_ than is to be found elsewhere. Of the first -portion of this design we have already spoken. The second speaks for -itself. Of the third it is only necessary to say that we are confident -of its interest for all lovers of literature. Next to the person of a -distinguished man-of-letters, we desire to see his portrait—next to his -portrait, his autograph. In the latter, especially, there is something -which seems to bring him before us in his true idiosyncrasy—in his -character of _scribe_. The feeling which prompts to the collection of -autographs is a natural and rational one. But complete, or even -extensive collections, are beyond the reach of those who themselves do -not dabble in the waters of literature. The writer of this article has -had opportunities, in this way, enjoyed by few. The MSS. now lying -before him are a motley mass indeed. Here are letters, or other -compositions, from every individual in America who has the slightest -pretension to literary celebrity. From these we propose to select the -most eminent names—as to give _all_ would be a work of supererogation. -Unquestionably, among those whose claims we are forced to postpone, are -several whose high _merit_ might justly demand a different treatment; -but the rule applicable in a case like this seems to be that of -celebrity, rather than that of true worth. It will be understood that, -in the necessity of selection which circumstances impose upon us, we -confine ourselves _to the most noted among the living literati of the -country_. The article above alluded to, embraced, as we have already -stated, only twenty-six names, and was not occupied _exclusively_ either -with living persons, or, properly speaking, with literary ones. In fact -the whole paper seemed to acknowledge no law beyond that of whim. Our -present essay will be found to include _one hundred autographs_. We have -thought it unnecessary to preserve any particular order in their -arrangement. - -[Illustration: signature of Chas (Charles) Anthon] - -Professor Charles Anthon, of Columbia College, New York, is well known -as the most erudite of our classical scholars; and, although still a -young man, there are few, if any, even in Europe, who surpass him in his -peculiar path of knowledge. In England his supremacy has been tacitly -acknowledged by the immediate re-publication of his editions of Cæsar, -Sallust, and Cicero, with other works, and their adoption as text-books -at Oxford and Cambridge. His amplification of Lemprière did him high -honor, but, of late, has been entirely superseded by a Classical -Dictionary of his own—a work most remarkable for the extent and -comprehensiveness of its details, as well as for its historical, -chronological, mythological, and philological _accuracy_. It has at once -completely overshadowed every thing of its kind. It follows, as a matter -of course, that Mr. Anthon has many little enemies, among the inditers -of merely big books. He has not been unassailed, yet has assuredly -remained uninjured in the estimation of all those whose opinion he would -be likely to value. We do not mean to say that he is altogether without -faults, but a certain antique Johnsonism of style is perhaps one of his -worst. He was mainly instrumental (with Professor Henry and Dr. Hawks) -in setting on foot the New York Review, a journal of which he is the -most efficient literary support, and whose most erudite papers have -always been furnished by his pen. - -The chirography of Professor Anthon is the most regularly beautiful of -any in our collection. We see the most scrupulous precision, finish, and -neatness about every portion of it—in the formation of individual -letters, as well as in the _tout-ensemble_. The perfect symmetry of the -MS. gives it, to a casual glance, the appearance of Italic print. The -lines are quite straight, and at exactly equal distances, yet are -written without black rules, or other artificial aid. There is not the -slightest superfluity, in the way of flourish or otherwise, with the -exception of the twirl in the C of the signature. Yet the whole is -rather neat and graceful than forcible. Of four letters now lying before -us, one is written on pink, one on a faint blue, one on green, and one -on yellow paper—all of the finest quality. The seal is of green wax, -with an impression of the head of Cæsar. - -It is in the chirography of such men as Professor Anthon that we look -with certainty for indication of character. The life of a scholar is -mostly undisturbed by those adventitious events which distort the -natural disposition of the man of the world, preventing his real nature -from manifesting itself in his MS. The lawyer, who, pressed for time, is -often forced to embody a world of heterogeneous memoranda, on scraps of -paper, with the stumps of all varieties of pen, will soon find the fair -characters of his boyhood degenerate into hieroglyphics which would -puzzle Doctor Wallis or Champollion; and from chirography so disturbed -it is nearly impossible to decide any thing. In a similar manner, men -who pass through many striking vicissitudes of life, acquire in each -change of circumstance a temporary inflection of the hand-writing; the -whole resulting, after many years, in an unformed or variable MS., -scarcely to be recognised by themselves from one day to the other. In -the case of literary men generally, we may expect some decisive token of -the mental influence upon the MS., and in the instance of the classical -devotee we may look with _especial_ certainty for such token. We see, -accordingly, in Professor Anthon’s autography, each and all of the known -idiosyncrasies of his taste and intellect. We recognise at once the -scrupulous precision and finish of his scholarship and of his style—the -love of elegance which prompts him to surround himself, in his private -study, with gems of sculptural art, and beautifully bound volumes, all -arranged with elaborate attention to form, and in the very pedantry of -neatness. We perceive, too, the disdain of superfluous embellishment -which distinguishes his compilations, and which gives to their exterior -appearance so marked an air of Quakerism. We must not forget to observe -that the “want of force” is a want as perceptible in the whole character -of the man, as in that of the MS. - -[Illustration: signature of Washington Irving] - -The MS. of Mr. Irving has little about it indicative of his genius. -Certainly, no one could suspect from it any nice _finish_ in the -writer’s compositions; nor is this nice finish to be found. The letters -now before us vary remarkably in appearance; and those of late date are -not nearly so well written as the more antique. Mr. Irving has travelled -much, has seen many vicissitudes, and has been so thoroughly satiated -with fame as to grow slovenly in the performance of his literary tasks. -This slovenliness has affected his hand-writing. But even from his -earlier MSS. there is little to be gleaned, except the ideas of -simplicity and precision. It must be admitted, however, that this fact, -in itself, is characteristic of the literary manner, which, however -excellent, has no prominent or very remarkable features. - -[Illustration: signature of Park Benjamin] - -For the last six or seven years, few men have occupied a more desirable -position among us than Mr. Benjamin. As the editor of the American -Monthly Magazine, of the New Yorker, and more lately of the Signal, and -New World, he has exerted an influence scarcely second to that of any -editor in the country. This influence Mr. B. owes to no single cause, -but to his combined ability, activity, causticity, fearlessness, and -independence. We use the latter term, however, with some mental -reservation. The editor of the World is independent so far as the word -implies unshaken resolution to follow the bent of one’s own will, let -the consequences be what they may. He is no respecter of persons, and -his vituperation as often assails the powerful as the powerless—indeed -the latter fall rarely under his censure. But we cannot call his -independence, at all times, that of principle. We can never be sure that -he will defend a cause merely because it is the cause of truth—or even -because he regards it as such. He is too frequently biassed by personal -feelings—feelings now of friendship, and again of vindictiveness. He is -a warm friend, and a bitter, but not implacable enemy. His judgment in -literary matters should not be questioned, but there is some difficulty -in getting at his real opinion. As a prose writer, his style is lucid, -terse, and pungent. He is often witty, often cuttingly sarcastic, but -seldom humorous. He frequently injures the force of his fiercest attacks -by an indulgence in merely vituperative epithets. As a poet, he is -entitled to far higher consideration than that in which he is ordinarily -held. He is skilful and passionate, as well as imaginative. His sonnets -have not been surpassed. In short, it is as a poet that his better -genius is evinced—it is in poetry that his noble spirit breaks forth, -showing what the man is, and what, but for unhappy circumstances, he -would invariably appear. - -Mr. Benjamin’s MS. is not very dissimilar to Mr. Irving’s, and, like -his, it has no doubt been greatly modified by the excitements of life, -and by the necessity of writing much and hastily; so that we can -predicate but little respecting it. It speaks of his exquisite -sensibility and passion. These betray themselves in the nervous -variation of the MS. as the subject is diversified. When the theme is an -ordinary one, the writing is legible and has force; but when it verges -upon any thing which may be supposed to excite, we see the characters -falter as they proceed. In the MSS. of some of his best poems this -peculiarity is very remarkable. The signature conveys the idea of his -_usual_ chirography. - -[Illustration: signature of John P. Kennedy] - -Mr. Kennedy is well known as the author of “Swallow Barn,” “Horse-Shoe -Robinson,” and “Rob of the Bowl,” three works whose features are -strongly and decidedly marked. These features are boldness and force of -thought, (disdaining ordinary embellishment, and depending for its -effect upon masses rather than upon details) with a predominant _sense -of the picturesque_ pervading and giving color to the whole. His -“Swallow Barn,” in especial (and it is by the first effort of an author -that we form the truest idea of his mental bias), is but a rich -succession of picturesque still-life pieces. Mr. Kennedy is well to do -in the world, and has always taken the world easily. We may therefore -expect to find in his chirography, if ever in any, a full indication of -the chief feature of his literary style—especially as this chief -feature is so remarkably prominent. A glance at his signature will -convince any one that the indication is to be found. A painter called -upon to designate the main peculiarity of this MS. would speak at once -of the _picturesque_. This character is given it by the absence of -hair-strokes, and by the abrupt termination of every letter without -tapering; also in great measure by varying the size and slope of the -letters. Great uniformity is preserved in the whole air of the MS., with -great variety in the constituent parts. Every character has the -clearness, boldness and precision of a wood-cut. The long letters do not -rise or fall in an undue degree above the others. Upon the whole, this -is a hand which pleases us much, although its _bizarrerie_ is rather too -piquant for the general taste. Should its writer devote himself more -exclusively to light letters, we predict his future eminence. The paper -on which our epistles are written is very fine, clear, and _white_, with -gilt edges. The seal is neat, and just sufficient wax has been used for -the impression. All this betokens a love of the elegant without -effeminacy. - -[Illustration: signature of G: Mellen] - -The hand-writing of Grenville Mellen is somewhat peculiar, and partakes -largely of the character of his signature as seen above. The whole is -highly indicative of the poet’s flighty, hyper-fanciful character, with -his unsettled and often erroneous ideas of the beautiful. His straining -after effect is well paralleled in the formation of the preposterous G -in the signature, with the two dots by its side. Mr. Mellen has genius -unquestionably, but there is something in his temperament which obscures -it.[3] - ------ - -[3] Since this article was prepared for the press, we have been grieved -to hear of the death of Mr. Mellen. - -[Illustration: signature of J K Paulding] - -No correct notion of Mr. Paulding’s literary peculiarities can be -obtained from an inspection of his MS., which, no doubt, has been -strongly modified by adventitious circumstances. His small _a_s, _t_s, -and _c_s are all alike, and the style of the characters generally is -French, although the entire MS. has much the appearance of Greek text. -The paper which he ordinarily uses is of a very fine glossy texture, and -of a blue tint, with gilt edges. His signature is a good specimen of his -general hand. - -[Illustration: signature of L. H. Sigourney] - -Mrs. Sigourney seems to take much pains with her MSS. Apparently she -employs _black lines_. Every _t_ is crossed, and every _i_ dotted, with -precision, while the punctuation is faultless. Yet the whole has nothing -of effeminacy or formality. The individual characters are large, well -and freely formed, and preserve a perfect uniformity throughout. -Something in her hand-writing puts us in mind of Mr. Paulding’s. In both -MSS. perfect regularity exists, and in both the style is _formed_ or -_decided_. Both are beautiful; yet Mrs. Sigourney’s is the most legible, -and Mr. Paulding’s nearly the most illegible in the world. From that of -Mrs. S. we might easily form a true estimate of her compositions. -Freedom, dignity, precision, and grace, without originality, may be -properly attributed to her. She has fine taste, without genius. Her -paper is usually good—the seal small, of green and gold wax, and -without impression. - -[Illustration: signature of Robert Walsh] - -Mr. Walsh’s MS. is peculiar, from its large, sprawling and irregular -appearance—rather rotund than angular. It always seems to have been -hurriedly written. The _t_s are crossed with a sweeping scratch of the -pen, which gives to his epistles a somewhat droll appearance. A -_dictatorial_ air pervades the whole. His paper is of ordinary quality. -His seal is commonly of brown wax mingled with gold, and bears a Latin -motto, of which only the words _trans_ and _mortuus_ are legible. - -Mr. Walsh cannot be denied talent; but his reputation, which has been -bolstered into being by a _clique_, is not a thing to live. A blustering -self-conceit betrays itself in his chirography, which upon the whole, is -not very dissimilar to that of Mr. E. Everett, of whom we shall speak -hereafter. - -[Illustration: signature of J H Ingraham] - -Mr. Ingraham, or Ingrahame, (for he writes his name sometimes with, and -sometimes without the _e_,) is one of our most _popular_ novelists, if -not one of our best. He appeals always to the taste of the -ultra-romanticists, (as a matter, we believe, rather of pecuniary policy -than of choice) and thus is obnoxious to the charge of a certain -cut-and-thrust, blue-fire, melodramaticism. Still, he is capable of -better things. His chirography is very unequal; at times, sufficiently -clear and flowing, at others, shockingly scratchy and uncouth. From it -nothing whatever can be predicated, except an uneasy vacillation of -temper and of purpose. - -[Illustration: signature of W C Bryant] - -Mr. Bryant’s MS. puts us entirely at fault. It is one of the most -common-place clerk’s hands which we ever encountered, and has no -character about it beyond that of the day-book and ledger. He writes, in -short, what mercantile men and professional pen-men call a fair hand, -but what artists would term an abominable one. Among its regular up and -down strokes, waving lines and hair-lines, systematic taperings and -flourishes, we look in vain for the force, polish, and decision of the -poet. The _picturesque_, to be sure, is equally deficient in his -chirography and in his poetical productions. - -[Illustration: signature of Fitz-Greene Halleck] - -Mr. Halleck’s hand is strikingly indicative of his genius. We see in it -some force, more grace, and little of the picturesque. There is a great -deal of freedom about it, and his MSS. seem to be written _currente -calamo_, but without hurry. His flourishes, which are not many, look as -if thoughtfully planned, and deliberately, yet firmly executed. His -paper is very good, and of a blueish tint—his seal of red wax. - -[Illustration: signature of N. P. Willis.] - -Mr. Willis, when writing carefully, would write a hand nearly resembling -that of Mr. Halleck; although no similarity is perceptible in the -signatures. His usual chirography is dashing, free, and not ungraceful, -but is sadly deficient in force and picturesqueness. - -It has been the fate of this gentleman to be alternately condemned _ad -infinitum_, and lauded _ad nauseam_—a fact which speaks much in his -praise. We know of no American writer who has evinced greater -versatility of talent; that is to say, of high talent, often amounting -to genius; and we know of none who has more narrowly missed placing -himself at the head of our letters. - -The paper of Mr. Willis’ epistles is always fine, and glossy. At -present, he employs a somewhat large seal, with a dove, or -carrier-pigeon, at the top, the word “Glenmary” at bottom, and the -initials “N. P. W.” in the middle. - -[Illustration: signature of Rufus Dawes] - -Mr. Dawes has been long known as a poet; but his claims are scarcely yet -settled—his friends giving him rank with Bryant and Halleck, while his -opponents treat his pretensions with contempt. The truth is, that the -author of “Geraldine” and “Athenia of Damascus” has written occasional -verses very well—so well, that some of his minor pieces may be -considered equal to any of the minor pieces of either of the two -gentlemen above-mentioned. His longer poems, however, will not bear -examination. “Athenia of Damascus” is pompous nonsense, and “Geraldine” -a most ridiculous imitation of Don Juan, in which the beauties of the -original have been as sedulously avoided, as the blemishes have been -blunderingly culled. In style, he is, perhaps, the most inflated, -involved, and falsely-figurative, of any of our more noted poets. This -defect, of course, is only fully appreciable in what are termed his -“sustained efforts,” and thus his shorter pieces are often exceedingly -good. His apparent erudition is mere verbiage, and, were it real, would -be lamentably out of place where we see it. He seems to have been -infected with a blind admiration of Coleridge—especially of his -mysticism and cant. - -[Illustration: signature of Henry W. Longfellow] - -H. W. Longfellow, (Professor of Moral Philosophy at Harvard,) is -entitled to the first place among the poets of America—certainly to the -first place among those who have put themselves prominently forth as -poets. His good qualities are all of the highest order, while his sins -are chiefly those of affectation and imitation—an imitation sometimes -verging upon downright theft. - -His MS. is remarkably good, and is fairly exemplified in the signature. -We see here plain indications of the force, vigor, and glowing richness -of his literary style; the deliberate and steady _finish_ of his -compositions. The man who writes thus may not accomplish much, but what -he does, will always be thoroughly done. The main beauty, or at least -one great beauty of his poetry, is that of _proportion_; another, is a -freedom from extraneous embellishment. He oftener runs into affectation -through his endeavors at simplicity, than through any other cause. Now -this rigid simplicity and proportion are easily perceptible in the MS., -which, altogether, is a very excellent one. - -[Illustration: signature of J. Pierpont] - -The Rev. J. Pierpont, who, of late, has attracted so much of the public -attention, is one of the most accomplished poets in America. His “Airs -of Palestine” is distinguished by the sweetness and vigor of its -versification, and by the grace of its sentiments. Some of his shorter -pieces are exceedingly terse and forcible, and none of our readers can -have forgotten his Lines on Napoleon. His rhythm is at least equal in -strength and modulation to that of any poet in America. Here he -resembles Milman and Croly. - -His chirography, nevertheless, indicates nothing beyond the -common-place. It is an ordinary clerk’s hand—one which is met with more -frequently than any other. It is decidedly _formed_; and we have no -doubt that he _never_ writes otherwise than thus. The MS. of his -school-days has probably been persisted in to the last. If so, the fact -is in full consonance with the steady precision of his style. The -flourish at the end of the signature is but a part of the writer’s -general enthusiasm. - -[Illustration: signature of W. Gilmore Simms] - -Mr. Simms is the author of “Martin Faber,” “Atalantis,” “Guy Rivers,” -“The Partisan,” “Mellichampe,” “The Yemassee,” “The Damsel of Darien,” -“The Black Riders of the Congaree,” and one or two other productions, -among which we must not forget to mention several fine poems. As a poet, -indeed, we like him far better than as a novelist. His qualities in this -latter respect _resemble_ those of Mr. Kennedy, although he equals him -in no particular, except in his appreciation of the graceful. In his -sense of beauty he is Mr. K.’s superior, but falls behind him in force, -and the other attributes of the author of Swallow Barn. These -differences and resemblances are well shown in the MSS. That of Mr. S. -has more slope, and more uniformity in detail, with less in the -mass—while it has also less of the picturesque, although still much. -The middle name is Gilm_o_re; in the cut it looks like Gilm_e_re. - -[Illustration: signature of O. A. Brownson] - -The Rev. Orestes A. Brownson is chiefly known to the literary world as -the editor of the “Boston Quarterly Review,” a work to which he -contributes, each quarter, at least two-thirds of the matter. He has -published little in book form—his principal works being “Charles -Elwood,” and “New Views.” Of these, the former production is, in many -respects, one of the highest merit. In logical accuracy, in -comprehensiveness of thought, and in the evident frankness and desire -for truth in which it is composed, we know of few theological treatises -which can be compared with it. Its conclusion, however, bears about it a -species of hesitation and inconsequence, which betray the fact that the -writer has not altogether succeeded in convincing himself of those -important truths which he is so anxious to impress upon his readers. We -must bear in mind, however, that this is the fault of Mr. Brownson’s -subject, and not of Mr. Brownson. However well a man may reason on the -great topics of God and immortality, he will be forced to admit tacitly -in the end, that God and immortality are things to be felt, rather than -demonstrated. - -On subjects less indefinite, Mr. B. reasons with the calm and convincing -force of a Combe. He is, in every respect, an extraordinary man, and -with the more extensive resources which would have been afforded him by -early education, could not have failed to bring about important results. - -His MS. indicates, in the most striking manner, the unpretending -simplicity, directness, and especially, the _indefatigability_ of his -mental character. His signature is more _petite_ than his general -chirography. - -[Illustration: signature of B. Tucker] - -Judge Beverly Tucker, of the College of William and Mary, Virginia, is -the author of one of the best novels ever published in America—“George -Balcombe”—although, for some reason, the book was never a popular -favorite. It was, perhaps, somewhat too didactic for the general taste. - -He has written a great deal, also, for the “Southern Literary Messenger” -at different times; and, at one period, acted in part, if not -altogether, as editor of that Magazine, which is indebted to him for -some very racy articles, in the way of criticism especially. He is apt, -however, to be led away by personal feelings, and is more given to -vituperation for the mere sake of _point_ or pungency, than is -altogether consonant with his character as judge. Some five years ago -there appeared in the “Messenger,” under the editorial head, an article -on the subject of the “Pickwick Papers” and some other productions of -Mr. Dickens. This article, which abounded in well-written but -extravagant denunciation of everything composed by the author of “The -Curiosity Shop,” and which prophesied his immediate downfall, we have -reason to believe was from the pen of Judge Beverly Tucker. We take this -opportunity of mentioning the subject, because the odium of the paper in -question fell altogether upon our shoulders, and it is a burthen we are -not disposed and never intended to bear. The review appeared in March, -we think, and we had retired from the Messenger in the January -preceding. About eighteen months previously, and when Mr. Dickens was -scarcely known to the public at all, except as the author of some brief -tales and essays, the writer of this article took occasion to predict, -in the Messenger, and in the most emphatic manner, that high and just -distinction which the author in question has attained. Judge Tucker’s -MS. is diminutive, but neat and legible, and has much force and -precision, with little of the picturesque. The care which he bestows -upon his literary compositions makes itself manifest also in his -chirography. The signature is more florid than general hand. - -[Illustration: signature of John Sanderson] - -Mr. Sanderson, Professor of the Greek and Latin languages in the High -School of Philadelphia, is well known as the author of a series of -letters, entitled “The American in Paris.” These are distinguished by -ease and vivacity of style, with occasional profundity of observation, -and, above all, by the frequency of their illustrative anecdotes, and -figures. In all these particulars, Professor Sanderson is the precise -counterpart of Judge Beverly Tucker, author of “George Balcombe.” The -MSS. of the two gentlemen are nearly identical. Both are neat, clear and -legible. Mr. Sanderson’s is somewhat the more crowded. - -[Illustration: signature of H. F. Gould.] - -About Miss Gould’s MS. there is great neatness, picturesqueness, and -finish, without over-effeminacy. The literary style of one who writes -thus will always be remarkable for sententiousness and epigrammatism; -and these are the leading features of Miss Gould’s poetry. - -[Illustration: signature of C. S. Henry] - -Prof. Henry, of Bristol College, is chiefly known by his contributions -to our Quarterlies, and as one of the originators of the New-York -Review, in conjunction with Dr. Hawks and Professor Anthon. His -chirography is now neat and picturesque, (much resembling that of Judge -Tucker,) and now excessively scratchy, _clerky_, and slovenly—so that -it is nearly impossible to say anything respecting it, except that it -indicates a vacillating disposition, with unsettled ideas of the -beautiful. None of his epistles, in regard to their chirography, end as -well as they begin. This trait denotes _fatigability_. His signature, -which is bold and decided, conveys not the faintest idea of the general -MS. - -[Illustration: signature of Emma C. Embury] - -Mrs. Embury is chiefly known by her contributions to the Periodicals of -the country. She is one of the most nervous of our female writers, and -is not destitute of originality—that rarest of all qualities in a -woman, and especially in an American woman. - -Her MS. evinces a strong disposition to fly off at a tangent from the -old formulæ of the Boarding Academies. Both in it, and in her literary -style, it would be well that she should no longer hesitate to discard -the absurdities of mere fashion. - -[Illustration: signature of Wm. Landor.] - -Mr. Landor acquired much reputation as the author of “Stanley,” a work -which was warmly commended by the press throughout the country. He has -also written many excellent papers for the Magazines. His chirography is -usually _petite_, without hair-lines, close, and somewhat stiff. Many -words are carefully erased. His epistles have always a rigorous -formality about them. The whole is strongly indicative of his literary -qualities. He is an elaborately careful, stiff, and pedantic writer, -with much affectation and great talent. Should he devote himself -ultimately to letters, he cannot fail of high success. - -[Illustration: signature of Eliza Leslie] - -Miss Leslie is celebrated for the homely naturalness of her stories and -for the broad satire of her comic style. She has written much for the -Magazines. Her chirography is distinguished for neatness and finish, -without over-effeminacy. It is rotund, and somewhat diminutive; the -letters being separate, and the words always finished with an inward -twirl. She is never particular about the quality of her paper or the -other externals of epistolary correspondence. From her MSS. in general, -we might suppose her solicitous rather about the effect of her -compositions as a whole, than about the polishing of the constituent -parts. There is much of the picturesque both in her chirography and in -her literary style. - -[Illustration: signature of Joseph C. Neal] - -Mr. Neal has acquired a very extensive reputation through his “Charcoal -Sketches,” a series of papers originally written for the “Saturday -News,” of this city, and afterwards published in book form, with -illustrations by Johnston. The whole design of the “Charcoal Sketches” -may be stated as the depicting of the wharf and street _loafer_; but -this design has been executed altogether in caricature. The extreme of -burlesque runs throughout the work, which is, also, chargeable with a -tedious repetition of slang and incident. The loafer always declaims the -same nonsense, in the same style, gets drunk in the same way, and is -taken to the watch-house after the same fashion. Reading one chapter of -the book, we read all. Any single description would have been an -original idea well executed, but the dose is repeated _ad nauseam_, and -betrays a woful poverty of invention. The manner in which Mr. Neal’s -book was belauded by his personal friends of the Philadelphia press, -speaks little for their independence, or less for their taste. To dub -the author of these “Charcoal Sketches” (which are really very excellent -police-reports) with the title of “the American Boz,” is either -outrageous nonsense, or malevolent irony. - -In other respects, Mr. N. has evinced talents which cannot be -questioned. He has conducted the “Pennsylvanian” with credit, and, as a -political writer, he stands deservedly high. His MS. is simple and -legible, with much space between the words. It has force, but little -grace. Altogether, his chirography is good; but as he belongs to the -editorial corps, it would not be just to suppose that any deductions, in -respect to character, could be gleaned from it. His signature conveys -the general MS. with accuracy. - -[Illustration: signature of Seba Smith] - -Mr. Seba Smith has become somewhat widely celebrated as the author, in -part, of the “Letters of Major Jack Downing.” These were very clever -productions; coarse, but full of fun, wit, sarcasm and sense. Their -manner rendered them exceedingly popular, until their success tempted -into the field a host of brainless imitators. Mr. S. is also the author -of several poems; among others, of “Powhatan, a Metrical Romance,” which -we do not very particularly admire. His MS. is legible, and has much -simplicity about it. At times it vacillates, and appears unformed. Upon -the whole, it is much such a MS. as David Crockett wrote, and precisely -such a one as we might imagine would be written by a _veritable_ Jack -Downing; by Jack Downing himself, had this creature of Mr. Smith’s fancy -been endowed with a real entity. The fact is, that “The Major” is not -_all_ a creation; at least one half of his character actually exists in -the bosom of his originator. It was the Jack Downing half that composed -“Powhatan.” - -[Illustration: signature of Jos. Hopkinson] - -Judge Hopkinson’s hand is forcible, neat, legible, and devoid of -superfluity. The characters have much slope, and whole words are -frequently run together. The lines are at equal distances, and a broad -margin is at the left of the page, as is the case with the MSS. of Judge -Marshall, and other jurists. The whole is too uniform to be picturesque. -The writing is always as good at the conclusion, as at the commencement -of the epistles—a rare quality in MSS., evincing _indefatigability_ in -the writer. - -[Illustration: signature of Alexander Slidell] - -Lieutenant Slidell, some years ago, took the additional name of -Mackenzie. His reputation, at one period, was extravagantly high—a -circumstance owing, in some measure, to the _esprit de corps_ of the -navy, of which he is a member, and to his private influence, through his -family, with the Review-cliques. Yet his fame was not altogether -undeserved; although it cannot be denied that his first book, “A Year in -Spain,” was in some danger of being overlooked by his countrymen, until -a benignant star directed the attention of the London bookseller, -Murray, to its merits. Cockney octavos prevailed; and the clever young -writer who was cut dead in his Yankee habiliments, met with bows -innumerable in the gala dress of an English _imprimatur_. The work now -ran through several editions, and prepared the public for the kind -reception of “The American in England,” which exalted his reputation to -its highest pinnacle. Both these books abound in racy description; but -are chiefly remarkable for their gross deficiencies in grammatical -construction. - -Lieut. Slidell’s MS. is peculiarly neat and even—quite legible, but -altogether too petite and effeminate. Few tokens of his literary -character are to be found, beyond the _petiteness_, which is exactly -analogous with the minute detail of his descriptions. - -[Illustration: signature of Francis Lieber] - -Francis Lieber is Professor of History and Political Economy in the -College of South Carolina, and has published many works distinguished by -acumen and erudition. Among these we may notice a “Journal of a -Residence in Greece,” written at the instigation of the historian -Niebuhr; “The Stranger in America,” a piquant book abounding in various -information relative to the United States; a treatise on “Education;” -“Reminiscences of an intercourse with Niebuhr;” and an “Essay on -International Copy-Right”—this last a valuable work. - -Professor Lieber’s personal character is that of the frankest and most -unpretending _bonhommie_, while his erudition is rather massive than -minute. We may therefore expect his MS. to differ widely from that of -his brother scholar, Professor Anthon; and so in truth it does. His -chirography is careless, heavy, black, and forcible, without the -slightest attempt at ornament—very similar, upon the whole to the -well-known chirography of Chief Justice Marshall. His letters have the -peculiarity of a wide margin left at the top of each page. - -[Illustration: signature of Sarah J. Hale] - -Mrs. Hale is well known for her masculine style of thought. This is -clearly expressed in her chirography, which is far larger, heavier, and -altogether bolder than that of her sex generally. It resembles in a -great degree that of Professor Lieber, and is not easily deciphered. - -[Illustration: signature of Edward Everett] - -Mr. Everett’s MS. is a noble one. It has about it an air of deliberate -precision emblematic of the statesman, and a mingled grace and solidity -betokening the scholar. Nothing can be more legible, and nothing need be -more uniform. The man who writes thus will never grossly err in -judgment, or otherwise; but we may also venture to say that he will -never attain the loftiest pinnacle of renown. The letters before us have -a seal of red wax, with an oval device bearing the initials E. E. and -surrounded with a scroll, inscribed with some Latin words which are -illegible. - -[Illustration: signature of Robert M. Bird] - -Dr. Bird is well known as the author of “The Gladiator,” “Calavar,” “The -Infidel,” “Nick of the Woods,” and some other works—Calavar being, we -think, by far the best of them, and beyond doubt one of the best of -American novels. - -His chirography resembles that of Mr. Benjamin very closely; the chief -difference being in a curl of the final letters in Dr. B.’s. The -characters, too, have the air of not being able to keep pace with the -thought, and an uneasy want of finish seems to have been the -consequence. A vivid imagination might easily be deduced from such a MS. - -[Illustration: signature of John Neal] - -Mr. John Neal’s MS. is exceedingly illegible and careless. Many of his -epistles are perfect enigmas, and we doubt whether he could read them -himself in half an hour after they are penned. Sometimes four or five -words are run together. Any one, from Mr. Neal’s penmanship, might -suppose his mind to be what it really is—excessively flighty and -irregular, but active and energetic. - -[Illustration: signature of C M Sedgwick] - -The penmanship of Miss Sedgwick is excellent. The characters are well -sized, distinct, elegantly but not ostentatiously formed, and with -perfect freedom of manner, are still sufficiently feminine. The -hair-strokes differ little from the downward ones, and the MSS. have -thus a uniformity they might not otherwise have. The paper she generally -uses is good, blue, and machine-ruled. Miss Sedgwick’s hand-writing -points unequivocally to the traits of her literary style—which are -strong common sense, and a masculine disdain of mere ornament. The -signature conveys the general chirography. - -[Illustration: signature of J. Fenimore Cooper] - -Mr. Cooper’s MS. is very bad—_unformed_, with little of distinctive -character about it, and varying greatly in different epistles. In most -of those before us a steel pen has been employed, the lines are crooked, -and the whole chirography has a constrained and school-boyish air. The -paper is fine, and of a bluish tint. A wafer is always used. Without -appearing ill-natured, we could scarcely draw any inferences from such a -MS. Mr. Cooper has seen many vicissitudes, and it is probable that he -has not always written thus. Whatever are his faults, his genius cannot -be doubted. - -[Illustration: signature of J. L. Hawks] - -Dr. Hawks is one of the originators of the “New York Review,” to which -journal he has furnished many articles. He is also known as the author -of the “History of the Episcopal Church of Virginia,” and one or two -minor works. He now edits the “Church Record.” His style, both as a -writer and as a preacher, is characterized rather by a perfect _fluency_ -than by any more lofty quality, and this trait is strikingly indicated -in his chirography, of which the signature is a fair specimen. - -[Illustration: signature of Henry W^{m} Herbert] - -This gentleman is the author of “Cromwell,” “The Brothers,” “Ringwood -the Rover,” and some other minor productions. He at one time edited the -“American Monthly Magazine,” in connection with Mr. Hoffman. In his -compositions for the Magazines, Mr. Herbert is in the habit of doing -both them and himself gross injustice, by neglect and hurry. His longer -works evince much ability, although he is rarely entitled to be called -original. His MS. is exceedingly neat, clear, and forcible; the -signature affording a just idea of it. It resembles that of Mr. Kennedy -very nearly; but has more slope and uniformity, with, of course, less -spirit, and less of the picturesque. He who writes as Mr. Herbert, will -be found always to depend chiefly upon his merits of _style_ for a -literary reputation, and will not be unapt to fall into a pompous -grandiloquence. The author of “Cromwell” is sometimes wofully turgid. - -[Illustration: signature of C. H. Waterman] - -Mrs. Esling, formerly Miss Waterman, has attracted much attention, of -late years, by the tenderness and melody of her short poems. She -deserves _nearly_ all the commendation which she has received. Her MS. -would generally be considered beautiful; but formed, like that of most -of her sex, upon a regular school-model, it is, of course, not in the -slightest degree indicative of character. - -[Illustration: signature of E. F. Ellet] - -Mrs. E. F. Ellet has published one or two books, exclusively of a volume -of poems, but is chiefly known to the literary world by her numerous -contributions to the Magazines. As a translator from the Italian, she -has acquired an enviable reputation. Her hand, of which the signature -above scarcely conveys a full idea, is clear, neat, forcible and -legible; just such a hand as one would desire for copying MSS. of -importance. We have observed that the writers of such epistles as those -before us, are often known as translators, but seldom evince high -originality or very eminent talent of any kind. - -[Illustration: signature of M M Noah] - -Judge Noah has written several plays which took very well in their time, -and also several essays and other works, giving evidence of no ordinary -learning and penetration on certain topics—chiefly connected with -Israelitish history. He is better known, however, from the wit and -universal _bonhommie_ of his editorial paragraphs. His peculiar traits -of character may be traced in his writing, which has about it a free, -rolling, and open air. His lines are never straight, and the letters -taper too much to please the eye of an artist, and have now and then a -twirl, like the tail of a pig, which gives to the whole MS. an -indescribably quizzical appearance, and one altogether in consonance -with the general notion respecting the quondam Major, and present Judge, -than whom no man has more friends or fewer enemies. - -[Illustration: signature of J. G. Palfrey] - -Professor Palfrey is known to the public principally through his -editorship of the “North American Review.” He has a reputation for -scholarship; and many of the articles which are attributed to his pen -evince that this reputation is well based, so far as the common notion -of scholarship extends. For the rest, he seems to dwell altogether -within the narrow world of his _own_ conceptions; imprisoning them by -the very barrier which he has erected against the conceptions of others. - -His MS. shows a total deficiency in the sense of the beautiful. It has -great pretension—great straining after effect; but is altogether one of -the most miserable MSS. in the world—forceless, graceless, tawdry, -vacillating and unpicturesque. The signature conveys but a faint idea of -its extravagance. However much we may admire the mere _knowledge_ of the -man who writes thus, it will not do to place any dependence upon his -wisdom or upon his taste. - -This article will be concluded in our next number, and will embrace the -autograph of every writer of note in America. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE KING’S BRIDE. - - - BY J. H. DANA. - - -There is no scenery in England more beautiful than that to be found in -portions of the New Forest. Huge gray old oaks, gnarled, and twisted, -and aspiring to heaven; deep glens, overshadowed by canopies of leaves, -through which the light but faintly struggles; vast arcades, stretching -far away in the distance, and buried in religious gloom; wild wood -roads, that wind hither and thither among the giant trees in fanciful -contortions; and open, sunny glades, intersected by sparkling -streamlets, waving with verdant grass, and now and then disclosing a -fairy cottage nestled in the edge of the forest, are to this day, the -characteristics of this favorite hunting ground of the conqueror and his -immediate successors. There is a solitude about this old labyrinthine -chace, which is perfectly bewitching. You may travel for miles, in the -more secluded parts of the forest, without meeting a human being, or -seeing the smoke of a single cottage curling among the foliage; but on -every hand you will behold trees growing in the wildest luxuriance, and -tread on a sward as soft and thick as the richest velvet. You will, for -a space, hear nothing but the sound of a nut rattling to the ground, or -the song of some wood bird down in a brake; and then you will rouse the -deer from their retreat, a rustle will be heard down in the -under-growth, and you will catch a sight of the noble herd, perchance, -as they go trotting away into the darker recesses of the forest. - -Such is the New Forest now, and such it was eight centuries ago, on a -bright sunny morning, towards the end of summer. The hour was still -early, for the dew yet sparkled in the grass, or pattered down from the -foliage as the wind stirred among the forest branches. The scene was one -of the loveliest the chace afforded—a bright glade embosomed in the -most silent depths of the forest. The whole of this open space was -carpeted with the thickest and greenest grass, varying in hue, at every -breath of the balmy wind over the undulated surface. On one side, the -glade was bounded by a gentle elevation, covered with stately oaks, -whose giant branches, spreading out far and wide, buried their trunks in -the obscurity of a constant twilight—and on the other three sides the -ground either extended itself in a plain, or sloped so gently off, that -the descent was nearly imperceptible. Thousands of wild flowers spangled -the surface of the glade, some flaunting proudly on the air, and some -modestly hiding under the long grass, yet all sending forth the most -delicious perfume—while innumerable birds, of every variety of plumage, -hopped from twig to twig, or skimmed across the glade, filling the air -with untold harmonies,—and high in the heaven, a solitary lark, -lingering there long after his fellows had departed, poured forth his -lay with such sweet, such liquid harmony, that a stranger, unaccustomed -to his song, and unable to distinguish his tiny form far up in the sunny -ether, might well have fancied those unrivalled notes the breathings of -an unseen cherubim. - -Such was the scene on which there now gazed two beings, both beautiful, -but one surpassingly so. The elder of the two might have been one and -thirty, and both his face and figure were moulded in the noblest style -of manly beauty. His broad brow, chiselled features, and commanding -port, bespoke him one born to rule, although the simple and somewhat -mean garb he wore argued that he was not rich in this world’s goods. The -attire of his companion was richer, but less gay, and she wore the veil -of a novice. Her face, however, made up in loveliness for whatever -absence of ornament there was in her dress, and indeed she might well -have challenged the world to produce her rival. The fair delicate skin -through which the blue veins could be seen meandering, the snowy brow -that seemed made for the temple of the loveliest and purest thoughts, -the golden hair that lay in wreathes upon the forehead, and the blue eye -whose azure depths seemed to conceal mysteries as pure and rapturing as -those of heaven, made up a countenance of overpowering beauty, even -without that expression, so high and seraphic, which beamed with her -every word, and threw over each lineament of her face a loveliness -almost divine. Her figure was like that of a sylph, yet full and rounded -in every limb; and beneath her dress peeped forth one of the most -delicate feet that ever trod green sward. She was perhaps eighteen, -though she might have been younger. She sat now on a low bank, at the -very edge of the forest, while her companion reclined at her feet, -holding one of her tiny hands in his broad palm, and gazing up into her -eyes with a look of the deepest, yet most respectful passion. Nor were -the maiden’s orbs averted from his gaze, for ever and anon she would -twine her fingers playfully yet half sadly in his locks, and return his -look with all a woman’s tenderness. - -“Yes, sweet one,” said the hunter, as if continuing a conversation, “I -have sometimes, during our separation for the last six long months, -almost desponded, especially when I heard how urgent my brother was that -you should wed his favorite Warren, and when I reflected that your aunt, -the good abbess Christiana, was so hostile to my suit. But I did you -injustice, dear one, and thus,” and he kissed the hands of his companion -again and again, “I sue for pardon. God only knows,” he added in a -sadder tone, “whether I shall ever have my rights. They sneer at me now -as a landless prince, and that purse-proud Surrey hath no better name -for me than Deer’s-foot, because I am not always able to follow the hunt -with a steed. But so long as thou art true to me, sweet Maud, all these -will be as nothing; and the time may come when we shall yet be happy.” - -“Fear not, Beauclerk,” said the princess—for it was Matilda of Scotland -who spoke, and he whom she addressed was the younger son of the -conqueror, the penniless dependent of him whom men called the Red King, -“fear not—all, as you say, will be well. I feel it, I know it. Do you -believe in presentiments, dear Henry?” and pushing aside her lover’s -thick locks, she held her hand on his forehead, and looked with her -sunny orbs full into his eyes, as if she would playfully read his very -soul. - -“Presentiments trouble me not much, despite what the books say thereof,” -answered the frank hunter, “I trust rather to my sword and my good right -arm, though forsooth, they availed me little when I was cooped up in St. -Michael’s Mount by my two kingly and loving brothers. Aye! presentiments -and prophesies, and such things, trouble me but little, or I would e’en -have consolation now, in all my troubles, in calling to mind the words -of my father—the saints assoilzie his memory!—since dying, he said, -‘that I should be inheritor of all his honors, and should excel both -Robert and William in riches and power.’ By St. George, the riches had -best come soon, for I gave my last mark away this morning. No, kind -Maud, I place little faith in presentiments. But you sigh. If it pains -you that I credit them not, why, then I am the most devout believer in -all England,” and again he pressed that fair hand to his lips, “why do -you ask the question?” - -“Because,” said the princess, blushing at his eagerness, “I have had a -presentiment that we should yet be happy, and that full soon. I know not -how it is to happen; but of this I am assured, we shall live for -brighter days. The abbess threatens me with the veil if I do not wed -Surrey, and even now forces me, in her presence, to wear a tissue of -horse-hair; but though I can as yet see no escape from the alternative, -I am not the less certain that it will never be mine to choose. So now, -despond no more, dear Beauclerk.” - -“Thanks, thanks, for your cheering homily,” said the young prince -laughing, for her sanguine words had affected him with an unusual -gaiety. “I can hunt now with some spirit. Little does Surrey think, -while he is getting ready for the chase and perhaps sneering at me as a -laggard for not being up to set out with the rest, that I have stolen -out into the forest to meet her for whom he would give the whole of his -broad lands.” - -What answer the princess might have made to this somewhat vain-glorious -speech, we know not, but at this instant a party appeared on the scene -in the guise of a knight, somewhat advanced in years, and as he -approached hastily, he said: - -“You must forgive me, my dear lady, if I urge you to take horse. The -abbess knows your journey will have consumed but a day, and that you -should have reached Wilton last night, and I shall have a hard task to -excuse your protracted stay without betraying you. The men-at-arms are -drawn up but a little space off, and, though they are all my servitors, -it is best that they should know nothing to reveal. The prince here will -understand me.” - -“Assuredly, Sir John; and if he they call Beauclerk ever attains power, -he will not forget those who befriended the landless prince. I will -bring up Maud in an instant.” - -The knight bowed, and retreated into the wood. A few parting words were -exchanged betwixt the lovers, a few tears were shed by Maud, which were -kissed off by the prince, and then, with one long, last embrace, they -tore themselves asunder, and in a few minutes the princess had rejoined -her train. Prince Henry stood looking vacantly in the direction where -she had disappeared, until the sound of her beast’s tramp had died in -the distance, when, slowly mounting his steed, who had awaited its -master in a neighboring copse, he entered one of the forest roads, and -proceeded leisurely onwards. He had journeyed thus about half an hour -when he heard a hunting horn sound close by him, and directly he beheld -approaching the gallant array of his brother. - -“Ha! my good cousin Deer’s-foot, well met,” said the Earl of Surrey; “we -have been looking for you. I told your friend here, who swore you were -yet abed, that we should meet you afoot in the forest before the day was -over—and thereon we have laid a wager. I trow we have neither won. It -would be but fair to give you the bet, would it not?” said the gay Earl -with a half concealed sneer, as he glanced from his own rich suit to the -prince’s garb. - -“You may both want yet, fair sirs, all you can spare,” answered the -prince; “but let us see who will be first in at the death. You were -always apt at that, my lord,” and he turned to the royal treasurer. - -“Ay, and shall maintain my reputation, your highness,” said Breteuil, -recollecting he addressed almost a beggar; “and, if I may judge by your -steed, even against yourself.” - -“We shall see—we shall see,” said the prince. “I lay you a new steed, -my lord, I distance you to-day.” - -“Done,” said the treasurer, laughing; “you have thrown away your horse. -But here is the king, and lo!” and as he spoke the horn announced that a -stag had been roused, “the game is afoot.” - -At the word the eager sportsmen gave spur to their steeds, and the -cavalcade swept gaily off in the chase. - -Never had a more gallant array than that which now followed the royal -stag, woke up the echoes of the forest. Knights and squires, priests and -pages, warriors and ecclesiastics, princes of the blood royal and high -officers of state, pressed forward in the chase, now scouring along the -level plain, now dashing away through the arcades of the forest, and now -plunging recklessly through brake and dell, as the hounds dogged the -flight of the noble animal into his once secure retreat. Yet it was well -worthy of note how compactly the hunters kept around the king, none -venturing to outstrip him, and only a few of the oldest maintaining an -even rein with him. - -Often during the chase the prince and Breteuil passed and repassed each -other, and at every recognition Henry would gaily remind the treasurer -of his wager. At length, however, the pursuit became more hot, the king -gave rein to his steed and pressed on, and in passing some broken ground -the royal party became separated, and those who were younger or better -mounted than the rest swept on ahead. Among these was Prince Henry, who, -though his steed was none of the best, kept up a not ignoble pace, until -at length his arbalast caught against a tree, and he was nearly thrown -from his horse. He checked his steed at once, and recovered his -cross-bow, but the string was broken, rendering the weapon useless. - -“Ha! My gallant prince,” said the treasurer, as he swept by; “you can -scarcely hit your game now, even if you keep on. I trow your steed is -mine.” - -“A malison on the string,” said the prince bitterly; “there is nothing -left for me except to sneak back to Winchester. But, no! I bethink me -now there is a forester’s hut somewhere nigh here. Ah! yonder is its -smoke curling over the tree-tops. I will hie me there, and get a new -string. If the stag turns at the dell below, he will head up this way, -and I may yet win my wager, for, the saints know, I can ill afford to -lose my only steed.” - -With these words the prince again gave spurs to his horse, and was soon -before the forester’s hut. - -“Ho! there, within,” he exclaimed; “a string for the prince. Marry, old -mistress, have they never a keeper here better than you?” - -These words were addressed to an old woman who met him at the threshold -of the hut as he dismounted, and who appeared to be the only human being -inhabiting the cabin. And she was one who might well occasion the -prince’s exclamation of surprise. Her skin was like that of a corpse; -her eyes were sunk deep into her head; her hair was grizzled and gray; -her long bony fingers might have been those of a skeleton, and when she -spoke, her hollow sepulchral tones made even the courageous prince -shudder. She seemed to pay no regard to her visitor’s inquiry for a -string, but fastening her basilisk-like eyes upon him, she said or -rather chaunted, in Norman French, a rude lay, of which the following -verses are a translation: - - “Hasty news to thee I bring, - Henry, thou art now a king; - Mark the words, and heed them well, - Which to thee in sooth I tell, - And recall them in the hour - Of thy royal state and power.” - -For the space of almost a minute after she had ceased, the prince gazed -speechlessly on this novel being, awed alike by her strange demeanor, -and her sepulchral eye. Nor were the words she chaunted without effect -on her hearer. It was a superstitious age, and though few men of his day -were less influenced by the supernatural than Henry, there was something -in the sybil’s look which chilled his heart with a strange feeling, half -fear, half awe. He had not recovered from his surprise, when a horseman -rushed wildly up to the hut, and the prince had scarcely recognized one -of his warmest friends, Beaumont, when that gentleman breathlessly -exclaimed: - -“The king is slain!—Tyrell’s arrow glanced from a bow and struck your -royal brother to his heart!” - -The words of Beaumont acted on the prince like the charm which -dissipates a spell. He started, as if aroused from some strange dream, -looked a moment in wild surprise at his companion, and gradually -comprehending the strange and sudden transition in his fortunes, he -sprung with a bound into his saddle, and plunging his rowels up to the -heel in his horse’s side, exclaimed: - -“Then this is no place for me—follow to Winchester, Beaumont,—and now -for a crown and Maud!” - -The next instant his horse’s hoofs were thundering across the stones, as -he galloped furiously to the capital. - -History relates how he reached Winchester, with his steed bathed in -foam, and, without slackening his pace, dashed up to the door of the -royal treasury, a few minutes in advance of Breteuil. History also tells -how the energy of the young prince broke through the meshes of the wily -traitor, and secured for Beauclerk the crown; but it does not add that, -after the unwilling treasurer had surrendered the keys of the regalia, -his new master said, half laughingly and half ironically, to the haughty -peer who had so often neglected him when only a prince— - -“Ah, my lord! did I not say I would win the race? I trow your steed is -mine!” - -The discomfited Breteuil bit his lip and was silent, but that night his -best charger was sent to the royal stables; while the rest of the -hunters, who were now fast pouring in from the chase, with the populace -which at the first news of the Red King’s death had begun to shout “King -Henry,” gathered around their young monarch and filled the air with -their acclamations. - -“Maud is right,” said the king to himself, as he beheld the enthusiasm -displayed by his people, “to say nothing of the old sybil. Ah! what will -my sweet one think when she hears this?” - -Three months later and all the chivalry of the realm was gathered in the -church at Westminster, while the populace without thronged every avenue -to that princely cathedral. Never indeed had a prouder assemblage met at -any royal ceremonial. The church blazed with jewels. Nobles in their -robes of state; bishops and archbishops with mitre and crozier; -countesses whose beauty out-dazzled their diamonds; knights and squires -and pages of every rank; burghers with their chains of gold; men-at-arms -encased in steel; halberdiers and archers; yeomen with quarter staffs, -and foresters with arbalasts; men of every situation of life, and bright -ladies, whose loveliness was beyond compare, were gathered in the -gorgeously ornamented church, amid the waving of banners, the sound of -music, the rustling of costly robes, and the smoke of ascending incense, -to gaze on the marriage of their monarch to his fair and blushing bride. -And there she stood before the altar in all her virgin beauty, her fair -blue eyes suffused with tears of joy; while her manly lover stood at her -side, the proudest cavalier in all that bright array. And when the -archbishop ascended the pulpit, and demanded if any one there objected -to the union, the whole audience shouted aloud “that the matter was -rightly settled;” then again pealed forth the anthem, and again the -incense rose in clouds to the fretted roof. The music ceased, the words -were said, the crown was placed on the brow of the princess, and the -hunter of the forest, amid the acclamations of his people, pressed to -his heart the King’s Bride. - -“Do you believe in presentiments now?” said the young queen, half -laughing, to her royal husband when they reached the palace. - -“I am a convert to your faith whatever it may be, sweet one. Nay! you -shall preach no sermon over my retraction, for thus I forbid the -homily,” and the king drew the blushing Maud towards him and fondly -kissed her. - -Many an iron monarch has, since then, sat on the English throne, and -many a fair princess has been led by her lover to the altar, but never -has a happier or more beautiful pair wore the regal crown in the realm -of our ancestors. - - * * * * * - - - - - MERRY ENGLAND. - - - BY J. R. LOWELL. - - - Hurrah for merry England, - Queen of the land and sea, - The champion of truth and right, - The bulwark of the free! - Hurrah for merry England! - Upon thy seagirt isle - Thou sittest, clothed in righteousness, - Secure of Heaven’s smile! - - When ruled the fairhaired Saxon, - Yes, thou wert merry then; - And, as they girt their bucklers on, - Thy meanest serfs were men; - And merry was the castle-hall - With jest and song and tale, - When bearded lips with mead were white - And rang the loud Washael! - - And, when grim Denmark’s black-browed prows - Tore through thine Emerald sea, - And many a wild blue eye was turned - In savage lust on thee,— - When, in the greenest of thy vales, - The gusts of summer air - Blew out in long and shaggy locks - The sea-king’s yellow hair,— - - Yet Alfred was in England, - And merry yet again - Thy white-armèd Saxon maidens were - When, on the drunken Dane, - The sudden thunders of thy war - With arrowy hail did pour, - And grim jaws dropt that quivered yet - With savage hymns to Thor. - - Thy merry brow was fair and free, - Thine eye gleamed like a lance, - When thy good ash and yew did crush - The gilded knights of France; - When Paris shook within her walls - And trembled as she saw - Her snow-white lilies trampled down - Beneath thy lion’s paw. - - Queen Bess’s days were merry days, - Renowned in song and tale, - Stout days that saw the last brown bead - Of many a tun of ale; - Queen Bess’s days were golden days - And thou full proudly then - Did’st suckle at thy healthy breasts - The best of Englishmen. - - Thou hast been merry, England, - But art thou merry now, - With sweat of agonizing years - Upon thy harlot brow, - Grimed with the smoke of furnaces - That forge with damned art - The bars of darkness that shut in - The poor man’s starving heart? - - Oh free and Christian England! - The Hindu wife no more - Shall burn herself in that broad realm - Saint George’s cross waves o’er; - Thou art the champion of the right, - The friend of the opprest, - And none but freemen now shall tread - Thine Indies of the West. - - But thou canst ship thy poison, - Wrung from lean Hindu slaves, - To fill all China with dead souls - That rot in living graves; - And, that thy faith may not be seen - Barren of goodly works, - At Saint Jean D’Acre thou sent’st up - To Heaven three thousand Turks. - - Fling high your greasy caps in air, - Slaves of the forge and loom, - If on the soil ye’re pent and starved - Yet underneath there’s room; - Fling high your caps, for, God be praised, - Your epitaph shall be, - “Who sets his foot on English soil - Thenceforward he is free!” - - Shout too for merry England - Ye factory-children thin, - Upon whose little hearts the sun - Hath never once looked in; - For, when your hollow eyes shall close - The poor-house hell to balk, - (Thank God for liberty of speech) - The parliament will talk. - - Thank God, lean sons of Erin, - Who reverence the Pope - In England consciences are free - And ye are free—to hope; - And if the Church of England priest - Distrain—why, what of that? - Their consciences are freer still - Who wear the shovel-hat. - - The poet loves the silent past, - And, in his fruitful rhyme, - He sets the fairest flowers o’er - The grave of buried time; - But, from the graves of thy dark years, - The night-shade’s ugly blue - And spotted henbane shall grow up - To poison Heaven’s dew. - - Woe to thee, fallen England, - Who hast betrayed the word, - And knelt before a Church when thou - Shouldst kneel before the Lord! - And, for that scarlet woman - Who sits in places high, - There cometh vengeance swift to quench - The lewdness in her eye. - - Woe to thee, fallen England, - Who, in thy night-mare sleep, - O’er a volcano’s heart dost toss - Whence sudden wrath shall leap - Of that forgotten Titan - Who now is trodden down - That one weak Guelphic girl may wear - Her plaything of a crown! - - That Titan’s heart is heaving now, - And, with its huge uprise, - On their sand basements lean and crack - The old moss-covered lies; - For freedom through long centuries - Lives in eternal youth, - And nothing can for ever part - The human soul and truth. - - * * * * * - - - - - MARRIAGE. - - - BY RUFUS DAWES. - - - The inmost region of the mind, where dwells - The essences of unborn thought,—those _ends_ - In which Effects, through Causes, dwell in power, - Opened. ’Twas in vision, and I saw - A palace of vast size—such as the eye, - The natural eye of man, never beheld. - Its massy walls of unhewn agate towered, - Girt by a colonnade of crysolite; - And there were ninety columns of huge bulk, - Sustaining an entablature of gold, - Diamond and ruby, glittering like the sun. - - The windows were each one a double plate - Of spacious crystal, sliding from the touch - Each side in golden frames. The portico - Hung o’er a flight of alabaster steps, - Extending to a lawn of delicate moss, - Where browsed a flock of innocent, white lambs, - That little children garlanded with flowers. - Around the palace, orchard-trees were seen, - Laden with fruit celestial, that hung down - Like gems among the gold and silver leaves. - Majestic vines, heavy with clustering grapes, - In large festoons swung gorgeously between - The opulent boughs that dropped with nectarines. - - ’Twas on a mountain’s summit, high and broad, - Commanding a magnificent expanse, - Where Art, in its essential excellence, - Glowed in potential forms, where Nature, too, - Un-ultimated in terrestrial things, - Bloomed in angelic beauty. To the east - A river, brinked luxuriantly with flowers, - Lapsed silently. The deep-enameled dome, - Whose measureless horizon knew no bounds, - Was draped with clouds that broke celestial rays, - Shining down shadowless. Turning, I saw - A pair of Consorts, whose exalted home - Was in this paradise. No forms of earth, - No mortal lineaments—no reach of thought - Poetic, when imagination wings - Homeward to Heaven, could in the least compare - With their angelic radiance;—they were - Beauty itself in form,—two, and yet one,— - One angel male and female—a true Man. - He was her Understanding, she his Will; - Thence, but one mind in heavenly marriage formed. - Her love was cradled in his thought, that loved - Her love and nursed it—as the tender drops - Clasp the warm sunbeams, while the smile of Heaven - Breaks in the rainbow. Such is genuine love. - He in his form more radiantly shone - Than that sublime achievement of fine art, - That shows the power of luminous Truth to kill - Sinuous Error;—she, than Guido’s gem - More beautiful, more human, and more true. - - I saw, and lo! two dromedaries, each - Bearing a golden basket, one of bread, - The other of ripe fruit; they came and knelt. - Each took and gave the other,—he the bread, - She the ripe fruit. The dromedaries then - Rose and departed. I beheld them kneeling - Beside the river, and when they had drunk - I saw them rise again and kiss each other, - And then depart. I looked again, and lo! - The consorts had withdrawn. They were the first - Of the new birth of Marriage here on earth— - A promise for the future, when a Time, - And Times, and half a Time shall be fulfilled. - - * * * * * - - - - - INDIAN TRADITIONS.—No. II. - - - FORT POINT. - - - BY D. M. ELWOOD. - - - “His spirit wraps the misty mountain, - His memory sparkles o’er the fountain; - The meanest rill—the mightiest river— - Rolls mingling with his name forever.” - - -The beautiful towns and villages of Connecticut, bordering on Long -Island sound, are not surpassed in quiet loveliness by any others in New -England. The loveliest, perhaps, of them all, is Norwalk, situated in -the western part of the State, on a river of the same name, which flows -sweetly along through the centre of the town. The title, we confess, is -neither euphonious nor romantic: but we would not have it changed even -for the sweetest word that ever passed human lips. It was given it by -the Aborigines on the day when the territory was first purchased from -them, and refers, if we mistake not, to its extent northward from the -sound, called by the Indians the _North walk_. It is, indeed, one of the -most lovely spots in Nature. Its quiet harbor is studded with verdant -islands of every size and form, while across the green waters Long -Island is seen, its dim outline scarcely distinguishable from the blue -expanse beyond. The sound through its whole length is spotted with -sheets of snowy canvass spread to catch the breeze, and anon the -majestic steamer, like some huge leviathan, comes laboring on her way, -proudly dashing aside the foaming waters from her prow, and leaving far -behind a whitened, widening track. But when the Storm King is abroad, -the crested waves pursue each other in continual chase, and the long, -swelling billows break upon the shore, sending forth their rich music in -the deep organ tones of nature. - -On the eastern side of the river, and directly opposite the present -steamboat landing, is a large circular mound, some twenty feet high, and -covering a surface of about an acre. It is perfectly level on the top, -and bordered with large, tall cedars. It is now commonly known by the -inhabitants in the vicinity as Old Fort Point. - -There is a tradition respecting the object and the erection of this -mound, which I have with difficulty procured, and which maybe -interesting to many who have visited the place, if not to strangers. For -its truth, in all particulars, I will not vouch, but give it -substantially as it has come down to us. - -About two centuries ago, there lived, on the level country about what is -now Fort Point, but what was then called Naumkeag, one of those large -tribes of native Indians, which, at the time when this land was first -visited by Europeans, were scattered over the country from the shores of -the Atlantic to the great valley of the west. The Indians had not then -been degraded by their intercourse with the whites. The peculiarities of -their nature had not been modified by the influence of civilization. -Their tastes had not been pampered, nor their appetites excited by the -fatal “fire water” introduced by their destroyers, nor their bodily -strength wasted by diseases, loathsome and deadly, and till then unknown -among them. - -From the feathered flocks of the forest and the finny tribes of the sea, -they derived an ample subsistence; the shores, too, abounded in shell -fish, and the forests with game, so that want and famine were never -dreamt of by the happy and proud inhabitants of Naumkeag. - -Many years before the time of this sketch a large colony separated from -the principal tribe and moved northward, settling themselves in the -mountainous regions of Massachusetts. This colony embraced about a -quarter of the whole tribe at Naumkeag—and being composed mostly of -young men and their wives, they soon became nearly as powerful as the -people whom they had left. - -Although many miles lay between them, these two tribes long kept up a -friendly intercourse with each other, and forgot not that they had -sprung from the same common stock. Miles were passed over almost as -easily by those hardy foresters as they are by us at the present day, -even with the help of iron roads and steam carriages. Great power of -endurance was natural to their constitution, and especially was the -fatigue of a long and rapid journey borne without inconvenience. - -There was one of the Wannamoisetts, as those who had removed from -Naumeag now called themselves, who was more frequent by far in his -visits to the sea shore than any other of his tribe. Every second moon -found him treading the forest with his face toward the south. His -journey usually occupied from two to three days. Occasionally he -remained at Naumkeag for a week at a time, though for the most part, his -visits were less protracted. - -Mononchee had of course some object or incentive for being thus frequent -and regular in his attendance at the home of his ancestors. His very -distant relationship to the tribe would hardly demand such an excess of -filial affection. The truth was, there was a magnet of attraction in the -person of a young maiden of Naumkeag, the sister-in-law of the chief, -Wappaconet; and a powerful magnet it was too,—for there was not another -in the whole village that possessed a brighter eye or a more perfect -form. Her step almost realized the description of the poet, - - “————and fell, - Trembling and soft, like moon-light on the earth.” - -Noalwa was not insensible to the attentions of her constant swain; on -the contrary, his wooings were quite successful. His bravery and his -manly strength—his tall and well formed person, and flashing eye, were -well calculated to win the admiration, and, in due course, the -affections of the gentle being upon whom his own desires centered; and -the many soft things that he whispered in her ear, (for even an Indian -_in love_ can utter the sweetest phrases with a honied mouth,) found a -deep lodgment in her heart. And it was noticed that when the period of -his visits was near at hand, her step was still lighter than usual, and -her eye danced with a new, but soft fire, though at such times she spoke -less, and seemed thoughtful but not sad. - -One evening—it was in the beginning of June, that season so favorable -to young lovers—Mononchee surprised Noalwa sitting under a large tree -close upon the shore. The hour and the place seemed as if under the -influence of enchantment. The scene was like a fairy land. The broad -sound was spread out before her, upon whose surface the clear moon shed -her softened rays, which, as from a mirror, were reflected back on every -side, giving to all things around an unnatural and unearthly brightness. -There seemed a spell upon the air. It stirred not—but hung over the -earth and the sea as if to heal every imperfection on the face of nature -by its bland and genial influence. - -Noalwa had not been long there. An unwelcome intruder had invaded the -hour which she had set apart for solitude and for communion in spirit -and in fancy with her absent but adored lover. The intruder had hardly -left her sight ere he was banished from her thoughts, and as it was -about a week earlier than the customary time of Mononchee’s coming, she -was thinking how long the days would be till she saw him, when she felt -a warm kiss upon her cheek. She screamed not—spoke not—for a -deep-seated feeling at her heart told her that those were no forbidden -lips that could kindle such raptures in her soul. - -She gazed up at the face and form that was bending over her with all the -fondness of a first love, and the young Indian placed himself by her -side and gently drew her to his bosom. Then followed a conversation in -low, deep, earnest tones, that both came from, and reached the heart. - -“The Wannamoisett is good—very good, to come so soon and gladden the -heart of Noalwa,” murmured the girl as he pressed her to his breast. - -“Who would not come early and often if Noalwa loved him?” replied he. -“Her beauty is brighter than the sun! Her eye is clearer and softer than -the moon which leaves a broad trail of light upon the water. She sings -more sweetly than the Tichanet,[4] and when she laughs the whole air is -full of pleasant sounds.” - -“Did the Wannamoisett see any of my people as he came hither?” asked -she. - -“None—for I came down by the shore. Ah! yes, I did see one—Annawon, -the Namasket.” - -Noalwa hung her head. - -“Where did Mononchee meet him?” said she. - -“I saw him here!” vehemently replied the warrior, “here—standing on -this very spot. I saw his hand grasp yours; nay, kneeling at your feet. -I saw his eager look whilst you poured into his ear words which should -have been kept for Mononchee!” - -“Be it so then,” cried the maiden, her lips quivering with insulted -pride, and her heart torn with the agony which the unjust but perhaps -reasonable suspicion of her lover caused, “be it so! for I told him to -go—ere he told me a tale of love—to his tent and behold the wasted -form and the sunken eye of Tituba, his wife, once loved and -cherished—now neglected. I told him that I could never be his, and that -any one who suspected Noalwa would so dishonor herself as to break her -faith with another, could not be worthy of her love. Mononchee suspects -her, and to him let her words be applied.” - -“But why suffer the Namasket to hold your hand? Why play with the -serpent just ready to strike deep his fangs?” - -“Mononchee is a keen-eyed warrior,” said the maid in irony, “he saw the -hawk, but not the wren that drove _him from her nest_. He saw Annawon at -the feet and holding the hand of Noalwa, but did not observe with what -scorn she looked upon him—did not mark how she spurned and drove him -from her.” - -“I was deceived,” answered the repentant lover; “Noalwa has a pure -heart, and never again will I distrust her. Seest thou that moon hanging -yonder over the clear water? When it is again round and full, as it is -to-night, Mononchee will come to take Noalwa for his wife. Will she be -ready to go with him then to dwell where the hills are high and the deer -are plenty?” - -“I am yours—yours only,” and her blushing face was hid in his bosom. - -After sitting for about an hour, the young man arose. “I must return,” -said he, “to my people. Remember the full moon, Noalwa,” and he strode -rapidly away. - -A few days after the above occurrence the Namaskets were invited by the -Wannamoisetts to partake of a grand feast of deer and bears’ flesh at -their village in the mountains. Accordingly a large party of the active -men of the tribe started one morning, and the evening of the next day -found them with their friends at Cohammock. The Wannamoisetts had made -their preparations on a grand, and, for them, magnificent scale. Piles -of plump deer and still richer bears’ meat lay around, while kettles of -dried sweet corn and beans, of the last year’s growth, were already -simmering over the small fires, that the hard kernels might become well -softened and ready for use on the morrow. - -With the gray dawn of morning, all was bustle and activity in the -village of Cohammock. The Indian matrons were early bestirring -themselves that nothing might be left undone to mar the festivities of -the occasion. Innumerable fires were kindled—the wooden spit and the -seething pot, the two indispensable and almost the only culinary -implements in use among them, were put in requisition. Whilst the -preparations were going slowly on, the men of the tribe as well as their -guests were idling listlessly about, their appetites every moment -rendered sharper by the odor of the smoking viands that were soon to -form their savory meal. - -And truly the banquet was not unworthy the occasion. Just as the sun had -reached the “middle point in the heavens,” piles upon piles of boiled -and roasted flesh were spread under the shade of the tall sycamores that -grew undisturbed in all parts of the village. A large bowl of the finest -_succotash_ was placed before each guest, and if the quantity eaten be -the standard of quality, never was there served up a better dinner than -was that day disposed of in the rude village of Cohammock. - -At length the repast was finished. Both guests and entertainers, with a -prudence truly commendable, ate as if expecting a famine for a month, at -least, to come, and nothing remained but to indulge in that supreme of -Indian luxuries, tobacco. Pipes were brought, but alas! there was not a -particle of the weed to be found. Some miscreant, a fair representative -of that variety of our race at the present day—ever ready to engender -strife, had stolen and destroyed all that was to be found in the -village. - -This was a deficiency that could be supplied by no other article. -Venison or succotash or any other part of the edible entertainment could -have been dispensed with, but the burning propensities of an Indian must -be indulged. The Wannamoisetts were as much mortified as their guests -were offended at this unfortunate occurrence, but it was with difficulty -the Namaskets could be persuaded that it was not an intentional insult; -so jealous were the natives of their own honor! Contrary to their -previous intention, they left their kinsmen in the early part of the -same afternoon, not caring to remain till morning with those who had, in -their view, been so parsimonious in their hospitality. - -Let us return again to the sea shore at Naumkeag. A month after the -feast of Cohammock, a party of the Wannamoisett warriors were present at -a grand collation, prepared by Wappacowat, the Namasket chief. Much were -they gratified by this expression of his friendship, for they had always -regretted the affair at their own village, and feared that an open -rupture would be the consequence. They dreaded this, still cherishing -some little spark of fraternal affection for those whom they had -unmeaningly offended. - -During the banquet, so busily were the Wannamoisetts engaged in -despatching the shell and other fish which their friends had made ready, -that they did not observe that Wappacowat and his followers partook but -sparingly, so that by the time they had eaten almost to suffocation, and -were illy prepared for the least exertion, the Namaskets had taken only -what was just sufficient to stimulate them for any enterprise. - -At length Wappacowat gave the signal to his followers to bring the -calumet, and as he did so, a close observer might have discovered a -gleam of gratified animosity shoot across his iron features and glisten -in his snaky eye. Quickly moved his warriors, and the devoted guests -half stupified by the vast quantities of food they had taken, saw the -pipes well filled with the luxurious plant, but did not discover the -tomahawk and the knife which they had concealed under their deer skin -robes. They sat not smoking long, for suddenly the Namaskets rose and -each one buried his tomahawk into the brain of the Wannamoisett next -him. All—all were slain. So well had the treacherous, fratricidal plan -been matured, that not a single one was left to carry to the desolate -village of Cohammock the tale of blood and guilt. Ah! yes, there was -one—Mononchee—the betrothed of Noalwa, who having neglected the feast -that he might spend the time apart with the fair one, came into the -village just as the last reeking scalp had been torn from the cloven -skull. Looking an instant on the appalling spectacle, he uttered a -furious yell and sprang like a deer towards the river. A dozen tomahawks -flew after him, and as many dark warriors started in pursuit, but in -vain, for with a few powerful strokes the brave youth gained the -opposite bank, and bounding into the woods, effected his escape. - -They were buried on the spot where they fell. Perhaps no shade of -remorse passed over the minds of the murderers, but they could not leave -the victims there for their flesh to rot and their bones to whiten in -the sun. They were buried several feet below the surface, and the gloomy -shades of night fell thick around before the last mangled body was -hidden from the sight. And as the rising wind swept through the -thick-topped pines and tall buttonwoods around, it wailed and sighed -mournfully, as if singing a melancholy dirge over the graves of the -gallant dead. And by the midnight hour it blew in hoarse and awful -tones, and the death shouts and groans of the dead were heard -commingling with the blast; and when the night was darkest, and all save -the growling of the wind and these unnatural noises, was still, a lurid -flame sprang up from the centre of the spot where the feast had been, -and cast a sickening light on all things, and the earth opened around, -and the bodies of the Wannamoisett warriors, bloody and mangled as they -were, arose and danced around it, singing their war songs in unearthly -tones, together with their wild requiem for the dead. Ghastly and -horrible they looked, and as they danced, the blood flowed from their -opening wounds, till it reached the strange fire, which instantly shot -up in one lurid column of flame till it attained the blackened clouds, -when it disappeared as suddenly as it had burst forth; the spectral -revellers sank back again into their fresh graves, and all was dark and -silent as before. - -But when the morning broke the Namaskets beheld a spectacle scarcely -less hideous than that of the preceding night. Their victims had been -buried, as their custom was, in a sitting posture, and during the night -they had all risen, so that their heads were fully visible above the -surface of the ground. The bloody mark of the tomahawk was still there, -and every scalp was torn off—and the eyeballs, projecting far from the -sockets, were fixed and glassy, but of a burning red,—glowing like -living fire. And from them rays of dingy red streamed all over the -village,—and wherever one of the murderers went, those rays followed -him, and pierced him, and seemed as if they were burning out his heart. - -Reckless with fear and rage the murderers tore the bodies up from the -ground and dug the graves still deeper and again they placed them in. -But at midnight the red flame burst forth and the tempest howled -fearfully. The phantom forms sprung up as before, and this time their -flesh, from their shoulders downward, dropped off and was consumed by -the fire, and a dense smoke arose, and a red cloud slowly gathered in -the air, and hovered round and hung over the spot like a minister of -vengeance. And in the morning their gory heads and glaring eyes had -again struggled up above the surface. And when the fratricides saw them, -a deadly terror crept over them and the demon of remorse began to prey -upon their souls. - -On the third night the scene was changed. The moon did not set at her -accustomed hour, but hung just above the horizon, red as a sea of blood. -And in the midst of the fire that shot forth from the earth at midnight, -a form was seen like that of Wappacowat, the chief. But the ghostly -images were there again, and they gathered round the form in the centre, -and with their skeleton fingers tore off its flesh as fast as it was -seared in the fire, and ground it in their teeth with ravenous appetite. -When in the morning the dismayed villagers sought their chief they found -him not, but tied to a stake where the midnight revel had been held was -a skeleton, the bones all picked clean except the head, which had been -cloven with a tomahawk, and from it the scalp was also torn, and in its -features, distorted as if they had stiffened under the keenest tortures, -they recognized the countenance of their king. - -Dismay sat upon every guilty face, and a sullen gloom enshrouded every -heart. The tribe finding it useless to bury deeper the bodies of their -slain kinsmen now began to build over them—but every night one of their -number disappeared, and in the morning his fleshless bones were found -tied to the fatal stake; and still the heads rose, but every day there -was one less than before. Then the dreadful truth flashed upon them that -one of their own number must die in that fearful manner, for every one -of the Wannamoisetts they had slain. As the number of their dead -increased, which it did by one for every midnight hour, so did the -number of spectre heads diminish. One murdered spirit was every night -appeased, and appeared no more. - -Still they kept on building that huge pile, and the dreadful occupation -to which they clung as affording the only ray of hope that they might be -delivered before their turn should come round, so wrought upon the -guilty ones that they soon became almost as ghostly as the phantoms of -the night which tortured them. But they faltered not in their task. -Every day the heads were covered and every morning they were found in -sight. And on the seventieth morning that mound was far higher than it -now stands. There was then but one head remaining, for just seventy of -the Wannamoisetts had been slain and just seventy were the murderers. At -midnight of that day the strange revel was, for the last time, visible, -for when the skeleton of Mononton, the last and most bloody of the -fratricides was found, the last head had disappeared forever. - -The remainder of the tribe left soon after in search of a more -auspicious residence. Since the treacherous act of their brethren, -famine had weakened them and the terrible plague laid many of their -forest children low. But wherever they wandered, the curse of the Great -Spirit followed them, and they dwindled away until finally there was no -place left for them on the earth. - -One fair evening in the next summer, two forms sat upon the very mound -which forms the principal subject of this tale. One was a female of -fairy proportions, and she looked abroad over the landscape with the eye -of one to whom its beauties were familiar. Her companion’s face was -buried in his hands, and his whole frame shook as if the recollection of -some terrible scene were passing over his memory. And as the eye of -Noalwa rested on him she, too, divining his thoughts, shuddered, saying, - -“Mononchee! let us go hence, never again to return! I cannot bear to -look upon these scenes where my people lived and where yours so sadly -perished. These trees that we have planted around the mound which covers -them will bear witness that their memory is still dear to us. Let us go, -Mononchee!” - -They went to dwell with those that were left of his people. Many and -bright were their days. Plenty surrounded them. The tribe grew again and -Mononchee became their chief. The trees which he planted around “Fort -Point” sprang forth and flourished luxuriantly, and the large junipers -that still remain are doubtless descended from that parent stock. But -scarcely any other green thing will grow there; it seems a devoted -place. Devoted let it be; sacred forever to the shades of those who are -sleeping in its bosom. - ------ - -[4] A wild forest bird. - - Unionville, Mass. - - * * * * * - - - - - NEVER SHALL MY HEART FORGET THEE! - - - BALLAD—SUNG BY - MR. SINCLAIR, - COMPOSED BY - GEORGE O. FARMER. - - _Philadelphia_: John F. Nunns, _184 Chesnut Street_. - - -[Illustration: musical score] - - Never shall my heart forget thee, - Come what may of joy or ill; - Love, the hour when first I met thee, - Lives in mem’ry still. - Beauty’s hallowed light was o’er thee! - -[Illustration: musical score] - - Music’s spell was on thy tongue, - Oh, to see was to adore thee, - Maid of Avinlonge, - Oh! to see was to adore thee, - Maid of Avinlonge. - - Maid, the shades of night are falling, - The blest hour of love draws nigh; - Like the voice of beauty calling, - Floats the bird-song by. - Tho’ our fond hearts fate should sever, - Darkly doomed to pine alone; - Still as first they loved, forever - Should our souls love on. - - Though from dreams of hope awaking. - I can scorn Fate’s ire to me, - Smile, tho’ my own heart be breaking, - If Fate wounds not thee! - Never shall my lips deceive thee, - My devotion ne’er decline, - Dearest, until life shall leave me, - My whole heart is thine. - - * * * * * - - - - - Sports and Pastimes.—THE FOWLING-PIECE. - - - THE LOCK—THE PERCUSSION SYSTEM—TRIGGERS—WADDING—AMMUNITION, ETC. - -The flint and steel lock, like the matchlock, has had its day; and the -one is as likely as the other to supersede the detonator. There were -some sportsmen who long retained the flint in preference to the -copper-cap. Their partiality for the old system arose from their -inability to depart from the manner of taking aim to which they had been -accustomed—they fired too forward! It was said, too, that a barrel -fired by a detonating lock, did not throw shot so efficiently as the -other. That objection is now obviated by making barrels perfectly -cylindrical throughout the whole length of the tube. We prefer the -copper-cap lock for its simplicity, to any other system of firing by -percussion. - -A bad lock, in these _march-of-improvement_ days, is rarely fixed to a -gun. Since the use of detonators has become general, the quality of the -lock is not of so much consequence to the sportsman as it was -previously. The quickness of firing with the old flint and steel locks -depended so much on the workmanship of the lock, that a -properly-tempered and well-filed one was invaluable. The introduction of -detonators has by no means improved the quality of the workmanship of -the lock—it has rather deteriorated it. The fact is, the master -gunmakers, finding the lock not so much looked at as formerly, are -become indifferent to obtaining the assistance, or unwilling to incur -the expense of first-rate workmen. The hardening and filing of a lock in -an artist-like manner, requires no common skill. The best locks ever -turned out were those made on the flint and steel principle, at the time -when detonators first came into vogue; the smartness with which the -percussion locks fired, obliged the makers of the flint and steel locks -to bestow double diligence and labor on their work, conscious that a -rival was in the field with whom it required no ordinary pains to -compete. Flint locks, whether as applied to the fowling-piece or the -musket, will soon be forgotten, or remembered only to give a romantic -interest to some tale of other times, as the arbalast and long-bow serve -only to remind us of our Norman and Saxon ancestors! It requires some -mechanical knowledge and some experience, to decide on the merit of a -lock. The vulgar method of trying one is this:—The operator draws back -the hammer with his thumb, not touching the trigger with his finger, and -if the works in the interior catch and snap smartly at the half-way, and -when the hammer is drawn back, he may rely on the main-spring being -sufficiently strong and free to fire the caps: then, with his thumb -still on the hammer, he draws the trigger and lets the hammer glide -slowly down upon the pivot. With a little practice he will be able, in -some degree, to discriminate between a good lock and a bad one. To prove -the difference in quality, he should take up a well-finished lock; that -is, one of hard material, well filed, and having springs of a suitable -and corresponding strength, and compare it with an inferior lock; by a -nice touch he will perceive the difference: the hammer of the former -slides backwards and forwards with a smooth, even force; whilst that of -the latter runs rough and gritty, as if clogged with sand. If this -somewhat uncertain mode of trial serve no other purpose, it will enable -the shooter, when he takes up a gun that has been used since being -cleaned, to discover whether the lock is sufficiently free from rust and -dirt as to be fit for the day’s service; for most assuredly, if the lock -be clogged, when thus worked backwards and forwards, it will not snap, -or in sporting phrase _talk_; and in that case it would be unsafe to use -it. A detonating lock that will bear this trial, and will invariably -fire the cap, may be pronounced quite good enough for any sporting -purpose. - -The triggers should be what are technically termed _box-triggers_, and -should be taken from the stock and cleaned at least once during the -season, and oftener if very much exposed to dust, rain, or a damp -atmosphere. They should be adjusted with scrupulous nicety, so as to -require only a slight touch to draw them: they should not, indeed, fire -as easily as the hair-triggers of duelling pistols, but should be fixed -so firmly as that the sportsman should not be liable to discharge his -piece, while bringing it up to his shoulder cocked, with his finger upon -one of the triggers. The triggers may sometimes be regulated by filing, -hardening, or softening the scear spring, or filing the wedge-like part -of the scear which falls into the notches of the tumbler: and sometimes -it is necessary to file that part of the trigger which comes in contact -with the scear, but this operation requires to be carefully performed. A -valuable lock should not be placed in the hands of an unskilful workman -for the apparently trifling purpose of regulating the triggers, nor yet -for any other purpose. - -The wadding we should recommend is that made of felt, and anointed with -some chemical preparation. We are not sure that this is the very best -description of wadding, but we know of none better. New waddings are -constantly invented. The metallic wadding, concave wadding, punched -cards, or punched hat wadding, are any of them good, as regards -shooting. The chief reason why we bestow a preference on the anointed -wadding is, because the barrel is kept less foul, and may be fired so -many times oftener without requiring cleaning, than when any other -description of wadding with which we are acquainted is used. We are not -partial to a tight wadding, but it should fit so that when the barrel is -clean and smooth within, the charge will not stir. There is little fear -of the charge stirring after a barrel has been fired a few times, as the -place where the leading or foulness accumulates in greatest quantity is -just above where the charge of shot lies. - -Considerable improvement has been made in copper-caps since they were -first introduced. The composition in all of them is now good; that which -possesses the anti-corrosive principle is perhaps best. There is much -difference in the copper of which they are made, but that is of little -consequence when good locks with concave or well shielded hammers are -used, otherwise those made of bad copper are said to be dangerous. We -never heard of an accident from them. The shooter should be particular -in procuring copper-caps of a proper size; for if they do not fit the -pivots, considerable inconvenience will be experienced. When too small, -they will not explode; and when too large, the cap on the second pivot -is apt to fly off when the first barrel is fired. The shooter will find -it convenient to carry a quantity of caps loose in his waistcoat pocket, -with a reserve in a box (a metal box water-tight is best) to have -recourse to should those in his pocket become wet. He should take care -that there be nothing in his pocket to choke the caps; and by way of -precaution, he should, before putting a cap on the pivot, see that there -be no dirt in the cap, and that it be perfect. - -The best powder does not soil the gun so much as inferior powder. After -using good powder, a redness will be observed round the orifice of the -pivot. After using coarse powder, a white or black appearance will -present itself. The purer the powder is, the oftener may a barrel be -fired without requiring to be cleaned. - -When the measure on the flask is regulated as it ought to be, it will -hold the requisite charge for a clean barrel on a warm dry day. It -behoves the shooter, then, when the atmosphere is moist and the wind -boisterous, to increase the charge of powder in each barrel in a -trifling degree. However stormy the day may be, the shooter may prevent -the particles of powder from being blown away while he is charging; but -he cannot prevent them adhering to the damp leaded interior of the -barrels. Indeed, if the barrels be damp, as they cannot fail to be if -the air be so, and there be no wind at all, they cannot be held quite -perpendicular, so that the whole charge of powder shall find its way to -the breech. One-fifth of the charge will sometimes adhere. Doubtless, -when tight wadding is used, the whole, or nearly the whole, of the -charge finds its way to the bottom: but in what state? A portion of it -is wet!—and the result is, that, when the piece is discharged, only -four-fifths ignite! - -The fowling-piece should be put by clean, oiled, and the barrels corked -or stopped, and with the hammers upon the pivots. It should be kept in a -cloth or woolen case, in a dry room, and, when not in constant use, -occasionally rubbed with linen dipped in olive oil. The inside of the -barrel should be frequently oiled, the oil being immediately wiped out -with a dry cloth wrapped round the cleaning rod. Neat’s-foot oil is best -for the lock, and linseed oil is recommended for the stocks, but it is -so offensive that we prefer olive oil. - -Large-grained powder is generally stronger than small-grained. It is -well to be cautious that the grain is not so large as not to fill the -nipple freely, or misfires will be the consequence. Powder which suits -one gun may not suit another; the larger the bore of the gun, the larger -should be the grain of the powder. An instrument for trying the strength -of powder should not be trusted to: the best trial is with the gun in -which the powder is intended to be used, and there can be no better -target for trying the comparative strength of different powders, than an -unbound book fixed firmly against something solid. - -The heavier and harder the metal of which shot is made the better.[5] - ------ - -[5] As shot is numbered differently by different manufacturers, we give -the number to the ounce of the sizes to which we have referred: - - A. A. about 40 - A. — 50 - B. B. — 60 - B. — 75 - 1. — 80 - 2. — 110 - 3. — 130 - 4. — 180 - 5. — 220 - 6. — 270 - 7. — 350 - 8. — 600 - 9. — 1000 - 10. — 1700 - - - CHARGING THE FOWLING-PIECE. - -It is not usual to charge the gun until arriving at the shooting ground. -When there, however advisable on the score of caution it may be, -flashing off a quantity of powder to clear out, dry, and warm the gun -before loading, has certainly a cockney appearance; the more -sportsman-like practice is,—the party having reliance on the person who -cleans his gun,—merely to permit the ramrod to fall lightly to the -bottom of each barrel. The barrels are then held as perpendicularly as -possible while the powder is poured in, so that nearly the whole charge -may reach home, and not adhere in its descent. The barrel is then tapped -with the ramrod, or the gun slightly shook against the foot, that powder -may find its way into the pivots,—that is the more necessary when -coarse-grained powder is used. A wadding is then gently pressed down. -The shot is next poured in, and a slight shake of the gun in an upward -direction causes it to lie evenly;—a wadding is pressed upon it. The -shooter next removes the remains of the caps, and looks whether the -powder has found its way to the orifice of the pivots, and if it has, he -places fresh caps on; if powder is not visible at the orifice of the -pivots, he removes any obstacle with a pricker, and contrives to push -down a few grains of powder. It is very material to attend to this -point, to prevent miss-fires. - - - THE WIRE-CARTRIDGE. - -The wire-cartridge was invented, in 1828, by Mr. Jenour. It consists of -a cylindrical case or network of wire, the meshes of which are somewhat -more than an eighth of an inch square; at the lower end the wire -partially closes; the wire case is then enveloped in fine paper, and at -the upper end a cork wadding, cut so as to fit the gauge of the gun, is -affixed, the case is then filled with shot and bone dust. The first -cartridges made, though ingenious in construction, were defective in -operation. It was a matter of no ordinary difficulty to fabricate them -in such a manner that the shot should leave the case at the precise -distance required. This at first could not be done so that they might be -trusted in every instance; every alternate cartridge might fire well, -but the rest would fire irregularly, being liable to ball,—that is, the -shot would not leave the case until fifty or sixty yards from the gun, -and such cartridges were, of course, not only useless but dangerous. -They have been from time to time improved, and almost every difficulty -has been overcome. The sporting cartridges now made never ball, they act -with a considerable degree of precision and certainty, and that they may -be safely trusted may be inferred from the fact that they are often -preferred by persons engaged in pigeon matches. Various materials were -used experimentally to fill up the interstices between the pellets, but -nothing seems to answer so well as the material now used. Another -difficulty in their construction presented itself. It was requisite to -accommodate them to the various methods of boring used by different -gunmakers, and the unequal length of barrels, the object in view being -to produce a cartridge that would suit all barrels of the same gauge, -and this has been in a great measure, if not wholly, accomplished. The -liability to ball, notwithstanding various improvements made in them, -was not effectually obviated for many years, during which they were -tried, and in many instances prematurely condemned, either from real -defects, or from the parties not knowing how to use them. They were not -brought to perfection until the year 1837. - -The wire-cartridges possess two principal advantages over loose shot; -they are propelled with greater velocity, and thrown more evenly. A -loose charge is always thrown in patches; the shots of a cartridge, as -seen on a target, are comparatively equi-distant from each other. - - * * * * * - - - - - REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. - - - _Guy Fawkes; or The Gunpowder Treason. An Historical Romance. - By_ William Harrison Ainsworth, _Author of “The Tower of - London,” “Jack Sheppard,” &c. Philadelphia. Lea and Blanchard._ - -What Mr. William Harrison Ainsworth had been doing before he wrote -“Rookwood” is uncertain; but it seems to us that he made his literary -_début_ with that work. It was generally commended; but we found no -opportunity of perusing it. “Crichton” followed, and this we read; for -our curiosity was much excited in regard to it by certain discrepancies -of critical opinion. In one or two instances it was unequivocally -condemned as “flat, stale and unprofitable,” although, to be sure, the -critics, in these one or two instances, were men of little note. The -more prevalent idea appeared to be that the book was a miracle of wit -and wisdom, and that Ainsworth who wrote “Crichton,” was in fact -Crichton _redivivus_. We have now before us a number of a Philadelphia -Magazine for the month of April, 1840, in which the learned editor thus -speaks of the work in question—“Mr. Ainsworth is a powerful writer; his -‘Crichton’ _stands at the head of the long list of English -novels—unapproachable and alone_. . . . This great glory is fairly Mr. -Ainsworth’s due, and in our humble opinion, _the fact is -incontrovertible_.” Upon a perusal of the novel so belauded, we found it -a somewhat ingenious admixture of pedantry, bombast, and rigmarole. No -man ever read “Crichton” through twice. From beginning to end it is one -continued abortive effort at effect. The writer keeps us in a perpetual -state of preparation for something magnificent; but the something -magnificent never arrives. He is always saying to the reader, directly -or indirectly, “_now_, in a _very_ brief time, you shall see what you -shall see!” The reader turns over the page in expectation, and meets -with nothing beyond the same everlasting assurance:—another page and -the same result—another and still the same—and so on to the end of the -performance. One cannot help fancying the novelist in some perplexing -dream—one of those frequently recurring visions, half night-mare half -asphyxia, in which the sufferer, although making the most strenuous -efforts to _run_, finds a walk or a crawl the _ne plus ultra_ of his -success in locomotion. - -The plot is monstrously improbable, and yet not so much improbable as -inconsequential. A German critic would say that the whole is excessively -_ill-motivert_. No one action follows necessarily upon any one other. -There is, at all times, the greatest parade of _measures_, but measures -that have no comprehensible result. The author works busily for a -chapter or two with a view of bringing matters in train for a certain -end; and then suffers this end to be either omitted—unaccomplished—or -brought to pass by accidental and irrelevant circumstances. The reader -of taste very soon perceives this defect in the conduct of the story, -and, ceasing to feel any interest in marches and countermarches that -promise no furtherance of any object, abandons himself to the -investigation of the page only which is immediately before him. -Despairing of all amusement from the _construction_ of the book, he -falls back upon its immediate descriptions. But, alas, what is there -here to excite any emotion in the bosom of a well-read man, beyond that -of contempt? If an occasional interest is aroused, he feels it due, not -to the novelist, but to the historical reminiscences which even that -novelist’s inanity cannot render altogether insipid. The turgid -pretension of the style annoys, and the elaborately-interwoven pedantry -irritates, insults, and disgusts. He must be blind, indeed, who cannot -understand the great pains taken by Mr. Ainsworth to interlard the book -in question with second-hand hits of classical and miscellaneous -erudition; and he must be equally blind who cannot perceive that _this_ -is the chicanery which has so impressed the judgment, and dazzled the -imagination of such critics as he of the aforesaid Magazine. We know -nothing at all of Mr. Ainsworth’s scholarship. There are some very -equivocal blunders in “Crichton,” to be sure; but _Ainsworth_ is a -classical name, and we must make _very_ great allowances for the usual -errors of press. We say, however, that, from all that appears in the -novel in question, he may be as really ignorant as a bear. True -erudition—by which term we here mean only to imply much diversified -reading—is certainly discoverable—is positively indicated only in its -ultimate and total _results_. We have observed elsewhere, that the mere -grouping together of fine things from the greatest multiplicity of the -rarest works, or even the apparently natural inweaving into any -composition of the sentiments and manner of these works, is an -attainment within the reach of every moderately-informed, ingenious, and -not indolent man, having access to any ordinary collection of good -books. Of all vanities the vanity of the unlettered pedant is the most -sickening, and the most transparent. - -Mr. Ainsworth having thus earned for himself the kind of renown which -“Crichton” could establish with the rabble, made his next appearance -before that rabble with “Jack Sheppard.” Seeing what we have just seen, -we should by no means think it wonderful that this romance threw into -the greatest astonishment the little critics who so belauded the one -preceding. They could not understand it at all. They would not believe -that the same author had written both. Thus they condemned it in loud -terms. The Magazine before alluded to, styles it, in round terms, “the -most corrupt, flat, and vulgar fabrication in the English language . . . -a disgrace to the literature of the day.” Corrupt and vulgar it -undoubtedly is, but it is by no means so _flat_ (if we understand the -critic’s idea of the term) as the “Crichton” to which it is considered -so terribly inferior. By “_flat_” we presume “uninteresting” is -intended. To us, at least, no novel was less _interesting_ than -“Crichton,” and the only interest which it _could_ have had for any -reader must have arisen from admiration excited by the apparently -miraculous _learning_ of the plagiarist, and from the air of owlish -profundity which he contrives to throw over the work. The interest, if -any, must have had regard to the author and not to his book. Viewed as a -work of art, and without reference to any supposed moral or immoral -tendencies, (things with which the critic has nothing to do) “Jack -Sheppard” is by no means the _very_ wretched composition which some -gentlemen would have us believe. Its condemnation has been brought about -by the revulsion consequent upon the exaggerated estimate of “Crichton.” -It is altogether a much better book than “Crichton.” Although its -incidents are improbable—(the frequent miraculous escapes of the hero, -for instance, without competent means) still they are not, as in -“Crichton,” at the same time inconsequential. Admitting the facts, these -facts hang together sufficiently well. Nor is there any bombast of -style; this negative merit, to be sure, being no merit of the author’s, -but an enforced one resulting from the subject. The chief defect of the -work is a radical one, the nature and effect of which we were at some -pains to point out in a late notice of Captain Marryatt’s “Poacher.” The -story being, no doubt, written to order, for Magazine purposes, and in a -violent hurry, has been scrambled through by means of _incident_ solely. -It is totally wanting in the _autorial comment_. The writer never pauses -to speak, in his own person, of what is going on. It is possible to have -too much of this comment; but it is far easier to have too little. The -most tedious books, _ceteris paribus_, are those which have none at all. -“Sir Charles Grandison,” “Clarissa Harlowe,” and the “Ernest Maltravers” -of Bulwer embody instances of its superabundance. The genius of the -author of “Pelham” is in nothing more evident than in the interest which -he has infused into some of his late works _in spite_ of their -ultra-didacticism. The “Poacher” just mentioned, and “The Arabian -Nights” are examples of deficiency in the commenting principle, and are -both intolerably tedious _in spite_ of their rich variety of incident. -The _juste milieu_ was never more admirably attained than in De Foe’s -“Robinson Crusoe” and in the “Caleb Williams” of Godwin. This latter -work, from the character of its incidents, affords a fine opportunity of -contrast with “Jack Sheppard.” In both novels the hero escapes -repeatedly from prison. In the work of Ainsworth the escapes are merely -narrated. In that of Godwin they are _discussed_. With the latter we -become at once absorbed in those details which so manifestly absorb his -own soul. We read with the most breathless attention. We close the book -with a real regret. The former puts us out of all patience. His marvels -have a nakedness which repels. Nothing he relates seems either probable -or possible, or of the slightest interest, whether the one or the other. -His hero impresses us as a mere chimæra with whom we have no earthly -concern, and when he makes his final escape and comes to the gallows, we -would feel a very sensible relief, but for the impracticability of -hanging up Mr. Ainsworth in his stead. But if “Jack Sheppard” is a -miserably inartistical book, still it is by no means so utterly -contemptible and silly as the tawdry stuff which has been pronounced -“_the best of English novels, standing at the head of the long list -unapproachable and alone!_” - -Of “The Tower of London” we have read only some detached -passages—enough to assure us, however, that the “_work_,” like Yankee -razors, has been manufactured merely “to sell.” “Guy Fawkes,” the book -now lying before us, and the last completed production of its author, is -positively beneath criticism and beneath contempt. The design of Mr. -Ainsworth has been to fill, for a certain sum of money, a stipulated -number of pages. There existed a necessity of _engaging_ the readers -whom especially he now addresses—that is to say the lowest order of the -lettered mob—a necessity of enticing them into the commencement of a -perusal. For this end the title “Guy Fawkes or The Gunpowder Plot” was -all sufficient, at least within the regions of Cockaigne. As for -fulfilling any reasonable expectations, derived either from the _ad -captandum_ title, or from his own notoriety (we dare not say reputation) -as a novelist—as for exerting himself for the permanent or continuous -amusement of the poor flies whom he had inveigled into his trap—all -this, with him, has been a consideration of no moment. He had a _task_ -to perform, and not a duty. What were his readers to Mr. -Ainsworth?—“What Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba?” The result of such a -state of affairs is self-evident. With his _best_ exertions, in his -earliest efforts, with all the goadings of a sickening vanity which -stood him well instead of nobler ambition—with all this, he _could_ -do—he _has done_—but little; and without them he has now accomplished -exactly nothing at all. If ever, indeed, a novel were _less_ than -nothing, then that novel is “Guy Fawkes.” To say a word about it in the -way of serious criticism, would be to prove ourselves as great a -blockhead as its author. _Macte virtute_, my dear sir—proceed and -flourish. In the meantime we bid you a final farewell. Your next volume, -which will have some such appellation as “The Ghost of Cock-Lane,” we -shall take the liberty of throwing unopened out of the window. Our pigs -are not all of the description called learned, but they will have more -leisure for its examination than we. - - * * * * * - - _The Gift: A Christmas and New-Year’s Present for 1842. Carey - and Hart: Philadelphia._ - -This volume of “The Gift” is superior to any yet published. Mrs. Embury -has an entertaining story, and Miss Leslie’s account of a “Family that -Didn’t take Boarders” is also quite amusing. Mr. Simms has a well -narrated tale—Mr. Seba Smith has another—Professor Frost another—Mrs. -Ellet, also, and the author of “A New Home.” We ourselves have one which -is not ended so well as it might be—a good subject spoiled by hurry in -the handling. The poetry, in general, is insipid. Mrs. Sigourney has not -done herself justice. Lieut. G. W. Patten, U. S. A. has three effusions, -neither of which do credit to the Annual. This gentleman, who writes -frequently, and should therefore write well, is singularly remiss in his -metaphors, and often grievously deficient in his grammar. What does he -mean, at page 309, by - - As sleep the brave so thou _should_ sleep (?) - -or, at page 165, by - - The storm is on the sea—I hear its _wings_ - In _thunder fretting_ o’er the lifted wave (?) - -This is surely a most singular instance of metaphor run mad! Here are -three conflicting images at one time in the brain of the poet. By the -word “wings” the reader is made to understand the prosopopeia of the -storm as a _bird_; by “thunder” (a _natural_ accompaniment of tempests) -he is brought back to the impersonified storm; by “fretting” he is left -in no doubt that the writer’s ideas are running upon a _horse_—and all -this in the compass of one line and a half! - -The “Stanzas” by Park Benjamin have a rich simplicity which of all -literary qualities is the most difficult of attainment, and of all -merits the most uncertain of appreciation; but we are sorry to say that -they are the _only_ good verses in the volume. - -The engravings are very fine. We will speak of them briefly one by one. - -The “Country Girl,” by Cheney from Sully, is a _truthful_ picture. The -design is perfect. The only fault of the execution lies in the undue -breadth of the face; this defect would be remedied by deepening the -shade beneath the left ear. The work of the engraver is well done. - -“Vignette Head,” by Cheney from Sully—one of the latter’s favorite -heads—the face that of a pouting hoyden. The hair is beautifully -_massed_. The _vignetting_ is carried too low as regards the bosom, from -which half an inch should be taken off at bottom, or otherwise some -lines of shading introduced to relieve it of its blank appearance. The -arm is execrable—the hand worse—both are too massive and sinewy. - -“Dulcinea,” by Cheney from Leslie. No fault can be found with this -picture, which is admirable in every respect. The right arm, in -especial, is exquisitely rounded and foreshortened. - -“The Tough Story” by J. J. Pease, from W. S. Mount. Mr. Mount’s merits -are those of acute observation and fidelity. These merits, although not -of the highest order, have the advantage of being universally -appreciable. This is an advantage which he secures—_clinches_—by -dealing only in homely subjects. If he has ideality (a question which as -yet we have had no means of deciding) and would employ his peculiar -talents upon loftier themes, he might attain a very desirable eminence -indeed. - -Nothing could be more true to nature than the picture before us; but the -painter has sacrificed to this truth (at some points) artistical effects -of superior value. What can be more displeasing, for example, than the -unrelieved nakedness of the wall in the back ground, or the situation of -the group precisely in the centre of the design, or, especially, than -the tall regular stove pipe, running up parallel with the back of the -standing figure, and dividing the apartment exactly in two? - -“The Gipsy,” by Cheney from Sully, is altogether out of drawing as -regards the face, which is, again, too broad to the left. This is a very -usual error in side faces. The fingers are badly engraved, particularly -those of the right hand, which look as if covered with a net or pic-nic -glove. The foliage in this picture is not very well executed. - -“The Sled” by W. E. Tucker, from Chapman, is a most effective design, -evincing the well-educated artist. The idea of rapid motion is skilfully -embodied in the countenance of the boy, in the peculiar falling curve of -the hill, and exquisitely _corroborated_ in the whirl of the clouds. -This is the true artistical keeping. The limbs of the boy are too small -for his head and body, and the left hand appears to have been cut from a -turnip. This latter defect is chargeable to the engraver. - -“The Raffle” by A. Lawson from Mount. This is another of Mr. Mount’s -idiosyncrasies, and is absolute perfection _in its way_. The defects of -the work (considered as a mere picture) which we pointed out in the -“Tough Story,” are not observable here. The grouping of the figures and -the arrangement of the design generally, are as admirable as the varied -expression of the Yankee faces. The light, however, is too equally -disposed about the room, and, in especial, upon the three middle -personages. It is difficult, moreover, to imagine these three persons so -illumined, and the back of the foreground figure at the same time so -fully in shade. These are petty objections—but it is right they should -be made. - -“Portia,” by Forrest from Sully, is an engraving in which the mere -mechanism is excellent; and, in fact, the work is, upon the whole, -highly creditable to Mr. Forrest. The hands, however, are badly done; -the left especially. Some knowledge of drawing is absolutely essential -in one who copies. This knowledge cannot be supplied by even Chinese -fidelity in depicting dot for dot and line for line. The picture, -altogether, we prefer to any in the book. Were we in the habit of -purchasing paintings this “Portia” by Sully is the only one here which -we would purchase. - -The paper of “The Gift” for 1842 does not seem to us sufficiently good. -The binding is certainly magnificent, but would have been vastly -improved by the use of a thicker board. - - * * * * * - - _Amenities of Literature, consisting of Sketches and Characters - of English Literature. By_ J. D’Israeli, _D.C.L. F. S. A. 2 - vols. I. & H. G. Langley: New York._ - -The reputation of the elder D’Israeli as scholar and philosopher is at -least as well founded as that of any man of his age. He has given to the -world a series of _peculiar_ books—books in which the richest variety -of _recherché_ detail and anecdote about literary affairs, is made -subservient to the most comprehensive survey and analysis of letters -themselves, considered in respect to their important spiritual uses. He -is the only _savant_ upon record who has busied himself, without -pedantry, among the _minutiæ_ of classical lore. His works will last as -long as the language in which they are written. The “Curiosities of -Literature,” the “Literary Character,” the “Miscellanies of Literature,” -the “Calamities of Authors,” and all but the present “Amenities of -Literature” are, however, but incidental labors arising from a more -extensive design—a “History of English Literature”—of which he thus -speaks. “It was my intention not to furnish an arid narrative of books -and of authors, but, following the steps of the human mind through the -wide track of time, to trace from their beginnings the progress and the -decline of public opinions, and to illustrate, as the objects presented -themselves, the great incidents in our national annals.” In this -magnificent project the philosopher was arrested by blindness. The -“Amenities of Literature” is a portion and in fact the beginning of the -great scheme which can now never be completed. We need say no more to -recommend it to the reader. The two volumes before us are issued in the -customary careful and tasteful style of the Langleys. - - * * * * * - - _The Critical and Miscellaneous Writings of Sir Edward Lytton - Bulwer, author of “Pelham,” &c. 2 vols. Lea and Blanchard: - Philadelphia._ - -We have read these volumes with the highest pleasure. They embrace all -of the known minor writings of Bulwer, with the exception of his shorter -fictions; and we recognize in the collection several very excellent -articles which had arrested our attention and excited our curiosity -while their authorship was undivulged. - -Mr. Bulwer is _never_ lucid, and seldom profound. His intellect seems to -be rather well balanced than lofty—rather comprehensive than -penetrative. His taste is exquisite. His style, in its involution and -obscurity, partakes of the involution of his thoughts. Apart from his -mere intellect, however,—or rather as a portion of that intellect—we -recognize in his every written word the keenest appreciation of the -right, the beautiful, and the true. Thus he is a man worthy of all -reverence, and we do not hesitate to say that we look upon the charges -of immoral tendency which have been so pertinaciously adduced against -his fictions, as absurdly _little_ and untenable, in the mass. - -The volumes now before us are plain evidence of the noble spirit which -has constantly actuated him. The papers here published were written at -various epochs of his life. We look through them in vain for anything -false, as a whole, or unchivalrous, or impure, or weak, or tasteless, or -ignoble. Were we addicted _jurare in verba magistri_, there lives no man -upon whose faith we would more confidently rely than upon that of -Bulwer—no man whose opinion upon any point involving a question of -truth, or justice, or taste, we would be more willing to adopt -unexamined. - -We have been especially pleased with an article (in the volumes now -before us) entitled “Literature Considered as a Profession,” and with -another “Upon the Spirit of True Criticism.” Some remarks in the latter -paper are quite as applicable to our own country as to Great Britain. - - “‘To say this is good and that is bad,’ says La Bruyère, ‘is not - morality.’ Very true, neither is it criticism. There is no - criticism in this country—considering that word as the name of - a science. A book comes out—it is capital, says one—it is - detestable, says another. Its characters are unnatural—its - characters are nature itself. On both sides there is - affirmation, on neither proof. In fact no science requires such - elaborate study as criticism. It is the most analytical of our - mental operations—to pause—to examine—to say _why_ that - passage is a sin against nature, or that plot a violation of - art—to bring deep knowledge of life in all its guises—of the - heart in all its mysteries to bear upon a sentence of approval - or disapprobation—to have cultivated the feeling of beauty - until its sense of harmony has grown as fine as the ear of a - musician—equally sensitive to discord—or alive to new - combinations:—these are no light qualities, and these are not - qualities, it may be answered, to be lightly lavished away. - Every new book, it may be said, does not deserve that we should - so honor it. We need not invoke the Past, and summon all Nature - to hear us praise a butterfly, or crush a bug. We may on slight - works arrogate the censor—yes, but we must first have been - chosen the censor, by the acumen we have testified on great - ones. Now, when an author who has risen into eminence, who - begins to produce an effect upon his age, whose faults it - becomes necessary to indicate as a warning, whose beauties we - should illustrate as an example—when such a man produces a new - work, what is the cant cry of the critics? ‘The peculiar merits - and failings of Mr. So and So are too well known for us at this - time of day to repeat them. The present work has all the - characteristics of the last—if it does not increase, it will - not diminish the well-earned reputation of the author.’ Then - come the extracts, and a word or two at the end as precise and - lucid as those at the beginning, and——there’s THE CRITICISM! - - “For my part, I please myself sometimes with drawing the ideal - picture of a good critic, as Bolingbroke drew that of a patriot - king. What a crowd of accomplishments, not easily seen by the - superficial, belong to that character! Literature and morality - are so entwined that you rarely find the real critic unless he - is also the moralist. The union is almost necessary. In - Quinctilian how beautifully the deduction closes the dogma! and - even in Johnson the habit of moralizing gives dignity to his - criticisms. In both sciences the study of mankind, of the - metaphysical nature within us, alone insures a sound judgment: - in both, without a delicate yet profound perception of the - harmonious, the beautiful, the august, no commanding excellency - is obtained. The goodness of a man and the goodness of a book - are not such different qualities as people suppose. A person, - however, _may_ be, though he is not often, a good moralist - without being a good man: to preach and practice are faculties - not inseparable. But I doubt if a man can be a great critic who - has not, at least, the elementary qualities of a good man. I - consider that he must keep the intellectual sight clear from - envy, and malice, and personal dislikes. He must examine the - work above and remote from all the petty considerations that - attach to the man. He must be on the alert for genius, ready to - encourage even a rival to himself. Where this largeness of mind - is not visible, there is always something petty and crippled in - the mind of the professional critic. He may make one great - criticism, but he cannot criticise with greatness habitually. - Perhaps he reviews some dead author—for the dead interfere not - with the living; or he wastes a world of generosity, like - Southey, in praising some rhymester of the pantry, who is little - enough while he attracts honor to the praiser to plunge into - forgetfulness the praise. The good critic—that rare ideal, must - have in him courage to blame boldly, magnanimity to eschew envy, - benevolence to search for obscure merit. He must have genius to - appreciate, and learning to compare: he must have an eye for - beauty, an ear for music, a heart for feeling, a mind for - reason. ‘We are conscious of excellency,’ says some author, ‘in - proportion to the excellence within ourselves.’” - -We wish also to call attention to a very excellent article on the -subject of “International Copyright.” The only paper in the collection -which we could have wished omitted is one entitled “A Letter to the -Quarterly Review,”—an attempt at vindictive retaliation upon Lockhart. -We admire this gentleman quite as little as Mr. Bulwer can possibly do, -but we grieve to see an attack which has neither vigor nor wit, and -which proves nothing beyond the writer’s wrath and utter incapacity for -satire. - - * * * * * - - _The Pic Nic Papers. By various Hands. Edited by_ Charles - Dickens, Esq. _author of “The Pickwick Papers,” &c. 2 vols. Lea - and Blanchard: Philadelphia._ - -The “Introduction” to this work gives us its history. “The premature -death of a young publisher (Mr. Macrone) inspired some of those who had -known him personally, or had been connected with him in business, with -an earnest desire to render some assistance to his widow and orphans. -They produced among themselves this work.” In the English edition there -were three volumes; the third consisting of the “Charcoal Sketches” of -Mr. Joseph C. Neal, of Philadelphia. This edition we have not seen; but -have been astonished to hear that the London publisher has been so -discourteous as to print Mr. Neal’s compositions, and the engravings -which accompanied them, without the _name_ of the writer, or any farther -acknowledgment than a few words speaking of the whole as “from an -American source.” Comment upon such meanness seems altogether a work of -supererogation; but, in truth, we are in the habit of setting our -brethren across the water very bad examples in matters of a somewhat -similar kind. That Mr. Dickens had any thing to do with the wrong now -perpetrated, we will not, however, believe for a moment. - -The contributors to the two volumes reprinted in Philadelphia are among -the most celebrated _literati_ of England. We have, for example, -articles from Dickens, from Leigh Ritchie, Allan Cunningham, Thomas -Moore, W. H. Ainsworth, G. P. R. James, Agnes Strickland and several -others. It might be supposed, of course, that the collection would be -one of high interest: but we are forced to say that it _is not_. In a -case like this, authors (who for the most part are unburthened with -pecuniary means) are called upon to furnish _gratuitous_ papers. It is -not surprising that, under such circumstances, they content themselves -with bestowing whatever MS. they may have at hand, of least value. -Scraps from memorandum-books; effusions of early years kept only as -mementos and never destined for publication; fragments of tales or -essays definitely abandoned by the author, who has become dissatisfied -with his subject or the mode in which it was progressing—matters such -as these form invariably the staple of compilations such as this. There -is, moreover, another important consideration—one involving a very -remarkable truth. The _refuse_ labor of a man of genius is usually -inferior, and greatly so, to that of the man of common-place -talent:—very much as the dregs of the _Côtes du Rhone_ are more viscid -than those of Sherry or _De Grâve_. It is only necessary to suggest this -idea to have it at once fully appreciated and understood. The man of -talent pursues “the even tenor of his way.” He is at all times -_himself_. With the all-prevalent law of action and reaction he has -nothing to do. Never excited into wild enthusiasm, he never experiences -its consequent and inevitable depression. Never boldly soaring, he never -sadly sinks. To write well, the man of genius must write in obedience to -his impulses. When forced to disobey them—when constrained, by the -fetters of a methodical duty, to compose at _all_ hours—it is but a -portion of his nature—it is but a condition of his intellect—that he -should occasionally grovel in platitudes of the most pitiable -description. And this fact will go farther than any one hitherto -adduced, to explain the character of a fatality which has so constantly -attended genius as to have become a sure index of its existence:—we -mean the fatality of alternate high eulogium and virulent invective. Few -men are conversant with the _whole_ works of an author. Now, in the case -of two critics of equal ability, it may happen (and we know it _does_ -frequently so happen) that the opinion of one may be based solely upon -the author’s best efforts, while that of the other is deduced from some -mere task-work labored out in hours of the most utter inappetency and -exhaustion. The dissent of the latter (a dissent just if we regard only -the means of judgment) will, of course, be extravagant in denunciation, -precisely in the ratio of his astonishment and indignation at what he -supposes the corrupt panegyric of the former. - -Therefore, it should not be a matter for surprise that these “Pic Nic -Papers” are very great trash, although written by very clever men. Their -general merit, in our opinion, is below that of the mere _make-weight_ -of our commonest newspapers and magazines. One or two of the articles -are not _very_ bad:—Leigh Ritchie’s “Marcus Bell,” for example; a tale -entitled “Aunt Honor;” and “The Lamplighter’s Story,” by Mr. Dickens. -This last, however, is only tolerable through the manner in which it is -told. There is not a single paper of _real_ value; and more consummate -nonsense than the greater portion of the collection we never encountered -in any respectable-looking book. - -We cannot conclude our notice without a protest against the title-page. -To call this paltry publication the “Pic Nic Papers,” and affirm it to -be _edited_ by Mr. Dickens—thus inducing ideas of the popular Pickwick, -is a piece of chicanery which not even the end in view can sanction. No -body of men are justified in making capital of the public’s gullibility -for purposes of charity, public or private—for any purposes under the -sun. We do not hesitate to state the present case _plainly_. The title -affixed to this work has been designedly so affixed, that purchasers, -hastily glancing at it, may suppose it a book upon the same plan as the -“Pickwick Papers,” and _written_, as they were, by Mr. Dickens. No one -who reflects an instant can suppose the intention to have been anything -else. Now what is this but the worst species of _forgery_? - - * * * * * - - _History of the War in the Peninsula, and in the South of - France, from the year 1807 to the year 1814. By_ W. F. Napier, - C. B., Colonel, _&c. From the Fourth Edition. Complete in Four - Volumes. With Numerous Engravings. Carey and Hart: - Philadelphia._ - -Colonel Napier’s “History of the Peninsula War” is a work whose general -features are sufficiently well understood. In the thoroughness of its -survey and in the minute and exact particularity of its details, if not -in more important and comprehensive regards, it is equalled certainly by -no other book on the subject discussed, and perhaps by few histories of -any kind. The author’s extensive political acquaintance with the events -agitating all Europe at the period investigated, and especially the part -he bore in some of these events, with his obvious enthusiasm for -military affairs, rendered him as fitting for the task which he has -undertaken as any individual of his age. It may be said, indeed, and not -altogether paradoxically, that he was somewhat _too_ well qualified for -this task. The agitating incidents _quorum pars magna fuit_ have so -forcibly impressed his imagination as to mislead his understanding in -respect to the _relative_ importance of these incidents. He discourses -of the “Peninsular Campaign” (pretty much, by the way, as all Englishmen -discourse of it) as if _it alone_ were the proper subject of all human -deliberation. No one will be willing to deny the interest which -appertains to it, nor the magnitude of the results to which it led. We -mean to say, however, that, except to Colonel Napier and the Duke of -Wellington, it is not the only important topic in the universe. - -Hitherto the American reader of history has been able to procure this -work only from our public libraries, and the enterprize of Messieurs -Carey and Hart in placing it within reach, is worthy of all -commendation. They must have been at unusual expense in this -undertaking. The volumes are thick octavos, and are illustrated by no -less than fifty-five lithographed plans, (which, by the way, are not -very well executed.) At the same time these publishers can scarcely -expect remuneration from a very extensive sale. By public institutions -and military men the work will be valued and purchased. But beyond -these, with few exceptions, the public will content itself with the -means already in its power of referring to the history in our libraries. -The gentlemen in question are, of course, the best judges of their own -affairs; but it does seem to us that they have erred in permitting the -_foreign_ value and reputation of the work to influence them in making -an American reprint. - - * * * * * - - _Ten Thousand a Year. By the Author of The Diary of a London - Physician. Carey and Hart: Philadelphia._ - -There are several circumstances connected with this book which render it -an important topic for the critic. We mean its unusual length—the -previous reputation of its author—the peculiarity of its subject—the -apparent under-current of _design_ which has been attributed to it—the -wide difference of opinion existing in regard to its merit—and, -especially, the fact of its being, if not precisely the first, yet -certainly the chief of the class of _periodical_ novels—the peculiar -advantages and disadvantages of which it will afford a good opportunity -for discussing. We much regret, therefore, that we have left ourselves -no room, in the present number of the Magazine, for an extended analysis -of the work. This we may possibly undertake in December; contenting -ourselves, in the meantime, with a few observations at random. - -It appears to us that a main source of the interest which this book -possesses for the mass, is to be referred to the _pecuniary_ nature of -its theme. From beginning to end it is an affair of pounds, shillings, -and pence—a topic which comes home at least _as_ immediately to the -bosoms and business of mankind, as any which could be selected. The same -_character_ in the choice of subject was displayed by Doctor Warren in -his “Passages from the Diary of a London Physician.” The _bodily health_ -is a point of absolutely universal interest, and was made the basis of -all the excitement in that very popular but shamefully ill-written -publication. - -“Ten Thousand a Year” is also “shamefully ill-written.” Its mere English -is disgraceful to an L.L.D.—would be disgraceful to the simplest tyro -in rhetoric. At every page we meet with sentences thus involved—“In -order, however, to do this effectually I must go back to an earlier -period in history than has yet been called to his attention. If it -[_what?—attention?—history?_] shall have been unfortunate enough to -attract the hasty eye of the superficial and impatient novel-reader, I -make no doubt that by such a one certain portions of what has gone -before, and which [_which what?_] could not fail of attracting the -attention of long-headed people as being not thrown in for nothing (and -therefore to be borne in mind with a view to subsequent explanation) -have been entirely overlooked or forgotten.” The book is full too of the -grossest misusages of language—the most offensive vulgarities of speech -and violations of grammar. The whole _tone_ is in the last degree -mawkish and inflated. What can be more ridiculous that the frequent -apostrophising after this fashion—“My glorious Kate, how my heart goes -forth towards you! And thou, her brother! who art of kindred spirit, who -art supported by philosophy and exalted by religion, so that thy -constancy cannot be shaken or overthrown by the black and ominous swell -of trouble which is increasing around thee—I know that thou wilt -outlive the storm—and yet it rocks thee! What indeed is to become of -you all? Whither will you go? And your suffering mother, should she -survive so long, is her precious form to be borne away from Yatton?” &c. -&c. - -There is no attempt at plot—but some of the incidents are wofully ill -adapted and improbable. The moralising, throughout, is tedious in the -extreme. Two-thirds of the whole novel might have been omitted with -advantage. The character of Aubrey is a ridiculous piece of overdone -sentimentality—and in character generally the writer fails. One of the -worst features of the whole is the transparent puerile attempt to throw -ridicule upon the ministerial party by dubbing them with silly names, -supposed to be indicative of peculiarities of person or character. While -the oppositionists, for example, rejoice in the euphonious appellations -of Aubrey, Delamere, and the like, their foes are called Quirk, Gammon, -Snap, Bloodsuck, Rotgut, Silly-Punctilio, and other more stupid and -beastly indecencies. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: _Latest Fashions, November 1841. For Graham’s Magazine._] - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Table of Contents has been added for reader convenience. Archaic -spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Obvious punctuation and -typesetting errors have been corrected without note. - -[End of _Graham’s Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 5, November 1841_, George R. -Graham, Editor] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, VOL. XIX, NO. 5, -NOVEMBER 1841 *** - -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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/65198-0.zip b/old/65198-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 21a36de..0000000 --- a/old/65198-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h.zip b/old/65198-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index bbd8ea1..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/65198-h.htm b/old/65198-h/65198-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 5ae9ac6..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/65198-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8614 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <title>Graham's Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 5, November 1841</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg"/> - <meta name="cover" content="images/cover.jpg" /> - <meta name="DC.Title" content="Graham's Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 5, November 1841"/> - <meta name="DC.Creator" content="George Rex Graham (Editor)"/> - <meta name="DC.Language" content="en"/> - <meta name="DC.Created" content="1841"/> - <meta name="Pubdate" content="1841"/> - <meta name="DC.Subject" content="periodical, magazine, mixed fiction/nonfiction, poetry, literature, book reviews"/> - <meta name="Tags" content="periodical, magazine, mixed fiction/nonfiction, poetry, literature, book reviews"/> - <meta name="generator" content="fpgen 4.63a"/> - <style type="text/css"> - body { margin-left:8%;margin-right:10%; } - .it { font-style:italic; } - .bold { font-weight:bold; } - .sc { font-variant:small-caps; } - p { text-indent:0; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em; - text-align: justify; } - div.lgc { } - div.lgc p { text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - div.lgp { } - - div.lgp p { - text-align:left; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; - } - - .poetry-container { - display:block; text-align:left; margin-left:2em; - } - - .stanza-inner { - display:inline-block; - } - - .stanza-outer { - page-break-inside: avoid; - } - - .stanza-inner .line0 { - display:inline-block; - } - .stanza-outer .line0 { - display:block; - } - - h1 { - text-align:center; - font-weight:normal; - page-break-before: always; - font-size:1.2em; margin:2em auto 1em auto - } - - h2 { - text-align:center; - font-weight:normal; - font-size:1.1em; - margin:1em auto 0.5em auto; - } - - hr.tbk100{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk101{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk102{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:0.5em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk103{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:90%; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:1.3em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk104{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk105{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk106{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk107{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk108{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk109{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk110{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk111{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk112{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk113{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk114{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk115{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk116{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk117{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk118{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid white; width:30%; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; text-align:center; margin-left:35%; margin-right:35% } - hr.tbk119{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid white; width:30%; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; text-align:center; margin-left:35%; margin-right:35% } - hr.tbk120{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid white; width:30%; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; text-align:center; margin-left:35%; margin-right:35% } - hr.tbk121{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk122{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk123{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk124{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk125{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk126{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk127{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk128{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:10%; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1.5em; text-align:center; margin-left:45%; margin-right:45% } - hr.tbk129{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:10%; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1.5em; text-align:center; margin-left:45%; margin-right:45% } - hr.tbk130{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:10%; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1.5em; text-align:center; margin-left:45%; margin-right:45% } - hr.tbk131{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:10%; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1.5em; text-align:center; margin-left:45%; margin-right:45% } - hr.tbk132{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:10%; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1.5em; text-align:center; margin-left:45%; margin-right:45% } - hr.tbk133{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:10%; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1.5em; text-align:center; margin-left:45%; margin-right:45% } - hr.tbk134{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.tbk135{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.pbk { border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:100%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em } - hr.footnotemark { - border:none; - border-bottom:1px solid silver; - width:10%; - margin:1em auto 1em 0; - page-break-after: avoid; - } - .figcenter { - text-align:center; - margin:1em auto; - page-break-inside: avoid; - } - - div.blockquote { margin:1em 2em; text-align:justify; } - p.caption { text-align:center; margin:0 auto; width:100%; } - p.credit { text-align:right; margin:0 auto; width: 100%; } - - .footnote td p.pindent:first-child { text-indent: 0; } - .footnote { margin:0 4em 0 0; } - .footnoteid { width: 3em; } - .nobreak { page-break-before: avoid; } - p.line { text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - div.lgp p.line0 { text-indent:-3em; margin:0 auto 0 3em; } - table { page-break-inside: avoid; } - table.center { margin:0.5em auto; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - table.flushleft { margin:0.5em 0em; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - table.left { margin:0.5em 1.2em; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - .tab1c1 { } - .tab1c2 { } - .tab2c1 { } - .tab2c2 { } - .tab3c1 { } - .tab3c2 { } - .tab3c3 { } - .tab3c4 { } - .tab3c5 { } - .tab3c6 { } - .tab1c1-col2 { border-right: 0px solid black; } - .tab2c1-col2 { border-right: 0px solid black; } - .tdStyle0 { - padding: 0px 5px; text-align:center; vertical-align:top; - } - .tdStyle1 { - padding: 0px 5px; text-align:left; vertical-align:top;padding-left:29px; text-indent:-24px; - } - .tdStyle2 { - padding: 0px 5px; text-align:left; vertical-align:top; - } - .tdStyle3 { - padding: 0px 5px; text-align:right; vertical-align:top; - } - .pindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:1.5em; } - .noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; } - .hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; } - .literal-container { text-align:center; margin:0 0; } - .literal { display:inline-block; text-align:left; } - </style> - <style type="text/css"> - h1 { font-size: 1.3em; font-weight:bold;} - .pindent {margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0em;} - .poetry-container { margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em } - </style> - </head> - <body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 5, November 1841, by Various</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Graham's Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 5, November 1841</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: George R. Graham</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 30, 2021 [eBook #65198]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net from page images generously made available by the Internet Archive (https://archive.org)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, VOL. XIX, NO. 5, NOVEMBER 1841 ***</div> -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XIX.</span> November, 1841. No. 5.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.2em;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'>Fiction, Literature and Articles</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#wall'>The Ghost of Chew’s Wall</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#rows'>The Rowsevillers.—No. II</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#reef'>The Reefer of ’76</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#int'>The Interesting Stranger</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#shak'>Shakspeare.—No. III</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#wicc'>Wiccónsat</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#moon'>The Moonlight Flitting</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#auto'>A Chapter on Autography</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#king'>The King’s Bride</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#ind'>Indian Traditions.—No. II</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#spo'>Sports and Pastimes.—The Fowling-Piece</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'></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'>Poetry, Music and Fashion</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><a href='#pet'>The Pet Lamb</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><a href='#flig'>Flight of the Birds</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><a href='#sere'>Il Serenado di Venice</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><a href='#eph'>Ephemera</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><a href='#with'>With Thee</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><a href='#sonn'>Sonnets</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><a href='#nev'>I Never Have Been False to Thee</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><a href='#mer'>Merry England</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><a href='#mar'>Marriage</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><a href='#nevsh'>Never Shall My Heart Forget Thee!</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><a href='#fash'>Latest Fashions, November 1841</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -</table> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;'><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='A young lady sits under a tree and holds a lamb' id='iid-0001' style='width:75%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Eng. by H. S. Sadd, N.Y.</span><br/></p> <br/><span class='it'>The Pet Lamb</span><br/> <br/><span class='it'>Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine</span> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i002.jpg' alt='a watercolor painting of a tree on a hillside' id='iid-0002' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<hr class='tbk102'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:1.1em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XIX.</span> PHILADELPHIA: NOVEMBER, 1841. <span class='sc'>No. 5.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk103'/> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='pet'></a>THE PET LAMB.</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 ALEXANDER A. IRVINE.</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'><span class='sc'>I saw</span> her in her artlessness</p> -<p class='line0'>  All innocent and free,</p> -<p class='line0'>And playfully a favored lamb</p> -<p class='line0'>  She fondled on her knee—</p> -<p class='line0'>She seemed a vision of a dream,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A glory passing bright,</p> -<p class='line0'>A being clothed in loveliness</p> -<p class='line0'>  As angels are in light!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Her tresses sported round about</p> -<p class='line0'>  Her snowy brow divine,</p> -<p class='line0'>As flowers of the daffodil</p> -<p class='line0'>  Embrace a virgin shrine,—</p> -<p class='line0'>Such purity was nestled there,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A Sybil’s it might be,</p> -<p class='line0'>Forever beaming placidly</p> -<p class='line0'>  As starlight down at sea!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Her smile it had a witchery</p> -<p class='line0'>  To mortal ones unknown,</p> -<p class='line0'>A language in its mirthfulness</p> -<p class='line0'>  Beyond a seraph’s tone:</p> -<p class='line0'>It was as if the soul had come</p> -<p class='line0'>  From out its deep recess</p> -<p class='line0'>And chose a dwelling in her eyes,</p> -<p class='line0'>  So pure their loveliness!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And softly on her pearly cheek</p> -<p class='line0'>  The dewy lashes lay;</p> -<p class='line0'>Her lips were parted temptingly</p> -<p class='line0'>  To woo the breeze to stay;</p> -<p class='line0'>Her snowy neck all droopingly</p> -<p class='line0'>  Defied the lily’s grace;</p> -<p class='line0'>Her dimpled mouth—I dreamt of heav’n</p> -<p class='line0'>  In gazing on that face!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>She fondled artlessly her pet;</p> -<p class='line0'>  She raised his tiny feet;</p> -<p class='line0'>And toyed the garland on his neck;</p> -<p class='line0'>  And soothed him, when he bleat,</p> -<p class='line0'>So sweetly that I might not hear</p> -<p class='line0'>  Unmoved that silver tone,</p> -<p class='line0'>But longed to leave my hiding place</p> -<p class='line0'>  And woo her for my own.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>A shot re-echoed through the wood,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I saw the smoky wreath—</p> -<p class='line0'>The lamb was bleeding in her lap</p> -<p class='line0'>  The glancing ball beneath—</p> -<p class='line0'>I sprang and raised the sufferer</p> -<p class='line0'>  And staunched the ebbing tide,</p> -<p class='line0'>And carefully I bound the wound,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And sat me by her side.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I quieted her quick alarm,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I gently soothed her fears,</p> -<p class='line0'>And o’er the dying favorite</p> -<p class='line0'>  We mingled tears with tears:</p> -<p class='line0'>I shared her grief, and calmed her woe,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And blamed the sportsman rude—</p> -<p class='line0'>She raised her swimming eyes to mine</p> -<p class='line0'>  And smiled her gratitude.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>She faintly smiled and dropped her gaze,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Her passive hand I took,</p> -<p class='line0'>No word was spoke, we only heard</p> -<p class='line0'>  The murmur of the brook;</p> -<p class='line0'>Her gaze was on the murdered lamb,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Her heart was strangely moved—</p> -<p class='line0'>She sighed, and oh! the loss she felt,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The void where once she loved.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Again I soothed her maiden grief,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And sighed whene’er she sighed,</p> -<p class='line0'>And with such winning sympathy</p> -<p class='line0'>  Her starting tears I dried,—</p> -<p class='line0'>And when she ceased I sighed myself,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And she besought to know</p> -<p class='line0'>All artlessly and innocent</p> -<p class='line0'>  The secret of my woe.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I told her it was all herself,</p> -<p class='line0'>  That I had paused to gaze,</p> -<p class='line0'>And that her witching loveliness</p> -<p class='line0'>  Would sadden all my days;</p> -<p class='line0'>And then I sighed, and looked away,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And told her how I grieved,</p> -<p class='line0'>Not for myself, but for the pang</p> -<p class='line0'>  Her gentle heart received.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I asked her but to pity me,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And told my grief to part—</p> -<p class='line0'>Her fingers trembled, and I heard</p> -<p class='line0'>  The beating of her heart,</p> -<p class='line0'>And all dissolved in sympathy</p> -<p class='line0'>  She yielded to my side—</p> -<p class='line0'>Was ever virgin love as thine?</p> -<p class='line0'>  My Rosalie, my bride!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk104'/> - -<div><h1><a id='wall'></a>THE GHOST OF CHEW’S WALL;</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>A LEGEND OF GERMANTOWN.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY OLIVER OLDFELLOW.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>When</span> a man becomes so far lost to a sense of self-importance, -as not only to tell, but actually to <span class='it'>write -stories</span>,—thus recording his turpitude in black and -white—it is not to be presumed that slight consequences -will deter him from his purpose. Indeed, -it is rather to be supposed that he has made up his -mind to despise public opinion, and to brave all indignation. -His hand is sure to follow as his pen may -lead, and whatever he may <span class='it'>resolve</span>, when the story -is written, it is, somehow or other, sure to find its -way into print. The best motives of a writer may -therefore be mistaken, or his strongest resolves puffed -to the winds by a single breath, so that it may well -be supposed in what a predicament we were, when -we found our best intentions frustrated, and had to -encounter the wrath and tobacco smoke of our German -neighbors, and were obliged to write this apologetic -introduction, and all through a villanous blunder -of our greedy devil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The facts are these. We sat down, a few evenings -since, after enjoying a comfortable cup of pure Java,—which -we still continue to enjoy, notwithstanding -the anathemas of a fellow with a villanous name, of -“bran bread” repute,—to commit to paper a few -notes of a conversation which we had with a relative -long since. Having unluckily fallen into a doze, our -devil, who had been going about for more than an -hour roaring for copy, took a peep into the sanctum, -and, seeing how matters stood, slipt off the following -article, “in the crack o’ a thumb,” by way of filling -up an odd form, which, in an unlucky fit of liberality, -we had resolved to squeeze into the present number. -It may well be supposed that, before we had fairly -rubbed our eyes open, the <span class='it'>matter</span> was blown to the -world, and a whole avalanche of country cousins, -who hail from Germantown, were down upon us. Of -course we said at once that the article was not ours, -as no man can be expected to acknowledge his guilt -until it is proved upon him. This, however, did not -satisfy them, although they professed to have no difficulty -in believing it, for they continued to smoke -their pipes with such fury, and swore so stoutly in -real jaw-breaking Dutch—for every mother’s son is -German, even to the cut of his pantaloons—that we -were glad to get off upon the condition of making a -handsome apology, which we think we have now -fully done.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the many delightful villages in Pennsylvania, -which owe their origin to German settlers, and -maintain, amid surrounding improvements, the unchanged -marks of ancestry, there is none more prominent -than Germantown. It is but half an hour’s -drive from Philadelphia, extending along the main -road for more than two miles, with, for the most -part, old-fashioned stone houses, which date prior to -the revolution, sprinkled plenteously on both sides of -the road, forming a village of most unconscionable -length, but—like the pockets of most dandies of the -present day—with no depth or body to support its -extensive pretensions. It is famous in history, as -being the ground of a battle during the struggle for -independence, in which victory, though for a time -doubtful, declared for the enemy, in consequence of -the incompetency of an American officer. The present -inhabitants are mostly the descendants of German -families—true sprigs of the old branches, imitating -most of the virtues of their forefathers, indulging -in no luxuries, pursuing a rigid economy, and -clinging with an unyielding regard to the money bequeathed -them. Nor is this regard in any degree -weakened by the devices of those who have recently -settled in the village, and who vainly hope by improving -their houses, fitting up their grounds, and -clipping and beautifying their shrubbery, to induce -an imitation of their example. The old-roof tree -stands, as it stood half a century ago, and the very -stones of the building, from between which the mortar -has in many cases long since dropped, grin defiance -on the passer by, who dares to harbor a thought -of improvement or repair. The owner is content to -<span class='it'>live</span> as his ancestors lived, but would like to <span class='it'>die</span> a -little richer. The patrimony, amassed by the hand -of unceasing toil, is religiously bequeathed from sire -to son, together with the peculiar habits of thought -and the superstitious sentiments of an age gone by. -In many cases no education has been suffered to -weaken or invade, and in others has been so slight as -only to harmonize the mind with the general character -of the place, which at best seems to belong -more to a past generation than to the present. From -these causes, things which better tutored minds scout -with scorn, in the one case, are held as true as matters -of religious belief, and in the other are only -doubted, not disbelieved. In fact so thoroughly does -superstition, and the gross follies which an intercourse -with the world and education always dispel, -prevail, that many of the inhabitants can tell you to -a nicety when there will be a change of weather, by -the belligerent attitude in which the moon turns up -her horns when she grows restive, and that there will -be company when the cat licks her paws, when a fork -sticks up in the floor, or when the old cock brushes -up his feathers and crows in the door-way. There -are others who go still deeper into mysteries of this -sort, and can predict to you a birth, a marriage, or a -death, by the kinks in a cow’s tail; but as they are -entirely beyond our depth, and seem to have this -knowledge all to themselves, it may be well not to -disturb them in their profound wisdom. Nevertheless, -let no young man, who values the affections of -any fair Dutch damsel in Germantown, venture to -present her with a pair of scissors, unless he wishes -to <span class='it'>cut</span> the sentimental cord that binds her to him. -Thus much we feel in duty bound to record as a -warning to young gentlemen, as many a man has lost -the confidence and affections of his lady love in consequence -of less matters than a pair of scissors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It might be expected that a village so contiguous -to a great city, would soon lose these distinctive -marks of character, and that the extravagance, follies -and vices of the metropolis would be generally -imitated. Not so, however. With very little exception, -the place is as entirely distinct as if it were -miles in the interior. The moral mantle of Germanism -seems to hang like a cloud over the place, and, -blended with the superstition of the portion of inhabitants -spoken of, there is a high-toned morality -so imbedded in the hearts of the people, that honesty -and a strict regard to truth, next to making money -and keeping it, may be considered the great texts by -which they live.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It will easily be understood that among a people -thus constituted, a <span class='it'>ghost</span> has but to be <span class='it'>seen</span> by one of -their number, and his appearance announced, to be -generally dreaded. If he has been <span class='it'>seen</span>, there is an -end of all doubting, and the only thing thereafter to -be done, is to keep out of his way. There will be -no use, in such a case, to multiply arguments about -him, but every man must take care of himself. And, -what may seem a little singular, a good sound-minded, -rational apparition will, in all cases, most delight -to visit a people who pay him so much deference; -taking especial care to show himself off frequently, -and in all manner of ways, that there may be no -doubt that he does exist in one shape or another, and -having established the matter to his own satisfaction, -that it is better to range the upper world, where he -can be <span class='it'>seen</span>, than to dwell below in the dark, damp -ground of the tomb, where he cannot be seen, where -his very existence may be doubted, and where, at the -best, the quarters are most uncomfortably chilly,—we -say a sane ghost, under such circumstances, would -naturally grow familiar—or rather <span class='it'>attempt</span> to—and -having sought out and established himself in comfortable -quarters, and having enjoyed an oblivious -nap during the day, would seek to regale himself in -the evening, after his own will and pleasure, by little -trips by moonlight, over the fields, around the old -barns, and especially on the tops of the <span class='it'>stone fences</span>—if -any there be—of the neighborhood. A ghost -certainly has the right, if any <span class='it'>body</span> has, of doing -pretty much as he pleases, and of keeping out of the -dust and gravel of a country side-walk, and of cutting -up his antics, by way of recreation, on the top -of a stone wall. At least these were the sentiments -entertained by the ghost in question, and he took the -liberty—unlike most politicians—of acting them -out without regard to consequences.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One morning, early in November, 18—, the inhabitants -of the goodly village of Germantown were -thrown into great consternation and dismay, by the -important intelligence that a ghost had been seen -the previous evening, perched upon Chew’s wall, -dressed in white, and rattling a heavy chain, which -some maintained he had been hung in, in consequence -of some great crime. Some said that it was only a -log-chain, which he intended to use, after his own -fashion, on the first man he got in his clutches, while -others, with a great show of reason, maintained that -the chain was fastened around <span class='it'>his own ankle</span>, and -that he was no less a <span class='it'>personage</span> than the ghost of the -dead soldier who had deserted from the British -during the revolution, and was accidentally shot -during the battle of Germantown, while a prisoner -in a baggage-wagon, <span class='it'>as had been said</span>, but who, it -was very likely, had been murdered during the heat -of the fray, by some enemy in his own ranks—a -rival in love, perhaps, or an heir to some estate, who -wished him out of the way. Be all this as it may, -the ghost had been <span class='it'>seen</span> upon the wall, and he had a -chain about him in some way, and some unheard of -atrocity might confidently be looked for. The -greatest mystery of the affair was that as soon as the -rumor got on the wind, the man who had seen him -was no where to be found, nor could any body tell -who he was. Somebody <span class='it'>had</span> seen him, however, and -that was enough, and any inhabitant of Germantown -would as soon have doubted the existence of sour-krout—a -belief of which substantial proof was given -daily—as to have felt the least incredulity in regard -to the ghost.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of course all the inhabitants put on the gravest -looks possible, and kept a sharp look-out, but still -nearly a week passed and no tidings of a renewal of -the visit of his ghostship occurred. Sunday morning -came, and the matter was duly canvassed before the -church door, prior to the arrival of the minister. A -great many solemn shakes of the head and knowing -winks were given on the subject. It was formally -resolved that fires had better be kept burning in all -the ovens for a fortnight, though it was pretty generally -agreed that the ghost had been taken unawares, -and that, whatever his business to that place might -be, by keeping off the wall for a week, it was a pretty -good sign that he did not want to show himself, and -therefore he would be more cautious in future.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ghost, notwithstanding all these sage conclusions, -resolved to have his own way in the matter, -and accordingly made his appearance <span class='it'>that very evening</span>—not -in white, nor in the form of a man, but in -<span class='it'>black</span>, and running on all fours, like a hyena, on the -top of the wall, and even proceeded so far as to -throttle a very inoffensive person, and one who never -could have had any thing to do with the murder—if -indeed the apparition was the ghost of the murdered -soldier. The facts of this encounter are these.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Christopher Burger (such was the name of the person -throttled) or “<span class='it'>Stoffel</span> Burger,” as his German -friends delighted to dub him in abbreviation, was a -stout, square-built young fellow, of about twenty-two, -who could do his day’s work, and dance the whole -night through in the bargain, without thinking of -fatigue. He had fallen in love, at a quilting party, -with Miss Susan Hanz, a blooming Dutch damsel of -seventeen summers; and, like a straight-forward -business-like German, as he was, he resolved to -make her his wife. She was, in fact, just the girl to -inspire Christopher with the sentimental. Short, -thick, and as elegantly shaped as a churn, with a -full, round, saucy face, lighted up with a pair of -brilliant black eyes, and with a foot, which, if it was -<span class='it'>not</span> one of the smallest, could go through “a straight -four,” or, for that matter, if occasion required it, a -regular “hoe down,” with a grace that actually made -Christopher’s heart leap, as if it was going to jump -out of his mouth. Nor were these her only claims to -regard. The fair Susan was an only child, and her -father had the reputation of possessing more than -one stocking full of <span class='it'>the real currency</span>, carefully -stowed away in the large walnut chest under the bed. -Two or three broad farms also claimed ’Squire Hanz -as owner, and spread themselves out very temptingly -before the eager eyes of “Stoffel.” And then, what -a hand at baking hot cakes!—his mouth actually -watered at the thought. Added to all this, he well -knew that if he succeeded in winning the heart of the -fair Susan, no obstacle would be placed in the way -of his happiness by the ’Squire. In this matter the -’Squire was exceedingly liberal; he imposed but one -condition upon his daughter in relation to the man of -her choice, and that was, that “he must be of a good -German family.” To “<span class='it'>Stoffel</span>” there could be no -objection on this score. His very name carried the -recommendation with it. Moreover, the ’Squire had -never had brother or sister, and therefore there were -no rascally cousins to be mining the fortress in his -absence. Had there been any, with stout purses in -their fists, the matter would not have been quite so -positive; for, as an <span class='it'>arrangement of convenience</span>, and -to <span class='it'>keep the money</span> from the hands of <span class='it'>grasping strangers</span>, -every man in the village of which we write -made it a point to marry his cousin—<span class='it'>if he could -get her</span>—and, if the truth must be told, the strong -voice of parental command was seldom wanting to -strengthen his suit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Let it not be supposed, however, that a lady with -such substantial claims had never been besieged with -lovers. Such <span class='it'>had been</span> the case. But “Stoffel” -having so far outstripped his rivals as to attain the -honor of <span class='it'>smoking a pipe alone</span> with the ’Squire a few -Sunday evenings previous to the time of which we -write, the business was looked on as settled, and the -whole bevy of Dutch beaux were off in the twinkling -of an eye, like a flock of partridges when they have -been shot at.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Christopher, thus having “a fair field and <span class='it'>all</span> the -favor,” was not the man to neglect the advantage; -so that, on the Sunday night in question, if an inquisitive -eye had been placed at the key-hole of the -’Squire’s parlor door, he might have been <span class='it'>seen</span>, or -<span class='it'>heard</span>, actually (we hope the ladies will skip this -passage)—we say he might have been <span class='it'>seen</span> kissing -Susan <span class='it'>in the dark</span>. Atrocious as this conduct was, -however, on the part of “Stoffel,” we are bound, in -recording a true narrative, to say that the lady was -not to be frightened at trifles; so, instead of screaming -out, and thus rousing the ’Squire and his blunderbuss, -she took the matter coolly, and, resolving not -to be outdone in civilities, gave him as good as he -sent, and, throwing her arms around his neck, <span class='it'>kissed -him</span>!! These, of course, are little attentions, on the -part of lovers, which should not be wantonly, and -without purpose, revealed to “the cold and heartless -world,” and we only mention them to show that -Christopher was a fellow with a pretty stout heart, -and thus prepare our readers for the horrible outrage -upon a brave man we are about to record. And considering, -too, that all our lady readers have skipped -the last passage, and are waiting breathlessly, we -proceed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was now past twelve o’clock—we are ashamed -to record it—for Christopher, whatever wrong he -committed in <span class='it'>going</span> to the ’Squire’s every Sunday -evening, when he <span class='it'>returned</span>, his conscience, on that -score, was generally clear enough, as it was Sabbath -no longer. We say it was past twelve, and Christopher -set out for home. He had feasted on the best -the ’Squire’s cellar afforded, and had made way with -more than one mug of his best cider. The parting -scene, on the part of Christopher, had been unusually -tender. He was naturally an ardent lover, and the -cider by no means decreased the strength of his attachment. -He had used every argument to bring -Susan to the point of acceptance—still she was coy. -Yet Christopher was a man of discernment, and -thought that a lady who would throw her arms around -his neck and kiss him in the dark, (bless us! what -will the ladies say to this?) could have no serious -objection to him at bottom, and so, on the whole, he -was in a very pleasant mood with himself, and with -all <span class='it'>mankind</span> and <span class='it'>womankind</span> in the bargain, as gentlemen -usually are when the lady has been kind, and -the parting kiss has been freely given. He felt unusually -<span class='it'>happy</span>, and could not restrain the kind feelings -which bubbled up to his very lips and found vent -in snatches of songs. He was rapidly approaching -the wall—still he thought nothing of ghosts or hob-goblins, -but was ruminating very intently upon the -charms of the <span class='it'>substantial</span> little Dutch beauty, and -was going over in his mind, very pleasantly, her -qualifications to make him a happy man. He might -be said to be in that state, when a man is walking -yet dreaming. He was picturing a neat stone house, -with every <span class='it'>useful</span> article of furniture bought and -paid for, and with a horse and cow that he could call -his own. Milk punch, too, naturally enough popped -into his head, and then out again, to make room for -thoughts of hot cakes swimming in butter. His song, -however, still went on, as the music was not so difficult -of execution as to require much thought in its -performance—when the conclusion of a stanza -seemed suddenly to have been frozen on his lips, and -he started back with the ejaculation—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mine Got! vat ish dat? der spooke—der divel!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cause of his alarm the reader will understand, -and so did “Stoffel.” He had heard it rumored that -a ghost in white had been seen airing himself upon -Chew’s wall, and he was not the man to scoff at -rumor, and, even if he had been, there was the identical -thing before him, slightly changed in appearance, -it is true, not in white, nor sitting erect, but in -black, running along the wall towards him, like a -hyena or a bear; and, sure enough, as if to establish -his character beyond the possibility of a -doubt, <span class='it'>rattling his chain</span> with a clangor truly appalling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In any other situation Christopher, perhaps, would -have run, but in the present instance his limbs refused -to do their work, his knees knocked together, -his teeth set to chattering, and he seemed rooted to -the spot. Nor can it be supposed that he was a -coward, as we think the contrary has been clearly -demonstrated in his valiant exploits in courting. The -ghost, however, as if to settle the difficulty, to clear -all doubt in the mind of Christopher, and to prevent -any more profane exclamations, coolly descended -from the wall, and before he knew where he was, -knocked him down “with one blow of his <span class='it'>tail</span>,” as -was afterwards affirmed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So,” said the ghost, “your time has come to -die!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mine Got, nay—I be’s—so young—and pin—tink—to -git—marry,” chattered the horror-stricken -Dutchman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are going to get married; ha! who do you -think will have you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Squire—Hanz—Sus, me tinks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When you marry her you will be a dead man,” said -the ghost in a hollow, sepulchral voice, “and unless -you stay away from ’Squire Hanz’s two months from -this time, remember I have warned you! you are a -dead man! Beware!” and having released his throat -from a loving squeeze, vanished, as Christopher asserted, -“in de ground.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he arose, his brain whirled, and his memory -was confused; the sun was just peeping over the -hills, and a group of astonished neighbours were -around him. Christopher told his story, and related -the adventure exactly as it had occurred, excepting -what related to Susan, that he kept close in his own -bosom—why? we cannot say. Some believed him, -but others, of the most knowing, shook their heads—guessed -he had drank too freely of the ’Squire’s -cider, and wondered how he knew “the ghost vanished -in the ground when he was lying on his face in the -dirt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Christopher asserted, and swore Dutch to substantiate -it, that he “had been <span class='it'>choked on the back of his -neck</span> until he saw stars,” and that after <span class='it'>that</span> the ghost -disappeared, and he knew nothing more of the matter -until he found the mob around him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was conclusive! And as the contagion spread, -it was ascertained that the ghost had been exceedingly -obliging, and had appeared in a variety of forms and -costumes “to suit customers.” A stout troop of -good wives roundly asserted that he had crossed the -road in the form of a white calf, as they were proceeding -to meeting, and that when they screamed out -he disappeared. One had seen him in the habit of -an old woman, dangling a great bunch of keys at her -girdle, but it was plain he was no old woman at all -from the whisker on one side of his face, which proved -him to be the dead soldier. Moreover, he kept -rattling the keys with tremendous fury, and held up -his forefinger significantly; as much as to say “if -you disturb me I’ll knock you down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another averred that as she was walking along, -she heard a terrible flapping of wings, and looking up -she saw, what at first appeared to be a flock of wild-geese, -but they quickly changed into boys, and in an -instant all vanished but one, and he was a man with -a long white flowing robe, with which he took good -care to cover his head, so that she could not see -whether he had whiskers or no, and therefore could -not say whether it was the dead soldier or not. In -short, nearly all the <span class='it'>old</span> women had seen him, or had -a ghost story to <span class='it'>tell</span>, which answered the same purpose, -so that the good Dutchmen shook their heads -to no purpose, for the more they shook them the more -confused they became.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The consequence was, that after the existence of -the ghost was thus substantiated, he resolved to confirm -the testimony by taking up his quarters for the -winter at once. This he did by establishing himself -in a neat two story brick house, which was formerly -located at the place now called “The Seven Oaks.” -Thus having made himself perfectly at home, and -we presume feeling himself so, for no body pretended -to disturb him in his selected quarters, he took his -recreations in various ways. Sometimes he would -appear with a winding sheet around him, and a flame -of fire coming out of his mouth, then he would walk -inhabited like a bear, or he might be seen in the form -of a dragon with a huge tail. To vary the entertainments, -he would appear with horrible horns on his -head, and a tail like a fish, and would go sweeping -over the ground as if he were gliding in water. He -appeared, too, at various places, though his favorite -resort was the top of the stone wall, which he would -often bestride, as if it were a full-blooded charger, -and would go whistling down the wind,—stone wall -and all. What rendered this last feat the more surprising -was, that when morning came the wall looked -as unmoved as if nothing had happened, but the ghost -was nowhere to be found.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It could not be supposed that things should continue -in this state forever. Accordingly a number of the -more aged inhabitants having put their heads together, -it was thought advisable to devise some energetic -measures to relieve themselves of his ghostship. -Whereupon every man stuck his pipe in his mouth, -and set to smoking and thinking with great energy -and decision. After due reflection, various measures -were proposed, but none so feasible as that proposed -by ’Squire Hany, who having a pipe about a foot longer -than any of the others, came to the sagest conclusion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His proposal was in substance, that a meeting be -called on the next evening, and that a committee -should be appointed to watch the ghost, and if possible, -to shoot through him with silver bullets; when, -it was affirmed, he would dissolve into thin air at -once. And lest the ghost should be aroused to commit -some deed of dire interest, as soon as the news of -these hostile proceedings reached his ears, it was -thought advisable that all the inhabitants should -close their doors at sundown, nail horse shoes over -them, and, to save candles if not their necks, they -should go to bed at dark.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A large meeting of the indignant inhabitants, in -accordance with this decision, assembled at “The -Green Tree,” when, after calling “Stoffel Burger” -to the chair, the following resolutions, which had -been drawn up with great care and precision for the -occasion, were unanimously adopted:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='r1'/><a href='#f1' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[1]</span></sup></a>“<span class='it'>Resolved</span>, That a committee of eight be appointed -<span class='it'>to shoot the ghost</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Resolved</span>, That Stoffel Burger be chairman of the -committee to point him out, so that the silver bullets -be not thrown away, and also, to save powder, that -<span class='it'>nobody shall shoot the ghost till they see him</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To the first branch of this resolution Stoffel felt -inclined to demur, and said that as he had already -been choked by the ghost, he would rather not get -in his clutches again. The meeting, however, had -made up their minds—as most town meetings generally -do—before hand, and would hear of no excuse. -It was therefore further</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Resolved</span>, That the meeting defray the expenses -of the committee, provided they follow instructions, -and that all the inhabitants be commanded to nail -horse shoes over their doors, so that the ghost may -be shot down without mercy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We said the resolutions were unanimously adopted, -but there was one young gentleman who, in the outset, -stoutly opposed them, but who, nevertheless, afterwards -gave them his hearty support. He was a good -looking fellow, about five feet ten in height, with a -piercing black eye, a most intelligent face, and a -whisker trimmed with such exquisite taste that every -girl of the village would take a peep out of the corner -of her eye and admire them while passing. His -tongue, too, was as slippery as an eel, and he could -say the softest and most honied words in a way that -actually put the stout Dutch phrases completely out -of tune. Nevertheless, he spoke German like a book, -and no man could exceed him in driving a bargain, -so that, having come from a German settlement in the -east, he went by the name of “The Dutch Yankee.” -He never obtruded his advice in any case, and only -suggested in this, “whether these hostile proceedings -might not inflame the anger of the ghost, and lead to -hot work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The valor of the meeting, however, was too highly -inflamed to listen for a moment to prudential hints, -when they had the iron argument of horse shoes -ready in case of danger, so that after selecting the -committee and charging them to “be true to their -country in this sudden and trying emergency, and to -meet promptly the next evening and perform their -duty,” the meeting adjourned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the following evening the committee accordingly -met at “The Green Tree,” armed to the teeth, -each man having, in addition to his musket charged -with the fatal bullet, a long butcher knife to be ready -for extremities. The host of “The Green Tree” -was in excellent spirits, and the committee resolved -at once to be so too if it could be done by dint of good -liquor. So in order to be prepared for the fierce encounter, -and to strengthen his nerves, each man -knocked off his half-pint at the outset. And as the -generous inhabitants had agreed to pay expenses, -there could be no harm, so thought both the committee -and the host, in drinking another, and as each -felt braver the more he drank, the experiment was -repeated in homœopathic doses until the hour of -twelve, when, we will venture to assert, a stouter -hearted set of men never set out on a perilous expedition.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is strange, however, how soon the cold wind of a -winter night will unstring the nerves and set the teeth -to chattering, for no sooner were the valiant committee -within sight of Chew’s wall, and had been a -little chilled through with the night breeze, than -each man was seized with a tremendous shivering -of cold, and each feeling weaker than the other, it -was with great difficulty that they could get on, for -want of a leader. It was stoutly maintained that -“Stoffel” should go before, as he was commissioned -by the meeting to point out the ghost. To this Stoffel -agreed, but maintained that he could not show -him to the committee, unless they were with him. It -was finally settled that no man should have the <span class='it'>honor -of going alone</span>, but that they should all march up -abreast, and at the signal given fire a platoon into -him. So they set up at once a terrible yelling, in order -that the ghost might see that they were in earnest -and prepare for the consequences.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whether it was that the ghost heartily despised -their bullying mode of procedure, and determined to -show that there was no flinching on his part, by meeting -them more than half way, or that the heads of -the committee were rather giddy with having been -confined in the close air of a bar-room for so many -hours, and had thus caused them to miscalculate -distances; certain it was, that before they were aware -of their position, Stoffel espied the ghost and pointed -him out at not more than thirty yards distance. Every -man instantly cocked his musket, and affirmed that it -was <span class='it'>moving</span>, and that owing to the dreadful proximity -of the ghost, every thing else was dancing around -them. Accordingly they instantly poured a dreadful -volley into the offender and took to their heels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whether the ghost was hit or not, it was clearly -ascertained the next morning that the committee had -succeeded in putting two silver balls into a great, -ugly old post, which had long been a serious annoyance, -and had split the rails of a contiguous fence -most shockingly. There were not wanting those who -were severe and uncharitable enough to say that the -committee had got a little drunk, and had fired <span class='it'>at</span> the -post. This, however, was deemed a gross slander, -and it was unanimously agreed that if the ghost had -stood where the post was, he would have had a ball -through him to a certainty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As for “Stoffel,” having done this daring deed, -nobody caught him passing the wall for some weeks -after, and he gave people pretty clearly to understand -that he did not intend to for some weeks to come. -What tended to confirm the inhabitants in the opinion -that the vigilant committee had extirpated the dreaded -visitant, and that there was nothing like silver bullets -and horse shoes to quiet ghosts, whether in doors or out -was, he did not appear on the wall—when, unluckily -for our friend “Stoffel” and his milk punch and hot -cakes, “The Dutch Yankee,” who possessed the true -blood, succeeded in winning the heart of the fair -Susan, and actually eloped with the bouncing little -Dutch beauty, much to the amazement of the ’Squire, -and the horror of the astounded “Stoffel,” and actually -carried the enormity so far, as to write “Stoffel” -an invitation to the “home-bringing,” a month -or so afterward; coupling the request with a promise -that the ghost should not be allowed to disturb him -either in passing or repassing Chew’s wall without -due revenge. “Stoffel” did not like the tone of the -invitation, or considered that his valor in courting -and shooting ghosts was established, so he declined.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That the ghost still held his quarters privately -somewhere in the neighborhood, and enjoyed many -a pleasant little trip by moonlight for his own private -gratification after that, was not doubted by the good -people of the village, although he only condescended -to show himself to particular favorites, by <span class='it'>occasional -glimpses</span> when passing the wall. Lately, however, -he has been more chary of his visits, and it is supposed -that the rail road rather interfered with his -calculations, and that the eternal whizzing of steam -and the ringing of bells, rendered his quarters uncomfortable—particularly -since his house has rudely -been pulled down over his head, and a new one erected -on the same site, without regard to his convenience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were not wanting people who pretended to -laugh at the whole affair after the elopement and -marriage of the fair Susan, and it was maintained -that the Yankee was often seen to twist his face and -laugh to himself, when he was ploughing up the old -’Squire’s ground. Yet nobody in Germantown, <span class='it'>who -had heard the clanking of the chain</span>, ever ventured to -doubt the existence of the ghost, and if any of our -readers are inclined to disbelieve the story, the horse -shoes can yet be seen nailed over some of the doors, -and the bullet <span class='it'>holes</span> can yet be shown in the posts by -the road side,—some of the inhabitants having dug -the bullets out with the characteristic reflection, -“that it was a pity that good silver should be thrown -away, <span class='it'>even after ghosts</span>.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>G.</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'><span class='sc'>Note.</span> This, of course, all occurred before the Germantown -Telegraph was started, or we should refer to the files -of that valuable paper for a full report of the proceedings, -and thus save ourselves a vast deal of trouble in copying a -vile, old, dusty, Dutch manuscript.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk105'/> - -<div><h1><a id='flig'></a>FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS.</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. E. C. STEDMAN.</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'><span class='sc'>Speed</span> on! speed on, to your Southern home,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ye who ’mid the fleecy clouds may roam!</p> -<p class='line0'>The hoarse voice of Winter comes fast on the breeze—</p> -<p class='line0'>Its roaring is heard in the tops of the trees,</p> -<p class='line0'>And swift as your flight, is the march of Time—</p> -<p class='line0'>Away, away, to a milder clime!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Ye’re wearied with seeking in vain for food,</p> -<p class='line0'>’Mid the leafless boughs of your native wood;</p> -<p class='line0'>And here will ye carol your songs no more,</p> -<p class='line0'>Till the reign of the winter-king is o’er;</p> -<p class='line0'>Till Spring, in new beauty, comes dancing on,</p> -<p class='line0'>And ascends flower-crowned to her vernal throne.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But your voices shall gladden the fairy bowers</p> -<p class='line0'>Of the genial South, through these winter hours,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where your golden wings may unfettered rove</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the flowery dell, and the orange grove;</p> -<p class='line0'>Or bathe in the spray of those crystal streams,</p> -<p class='line0'>Which forever glide free in the sun’s glad beams.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Then away! ere hastens cold winter’s night;</p> -<p class='line0'>He who watcheth the sparrow, directs your flight:</p> -<p class='line0'>We envy your freedom, ye songsters fair!</p> -<p class='line0'>And fain would fly, too, from this piercing air;</p> -<p class='line0'>But the Power divine, which doth bid you roam,</p> -<p class='line0'>Binds us, and our joys, to a Northern home.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But, thanks to that Power! from the frosts of Grief—</p> -<p class='line0'>From the Winter that blighteth Affection’s leaf;</p> -<p class='line0'>From the chilling blast of Misfortune’s breath,</p> -<p class='line0'>The ransomed <span class='it'>spirit</span> may flee at death,</p> -<p class='line0'>To a clime where perpetual Summer reigns</p> -<p class='line0'>O’er the fadeless flowers of celestial plains.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk106'/> - -<div><h1><a id='rows'></a>THE ROWSEVILLERS.—No. II.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>THE CAPTAIN’S COURTSHIP.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The</span> cloth had just been removed, at my second -dinner with the club, when the President called on a -Mr. Rowley for a story. He tossed off a tumbler of -Port—to clear the cobwebs, as he said, from his -throat—and began.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You all know I am a lawyer, and that men who -would be witty have a way of quizzing our profession -by saying that we cannot tell a story without dragging -in our craft. I have no objection to the notion -of these smart gentlemen, and shall not even trouble -myself to refute them, but go on with my story.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When I was a student, just after the close of the -late war, I used to pay occasional visits to Mount -Holly, which was even then a passable county -town, and remarkable for its pretty girls, its gay -winters, and the quantity of wine drunk by its bar. -There wasn’t a lawyer in the place who couldn’t carry -his two bottles, and as for wit, these barristers were -famed for it from Cape May to Hackensack. But -it is not so much with the Mount Holly bar as with -Captain Slashbey, one of the clients of the wittiest -member there, that my story has to do.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I first met the gallant captain on a hunting excursion -into the pines. He was a portly little gentleman, -with a rubicund face, a constant flow of humor, -and an opinion of his own good looks rather singular, -I must say, at forty-five. He had very short legs -and a very round person, and altogether reminded -you of a fat pigeon walking upright. He had been -in the service during the war, and at the reduction of -the army, finding himself pretty well in debt, and -without a <span class='it'>sous</span> in his pockets, had settled at Squankum, -a place in the very heart of the cedar swamps. -And very convenient it was for Slashbey, for, like -Galway, in Ireland, a sheriff’s writ hadn’t been seen -there in the memory of man. It was once attempted -to execute a capias there, but the forgemen and -squatters rose in a mass, and though the light horse -were ordered out, the arrest had to be given up. -Now the captain was a popular man in Squankum, -and therefore was as safe as in a sanctuary. He -thirsted now and then, it is true, for the good things -of civilized life afar off, and would often make a dash -into Mount Holly, like a guerilla, taking care, however, -to retreat before his creditors had wind of his -approach. But at length he grew tired of this life,—I’ll -thank you for the bottle—and determined to -extricate himself from it by marrying an heiress; -for the captain was a gallant man, you must know, -and, like Will Honeycombe, had a high notion of -his own powers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There was a merry little vixen at the county -town—a gay witty black-eyed rogue as ever lived—who -was, in the captain’s opinion, the very pattern -for a wife. She would have made an anchorite forswear -his creed, and was besides an heiress to a very -pretty fortune. Undaunted by the crowds of suitors -for her hand, Slashbey determined to enter the lists, -nothing doubting, on the faith of certain smiles with -which she always welcomed him, that he would carry -off the prize. He began his preparations like a Napoleon. -He bought a new pair of buff cassimeres, -endued a shining blue coat with metal buttons, and -ordered a wig from the most fashionable <span class='it'>perruquier</span> -in Philadelphia, for unluckily the captain was as bald -as a cannon ball. Thus accoutred, he laid regular -siege to his charmer, dancing her and sleighing her -whenever he could venture out of his cedar swamps -without being chased by a bailiff. The heiress -smiled on the captain, her suitors cursed the lucky -rival, and Slashbey spent his time betwixt studying -his glass and singing ‘none but the brave deserve -the fair.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was just when he thought he was on the point -of success that a grand ball was given at ——, and -the captain, determining to carry his charmer by assault, -forgot his usual prudence and escorted the -heiress in his gig. Never did the little fellow look -more gallant. I was at the ball, and faith! could -scarcely keep my eyes off him. His wig was curled -irresistibly, his new coat shone with resplendent lustre, -his cassimeres fit him as a mould does a bullet, -and he sported his new buff gloves with more vanity -than a rider does his colors at a race. But, alas! -his glory was destined soon to wane. One of his -rivals, whose nose the captain had valorously pulled, -determining on revenge, had informed the sheriff of -Slashbey’s whereabouts, and just as he was leading -his charmer triumphantly to the dance, the myrmidons -of justice pounced on him, and after a desperate -struggle he was secured, on the charge of an assault -and battery. But this was not the worst. Before -the court opened the next day, a dozen writs in civil -suits had been lodged against his body. The captain -was beside himself. He trembled at the <span class='it'>exposé</span> of -his affairs—he trembled for his heiress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘We could laugh this battery out of court,’ he -said; ‘but what the devil can I do with these creditors? -I’m a ruined man. And to come just now, the -infernal rascals! Oh, Anna Matilda!’ he exclaimed -with a love-lorn look of his crow-feet eyes, ‘it’s all -up with you and your fortune now. What would the -fellows of the tenth say if they heard of it?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Cheer up,’ said his attorney laughingly; ‘your -case will come up among the first, and we may yet -find a way to get you off. It’s all the result of envy. -These young boys can’t endure that Mars and Apollo -should meet together in your person,’ and the barrister -winked wickedly to me, as Slashbey, marshalled -by the sheriff, preceded us into the hall of justice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was with a rueful countenance that he took his -seat in the court. The room was densely filled with -the usual motley assemblage at a county sessions. -Loafers half in rags, and shopmen in the latest cut, -portly farmers with huge mud-stained boots, and drovers -carrying heavy loaded whips, here a sober Quaker -with a broad-rimmed beaver, and there a gay -young lawyer with more wit than briefs, long men -and short men, fat ones and lean ones, some with -merry round faces, and others with countenances as -sour as crab-apples, officers and loungers, attorneys -and clients, filled up every vacant space outside the -bar, whiling away the time until the appearance of -the judge, by speculating on the prospects of a crop, -or discussing the points of a case set down for trial -at the term. At length his honor made his appearance, -and, bustling and bowing through the crowd, -assumed the bench, wiped the perspiration from his -rubicund face, coughed with judicial gravity, and ordered -the crier to open the court. That high functionary -accordingly started to his feet, and in a nasal -twang mumbled over a formula which no one could -hear distinctly, but which appeared to be a recapitulation -of the iniquities of those in authority generally, -and of his honor in particular, as it ended with -a hope that God would save the commonwealth and -the honorable court. After the crier sat down, a -very lean man, with a very sharp nose, and a very -squeaking voice, called out ‘John Smith,’ whereupon -a little fat man jumped up and said ‘here;’ but the -clerk, without seeming to notice him, went on and -called Joseph Thomson, Zerubabel Thomson, Joab -Johnson, and the Lord knows how many more Thomsons -and Johnsons, all of whom severally jumped up -and said ‘here.’ Then, the jury being empannelled, -the case came on, and the attorneys got into towering -passions, and seemed as if they could have eaten -each other up, while the jury smiled and nodded, and -their foreman—the little fat man—stroked his chin -and looked extremely wise. After this was gone -through with, there was a general buzz through the -room, when suddenly the judge cried ‘order,’ and -then the sheriff cried ‘order,’ and the sleepy constables -and tipstaves opened their eyes and echoed -‘order’ more lustily than either; whereupon his -honor turned over one or two big books bound in -white calf,—ah! this is prime Port—consulted his -notes for a moment, and then proceeded to sum up -the evidence and charge the jury.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The next case was that of Slashbey—and the -same formality was gone through with until about -half of the jury had been sworn, when the attorney-general -rose to acquaint the court that the panel -was exhausted and that therefore he prayed a <span class='it'>tales</span> -from the lookers on. These few and simple words of -the attorney-general acted on the spectators like -the upsetting of a crowded bee-hive. Instantly -there was a great rush towards the door. Drovers -and farmers, shopmen and gentlemen, staid Quakers -and burly topers, all started in the race at once, -tumbling and scrambling over each other in their -haste to reach the entrance, while the tipstaves -shouted ‘order’ until they were hoarse, and the -sheriff and his deputies sprang to the door in order -to close it before the egress of their prey. It was a -moment of general confusion, and Slashbey was forgotten -in the <span class='it'>mêlée</span>. Even the judge had eyes only -for the scrambling fugitives.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Now,’ said I, nudging Slashbey, who sat by me -not far from the casement; ‘now’s your time—clear -the window at a leap—my horse Thunderer is fastened -not twenty yards off—ride like the devil, and -don’t draw rein till you get to Squankum.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Slashbey understood my plan as readily and -rapidly as I had conceived it, and, just waiting to see -that the coast was clear, he placed his hands on the -sill, and, portly as he was, shot through the open -window like a bomb, unseen by all except his honor, -who caught sight of the fugitive’s coat tails as they -disappeared outside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘An escape!’ shouted the judge, starting to his -feet; ‘sheriff, your prisoner. The captain’s off.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“On the instant the talesmen were forgotten, and -sheriff, deputies, tipstaves and freeholders turned -around, with open mouths and curious eyes. It was -a minute or more before the matter could be explained, -and by that time I saw that Slashbey had got -mounted. I shouted ‘stop thief’ at this, and sprang -out of the window, as if in pursuit, followed by the -sheriff and his constables, tumbling helter-skelter -over each other after me. The officers no sooner -caught sight of the fugitive than they roared lustily -to stop him, while the sheriff bawled for the ‘<span class='it'>posse -comitatus</span>’ like a bull of Bashan. It was no time to -respect property, so I followed the example of the -officers, and sprang on the first steed I came across, -eager to see the fun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The court house stood nearly at the opposite end -of the village, from that out of which led the road to -Squankum, and when I mounted my horse, Slashbey -was scouring down the main street some hundred -yards ahead. Before a minute, however, the sheriff -and his pack were in full cry at the fugitive’s heels, -while as many of the spectators as could find horses -and vehicles started off, a few to aid the law, but -most to enjoy the sport. And, by my faith! what -a sight it was! Foremost in the chase gallopped the -sheriff, his hat off and his queue flying behind, bawling -himself red in the face by cries of ‘stop thief,’ ‘head -him off,’ ‘maintain the laws,’ amid the laughter of -some and the shouts of others of the crowd. At -every few leaps Slashbey would turn his face ruefully -around to see whether his pursuers gained on him or -not—reminding one of Tam O’Shanter, of blissful -memory, when he saw the witches yelling after him. -The captain would never have won the prize at Astley’s -for horsemanship, and now, what betwixt his -hurry and affright, he rode like a frightened monkey -at a circus. Gilpin did not create more excitement -in his famous race. The shopmen left their counters, -the blacksmith hurried from his forge, the school -children followed the pedagogue to the window, and -the very chanticleers, unwilling to let the hubbub go -by without they partook in it, flapped their wings on -the garden fences and crowed lustily. But with your -leave, I’ll pause to fill my glass, for a man telling a -story is like a steam-engine—he can’t get on without -he keeps the fire blazing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The race was now at its height. The uproar -was tremendous. Up flew the windows, and out -popped the heads. The women shrieked, the pigs -squealed, the men laughed, the boys cheered, and a -dozen curs hurried yelping and snapping at Thunderer’s -heels, who, alarmed at the hue and cry -around him, pricked up his ears, snorted, and fairly -taking the bit in his teeth, went off at a frantic pace. -You would have died with laughter had you seen -Slashbey then. Holding on to the rein with one hand, -he grasped the mane desperately with the other, and, -sticking his feet up to the heels in the stirrup, he -leaned forward until he lay almost prostrate on the -horse’s neck, while the tails of his coat flying up -behind disclosed the fair rotundity beneath, over -which his shining new buff cassimeres were stretched -as tight as a drum-head. At every leap he bounced -three feet from the saddle. The shouts of the <span class='it'>posse</span> -in his rear increased, while the captain’s rueful looks -behind became more frequent. Some cried ‘murder,’ -others bawled ‘stop thief.’ The perspiration poured -down the captain’s cheeks. He gasped for breath. -And, to crown all, as he got opposite his charmer’s -dwelling, a puff of wind swept off his wig—for his -hat had been left in the court house in his hurry—and -the envied locks sailing away to the rear amid -convulsive shouts of laughter on the part of the crowd, -betrayed the bald pate of Slashbey glistening like -burnished silver in the sun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Go it, fat ’un, and never mind the scratch,’ roared -a ragged spectator, who was fairly dancing with delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Hip—ho—heave ahead there,’ shouted another, -shieing a missile at the fugitive.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Whow—whow—whoa,’ halloed others, running -out in front of Thunderer and waving their arms and -hats before his eyes, but scampering hither and -thither as soon as the frightened steed drew near.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i025.jpg' alt='A man clings to a horse's back while galloping wildly down a crowded street' id='iid-0003' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“The captain felt his heart sink within him at this -accumulation of disasters, and he could scarcely summon -courage to look up, but he made a desperate -effort, and—oh! shades of the gallant tenth—there -was his mistress at the window pointing to his glossy -pate, and laughing until the tears ran out of her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The captain felt that his last hope was gone, -and in a moment of despair would have reined in his -horse, but Thunderer took the matter in his own -hands and kept on at a thrashing pace, amid the -shouts and pelting of the crowd. He dashed down -the cross-street, clattered over the bridge, and in a -few minutes crossed the brow of the neighboring hill -in a cloud of dust. The motley group in pursuit kept -on, but when Thunderer’s mettle was up there wasn’t -his match in the whole county, so that before long, -one after another of the <span class='it'>posse</span> drew in, leaving only -the sheriff and his deputies in pursuit. These, too, -gave out before they reached the vicinity of the -enchanted land, in other words, the cedar swamps -this side of Squankum.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The joke clove to the captain’s name closer than -a brother. The little vixen of an heiress had all along -been coquetting with “the gallant warrior,” and now -she was the loudest among the laughers at her wigless -beau. She filled up Slashbey’s cup of sorrow by -marrying, shortly after, the gallant whose nose the -captain had pulled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What branch of the service,” asked a spooney -lieutenant from the bottom of the table, after the -laughter had somewhat subsided, “did you say your -friend belonged to?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t particularize,” coolly said the narrator, -“but I believe it was the <span class='it'>flying</span> artillery.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk107'/> - -<div><h1><a id='reef'></a>THE REEFER OF ’76.</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 CRUIZING IN THE LAST WAR.”</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>THE SHIPWRECK.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The</span> arrival of our battered fleet in the Texal, was -the signal for a diplomatic war betwixt the ministers -of England, Holland and France. The result of this -encounter of wits, was the secret transfer of the captured -ships to the latter power, and an order from -the Prince of Orange to quit his dominions. Accordingly, -Paul Jones, having superseded Landais in -command of the Alliance, put to sea on the 27th of -December, 1779, and, after running the gauntlet of -the channel fleet, and approaching near enough to -the Downs to examine its force, reached the roads of -Groix on the 10th of February, 1780, in safety. As -these things are matters of history, I briefly pass -them over, the more readily because I did not myself -accompany the commodore; for having found a letter -from my captain, lying for me at Holland, requiring -my return to Paris, I seized the first opportunity and -started for France within a fortnight after the capture -of the Serapis.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Our run through the straits was pleasant, and we -had every prospect of a speedy voyage until our -second day out, when the wind freshened into a gale, -and before night it was blowing, as the old tars had -it, “great guns and marlinspikes.” Every thing, -however, was made fast and clean, and toward midnight -I sought my hammock, and in a few moments, -with a sailor’s carelessness, had forgotten our danger -in sleep. How long I slept I cannot tell, but I was -suddenly aroused from my slumbers by the heeling -of the ship, and as I started up in my berth, I heard -the salt water dashing through the cabin, and roaring -in the hold as if the bulk-heads were giving way. -The lights were out, and I could see nothing, but I -knew by the sound that the water was pouring in a -cataract down the companion way, and that all escape -therefore by that path was cut off. Could the -ship be sinking?—had she broached to?—where -were the crew? were the questions that rushed -through my mind at that awful moment. I listened -a second to hear, if I could, any sign of my fellow -passengers in the cabin; but the place appeared to -be deserted. Knowing that no time was to be lost, -I sprang to the window in the stern, but—Good God! -the dead lights were in, and all escape by that way -was closed on me. Louder and louder roared the -waters into the cabin, already they were dashing -their cold spray around me, and in a few seconds they -would submerge my berth. Death stared me in the -face—death, too, in its most horrid guise. My brain -whirled, my knees shook, my skin felt cold as the -grave, and my usually buoyant heart sank within me. -But these feelings triumphed only for a moment. -My native resolution came speedily to my aid, and I -determined to die, since die I must, like the old philosopher -who wrapped his garments around him and -lay down as if to a pleasant sleep. At this instant I -suddenly remembered that the cabin had an outlet -overhead, and groping my way along, half buried -in water the while, I caught hold of the frame work -of the binnacle, and dashing the glass out with my -hand, raised myself up, and, the next minute, crawled -on deck. For an instant—so terrific was the violence -of the gale which swept past me—I could neither -see, hear, nor stand. The rain and hail beating fiercely -against me, pinned me down to the spot which I had -first gained, while the thunder of the hurricane that -went whistling and roaring by, seemed to forebode -the approach of the final day itself. Oceans of water -deluged the deck, hissing past me like the scornful -laughter of fiends. At length I managed to raise my -head and cast a glance at the scene around me. -The darkness was almost impenetrable, but sufficient -light existed to convince me that the decks were deserted, -and that the ship was lying on her beam-ends, -with cataracts of water rolling momently over her -windward side. Oh! God, what a ruin! Officer and -man, passengers and crew, all, all had been swept -away by the devouring surge, and I alone was left, -preserved almost by a miracle. I gazed to leeward, -but only a waste of driving foam met my eye—I -looked astern, nothing but the green monsters of the -deep, rolling mountain high, were seen. At this instant -another deluge of foam whistled past, blinding -my eyes with spray, and jerking me with a giant’s -power from my hold. Buried in brine, bruised, despairing, -and almost stunned, I thought my hour had -come, and breathing a momentary prayer to heaven -for mercy, I resigned myself to death. Suddenly my -hand struck against something, which, with an instinctive -love for life, I grasped. My progress was instantaneously -checked, and, although the resistance -almost snapped my arms from their sockets, I still -clung to the object I had caught. When the billow -had whirled past, and the spray had ceased to blind -my eyes, I saw that I had seized one of the posts of -the bulwarks. Taking advantage of a momentary -lull, I crept to a place of greater security, and sat -down to ponder over my chances of escape.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All through that awful night I clung to my frail -support, expecting momently to be swept from it into -eternity. Language cannot describe my feelings. -No pen can paint the horrors of those long and dreary -hours. The air grew intensely cold: the rain became -hail. The sky, if possible, lowered more gloomily, -and the billows rolled higher and higher around me, -while the deep tones of the tempest mingled with the -chafing of the surges, rose up over all like the wild -choral symphony which we dream of as forever -rising from the world of ruin and despair. Borne -aloft on the waves, or hurried down into the abyss, -drenched, bruised, and bewildered, I saw no gleam -of hope. Beneath me was the boiling deep—above -me the sky seemed settling bodily down. Now the -gale whistled shrilly past, or now wailed moaningly -away to leeward. Darkness and terror were all -around me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length the morning dawned, but slowly and despairingly. -The gale somewhat subsided, too; but -its violence was still terrific. In the eastern firmament -there was a dull, misty light, hanging like a -belt along the seaboard, but the sun itself was completely -obscured. By the faint glimmer thus thrown -around the scene, I hoped to distinguish some approaching -sail. It was in vain. Nothing met my -vision, save the wild waste tossing to and fro in agony. -Again and again I looked,—but again and again in -vain. At length I caught sight of what would have -seemed to a landsman to be the foam on the crest of -a far off wave, but which I knew to be a sail. How -my heart throbbed as I watched the course of the -approaching craft! I soon made her out to be a ship -driving before the gale under a close reefed main-course, -and as she approached nearer, I saw that she -was an English man-of-war. Captivity was better -than death, and I did not, therefore, hesitate. I -shouted aloud. But I might as well have lifted up -my voice against the thunder. I waved my arm -aloft. It was in vain. I clambered up on the weather-quarter, -and once more waving my arm, shouted with -superhuman strength. The head of the frigate came -gallantly around, and with a cry of joy, I saw the -man-of-war make towards me. Big tears of gratitude -rushed into my eyes, and my throat parched with -emotion. On came the noble stranger, swinging her -tall masts gracefully, and in a few minutes she was -close on to me. I could see the look-outs gazing -towards me. In a little space I should be rescued. -At this moment a billow broke over me again, but, -undaunted by the drenching, when I rose to the surface, -I turned gaily in the direction of the frigate. -God of my fathers!—she was not to be seen! I -gazed with a throbbing heart to windward, and there -was the man-of-war, edging away from me as if -unconscious of my presence. I gazed speechlessly -on her. The truth broke agonizingly on me. The -frigate had approached the wreck, and not seeing -me, had thought all on board lost, and resumed her -course. In vain I shouted, and in vain I waved my -arm frantically on high. I felt from the first there -was no hope, and at length, giving over every effort, -I crouched down once more in that state of complete -exhaustion, both mentally and physically, which -ensues, when the excitement of hope is followed by -the certainty of despair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day wore on. The tempest slowly abated. -Yet no welcome sail met my vision, unless a few far -off crafts which crossed the seaboard, hull down, and -which brought no hope, could be called welcome. -As hour after hour wore away, my hold on life grew -weaker and weaker. My physical powers, I felt, -could not much longer endure this exposure to tempest -and cold. Already the blood seemed at a stand -in my extremities, and I fancied I felt the cold chill -shuddering up to my heart. A drowsiness came over -me. But rallying myself, I beat my hands and -stamped my feet to invigorate, if possible, the vital -current. At length I paused from pure exhaustion. -Still no aid appeared. My spirits at length flagged. -I felt that utter prostration which, by taking away -the spring of hope, deprives us of all motive for -exertion, and is the sure forerunner of a death of -despair. I lost all longing for life. The sensation of -cold subsided. I felt no pain. A dreamy bliss crept -soothingly over my soul—the sea, the sky, the air, -the wreck swam around before me—visions such as -no mortal eye hath seen or imagined, thronged on -my brain—an exstacy I cannot describe, but which -makes my hand even now tremble with rapture, possessed -me,—and then all is blank.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again, and I dreamed. I seemed to be in the centre -of a vast void, a universe of darkness and obscurity. -Yet all was not gloom. For amid the shadowy -firmament appeared a fair bright face beaming upon -me like an angel’s from the clouds—a face whose -features were written on my inmost heart, so soft -and seraphic was their expression! I knew it—it -was that of Beatrice. The mild blue eye, the hair -of wavy gold, the brow that rivalled a Madonna’s, -and more than all, the smile which now appeared all -glorified, told me that face was hers. And it gazed on -me with pity and love. And then I heard a voice—like -and yet unlike hers, for the tone was that of -Beatrice, but even sweeter, and, oh! how heavenly! -The very air seemed music. Was she, indeed, a -beatified spirit sent to waft me onward to a brighter -world?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But once more all was dark—a voiceless void! -I had but one feeling, and that was of being. I knew -not, heard not, saw not. I could not think. But my -soul was, as it were, agony itself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length a light broke in on that void. My brain -swam and I faintly opened my eyes. Was I yet an -inhabitant of earth? The bed, the curtains, the room -beyond convinced me at length that I lived. I feebly -raised myself up and gazed around. A footstep approached. -Overcome with faintness I sank down. A -hand put aside the curtains, a cry of joy broke from -the intruder, a hot tear-drop fell on my face. I looked -up, and there was Beatrice!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My own—” I faintly articulated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush!—not a word yet,” she said archly, placing -her fingers to her lips with a smile.</p> - -<hr class='tbk108'/> - -<div><h1><a id='int'></a>THE INTERESTING STRANGER.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>OR, DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY EMMA C. EMBURY.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>On</span> a hot sultry afternoon, in the August of 18—, -a tall, pale, melancholy-looking gentleman alighted -from the stage-coach at the door of the Eagle Tavern, -in Buffalo, and, after a few minutes’ conversation -with the bar-keeper, was ushered into a handsome -private parlor, while his baggage was carried to one -of the finest bed-rooms in the house. Perhaps, had -the stranger mingled carelessly with the loungers on -the piazza, after his arrival, he would have attracted -little more attention than the companions of his wearisome -journey, for, excepting a slight moustache on -his upper lip, there was nothing to distinguish him in -external appearance. But his quiet, grave deportment, -and the desire for seclusion which he exhibited, -excited the curiosity of the news-mongers, and a -thousand conjectures concerning him were immediately -set afloat. The stranger, however, seemed little -disposed to satisfy the spirit of inquiry which -prevails so extensively in American hotels; for, after -taking possession of his apartments, he appeared no -more that evening, and the waiter, who carried to -him his supper, could only say that “he was a <span class='it'>real</span> -gentleman, for he had given him a hard dollar—that -he wore a flowered silk dressing-gown and embroidered -slippers, and that he was going to stay in Buffalo -a month.” The next morning the interest which -he had excited extended itself to the no less curious -gossips of the gentler sex; and, when the bell rang -for dinner, many an eye was turned to the closed door -of Room No. 2, in the hope of seeing its inmate -emerge from his retirement. They were not doomed -to disappointment. After all were seated at table, -the stranger glided quietly into the dining-hall, and -took his seat at the foot of the well-filled board, apparently -unconscious of the piercing glances which -were directed towards him. Notwithstanding the -profusion of dainties which were officiously offered -him by the waiter, whose heart had been won by the -“hard dollar” on the previous night, he merely tasted -a single dish, and refusing all the luxuries of the dessert, -finished his frugal meal with a bit of dry bread -and a glass of iced water. His abstemiousness and -abstraction of manner excited the attention of every -one, and when he silently rose to leave the table, -many a glance followed his slowly-receding form. -The ladies had not failed to observe his stately figure, -his fine aquiline nose, the melancholy softness of his -dark eyes, and the beauty of his hands, which were -small, white and tapering, as, according to Napoleon -and Byron, all aristocratic hands should be. They -at once decided that he was a person of some distinction; -perhaps an English nobleman incognito, or -at least a rich and well-born Southerner. But a week -had elapsed before he chose to give any other idea of -his rank and station than might be derived from the -register of the hotel, where he had inscribed, in a -very elegant hand, the name of “Charles Stuart -Montague, New Orleans.” Polite, courteous and -gentlemanly to every one whom he chanced to encounter, -particularly to females, he soon won the -suffrages of all by his civilities, while he excited -general sympathy by his uniform sadness of deportment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the inmates of the house was the Hon. Mr. -Windlespin, an extensive land-holder and an ex-member -of Congress, who, with his two daughters, had -recently returned from a visit to France, and now occupied -elegantly-furnished apartments in the hotel. -The saloon appropriated to this family was directly -opposite to that occupied by Mr. Montague, and the -ladies were dying with curiosity to learn something -about their handsome neighbor. The heat of the -weather compelled both to leave open the doors of -their respective apartments, and the many furtive -looks which the two Misses Windlespin cast into the -tempting room had enabled them to catch a glimpse -of a richly-enchased writing-case upon the centre -table, and a guitar leaning against the chimney-piece, -while they had several times enjoyed the opportunity -of watching the solemn step of the melancholy stranger, -as, attired in the said silk dressing-gown, he -paced the limits of his apartment. They reflected -much upon the singular mystery which seemed to involve -him. What could make him so unhappy? He -was evidently rich, handsome, and, as they were -willing to believe, accomplished—for the mournful -strains of a flute were sometimes heard at the dim -twilight, and occasionally a few chords on the guitar, -struck as if with a trembling hand, resounded through -his lonely room. What could be the cause of such -deep despondency?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Mr. Montague had not been quite insensible to -the vicinity of the elegant Misses Windlespin. A -graceful bow had frequently marked his consciousness -of their presence as he passed the open door of -the parlor; and, more than once, he had paused at -the entrance of the dining-hall, while they swept by -to take their places at table, acknowledging his politeness -by a profound courtesy <span class='it'>à la mode de Paris</span>. -In the course of the changes which daily occur at a -public table, Mr. Montague had gradually moved up, -until, as one of the oldest boarders in the house, he -occupied a seat next to the Windlespin family. A -fine opportunity was now offered for those civilities -which cost so little and are often productive of so -many pleasant results. By degrees the abstraction -of the melancholy gentleman was beguiled by the -charms of his fair neighbors, and the ladies noticed, -with no small degree of satisfaction, that they could -induce him, not only to prolong his stay at table, but -also to exchange his frugal fare for the dainties which -they so much enjoyed. In short, an acquaintance -between them had fairly commenced, and they mutually -congratulated each other when the “<span class='it'>interesting -stranger</span>” actually accepted an invitation to pass -an evening with them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Grace Windlespin was a sentimentalist, while -her sister Catharine affected vivacity and brilliancy. -The elder was all poetry—the younger all fun and -frolic. Grace spoke in a gentle voice, and raised her -blue eyes sweetly and languidly to the face of those -whom she addressed; while Kate (for so, in imitation -of Shakspeare’s heroine, she affected to be -styled) turned the full light of her bold laughing -glances on every one worth looking at. The one delighted -in the soft pleasures of sensibility—the other -in the ready repartee and saucy jest. In short, the -sisters were alike in nothing except their excessive -affectation. Neither of them exhibited her natural -character; all was assumed for effect, and each had -studied the part best suited to her style of beauty. -The slightly-bending figure, pale complexion and long -chestnut ringlets of Grace were admirably suited to -her very <span class='it'>poetic</span> manner; while the blonde hair, rosy -cheeks and somewhat dumpy person of her merry -sister were equally well suited to the devil-may-care -character which she chose to assume.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their father was one of those kind of persons who -are constantly engaged in visionary schemes of -wealth. Nobody better understood how to puff up a -bubble—nobody was better skilled in “mapping -out” landed estates—nobody possessed in such perfection -the gift of “<span class='it'>fortune-telling</span>” as the Hon. Mr. -Windlespin. Originally a country shop-keeper in -Jersey, his first start in life had been rather an odd -one. Taking advantage of the mania for “real estate -speculations,” which pervaded the whole country, -he, in company with several others, projected a -new city, to be located upon their extensive and -somewhat barren farms. Accordingly a large hotel -was built, a meeting-house erected, a school-house -raised, and some half dozen dwelling-houses were -ranged along what was meant to be the main street. -In an incredibly short time all was completed, and -every thing was ready except the people who were -required to occupy the infant city. These were still -to be found, and the company began to discover that -it would be exceedingly inconvenient to pay “<span class='it'>interest -monies</span>” without some assistance. At this juncture -the genius of Mr. Windlespin devised an expedient -for bringing their new settlement into notice. -He advertised in all the papers that a purse of fifty -dollars would be “<span class='it'>danced for</span>” by twelve <span class='it'>Communipaw -negroes</span>—the dancers to be selected from as -many as chose to try their skill previous to the grand -effort. The scene of these new <span class='it'>Athletæ</span> was to be -the extensive plain which fronted the hotel at “<span class='it'>Scipio-Africanus</span>”—for -such was the sounding title -which Mr. Windlespin, after a careful search into an -old copy of Lemprière’s dictionary, had chosen for -the incipient city. The idle, the dissolute, and the -shiftless—the people who are most easily led to -change their habitations, like wandering Arabs, are -the very men who were most likely to be attracted -by such a queer and novel amusement. Accordingly -Mr. Windlespin’s plan succeeded admirably. On the -day appointed for the selection of the sable candidates -for <span class='it'>saltatory honors</span>, several hundred people -were assembled in and about the hotel, while a still -greater number of the dark race were gathered to -exhibit their skill. Certain rules were laid down for -the governance of the assembly—a place was cleared -for the exhibition—the negroes came forward by -tens, and he who could tire down all his companions -was set aside as worthy to compete for the prize. -The first day was consumed in this important investigation; -<span class='it'>thirty</span> first-rate professors of the double-shuffle -and heel-and-toe exercise had been chosen, -and the following day was to be devoted to the selection -of the appointed <span class='it'>twelve</span>, from this reduced number -of candidates. The hotel was filled to overflowing—the -dwelling houses were no longer empty -shells; but, furnished with camp beds, offered shelter -and repose to the wearied spectators, and even -the meeting-house was appropriated to their accommodation. -The second day was similarly spent, except -that the concourse of visiters had increased, and -the excitement of the scene had produced sundry -brawls and broken heads. The third and last day -was appropriated to the performance of the selected -twelve, and the final adjudication of the purse. Never -had there been such gyrations, such circumflexions, -such saltations as were then witnessed. Never had -a victory been purchased at such a sudoriferous expense. -One after another, the dancers withdrew exhausted, -until only three were left, who seemed to -bid defiance to fatigue. Hour after hour they continued -their exertions, until they seemed to be converted -into mere machines, and with staring eyes, -stiffened limbs, and shining faces, appeared like monstrous -images, moved by some mechanical force. At -last the spectators became completely tired with this -exhibition of perpetual motion. They insisted that -the prize should be equally divided between the three -indefatigable dancers, and thus the singular entertainment -closed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Windlespin had not been idle during those -three days. His brandy was very excellent—he -made “glorious” rum punch—his cigars were real -“Habanas,” and his customers had fully enjoyed the -manifold creature comforts which he offered them. -When they prepared to return home, most of them -carried in their pockets the deed of a building-lot in -the town of Scipio-Africanus, for which they had -paid ten per cent. of the purchase-money, and given -a bond and mortgage for the remainder; while a few, -being persuaded that the neighborhood of such a hotel -was a most desirable addition to the comforts of -a family, concluded to take immediate possession of -the houses already erected. Thus did the incipient -city receive its earliest inhabitants, and though it -has never yet been obliged to enlarge its borders in -consequence of <span class='it'>over-populousness</span>, it still drags on a -sickly existence, having, however, exchanged its original -euphonious title for the more simple but no less -expressive one of “<span class='it'>Niggertown</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Windlespin’s grand stroke of policy remained -yet to be shown. As treasurer of the company, as -well as officiating master of the hotel, all monies -derived from the custom at the bar, as well as from -the sale of building-lots, had passed through his -hands. After the affair was over, he called a meeting -of the company, exhibited a statement of expenses -and receipts, and after deducting the former, -paid over the latter to the various members, reserving -to himself a handsome commission for his trouble. -He did not think it necessary to inform his -confederates of the fact that every thing had been -purchased on credit, and that, so far from paying the -expenses, he had, by using their names, rendered -them liable for the debt which had been incurred, but -quietly pocketing the lion’s share of the spoils, he -bade adieu to the limits of “Niggertown,” in order -to try his luck in a new field.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such was Mr. Windlespin’s first essay in fortune-hunting, -and several affairs of a similar nature had -so increased his means, that he found himself quite -a respected resident in one of our northern cities, almost -before he was aware of his elevated position in -society. He was finally chosen a member of congress -for the district, and though, owing to some dubious -transaction, his seat was disputed, and he magnanimously -resigned what he knew he could not keep, -yet he never relinquished the prefix of Honorable, to -which the choice of his constituents entitled him. -Shortly before the appearance of Mr. Charles Stuart -Montague upon the scene, Mr. Windlespin had taken -his daughters to Paris, where they received the benefit -of foreign polish for six weeks, and then returned -as highly accomplished as a modern boarding-school, -a journey in a French diligence and a taste of French -cookery could make them. They meant to marry, -and to marry rich, and therefore each had chosen a -part which, while it offered a wide field, was likely, -as they supposed, to occasion no rivalry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Windlespin was too wily to be long in doubt -as to Mr. Montague’s circumstances. He managed -to discover that he was a widower, sorrowing over -the recent loss of a beloved wife, and that he had -come to the north with the double motive of dissipating -his grief, and purchasing a certain description -of merchandise, which he designed to send to the -city of Galveston, where a branch of his widely-extended -commercial house was established. This -news was of course communicated to the young ladies, -and while Grace became doubly sentimental, -Kate, the amiable romp, determined to wile him from -his vain regrets by the charms of gayety. Leaving -his daughters to pursue their matrimonial plans, Mr. -Windlespin determined to make the most of his present -opportunities, and, if possible, to gain some percentage -on account of the interesting stranger. He -accordingly sounded a friend, a careful old Scotchman, -who dealt largely in the kind of goods required -by Mr. Montague, and endeavored to secure a handsome -commission from him, in case he brought him -so profitable a customer. But the crafty old fellow -was not to be caught with fair promises; he required -proof of Mr. Montague’s ability to become a cash -customer, and accepted an invitation to meet him at -Mr. Windlespin’s apartments. But the scene which -met his eyes when he entered the parlor at early -twilight, was not calculated to give him a very exalted -opinion of his anticipated dealer. The elegant -Mr. Montague, attired in pantaloons of spotless -white, with gaiters of the same snowy hue, extending -within an inch of the toe of his shining boot—a -blue silk fancy jacket, fastened to his waist by a -sash of crimson net—an embroidered collar, turned -back from his throat, and embroidered ruffles dangling -over his delicate hands, seemed to the rough -old borderer like the very personification of effeminacy -and folly. But when he only half rose from his -graceful attitude, and extended the tip of his finger -to the visiter, while he directly turned from him to -continue his flirtation with the sisters, Mr. MacDonald -lost all patience with himself for having been -foolish enough to expect any benefit from such a -“popinjay.” But even Mr. MacDonald could not -read the character of the “interesting stranger.” -Early on the following morning, he had scarcely -reached the counting-room, when he was surprised -by a visit from Mr. Montague, and the old man could -scarcely identify the hero of the past evening’s manœuvres -in the keen and practised man of business -who now addressed him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never talk on business in the presence of ladies, -sir,” said the elegant gentleman, “and this, I hope, -will account for my silence on the subject last evening; -if I am rightly informed, however, you are the -very person to whom I was advised to apply by my -friend Mr. Tickler, of New Orleans.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, Mr. Tickler, cashier of the Sugarcane Bank, -you mean; an old friend of mine,” answered Mr. -MacDonald, “did he give you letters to me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir,” answered Mr. Montague; “when I left -New Orleans, I was not certain whether I should visit -Buffalo, or limit my journey to New York, and therefore -I brought no letters to any one in this city. However, -you probably know your friend’s hand-writing, -and, if so, these papers will answer our purpose better -than a mere empty introduction.” With these -words he drew from his pocket-book sundry certificates -of deposit in the Sugarcane Bank, which bore -the signature of the cashier.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is his hand, sure enough, and a crabbed fist -he writes too,” said Mr. MacDonald, after a close -scrutiny of the proffered papers. While examining -the signatures, the careful old man had not forgotten -to glance at the amounts, and he thus learned that -the sum of <span class='it'>thirty thousand dollars</span> was at that moment -lying in the Sugarcane Bank to the credit of -Mr. Charles Stuart Montague.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am desirous of purchasing some twenty or -thirty thousand dollars worth of goods,” said the -gentleman, carelessly, “and if I can get them sufficiently -cheap here to pay the cost of transportation -to New York, I would rather buy in Buffalo than -hunt among the Pearl street jobbers in that Babel of -a city. I mean to pay cash, and shall ship the goods -immediately to Galveston.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What an immense business those southern merchants -must do,” mentally exclaimed Mr. MacDonald; -“he speaks of dollars as if they were pebbles.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Montague continued: “If you are disposed to -let me have the specified articles at fair prices, with -a liberal discount for cash, I will immediately make -arrangements to have them sent on. However,” he -added, noticing the cautious Scotchman’s hesitation, -“perhaps you had better take till to-morrow to think -about it, and, in the mean time, I will look round the -market, and may possibly be able to find better bargains -than you can afford me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hang the fellow’s boldness,” thought Mr. MacDonald; -“if he were a rogue he would not be so indifferent -about the matter.” He determined, however, -to consult Mr. Windlespin before he made his -decision, and therefore fixed upon the following day -to settle the affair. Mr. Windlespin took the opportunity -offered by Mr. Montague’s daily visit to his -daughters, and in the course of a private interview -with the merchant, entered into a negotiation with -him by which he, Mr. Windlespin, bound himself to -take half the risk, on condition of receiving half the -profits of the sales made to Mr. Montague. Mr. MacDonald -preferred this method to the original proposition -of a certain percentage, as it gave him the opportunity -of gaining an advantage over both the parties. -Accordingly Mr. Montague was waited upon -by Mr. MacDonald, and a close and hair-splitting -negotiation was carried on for some time, which resulted -in the purchase of goods to the value of twenty -thousand dollars, which were to be delivered to Mr. -Montague’s agent in New York free of all expenses. -In return, Mr. Montague handed to Mr. MacDonald -certificates of deposit to the amount of twenty-five -thousand dollars, which were easily negotiable in -New York at three per cent. discount; and as some -time would be required to complete the transaction, -the stranger agreed to prolong his stay in Buffalo -until the delivery of the goods in New York.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the meanwhile, the elegant widower was managing -equally well in his love affairs. He listened -to Kate’s wild sallies with a languid smile, and patted -her round cheek or clasped her luxuriant waist in -a most brother-like or rather <span class='it'>cousin-like</span> fashion. To -Grace he was all courtliness and gentleness; if he -took her hand it was with an air of timid respect, -which would have done honour to a “<span class='it'>Paladin chivalresque</span>,” -and if he ventured to hang over her, as -she sat in one of her sentimental attitudes, it was -with a look of tender melancholy which melted her -very heart. Each believed herself the favorite. -Kate could draw him from his trance of grief, and -Grace was allowed to sympathise with him. He -talked to one of the gayeties of New Orleans—to -the other, of the domestic happiness he had enjoyed -there; and when, at length, he was induced to exercise -his musical talents in their behalf, he played -fandangos on the guitar for the lovely Kate, while he -poured forth the mournful voice of the wailing flute -for her sentimental sister. But, notwithstanding all -her exquisite sensibility, Grace Windlespin beheld -with secret satisfaction the returning cheerfulness of -the bereaved widower. He talked less of departed -joys, and seemed less despairing of future peace. -The miniature of his lost wife was no longer pressed -to his lips with all the fondness of passionate love -whenever his feelings were overpowered by tender -recollections, and, though he still wore it about his -neck, it was suspended upon a <span class='it'>hair chain</span>, the gift of -the gentle Grace, and <span class='it'>presumed</span> to be a tress from her -own chestnut locks, though in reality derived from -the store of a fashionable barber in the neighborhood. -His watch-guard was braided by the hands of the -lovely hoyden who had laughingly promised him her -garter for the purpose; and, in short, each had reason -to suppose herself the true magnet of attraction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But matters were now drawing to a crisis. The -goods were now sent on to New York, and Mr. Montague -received tidings that they had been duly received -by his agent. The certificates of deposit were -negotiated by two of the Wall street brokers, and -Mr. MacDonald, after paying himself, handed to the -young southerner the balance. It became necessary, -therefore, for Mr. Montague to repair to New York, -in order to superintend the shipment of his merchandise, -and he felt himself obliged to settle his “<span class='it'>affaire -du cœur</span>” before his departure.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“How happy could I be with either,</p> -<p class='line0'>   Were t’other dear charmer away,”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>sung the “interesting stranger,” as he reflected upon -his position between the rival beauties. But he -managed with his usual adroitness. The gentle -Grace contrived to secure an uninterrupted interview -with him, and received a proffer of his heart and -hand, both of which gifts she lovingly accepted, together -with a delicate locket, containing some of her -adorer’s raven hair, set in a circlet of aqua-marine -gems—“emblems,” as he said, “of her transparent -guilelessness of character.” A merry game of romps -with Kate afforded him a chance of whispering a declaration -in her ear also, and an elegant diamond -ring, “only less brilliant than her own bright eyes”—to -use his elegant phrase—was received by her as a -pledge of betrothment to Mr. Charles Stuart Montague. -Having arranged these little matters to his -satisfaction, he departed, leaving his flute, his guitar, -and his writing-case, in charge of the ladies until -his return. Meanwhile the sisters—each imagining -she had outwitted the other—kept their own -secret, and patiently awaited the moment when the -lover should return to claim his bride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Scarcely a month had elapsed, however, when intelligence -of a most startling nature was received. -The certificates of deposit, which had been forwarded -by the New York brokers to their agents in New -Orleans, when presented to the bank for payment, -were pronounced to be <span class='it'>forgeries</span>! An inquiry was -immediately instituted respecting Mr. Charles Stuart -Montague, and the result of the investigation was, -that no such person was known to the cashier of the -Sugarcane Bank, and that the signatures to the certificates, -though admirably well executed, were only -<span class='it'>excellent imitations</span> of the rugged characters in which -Mr. Tickler usually traced his name. But the length -of time which was required to ascertain that fact, had -afforded the gentleman full time to complete his -plans. The goods which he had purchased in Buffalo, -had been sold at auction by his confederate, as -soon as they reached New York. Mr. Montague arrived -there in time to divide the spoils; and, instead -of shipping the merchandise, they concluded to ship -<span class='it'>themselves</span> for Texas; while Mr. Windlespin and Mr. -MacDonald, who had endorsed the certificates, were -left to reimburse the brokers, and to pocket their -own loss.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ladies were filled with amazement and grief, -and, in the first overwhelming burst of anguish, revealed -to each other the alarming fact that Mr. Montague -was actually <span class='it'>engaged to marry both</span>! His -writing-case was opened, and found to contain some -rose-tinted note paper—a stick of pink sealing-wax, -and an agate seal, with the impressive motto, “<span class='it'>toujours -fidèle</span>.” But, upon further examination, a private -drawer was discovered, containing the following -letters:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='noindent'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Jack</span>,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why the deuce don’t you get on faster with -your Buffalo scheme? It will cost as much as it is -worth if you stay much longer. I believe you like -the trade of gentleman, for whenever you take it up -you let every thing else hang by the eyelids till you -get into some scrape which drives you ahead. What -do you expect to gain by courting those two girls -when you can’t marry either of them if they were as -rich as Jews? For my part I don’t see the use of playing -the devil when there is nothing to be gained by it. -By the way, I promised to send the enclosed letter as -the only means of preventing Mistress Molly from -advertising you, as she does not know where you are. -I hope you will be duly grateful to</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>“Your friend,</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-top:0.5em;'>“T. M.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The enclosure was still more curious:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“U are a big Scamp and a Blackhearted villin. If -u hav no Kumpashum fur me u mite Hav sum for ure -own Flesh and blude—here I am a Washin and goin -out to dase work to Feed ure seven starvin childer -wile u are a travellin About jist like a jintleman—u -ought to Bee ashamed so u ought and if u dont cum -home and luke after us I will Advertis u in all The -papers. Any Boddy would no u by ure discrepshun -u most insinivatin man—oh wen I think Of ure butiful -Long hare and ure Hansume face I culde forgiv u -every thing only cum back and i will forgiv u and i -will werk fur u agin jist Like i alwase did so as to -Save ure Little wite Hands so no more at present -from ure</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-top:0.5em;'>“afecshunate Mary Mugson.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>About two years after the events just recorded, -Miss Grace Windlespin (who had long since discovered -that her aqua-marine locket, like her sister’s -diamond, was as false as the lover’s heart) was led -to the hymeneal altar, as the phrase is, by a very respectable -<span class='it'>tailor</span>; while Miss Kate had tamed down -her wild spirit so far as to marry a country school-master—an -elderly widower, with several children. -The truth was that Mr. Windlespin’s land speculations -had ended in total ruin, and the ladies had no -time to pick and choose among their admirers, when -they daily feared the exposure of their actual circumstances. -They were married with great parade, however, -and immediately after the ceremony the happy -couples set off on a bridal tour—the two husbands -having no doubt that the father’s wedding gift would -pay all such little extra expenses. Among the places -of note which they visited was the famous Auburn -prison. The time chosen was the hour when the inmates -are usually led out to dinner, and the ladies -stood quietly regarding the gangs of men, who, with -folded arms and locked step, moved forward, as if -with a single impulse, like some complicated machine. -Suddenly Grace uttered a loud shriek, and -threw herself tenderly on her husband’s bosom. One -of the prisoners had dared to look at her as he passed, -and, unobserved by his keeper, had even given her a -knowing <span class='it'>wink</span>. Kate kept her own counsel about it, -and did not appear to notice the insolent look of the -handsome felon; but, notwithstanding his shaven -head and prison garb, she, as well as Grace, had recognised -the features of “the interesting stranger”—the -elegant Mr. Charles Stuart Montague—alias—Jack -Mugson, the swindler!</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='sc'>Brooklyn, L. I.</span></span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk109'/> - -<div><h1><a id='sere'></a>IL SERENADO DI VENICE.</h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='sc'>The</span> sunlight has faded away from the sky,</p> -<p class='line0'>Bright day has departed, the night draweth nigh;</p> -<p class='line0'>Then come to the lattice, love, hither and see,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where waits the gondola, swift-gliding and free.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The moon is uprising in glorious light,</p> -<p class='line0'>Her beams on the waters are trembling and bright;</p> -<p class='line0'>Then haste to thy lattice, love, hither and see,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where waits the gondola, swift-gliding and free.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Not a cloud is above, nor a wave here below,</p> -<p class='line0'>All is quiet and still, save the river’s soft flow;</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh! come to thy lattice, love, hither and see,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where waits the gondola, swift-gliding and free.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Then, away! then, away! let us pass the calm hours,</p> -<p class='line0'>With the sweet words of love, and with Fancy’s fair flowers</p> -<p class='line0'>Ere the rose-fingered morn shall appear and renew</p> -<p class='line0'>The songs of the birds and the pearls of the dew.</p> -<p class='line0'>                                    <span class='sc'>Valeria.</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk110'/> - -<div><h1><a id='shak'></a>SHAKSPEARE.—No. III.</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 THEODORE S. FAY, AUTHOR OF “NORMAN LESLIE,” “THE COUNTESS IDA,” ETC.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>LADY MACBETH.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Shakspeare</span> should be read at least once a year. -This is to the mind what an excursion in the country -is to the body—a strengthening, health-producing -process. Each perusal will not be a repetition of the -preceding. On the contrary, no two perusals will -ever be alike. Read him as <span class='it'>a boy</span>, you will be dazzled -and delighted: read him year by year after, and -you will, with each year, behold beauties, sealed to -you before, from your own comparative narrowness -of mind and want of experience. Each event of your -life will render you fitter to study him. Each new -acquaintance you form—each history you read—each -science you study—each country you travel -into—each step you advance in life—each friend -you lose by treachery or death, will prepare you still -further. Could you go on adding to your experience -much more than has ever (except in Shakspeare’s -own case) been added to that of mortal man, each -new progress would still enlarge your capacity for -appreciating him. All men comprehend him differently. -The king reads him as he would listen to the -princely counsels of a royal father. The beggar may -find in him something applicable to himself, and -something likely to make him happier and wiser, -which he himself had before never thought of—or -of which he had only formed a vague idea. The -statesman—the general—the prince royal—the -husband—the father—the wife—the lover—the -unfortunate—the happy—may all come here, and -carry away, from the boundless reservoir, something -apparently intended for themselves. He seems to -have described or alluded <span class='it'>to every thing</span>. He seems -to have taken in the whole range of human nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Poor <span class='it'>old general Montholon</span>, who was with Napoleon -at St. Helena—one of the most faithful of the -friends who have adhered to the fallen family—is -the companion of the Prince Louis Napoleon, in his -late <span class='it'>invasion</span> of France. Nearly all were very young -men. This white-headed old soldier appeared among -them strangely. Had they succeeded, it was doubtless -their hope to give respectability to their cause -by his presence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The same thing is proposed in Julius Cæsar, by -the conspirators, respecting Cicero.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“<span class='it'>Cassius.</span> But what of Cicero? shall we send him?</p> -<p class='line0'>  I think he will stand very strong with us.</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Casca.</span> Let us not have him out.</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Cinna.</span> No, by no means.</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Metellus.</span> O, let us have him; for his silver hairs</p> -<p class='line0'>  Will purchase us a good opinion,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And buy men’s voices to commend our deeds:</p> -<p class='line0'>  It shall be said his judgment ruled our hands;</p> -<p class='line0'>  Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But all be buried in his gravity.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>I am not going to reprint the beauties of Shakspeare. -Instances like the above—<span class='it'>a case</span>—an -event—a feature of human nature—are so common -that they need not be pointed out. Thousands of -years hence, as the numberless crowd of unexpected -events come on, it will be found that this poet has -already described them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These thoughts occurred to me the other evening -after taking up casually a volume of Macbeth—perhaps -one of the most tremendous portraitures of human -nature that ever came from the pen of man. -The play opened by chance to the scene where the -remorse-haunted queen walks in her sleep. Surely -no human writer ever set down, in the same number -of words, a more terrific picture. It has upon me -almost the effect ascribed to Medusa’s head. It -nearly turns me to stone. We know that but few of -the great Greek tragedies have descended to the -modern reader, but neither in them, nor in any of the -ancient or modern writers, is there a scene more -highly conceived, more perfectly executed, or acting -with more power upon the heart and the imagination. -I have not read any comments or commentators, -German or English, respecting it, and therefore very -probably may omit some of its peculiarities. I think -it <span class='it'>the</span> scene of Macbeth, the climax and moral of the -tragedy, and perhaps the finest and most extraordinary -piece of writing in the whole of the author’s -works. No where in the range of literature is there -to be seen such a frightful fragment of human nature. -I can never read it without feeling the blood grow -cold in my veins, and receiving a most painful heart-sick -impression of the evils which hang over the -mortal state, when not protected by moral and religious -principle; and I can perfectly understand an -anecdote related of Mrs. Siddons, who, on attempting -to study the part alone in her room at night, became -so frightened that she called her maid as a -companion. Perhaps the Shaksperian theorist, who -has discovered that the purpose of our poet’s works -was to make an illustration of the truth of Christianity, -by putting within every man’s, every boy’s -reach the whole compass of experience to be derived -from a hundred eventful lives, had an eye upon this -scene among others. It certainly has to me a profound -metaphysical and religious meaning, and is best -explained by supposing it, like Othello, a gigantic -enigma, of which Christianity is the solution. To -represent human nature thus, without offering any -remedial or softening consideration, was not characteristic -of the sweet, gentle and sunshiny imagination -of the poet. His whole works, taken together, -do not leave any such shadow on the imagination. -He is no misanthrope—no infidel. He points with -his wand to human nature as she is, unguided, unsustained, -unprotected by the Supreme Power. He -draws the blood-stained yet heart-crushed queen, not -to appal us with a danger to which we are subject, -but to point out one which we can avoid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The scene is very short, and I will give it, that the -reader may the more readily understand me.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:0.5em;'><span class='sc'>Act V. Scene I.</span></p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:0.5em;'><span class='it'>Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a Waiting Gentlewoman.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> I have two nights watch’d with you, but can perceive -no truth in your report. When was it she last walk’d?</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Gent.</span> Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen -her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock -her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read -it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this -while in a most fast sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once -the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this -slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, -what, at any time, have you heard her say?</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Gent.</span> That, sir, which I will not report after her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> You may, to me; and ’tis most meet you should.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Gent.</span> Neither to you, nor any one; having no witness to -confirm my speech.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:0.5em;margin-bottom:0.5em;'><span class='it'>Enter</span> <span class='sc'>Lady Macbeth</span>, <span class='it'>with a Taper</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, -upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> How came she by that light?</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Gent.</span> Why, it stood by her; she has light by her continually; -’tis her command.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> You see, her eyes are open.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Gent.</span> Ay, but their sense is shut.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her -hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Gent.</span> It is an accustom’d action with her, to seem thus -washing her hands; I have known her continue in this a -quarter of an hour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Lady.</span> Yet here’s a spot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from -her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Lady.</span> Out, damned spot! out, I say!—One; two; why, -then ’tis time to do ’t; Hell is murky!—Fie, my lord, fie! -a soldier, and afraid? what need we fear who knows it, when -none can call our power to account?—Yet who would have -thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> Do you mark that?</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Lady.</span> The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? -What, will these hands ne’er be clean?—No more o’ that, -my lord, no more o’ that: you mar all with this starting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Gent.</span> She has spoke, what she should not, I am sure of -that: heaven knows what she has known.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Lady.</span> Here’s the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes -of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh!</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> What a sight is there? The heart is sorely charg’d!</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Gent.</span> I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the -dignity of the whole body.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> Well, well, well,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Gent.</span> Pray God, it be, sir.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have -known those which have walked in their sleep, who have -died holily in their beds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Lady.</span> Wash your hands, put on your night-gown; look -not so pale.—I tell you yet again, Banquo’s buried; he -cannot come out of his grave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> Even so?</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Lady.</span> To bed, to bed; there’s knocking at the gate.—Come, -come, come, come, give me your hand; what’s done -cannot be undone: To bed, to bed, to bed. (<span class='it'>Exit Lady.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Doct.</span> Will she go now to bed?</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Gent.</span> Directly.</p> - -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>   <span class='it'>Doct.</span> Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds</p> -<p class='line0'>Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds</p> -<p class='line0'>To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.</p> -<p class='line0'>More needs she the divine, than the physician.—</p> -<p class='line0'>God, God, forgive us all! Look after her;</p> -<p class='line0'>Remove from her the means of all annoyance,</p> -<p class='line0'>And still keep eyes upon her:—So, good-night:</p> -<p class='line0'>My mind she has mated, and amaz’d my sight:</p> -<p class='line0'>I think, but dare not speak.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>   <span class='it'>Gent.</span> Good-night, good doctor. (<span class='it'>Exeunt.</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>There is not <span class='it'>a single word</span> of this scene which can -be spared—not one which is not impregnated with -blood and horror. You feel the very silence of the -sick, midnight apartment. Ye see the pale ashy -countenance of the terror-stricken gentlewoman, and -sympathize with her in having her lot cast in such an -abode of guilt and danger. You see that she has -called up all her energy and presence of mind, as in -a great crisis, to enable her to conduct herself wisely, -and to escape with safety from this den of royal murderers. -You can see her cautious step—as if she -started even at the creaking of her own shoe—the -rustling of her own robe, or the sighing of the wind -around the distant turrets of the castle. You have -here a most admirable character, and, except that -she is but so short a time on the stage, almost as -worthy the genius of Mrs. Siddons as that of Lady -Macbeth herself. Were I a young actress, desirous -of making my appearance before the public, I should -choose to study thoroughly and represent well this -character first,—a very great effect might be given -to it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The doctor is also done to the life. He is, in all -respects, not only the medical man, but the medical -man of coolness and experience. The few words he -utters are full of curiosity, but not of the unbridled -horror of his companion. He has doubtless, before, -witnessed scenes enough of pain and anguish, and he -is at first disposed to consider the gentlewoman as -an exaggerator of the mysteries she professes to have -beheld, and to treat the whole thing physically as a -disease, till the truth becomes too apparent, and even -his cool mind is convinced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lady Macbeth herself is the very <span class='it'>ne plus ultra</span> of -the tragic. She has more terror in her step and eye, -than a mere mortal ever had before. Waking remorse -would not have been, by any means, so appalling. -The fact of her being asleep is a great accessory. -That pale face—those fixed, staring, dead -eyes—the countenance emaciated by disease, and -the long consuming fire of conscience—the step, -solemn, slow, measured and unearthly—and the -dark, dim and shifting imagery of the past, which -floats to and fro through her imagination, form altogether -a spectacle shocking and almost insupportable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Let us take this extraordinary scene to pieces, and -examine a little into its mechanism. One of the -wonders of it is that there is no resort to <span class='it'>style</span>—no -description—no bursts of eloquence—no lava-like -eruption of passions. There are indeed but very few -words said at all. The sick lady has, at first, no terrors -for the doctor, and the gentlewoman has often -beheld the same thing before. There is no stage effect—no -management—no melo-dramatic cunning. -The doctor even shows his coolness and incredulity, -and makes a careless general remark. The transcendant -genius of the poet felt, intuitively, that the -situation of his characters here was so complete as -to absorb the reader, and render unnecessary any but -the simplest language. The whole scene is quiet, -hushed and professional. Even the blank verse of -the rest of the tragedy is laid aside, and the characters -speak in common-place perfectly natural prose. -Let us see what this almost supernatural terror consists -in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The doctor first says, we may suppose with a certain -half unintentional degree of disappointment, that -he has been already watching two nights to see something -which the waiting-woman has reported to him -respecting the queen, and yet he has seen nothing.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive -no truth in your report.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A little impatient, a little incredulous, perhaps, -he adds:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“When was it she last walked?”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is a stroke of nature and probability at the -very outset. It takes from the scene the air of a fiction. -It sends the mind of the spectator back to the -two past long nights, when the doctor, tolerably tired -out, has been watching in vain. This is just as things -happen in life. We have to watch and watch for -every thing—even for the most true—before it appears. -We feel also, even with the first apparently -unimportant word spoken, a certain tremor at the -intimation given of the domestic gloom which must -reign in the royal household—an attack immediately -expected from a powerful and inexorable foe—the -queen sick—mysterious things, we know not what, -hinted with pale face and trembling lips—and the -guilty being, who had sold her eternal soul for her -present position,—we see her <span class='it'>in</span> that position, all -the promised triumphs and pleasures neutralized by -disease and remorse, and she herself <span class='it'>watched</span> by her -servants, night after night, when she little dreams -herself the subject of such a combined inquisition.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gentlewoman relates more particularly what -she has seen, though with a guarded care, which not -every gentlewoman in real life, under such exciting -circumstances, would have the prudence to observe; -but Shakspeare’s people are not only living but very -sensible persons. To the question:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“When was it she last walked?”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>she replies:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Since his majesty went into the field.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Here at once is another stroke. It tells the <span class='it'>occupation</span> -of the king; called to a fearful contest and absorbed -in it, the deadly secret is transpiring unopposed, -undreamed of by him, behind his back, in the -centre of his household, and from the lips of the very -being who has so often taunted his weakness, and -urged him with haughty scorn onward in his guilty -and blood-tracked career. So little power has man -over destiny! Thus is guilt beset. These are the -nameless, unimaginable dangers it runs, when, bold -and self-confident, it thinks itself equal to a contest -with the Deity, who, seated in the clouds, strikes it -with its own arm, and baffles its plans with the toils -it has woven for others.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her -rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock -her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, -afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while -in a most fast sleep.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>There is nothing more appalling to me than a person -walking in his sleep. It is such an image of -death aroused from the grave—such a type of the -spiritual world—such a contrast to the same being -when awake, that I could never look upon my most -intimate friend in such a state without a thrill of fear, -as if I were gazing upon his spectre—without perfectly -comprehending Hamlet’s account of his own -feelings in looking upon a ghost.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>——“and we fools of nature</p> -<p class='line0'>So horribly to shake our disposition</p> -<p class='line0'>With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>This statement of the waiting-woman, so simple, -natural and true, is enough to arouse in a moment the -curiosity of the most indifferent stranger, and to inspire -him with an inexpressible anxiety to know what -it means, and to what it will lead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The doctor, however, is a man of the world, and -is not so easily worked on. He replies with a mere -generality:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the -benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching. In this -slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, -what at any time have you heard her say?”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Here there is a peeping out of curiosity on the part -of the honest physician, who is eager to learn all that -may be acquired of what has the appearance of an -interesting secret. But his companion does not mean -to go further than prudence and self-security require. -She replies at once in a way which, while it balks -curiosity, sharpens its appetite.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“That, sir, which I will not report after her.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>What would any doctor say in such a case?</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“You may to me; and ’tis most meet you should.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>He is aroused. He wishes—he is determined to -know this mystery, and therefore pleads the privilege -and necessity, as well as the prudence of his -profession. “You may tell <span class='it'>any</span> thing to <span class='it'>me</span>. Of -course I shall never reveal. I am the depositary of a -thousand family secrets. Besides, if I am to treat -the patient, I <span class='it'>must</span> know what is the matter with her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the waiting-woman is not going to be driven -from her determination. She has obviously received -<span class='it'>a deep-seated fright</span>. Her whole self-possession is -called up for her defence and guidance. She is a single -woman, in a lonely castle, and in a really awful -position, accidentally the holder of a secret involving -the reputation, if not the life and death of those in -power, and the fate perhaps of nations. Were she to -hint her suspicion that her royal mistress was a murderess—that -the fierce king, now desperate with the -danger impending over his kingdom, had gained the -throne by a foul assassination—how can she be sure -that the doctor will not go to the king and betray -her, to ingratiate himself into the favor of his royal -master? Courts are not the places for too light confidences—particularly -of such secrets. In such case -the truth or falsehood of the statement would be little -inquired into, and she would be probably hurled from -the battlements or immured to starve in some dark -dungeon. She is—you feel she is, quite in earnest, -and quite right to reply:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Neither to <span class='it'>you</span> nor <span class='it'>any one</span>; having no <span class='it'>witness</span> to <span class='it'>confirm -my speech</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk111'/> - -<div><h1><a id='eph'></a>EPHEMERA.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY CHARLES WEST THOMSON.</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'><span class='sc'>Well</span> might weep the sentimental Persian,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Looking o’er his host of armed men,</p> -<p class='line0'>When on Greece he made his wild incursion,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Whence so few might e’er return again.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Well might he weep o’er those countless millions,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Dreaming of the future and the past,</p> -<p class='line0'>As he gazed, amid the gold pavilions</p> -<p class='line0'>  Round his throne, upon that crowd so vast.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Musing, with subdued and solemn feelings,</p> -<p class='line0'>  On the awful thoughts that filled his soul—</p> -<p class='line0'>One of those most terrible revealings</p> -<p class='line0'>  That will sometimes o’er the spirit roll.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thoughts, that of that multitude before him</p> -<p class='line0'>  Panting high for fame—athirst to strive—</p> -<p class='line0'>Ere old Time had sped a century o’er him,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Not, perhaps, would one be left alive.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>That those hearts, now bounding in the glory</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of existence, would be hushed and cold;</p> -<p class='line0'>Not their very names preserved in story,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Nor upon fame’s chronicle enrolled.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>All to earth, their proper home, departed;</p> -<p class='line0'>  Light heart, strong hand, all gone to kindred clay;</p> -<p class='line0'>And, in their vacant room, a new race started,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Careless of the millions past away.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Well might weep he—well might we, in weeping,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Make our offering at sorrow’s call—</p> -<p class='line0'>When we ponder how our days are creeping,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like the shadow on the wall.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>When we think how soon the sun-beam, setting,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Will depart, and leave it all in shade—</p> -<p class='line0'>And our very friends will be forgetting</p> -<p class='line0'>  That the daylight o’er it ever played.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Life, upon a swallow’s wing is flying,</p> -<p class='line0'>  O’er the earth it sparkles and is gone;</p> -<p class='line0'>All our days are but a lengthened dying—</p> -<p class='line0'>  One dark hour before the eternal dawn.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Riches, glory, honor, fame, ambition—</p> -<p class='line0'>  All as swiftly fly, as soon are fled;</p> -<p class='line0'>Or, if gathered, mend they our condition?</p> -<p class='line0'>  What delight can these afford the dead?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Chase no more the phantom of the dreaming—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Weary is the hunt, the capture vain;</p> -<p class='line0'>When thy arms embrace the golden seeming,</p> -<p class='line0'>  It will vanish from thy grasp again.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Trouble not thy heart with anxious carings—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thou art but a shadow—so are they;</p> -<p class='line0'>Let the things of Heaven deserve thy darings,</p> -<p class='line0'>  They alone will never pass away.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk112'/> - -<div><h1><a id='with'></a>WITH THEE.</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. C. H. W. ESLING.</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'><span class='sc'>With</span> thee, at dewy morn where e’er I wander,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Are my fond thoughts—still close to thee they cling;</p> -<p class='line0'>O’er each departed hour they love to ponder,</p> -<p class='line0'>  That, pass’d with thee, seem’d like the hours of spring.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Yes—every vanish’d joy is like a treasure</p> -<p class='line0'>  Glean’d from the mighty casket of the past,</p> -<p class='line0'>Dearer than low-breathed music’s echoed measure,</p> -<p class='line0'>  When its soft spell around our souls is cast.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>With thee at noon, when summer winds are stealing</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thro’ the green leaves in harp-tones rich and sweet,</p> -<p class='line0'>On the bright sward in lowly homage kneeling,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With thee my prayers—my prayers of fondness meet.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>What tho’ mine eye thro’ dreary distance faileth</p> -<p class='line0'>  In its deep search to hail thy welcome form?</p> -<p class='line0'>What tho’ my cheek thro’ long, long watching fadeth,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And my sad heart leaps not so freshly warm?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Still unto thee no eyes beam brighter lustre,</p> -<p class='line0'>  No vermeil cheeks thy early love’s outshine;</p> -<p class='line0'>Around no heart do richer feelings cluster,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Than swell in that which is so wholly thine.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Why do I mourn that mountain billows sever?</p> -<p class='line0'>  Vain may they strive our spirits to divide,</p> -<p class='line0'>For am I not, mine own one, with thee ever?</p> -<p class='line0'>  E’en as thou art forever at my side.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk113'/> - -<div><h1><a id='wicc'></a>WICCÓNSAT.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>A LEGEND OF ST. MARY’S.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. MARY M. FORD.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>On</span> the eastern bank of a small river, which enters -the Potomac a few miles above its confluence with -the waters of the Chesapeake Bay, are still to be -seen vestiges of the earliest settlement in Maryland; -once the village of Youcómaco, but quietly yielded -by the natives to the white colonists, who there built -a town, calling it St. Mary’s. Subsequent events led -to its desertion for a more advantageous location, and -the ravages of time have left little to tell of its former -state. It has faded away, unnoticed and unsung, yet -its name is still seen on the older maps of our country. -The river, which once bore the appellation of St. -George’s, is now called St. Mary’s, but whether in -memory of the deserted town, or not, is uncertain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ruins are happily so scarce in our young and -thriving republic, that the simple legend which gives -a name to my story, may awaken some interest among -those, to whose imaginations the solitary remains of -the past seem to speak in the breathings of the winds -that sweep over their ruins. The circumstances -which led to its narration, by one who had heard it -in the mother country, and in whose family its -memory had been handed down, were as follows:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Many years ago, as the last lingering sunbeams -were fading from the sky, giving place to the mellow -twilight; and a ruddy tinge was on the bosom of the -waters, where the little river of St. Mary’s mingled -its tributary stream with the waves of the broad -Potomac; a small vessel had just anchored within -the mouth of the former river, on which is established -a port of entry. The craft seemed awaiting the boarding -officer, who, at a point further up the river, was -just entering his boat. He appeared very young, and, -from the open gaiety of his fine countenance, seemed -to enjoy corresponding lightness of heart. He raised -a small telescope to his eye, and exclaimed to the two -colored men who were loosening the boat—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must be a Yankee schooner; be quick Basil! -Luke!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, aye, Massa Frank,” replied Luke, “all -ready—that’s an eastern craft, sure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The light barge was soon on the waves, and the -youth took the helm, while the strong arm of his -companions were engaged with the oars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The visitors approached the vessel’s side almost -unperceived; and when the young officer ascended to -its deck, he found the captain anxiously absorbed in -examining an old map, which was spread out before -him. The expression of his weather-beaten face, as -he raised it to return the salutation of his visitor, -showed evident signs of being puzzled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where are you from?” inquired the landsman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From Plymouth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What cargo?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, a good many notions, of which you will -know presently.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And whither bound?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why that’s what I’m looking for on this old map, -for I see nothing like it on shore; aye, here it is, St. -Mary’s, the town of St. Mary’s, sir.”<a id='r2'/><a href='#f2' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[2]</span></sup></a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is no such town in the state, sir,” replied -the youth, “this river and the county bear that name; -there is some mistake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Massa captain clear out for de county,” said Basil, -grinning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“De boss lose his reckoning dis time,” rejoined -Luke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be more respectful, and return to the boat,” said -the young officer, checking their glee; then turning -to the captain, he continued, “This map is an old -one; there was formerly a town named St. Mary on -this river—it was the first settlement in the state, -and built in the time of the Calverts, but it has passed -away and been forgotten for a century.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The disappointed face of the mariner was not the -only one agitated by the news. The sailors belonging -to the vessel had joined the group, and their rough -appearance was strongly contrasted with the tall and -elegant figure of a passenger, who had been drawn by -the conversation from the cabin, and now stood leaning -against the companion way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The young Marylander, who had not before perceived -the stranger, thought, as he returned his -salutation, that he had seldom looked on a countenance -so interesting. It was youthful, but there was -a shade of melancholy on the fine features, which, -however, served only to confine, not hide the flashes -of an enthusiastic spirit, which glanced from his full -dark eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are out of soundings, Mr. Egerton,” said the -captain, “I might as well have cleared out for a port -in the moon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The fault was mine, sir,” replied the person called -Egerton, “and I regret having thus led you astray;” -then, turning to the young American, he continued, -“The disappointment is also great to me, sir, for the -haven we sought was the home of my forefathers. I -am a stranger in this country, having lately arrived -from England. On landing at Plymouth I found this -schooner loading for a southern port—and, wishing -to visit Maryland immediately, I induced this worthy -but too obliging man to bring the cargo hither. The -silence of history has left the annals of Maryland so -much in the shadow, that a foreigner feels doubtful -whether a literal construction should be put on the -desertion of a town, particularly when your port of -entry also bears the name of St. Mary’s.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” interrupted the captain, smiling, “don’t -feel uneasy about me, for the cargo is of that accommodating -nature which will suit another town as well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The customary business was soon despatched, and -the officer was leaving the vessel, but his eye lingered -on the interesting stranger. There was something in -his appearance that won his heart, and, after a moment’s -hesitation he thus spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This seems to have been your place of destination, -Mr. Egerton. Will you excuse the blunt freedom -of an American, if I ask you to accompany me -to the shore? My uncle’s dwelling is in sight. I act -as his deputy in official business, but with much more -pleasure I use another privilege, and tender you the -hospitalities of his roof. Although the town, the -principal object of your visit, is no more, yet if you -can content yourself a few days with us, you can explore -the ruins. Oakford is the name of my uncle. I -bear the same, with the simple addition of Frank.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stranger caught his offered hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I feel grateful for your kindness,—the ruins! -did you say? It would indeed be a gratification to -view them—I will, with pleasure, avail myself of -your polite invitation; the ruins! are they extensive?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no,” replied young Oakford, smiling, “there -are but few relics left by time and weather—some -remains of walls and foundations—but the most interesting -are the ruins of an ancient church—among -whose dilapidated pews a respectable audience of -weeds have accumulated.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Weeds, growing in the holy temple of my fathers! -what a sublime yet sad subject for reflection! I must -see them!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The young American again smiled at his companion’s -enthusiasm; and, as the shadows of evening -were fast closing around them, he hurried his new -friend in his preparations to leave the vessel. The -good-natured captain declined an invitation to accompany -them, as he had made arrangements to continue -his voyage farther—and, cordially shaking the hand -of his departing passenger, refused to receive any -extra compensation for the trouble occasioned. The -rough, but kind-hearted sailors also refused, but the -generous feelings of the young man were not to be -checked thus, and he forced into their unwilling hands -the expression of his thanks, as he took a kind leave -of them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Darkness had veiled the landscape when the boat -reached the shore, and the warm-hearted Marylander, -drawing the arm of the young stranger within his, hurried -him up the long avenue leading to the mansion, -assuring him that his uncle would be as much gratified -as himself by this acquisition to their society. -“So, feel perfectly at ease, for we southerners use -very little ceremony.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The event proved it so, for Col. Oakford, a fine -looking man, just past the meridian of life, received -him with that easy politeness and frank cordiality of -manner which relieved him from all embarrassment. -He soon discovered that his guest possessed high -literary attainments—and, enjoying those advantages -himself, the conversation became interesting, -and they parted at the hour of rest, mutually pleased -with each other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning arose in clouds and rain. “No -<span class='it'>ruins</span> to-day,” said the young Briton, as they met in -the breakfast room. But, although the weather prevented -any outward excursion, a well filled library -offered a pleasing substitute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Young hearts soon assimilate, and friendships in -early life are quickly formed—hence, when the sun -at last broke through the clouds, on the evening of -the third day, the two youths felt on terms of intimacy -and attachment. On the fourth morning, the -lively Frank aroused his friend before sunrise, to -view, what he imagined must be to him, a novel and -imposing sight. They descended to the open piazza, -and young Egerton looked around in vain to discover -the woods, the hill, the river; all was enveloped in a -thick fog, and had the appearance of a surrounding -lake. At this moment the sun rose, and the vapor -broke on the bosom of the stream.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See,” said Frank, “the river is throwing off his -night robes—observe how gracefully he rolls and -folds them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Huge white sheets of vapor were indeed majestically -receding down the current; others floated like -snow wreaths on the hills of the opposite shore—the -green sides of which, were at intervals visible through -the breaking mist, and seemed struggling beneath its -might. In gradual succession the forests and dwellings -of men appeared, and in a few minutes this -atmospheric envelope was lost in the increasing -warmth of the sun’s beams.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How singular and beautiful,” said the stranger. -“Is it often thus?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very frequently; at some seasons each morning -renews the scene; but you are not very robust, and -must be content to view it seldom, for this recreation -is far from healthy. The poets of your native isle -may sing of ‘walks at early dawn, through dewy -meads,’ but such strolls would make a short life -here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On entering the parlor they met the Colonel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What think you of the night bath which these -lowlands take?” said he, smiling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That the morning effect is beautiful,” replied -Egerton, “but the whole must be injurious to health.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are right, it is ever so to strangers, but we, -who are sons of the mist, fear no harm from our native -atmosphere. Yet do not think this characteristic of -our general climate. On the contrary, the northern -states, with their rock-bound sea coasts, have a clear -bracing atmosphere; the middle states, also, with -their varied surface of mountain and valley, and most -parts of the southern, are equally healthy. Our own -upper counties, and the neighboring inlands, or forest -places, as we term them, are not sickly. It is only -where the land is low, and as bountifully supplied -with bays, inlets and streams as here, that this effect -takes place; but see, ‘aunt Nora’ waits with the -breakfast.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The aged colored housekeeper, called by this familiar -appellation, had been the faithful nurse of the -Colonel’s infancy, and, in return, was treated by him -with great kindness. She was busied at a little table, -in a corner of the room, from which she despatched, -by the younger hands of her grandson, Luke, to a -larger table in the centre of the apartment, the fine -coffee, and more solid comforts of a Maryland breakfast, -of which the young friends hastily partook, and -then made arrangements for their visit to the <span class='it'>ruins</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The boat was soon in readiness, and they set out, -accompanied by Basil and Luke. As the light bark -glided along the shore, Frank pointed out several -places endeared by the recollections of his childhood. -Through an opening in the trees peeped the unobtrusive -walls dedicated to country learning, with its -play ground, so often the scene of his boyish gambols, -and its clear spring under the shade of a sycamore -near the river, where a solitary cow was now -stooping to drink.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See, Frank,” cried his friend, “she is profaning -your Helicon fount!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, let her drink, Egerton,” he replied, “for, as -she is not likely to draw more romantic inspiration -than <span class='it'>I</span> did from its waters, the spring will lose none -of its power from her draught.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you have gained what is worth more, sentiments -pure and disinterested, with a mind happy and -free. ’Tis true, you seldom make reminiscences—but, -if you were like me, an orphan, and a native of a -clime where, at every step, you meet some relic of -the past, you would feel differently. Your country -has but a short path to retrace, and is too young to -boast of olden days.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And yet,” replied Frank, archly smiling, “there -were times to which we might refer, as equal to any -that shed glory on ancient chivalry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Granted, and the treasure they left you may well -render you careless of other relics.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Many thanks for your liberality, my dear friend,” -said Frank, “and now for the <span class='it'>ruins</span>.” As he spoke, -the direction of the boat was changed, and they swiftly -crossed the river. Egerton sprang first on land, and -was soon deeply engaged in examination, but found -Frank’s words too true. Time and weather had -indeed been ruthless ravagers; besides, it appeared -that many materials had been removed, perhaps to -repair the cottages of the neighboring poor. But -some remains of what seemed to have been the walls -of a large store house, part of an embankment where -once had stood a fort, pits filled with rubbish, which -had been cellars, and crumbled walls, with here and -there a fallen chimney, gave melancholy testimony to -the change. Nor had the church met a better fate. -The broken in roof still clung to the shattered wall on -one side only, and hung like a dark banner, half suspended -over the desolation below; the decayed floor -had descended into the mournful cemetery beneath, -leaving some of the baseless seats clinging to the side -wall. Weeds, too, were there, whose flowers seemed -to bloom in mockery. In the sad home of the buried -dead all was confusion, broken tombs, and heaps of -rubbish. The young Briton sat down on a fragment -of the ruined wall, and Frank shared in the melancholy -of his friend, as they viewed the desolate scene. -Egerton at length broke silence. “You have, no -doubt, wondered at the deep interest I feel with regard -to these ruins. Many circumstances have led -to it, particularly a little tale related to me by a -maiden aunt, to which I listened with great delight -in childhood; and when, in after years, I was deprived -of my beloved parents, I would sometimes -beguile my sorrows by a recurrence to its sad remembrance. -Thus it became more interesting to -me, and I soon felt a desire to visit the location of -scenes so connected with my family, and with the -fate of an Indian chief of the Youcómaco tribe, called -Wiccónsat, the principal subject of the legend. If it -will give you any pleasure, I will relate it while we -rest on these sad ruins.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Really, my dear friend,” replied Frank, “I feel -almost as sentimental as yourself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I will take advantage of your serious mood -and commence my simple tale.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Among the early settlers at St. Mary’s, were the -parents of Rosalie Egerton. She was an only daughter -and beautiful. An accomplished mother had -taught her many things of which few other females -of the colony could boast. She accompanied her -harp with the songs of distant lands, and with her -needle embroidered scenes from the old world. Yet -she loved to wander amidst the wild grandeur of her -native forests, accompanied only by her little brother, -for the neighboring Indians were harmless and -friendly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wiccónsat was the son of an aged chief of the -Youcómacoes. He was tall and elegantly formed, -and straight as an arrow from his quiver. Mild and -contemplative, he became a favorite among the settlers, -from whom he learned not only to read and -write, but many of their useful arts. But he had listened -to the breathings of Rosalie’s harp, as he lingered -near her dwelling, and had gazed after her fair -form, as she wandered in the forest, until the Indian’s -life had lost all charms for him. The smile of happy -youth had fled, and when he sought his father’s wigwam, -his eye was sad and restless. The old chief -saw with sorrow the change.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘A spell hath come o’er thee, Wiccónsat,’ he -kindly said; ‘my son is no longer the same. When -in childhood I first saw thy little hands bend the -bow, I fondly thought thou would’st rival the hunting -fame of thy father, and, when age had weakened my -strength, should danger threaten our tribe, thou -would’st head the chiefs in combat. The locks of -Orrouiska are now gray, and his hand feeble. The -supplies of his wigwam are scanty, for his son lingers -among the better habitations of strangers. But -I know thy secret. Thy hopeless love is placed on -the fairest of the white fawns, one as far above thy -reach as was the rainbow of yesterday. For though -the son of a once powerful chief, the poorest of the -pale faces would reject thy alliance. Then arouse -thee, Wiccónsat, and despise their pride. The Great -Spirit made us all equal, and the brightest of our Indian -maidens would be proud of thy love. If thou -dost prefer the plough of the white man to the bow of -the hunter, ’tis well, but turn the furrow in thy own -fields.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The youth answered not, but with a deep sigh, -taking his quiver full of arrows, went out to the -chase. He wandered on through the forest, forgetful -of his first intention, until he found himself near the -river’s bank, and by the dwelling of Rosalie, and -soon beheld the maiden, with her little brother, in a -small boat, which they had contrived to move out a -few yards into the deep water. As she arose to -reach some blossoms from the overhanging trees, her -balance was lost, and she fell into the stream. In a -moment the young Indian had plunged in to her relief, -and bore her in safety to the bank. The cries -of her brother had alarmed the family, who hurried -to the river, and Wiccónsat, yielding his lovely burthen -to her parents’ arms, hastened to escape from -their grateful acknowledgments, to enjoy in solitude -the delightful feelings that crowded his heart. It -seemed a new era in his existence, and fairy dreams -floated in his imagination. With buoyant and unwearied -footsteps he pursued the chase, and returned -to his father’s cabin loaded with the choicest game, -the reward of his toil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Come, dear Oskwena,’ said he to his young sister, -who ran to welcome him, ‘prepare a feast for -our father, while I dress these skins, to make a softer -couch for his aged limbs.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Gladly, brother,’ she replied, ‘but hast thou -brought me any beads or ornaments from the colony?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘No, thou art too good and comely to need these -trifles. Thy lover will prize thee more without -them.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Thou art mistaken, brother, for Potawissa loves -to see my dark hair braided with beads, and their -bright strings encircling my neck. Thy talk will do -for the white fawns, with their cheeks like the wild -rose and foreheads like the mountain snow; but the -darker hue of Indian maids wants other ornaments.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Thou hast well described the white fawns, sister,’ -answered the young chief, ‘and shalt indeed -have a gay necklace; but thou hast never heard the -song of her who is brightest among them. Why the -blest sounds on the air, which are said to call our -fathers to the spirit-land on high, are not sweeter.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Hush, hush,’ cried Oskwena, ‘how canst thou -talk thus? I would not hear her strain, for it hath -sadly altered thee.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The bright visions of Wiccónsat were soon dispelled, -for, with the next vessel from England, arrived -a young relative of Rosalie’s family, who -brought news of their having succeeded to an estate -in their native country, to take possession of which -they now made preparations to leave America. The -charms of the maiden made an immediate impression -on the heart of the young and accomplished Briton. -His amiable qualities soon won her love, and, with -the approval of her parents, it was arranged that -their marriage should take place on their arrival in -England.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The sad intelligence soon reached Wiccónsat, to -whom the grateful family had shown many marks of -attachment, little suspecting the sorrows they were -preparing for the youthful chief. They knew not -the secret homage of his heart, for its trembling -hopes had never been breathed to the beautiful object -of his love. In the innocence of grateful friendship, -she presented him with an embroidered belt -worked by her own hands, and assured him that she -would never forget her generous preserver.—But -when the day of their departure had arrived, and -sorrowful friends crowded the vessel’s deck to take -their last farewell, Wiccónsat was not there. Rosalie -and her parents shed tears of regret, as the sails were -spreading to waft them from their happy American -home, and as their eyes sought its peaceful roof, they -discovered near it, on a point of the river’s shore, the -solitary figure of the young chief. It was at this -spot he had rescued the maiden from a watery grave. -She eagerly waved her white handkerchief in token -of farewell, and the next moment saw the belt she -had given him, floating on the air in a returning -adieu. In a few minutes the vessel parted from the -shore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Many years after this, an interesting youth, accompanied -by his tutor, arrived at St. Mary’s, from -England. I know not in what state they found the -town, but the youth’s first inquiries were for an Indian -chief, called Wiccónsat, who had in early years -saved the life of his mother. He was shown a lonely -wigwam, on a point near the river. James Egerton, -for it was my great grandfather, took an early -opportunity of visiting it, but first inquired into the -present character of its inmate. ‘He is mild and -peaceful,’ said his informant, ‘and is sometimes called -the Indian Hermit, for he seldom appears abroad -except when hunting or fishing. He has lived thus -for many years, is always melancholy, and dislikes -the visits of the curious: ’Tis thought some misfortune -in his youth has led him to prefer solitude.’—Thus -informed, the young James proceeded to the -river’s side. From description, he knew where had -stood the home of his mother’s children, but sighed -to perceive it in ruins, and leaning on a fragment of -the broken wall, plucked a leaf from the vine that -still clung to it, then, with lingering footsteps, sought -the point. Seated on a rustic bench at the door of the -cabin was a figure which he knew must be the chief, -for he raised his tall, majestic form, and advanced to -meet him, but paused suddenly, and gazed earnestly -and inquiringly on his face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The youth felt abashed, but with some effort -addressed him: ‘Excuse this intrusion, good chief; -I am the son of her, whose life you once saved.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The recluse caught his offered hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘And art thou indeed her child? oh! yes, that -eye, that smile had awoke my memory before you -spoke. Welcome art thou to the desolate Wiccónsat.’ -After some conversation, the youth drew from -his bosom two small books, richly bound, and presented -them as tokens of remembrance from his mother. -The chief pressed them to his lips. ‘These will -beguile many lonely hours, but, oh! hadst thou but -brought me one lock of her hair. It was the colour -of thine,’ he added, as he passed his hand over the -rich brown curls of the son of Rosalie. ‘Alas! good -chief,’ he replied, ‘sorrow, rather than time, has -robbed those locks of their beauty. Death has bereaved -my beloved mother of her parents and of several -children. I alone survive.’ ‘And can sorrow -reach one so good? Then why should I repine?—From -this point, dear boy, I saw thy mother and her -parents depart, and here I raised my lonely habitation. -For years, I indulged the vain hope of their -return, and whenever I saw a large vessel enter the -river, I silently mingled with the crowd on the shore. -But wearied hope has long since fled, memory alone -remains.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘And yet you may again behold my parents, for -it is their intention to visit Maryland in a short time.’ -Surprise and joy beamed in the countenance of the -Indian, and from that hour he continued cheerful, but -his greatest present enjoyment arose from the frequent -visits of his young friend, to whom he daily -became more attached. ’Tis true, the tutor of James -disapproved of his spending so much time with one -whom he considered an untutored savage, but the -warm-hearted boy knew his Indian favorite to be -possessed of pure and lofty principles, with noble and -generous feelings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wiccónsat now mingled once more with the white -inhabitants, and pointed out to the inquiring youth -whatever was interesting. The remains of the Indian -village were still visible, and the few chiefs that -visited the town still fondly called it Youcómico. -But their tribe had removed to a greater distance, -and there was now little communication between -them and the colonists.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Several months elapsed and the time drew near -when the young Briton expected once more to embrace -his parents. They had informed him, by letter, -of their intention to embark on board the Huntress, -which would sail in two weeks, and nearly a -month had passed since the reception of this letter. -It was probable then, that they were near the American -coast.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here the narrator paused.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why do you not proceed?” asked Frank.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because I think it will be better to finish the story -as we return. It grows late, and I wish to gather -some little remembrance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From various parts of the ruins he now selected -something to carry with him, and was loading Basil -and Luke with similar trophies, who appeared to -place little value on them, as they dropped some at -every step. At length they returned to the boat, in -which they deposited the cumbrous relics, and left -the shore. But a new object excited the curiosity of -Egerton, and, with a look of entreaty, he turned to -his friend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have been very patient and kind, dear Frank, -and now we are in the boat, let us go a little further -up the river! That point above must be the spot on -which stood the wigwam of Wiccónsat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will find it a difficult matter to prove that,” -returned Frank, “however, we will go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a good place for fishing,” said Basil, “and -we have a line.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first object that struck their view on landing -at the point, was a collection of half decayed boards.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See here! conviction strong!” cried the delighted -Egerton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense,” said Frank, “they are the remains -of some old fishing hut or flat boat. Indian wigwams -are not made of boards.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How incredulous you are,” returned his friend. -“Surely the melancholy chief had been long enough -among white men to adopt their materials.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well, shall we load the boat with them as -relics?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are jesting; but I should really like to rebuild -it, if we had time. Where are Basil and Luke?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“More profitably employed—fishing; but we will -return in a day or two, and try whether a wigwam -can be made of it.” The young Briton had seated -himself on one of the boards, and seemed lost in contemplation, -while Frank quietly withdrew to see the -luck of the fishers—who, in the meantime, had not -forgotten the two youths, but, in their simple phrase, -were discussing the point at issue:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, Old Nora could tell him plenty about the -Ingens,” said Basil, “for her grandmother told her, -and she saw a power of ’em in her time—but he only -seems to care about one—and I can’t say I ever -heard Nora go over such a strange name as that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They were smart, them chiefs, in their time,” -observed Luke, “for they say our folks learned to -make the canoes from ’em, and I’d put ’em against -any boat that swims.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But they won’t hold much of a crew, Luke, let -alone passengers, and as there’s four of us, and a -heavy load of Massa Egerton’s nelics, as he calls -them; besides, it’s lucky we’ve got something bigger -to float home in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their angling had not been very successful in the -short time they had engaged in it, and at Frank’s -request, the boat was again put in readiness for their -departure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once more on the water, Frank reminded his friend -of the promised conclusion of his story.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought you had forgotten it,” replied Egerton, -smiling, “but I will with pleasure gratify you. I -believe we left my ancestor expecting the early arrival -of his parents at St. Mary’s, and I will now proceed -to give you the other portion of the legend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One evening, after his usual visit to the wigwam, -James was slowly returning to his lodgings. Lost in -thought, he did not at first perceive that heavy clouds -were gathering in the sky, but the sudden darkness -made him quicken his pace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘You are late this evening, Master James,’ said -his tutor, as he met him at the door, ‘you waste a -great deal of time with that wild Indian, and I am -glad your parents are coming to take charge of you.’ -‘I am glad too,’ thought his pupil, but he did not say -so, and soon after retired to rest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The sleep of innocent youth is ever sound, and a -severe storm which arose had been raging some time -before it broke his deep slumber.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He started from his pillow, and his first thoughts -were fears for his parents’ safety. The wind roared -fearfully, and the rain beat in torrents against his -chamber window. He looked out on the thick darkness -that obscured every object, and his heart sunk -within him at the dreary view. Overcome with the -distress of his feelings, he leaned against the casement, -and gave vent to the friendly tears that often -relieve the sadness of boyhood. Suddenly a faint -and distant flash of light broke through the gloom. -It was gone, but a sound followed which, even amid -the howling of the storm, could not be mistaken. It -struck on the ear of the weeping boy, with startling -certainty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It is, oh! yes, it is a signal gun of distress, oh! -my mother! my father!’ and sinking on his knees, -he breathed an agonized prayer for their safety, then -starting to his feet, he hastily threw on his clothes, -and hurried down stairs without knowing his object. -The house stood near the river, and on opening the -door he saw some person moving along the bank. He -approached; it was the chief. ‘Is it you, Wiccónsat? -oh! what a night!’ The Indian pressed his hand in -gloomy silence, and stood in a listening attitude, with -his face turned towards that part of the horizon from -whence the flash had appeared. Another gleamed -across the dismal night, and the sullen peal that followed, -fell, like the bolt of death, on their hearts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It is a call for aid,’ exclaimed the chief, ‘and -perhaps thy mother’s life is in danger.’ ‘And my -father’s too,’ added the shuddering boy. ‘Alas! -Wiccónsat, what can we do?’ ‘I follow that light,’ -he answered, as the flash of another minute gun -shone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Oh! take me then with you, good chief, leave -me not here in suspense!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Alas! my boy, this stormy night ill suits thy -tender frame. Wait thou till morning breaks, then -thou canst follow with some of the townsmen. The -light seems near the mouth of the Potomac.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Who speaks below,’ said the tutor’s voice from -the window; ‘surely, Master James, you are not out -on such a night?’ ‘Indeed I am,’ replied the youth, -‘there is a vessel in distress, it may be the Huntress, -in which my parents are expected; surely I cannot -sleep now.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Well, well, if that’s the case, it’s bad enough, -but I think it’s not probable; however, I’ll be down -directly.’ By this time several of the neighbours had -joined them, and they determined to proceed in the -supposed direction of the vessel. By the first dawn -of light they found themselves on the shore of the -Potomac river, near its entrance into the Chesapeake -Bay. The rain had ceased, and daylight, as it broke -from the clouded east, shewed to their anxious gaze, -a dismasted vessel, which appeared in a wrecked and -sinking state. Two boats, crowded with the crew -and passengers, were seen contending with the raging -waves, endeavouring to reach the land. Some water -casks which had been washed on shore, were eagerly -examined by the distressed James, to discover the -name of the vessel. It met his eye, and with a cry of -terror he threw himself into the arms of the Indian.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It is the Huntress! oh! Wiccónsat! my parents -will be lost!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Hast thou no confidence in the Great Being thy -mother worships?’ he softly said, as he pressed him -to his breast, but his eye was fairly fixed on one of the -boats, in which he thought he could distinguish the -garments of a female. The foaming waters seemed -to threaten instant destruction to the frail barques, as -they tost from wave to wave, sometimes half hid in -the surf that broke over them. At this moment a -mingled cry reached the shore, and but one boat was -seen, the other was ’whelmed beneath the waters. -Wiccónsat broke from the clinging arms of the youth, -and plunged into the waves. For some time he was -lost to their view, but his strong and sinewy arms -forced a passage to the scene of distress, and in a short -time he was seen returning, supporting, with one arm, -the form of a female. The young James, who had -been forcibly withheld from following, now rushed to -meet him, and Rosalie (for it was she) opened her -eyes to be clasped to the bosom of her son. She lived, -she breathed, and the first word that trembled on her -lips was the name of her husband. Scarcely had she -spoken, ere the generous chief had again thrown -himself into the waves. But his strength was exhausted -by previous exertion, and when, with difficulty, -he had nearly reached the overturned boat to -which the husband of Rosalie, with others, now clung, -a floating piece of the ship’s mast struck him on the -temple. In the mean time, the other boat had safely -landed its crew, and was despatched to the aid of the -sufferers, who were all, with the exception of two, -saved.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rosalie had been conveyed to the nearest house, -and restoratives were applied, which soon brought -her to a state of recollection. She recognized with -joy, the form of her husband, as he knelt by the side -of her couch, and pressed, with a mother’s fondness, -the hand of her affectionate son. But her eyes wandered -around the room as if in search of another object. -‘It was a dream then,’ she murmured, ‘it was -not his, but thy dear arm that drew thy mother from -the waves.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Alas! no, it was he, the generous and the good,’ -replied her son.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Wiccónsat! brave chief! but why those looks of -anguish; is this, my son, a time for sorrow, when -Heaven has been so kind? And my preserver, where -lingers he?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Where his bright virtues will be best rewarded,’ -replied her husband, solemnly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘What mean you? Surely he is safe.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘He perished in an attempt to save my life.’ She -heard no more, for she had fainted in the arms of her -son, and it was long ere she revived, to mingle with -theirs her tears of unavailing regret.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In the afternoon the body of the generous Indian -was washed on shore. With every mark of respect -it was conveyed to the town, and preparations made -for its interment on the following day at the point, in -a spot once pointed out, by the chief, to young Egerton. -The grief of this affectionate boy burst without -restraint, as he leaned over the body of his departed -friend, and his tears flowed afresh, when he was -shown a folded paper, which had been found in his -bosom. It was wet through, and contained the faded -belt, the treasured gift of Rosalie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Intelligence of the sad event was conveyed to the -sister of the chief, and the next day, accompanied by -her husband and sons, and several warriors of the -Youcómaco tribe, Oskwena arrived, just as the funeral -procession was moving to the grave. Time had -altered this once beautiful daughter of the forest; -there was a mildness in her look of grief, as she left -the canoe, and led by her two sons, approached the -open grave, where, seating herself by its side, she silently -awaited the mournful train that bore her brother -to his last home. She uttered a faint cry as her -eye rested on the coffin, and her whole frame shook -with agitation, when it was lowered from her sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The chiefs arranged themselves in gloomy silence -around the grave of him, who, in early youth, had -been the boast of their tribe, and heard, rather than -listened, to the funeral service. It was scarcely ended, -when the hitherto restrained grief of Oskwena -burst forth. She tore from her dishevelled locks the -rude ornaments of her tribe, scattering them on the -ground, but a necklace of beads she retained in her -hand, and wept bitterly as she looked on it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It was thy gift, Wiccónsat,’ said the mourner, -‘thy face glowed with youth and hope on the happy -day thou gavest it. Our aged father blessed his children, -for he had not then passed to the spirit-land -above. The beads are bright yet, but thou art faded -and gone. I can gaze on them no more, they shall -be hid with thee,’ and she dropped them into the -grave. The spectators looked on her with pity and -disturbed her not, as in a low voice she chaunted a -wild funeral melody. When she ceased, several young -maidens of St. Mary’s, arrayed in white, approached, -and scattered flowers around the grave. The oldest -son of Oskwena stood, with his father, among the -chiefs. To him the beauty of the white maidens was -new, for he had never before been allowed to visit the -town.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Who are they?’ he asked, eagerly leaning forward, -but then the stern Potawissa drew him back, as -he replied in a low voice, ‘It matters not, it is enough -that they cannot be aught to thee. Look not on -their fatal beauty, but let that lonely grave warn thee -of danger. It was hopeless love for a pale face like -theirs, that induced thy mother’s brother to forsake -the tribe that idolized him; to lead a life of solitude, -and at last to perish for her sake. And now he sleeps -not with the bones of his fathers, and the talk of the -white man is heard by his grave, instead of the bold -death song of our chiefs. Nay, thou art gazing still; -turn from them boy,’ and suddenly drawing him -round, he held him firmly until the fair group had retired. -A faint shriek from Oskwena drew his attention. -He saw the attendants were filling up the grave, -and hastened to remove her sinking form. In a few -minutes the crowd had dispersed, the chiefs again -entered their boats, and young Egerton, with his father, -alone remained on the silent shore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The family remained but a short time in Maryland, -for the health of Rosalie had sustained a shock -from which it never recovered. She faded before the -agonized view of her husband and son, and died shortly -after their return to England. As one of their -descendants, I have long wished to visit the scene of -their sorrows, and in doing so, I have formed a friendship -which, believe me, dear Frank, will always be -cherished in my heart. The kind hospitality of your -good uncle made me forget I was a stranger, and -though we must part in a few days, time or distance -will never erase the remembrance of my American -friends.”</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'>A fact.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk114'/> - -<div><h1><a id='sonn'></a>SONNETS.</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 HENRY B. HIRST.</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'>              GERTRUDE.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>There is a sweet expression in thy face,</p> -<p class='line0'>  My gentle one! leading the thoughts away</p> -<p class='line0'>  From earthliness, and this vile orb of clay,—</p> -<p class='line0'>Bidding my spirit in its yearnings trace</p> -<p class='line0'>Something immortal in the beauties there!</p> -<p class='line0'>  I do not worship loveliness—but look</p> -<p class='line0'>  On woman’s face, as on a speaking book,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where God hath stamped his image clear and fair!</p> -<p class='line0'>And thine is one so radiant of him,</p> -<p class='line0'>  So calm and pure, one cannot fail to see</p> -<p class='line0'>  Such purity of soul portrayed in thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>That other faces by thy side grow dim,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And, bowing down unto thy brighter worth,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I deem thee one too fair and chaste for earth!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>              IANTHE.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>High thoughts are chiseled on that lofty brow!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Proud consciousness of virtue in thy smile!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy cheeks, the blush of, speaks thee free from guile;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thine eyes have in their spiritual flow,</p> -<p class='line0'>A dignity and grandeur, and a glow</p> -<p class='line0'>  Which lift the gazer’s spirit up on high,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As soars the eagle to the sun-lit sky!</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou art a thing to worship! and I throw</p> -<p class='line0'>My soaring spirit conquered at thy feet,—</p> -<p class='line0'>  But not to beauty, tho’ ’tis unsurpassed,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But to the wealth of intellect ’tis cast;</p> -<p class='line0'>Deeming the earth beneath the proudest seat,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where I would sit, and on perfection gaze,</p> -<p class='line0'>Sunning my soul beneath thine eyes’ soft rays!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk115'/> - -<div><h1><a id='moon'></a>THE MOONLIGHT FLITTING;</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>OR, THE MISTAKE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY ELIZA VAN HORN ELLIS.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The</span> moon shone serenely clear over hill and dale, -her silver rays playing on the dull gray earth with -sportive fancy, while not a zephyr seemed upon the -wing, and all nature slumbered in the stillness of a -warm summer evening, when, from one of the neat -white cottages of the village of ——, issued two -figures, completely enveloped in cloaks, notwithstanding -the thermometer stood at nearly ninety. -Not a word was spoken, but with stealthy steps they -chased their shadows along the silent streets for a -good half mile; although twice or thrice one of the -figures paused and heaved convulsively, whether -from lack of breath or agitation seemed doubtful. -At length they stopped before a cottage, whose proximity -to the church bespoke the <span class='it'>parsonage</span>; a light -twinkled through the casement; the muffled fugitives -rapt gently at the door; it was opened, and -they entered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old moss-grown church clock had just proclaimed, -in solemn tones, the hour of nine, on the -next morning, when two ladies, whose looks bespoke -them far upon the road of <span class='it'>time</span>—clad in black silk -bonnets and mitts—came slowly down the streets, -shaded by the spreading elms. These good gossips -appeared deeply engaged in conversation, looking so -intently into each other’s face, that sundry fowls, -young pigs, and small dogs miraculously escaped a -sudden and violent death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can you believe it yet, Mrs. Potts?” cried the -lesser of the two ladies; “such a reflection upon our -quiet village—good gracious and powers! preserve -us from such assurance.” Thus saying, she rolled -up the balls of her eyes, and clasped her hands together -with pious fervor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not only that, my dear Miss Clapper, but such -an example to the daughters of the place!” and Mrs. -Potts sighed, as she thought of her six damsels, who -still remained in single blessedness, notwithstanding -the many little innocent manœuvres to which mammas -will sometimes have recourse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, indeed, it behoves you, Mrs. Potts, to keep -a sharp look-out. Will you visit her—the good-for-naught?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“W-e-ll, what do you think about it? If <span class='it'>we</span> cut -her all the village will. What say you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To be sure, to be sure, that’s true; her place in -society depends upon <span class='it'>us</span>, my dear. She gives such -pleasant parties, such excellent soft waffles, and then -one meets sometimes such agreeable people from the -city there, which gives the girls a chance, you know, -(winking knowingly,) that it would be a pity to -throw her off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I agree with you, my dear Miss Clapper—and—after -all, she’s honestly married, although she stole -away, like a thief in the night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Suppose we just stop and ask Katy a few questions. -May be they wish to keep it a secret. Here -we are by the house—shall we stop?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have no objections, my dear; but you’ll get nothing -out of that piece of sour-crout.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll pump her; leave me alone for <span class='it'>that</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Accordingly the two loving, neighborly gossips -rapt at the door of the white cottage from whence -had stolen forth the fugitives the night previous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The loud knock announced the aristocracy of the -village; the door opened, and the sharp bluish features -of Katy filled up the aperture. Her small -<span class='it'>gravy</span> eyes blinked for a moment when she beheld -the visitors; the next Katy stood the personification -of gravity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Katy,” cried Miss Clapper, in her most -dulcet tones, “how <span class='it'>do</span> you do this fine morn? all -well, I hope,” making an effort to open wider the -door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, yes, Miss; a very fine morning, and we -are all well, thanks be to goodness,” answered Katy, -holding the door still closer, and protruding her nose -still farther, so that the sudden slam of the door -would have deprived that venerable spinster of that -most conspicuous of all features, a <span class='it'>red nose</span>. “Sorry -I can’t ask you both in—but nobody’s home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah! so, then, it’s true, what we heard this morning,” -said Mrs. Potts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can’t say, indeed, Marm, as I don’t know what -you might have heard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! only that your mistress ran off last night -and was married, and went away this morning in the -village hack,” almost screamed Miss Clapper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And so my mistress <span class='it'>is</span> married, and I know -some that would like to be in her shoes, if they could -but get the chance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, well, Katy, no offence is meant,” cried -Mrs. Potts; “when will the bride be home?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She bade me tell you, Marm, and Miss Clapper, -(and she wants you to tell the village) that on Thursday -evening the doors will be thrown open and the -candles lighted, and you will see <span class='it'>her</span> and <span class='it'>plenty</span> of -wedding cake and good wine.” Thus saying, she -gently closed the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So! it’s no secret after all,” cried Mrs. Potts; -“Katy made no bones at confession.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No! the old she devil! how I hate that creature—she -always <span class='it'>Miss-es</span> one so—never calls me -any thing but <span class='it'>Miss</span>!—<span class='it'>Miss!</span>—She shan’t read it -on my tomb-stone, if I can help it,” muttered <span class='it'>Miss</span> -Clapper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Faithfully did these village circulars perform their -agreeable task. Before the sun sank to rest, every -individual, from the lady of the member of the legislature -to the shoe-black in the inn, had heard the -news, and had formed dreams of the coming event. -The bride and bride-cake—beaux and belles, had -been reviewed in the mind’s eye o’er and o’er again.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER II.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>When a young man, Mr. Hopkins arrived upon the -spot where now stands the village of ——, with his -bundle upon his stick, his sole fortune. He became -what may be termed a squatter. It was then a dreary -waste of girdled trees, and patches covered with -black stumps. But his untiring perseverance and -systematic industry were rewarded in time by beholding, -from his cottage door, the fields of waving corn -and the golden wheat, where once lurked the savage -and prowled the ravenous beast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In course of time, the place became settled; the -present village sprang into existence; Mr. Hopkins -“grew with its growth, and strengthened with its -strength;” in short, Mr. Hopkins became a rich man, -and consequently a man of consequence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Hopkins (poor good soul) died ere she could -enjoy the wealth that her patient labors had assisted -her husband in accumulating. She left one daughter, -christened Dinah, and two sons. Upon the death of -the “old man,” the sons moved to a strange land, -(that is, about a hundred miles from their native -vale.) Miss Dinah, or rather Diana, as she chose to -be called, after the immortal Die Vernon, remained -upon the “old place,” to uphold, as she properly said, -the dignity of the Hopkinses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus years wore away. Miss Die became the -tyrant of fashion in her own village. She read -Shakspeare, doated on Byron, and was subdued by -Sir Walter Scott’s works. She languished and quoted -poetry for nearly forty years. In youth, she -scorned the rustic beaux that kneeled at her shrine; -and, as years sped onward, none “bowed nor told -their tale of love,” until, at length, Miss Die began -seriously to think of a visit to her brothers, when the -kind <span class='it'>fates</span> brought Mr. Micalf to the village, and -there left him to the mercy of Cupid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The <span class='it'>major</span> (as he was familiarly called) was rather -short of stature, with an alderman’s corpulency,—famous -for his good-nature, intolerable indolence, and -devotion to whiskey-punch and the noxious weed. -Being asthmatic, he seldom had recourse to any exertion—a -long walk would cause him to puff and -blow at least for a minute, ere he could catch breath -to utter a word. Still Mr. Micalf found breath enough -to become a successful wooer—and Miss Die persuaded -her swain to elope with her by moonlight, as -she could never survive the stare of the plebeians by -the light of “gaudy day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It ever remained a doubt in the village, what was -the exact age of the major. Many were of an opinion -that sixty winters had frosted his brow. Others again -asserted that he did not number, by a score, as many -years as his bride. These latter, however, were the -ladies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thursday arrived—and, after a weary watching -from many a beaming eye, the sun at length disappeared -behind the distant mountains, and twilight -gently threw over the glowing sky its mantle of sombre -gray. Lights flitted to and fro through the -houses; an unusual bustle hummed through the quiet -streets; the horses, disturbed after a day of labor, -to be brought forth and harnessed to whatever vehicle -their masters could boast of possessing, hung -down their weary heads, with slow and measured -steps patiently submitting to the yoke of bondage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sudden glare of lights, that streamed through -the casements of the white cottage over the gravel -walks, announced that preparations had ceased, and -that visitors were momentarily expected.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was the bride, her tall gaunt figure arrayed -in white, flitting from room to room, not knowing -where to station herself to make the best impression, -and inwardly chafing at the perfume of tobacco -that met her olfactory nerves, and the loss of her -reticule, wherein were the keys of sundry closets -and so forth, when the door opened and Mr., Mrs., -and the four Misses Potts, with Miss Clapper, beheld -the bride upon knees and hands, looking under an immense -old-fashioned settee for her lost treasure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Micalf looked up, sprang to her feet, uttered -a faint scream, and for a moment hid her face—then -yielded her cheek to the salutations of the six ladies, -and with much coyness permitted Mr. Potts to touch -the tip of her ear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I declare, I think you served us a pretty -trick, Mrs. Micalf—a lady of your years to make a -moonlight flitting—oh, fie!” cried Miss Clapper, in -a querulous voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, spare me, dear friends; I feel the full force -of the imprudence of the step. But be this my excuse, -‘I’ve scanned the actions of his daily life,’ and -flatter myself I have secured happiness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Mr. Micalf to steal away so—he who hates -walking so. Why, I thought it would almost have -killed him to walk so far.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are right, old lady,” cried the groom, who -had entered unperceived, and slapping Miss Clapper -upon the shoulder; “I can’t believe it yet; I haven’t -drawn a long breath since—wheugh!—But Die -would not be married any other way, though I told -her we were making a couple of old fools of ourselves—wheugh—u—u—Never -mind, Die, don’t be -cast down at being called old—we all know you were -young once! ha, ha! wheugh—u! Come, Potts, -let’s go and drink good luck to midnight walks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Micalf is so boisterous when he is in good -spirits, and he does so love to plague me!” cried the -bride, the quivering of her nostrils and upper lip expressing -the workings of the inward passions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Knock succeeded knock, and the influx of visitors, -with the oft-repeated “wish you joy, wish you joy,” -soon restored harmony to the spirits of the bride, -who was in extacies at the crowd that had gathered -around her. She quoted poetry, right and left; forgot, -for the moment, that tobacco and punch existed; -and some assert that even the major was forgotten! -That was but scandal, however. Nevertheless, the -major enjoyed seven pipes and five tumblers of punch, -without once hearing the sound of Die’s voice; a -luxury which, in the warmth of his feelings he solemnly -whispered to Potts, had not been permitted -him since his moonlight trip.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hours sped onward—the merry laugh that -rang so loud and clear from the midst of a group of -young folks who were playing “hunt the slipper,” -“my lady’s toilette,” &c. caused the heads of the -matrons to turn from each other in high displeasure -at the interruption of some tale of scandal!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The happiest moments, still the fleetest!—the -hour arrived—the guests departed, and the mistress -of the <span class='it'>fairy</span> scene began to wonder what had become -of her lord. Looking through the empty rooms, -peering in every corner by the aid of a feeble night-lamp, -and almost suffocated with the vapor of candle-snuff, -she was startled by the sonorous notes from -her husband’s nasal organ. “I do believe the ass -has gone to bed,” she mentally ejaculated. Rushing -into her room, she beheld the head of the major, with -his blue and white night-cap snugly resting upon her -fine linen <span class='it'>day</span> pillow-cases. Jerking the pillows from -under the offending head, she screamed:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Major! why, Micalf, you are sleeping upon my -beautiful cases with real thread-lace borders!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless me, what is the matter? Is the house on -fire? O Lord, I smell smoke—fire!—fire!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do be quiet now, and don’t make a fool of yourself; -it’s only the pillow I wanted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Die! is that you? You have frightened the -very life out of me. Give me something to put under -my head; my neck is almost broke.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There, my dear, is the night pillow. Now, never -presume to go to bed again, until the cover is turned -down and the day cases removed, and—bless me, -how you have tossed the bed! Why, major, major, -are you asleep already?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it, for heaven’s sake? Am I never to -know what rest is again?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, my dear—major, I say, shall I tuck you up -snugly?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No! the devil! I don’t want to be reminded of -my coffin every night by being tucked up,” and away -went the clothes from the foot and side. “Oh, how -I wish——” groaned the major, as Mrs. Micalf again -patiently smoothed them down. The wish died upon -his tongue, but it was embodied in his dreams:—Once -more he was the quiet possessor of the snug -little room, and no less snug little bed, at the “Full -Moon,” the atmosphere dense with tobacco-smoke -and the vapor of whiskey-punch regaling his nose—when -the shrill, sharp voice of his help-meet, at dawn -of day, dispelled the illusion, and, with the sun, he -arose with the comfortable thought that he was not -the only being that had sold peace and happiness for -<span class='it'>gold</span>. And, ere the honey-moon had expired, Mr. -and Mrs. Micalf began to perceive that they had -made a great mistake in their moonlight flitting.</p> - -<hr class='tbk116'/> - -<div><h1><a id='nev'></a>I NEVER HAVE BEEN FALSE TO THEE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>A NEW SONG.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY GEORGE P. MORRIS.</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'><span class='sc'>I never</span> have been false to thee!</p> -<p class='line0'>  The heart I gave thee still is thine;</p> -<p class='line0'>Though thou hast been untrue to me,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And I no more may call thee mine!</p> -<p class='line0'>I’ve loved, as woman ever loves,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With constant soul in good or ill:—</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou’st proved, as man too often proves,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A rover—but I love thee still!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Yet think not that my spirit stoops</p> -<p class='line0'>  To bind thee captive in my train!—</p> -<p class='line0'>Love’s not a flower, at sunset droops,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But smiles when comes her god again!</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy words, which fall unheeded now,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Could once my heart-strings madly thrill!</p> -<p class='line0'>Love’s golden chain and burning vow</p> -<p class='line0'>  Are broken—but I love thee still!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Once what a heaven of bliss was ours,</p> -<p class='line0'>  When love dispelled the clouds of care,</p> -<p class='line0'>And time went by with birds and flowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>  While song and incense filled the air!—</p> -<p class='line0'>The past is mine—the present thine—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Should thoughts of me thy future fill,</p> -<p class='line0'>Think what a destiny is mine,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To lose—but love thee, false one, still!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk117'/> - -<div><h1><a id='auto'></a>A CHAPTER ON AUTOGRAPHY.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i076.jpg' alt='Signature of Edgar A. Poe' id='iid-0004' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Under this head, some years ago, there appeared, -in the Southern Literary Messenger, an article which -attracted very general attention, not less from the -nature of its subject than from the peculiar manner -in which it was handled. The editor introduces his -readers to a certain Mr. Joseph Miller, who, it is -hinted, is not merely a descendant of the illustrious -Joe, of Jest-Book notoriety, but that identical individual -in proper person. Upon this point, however, -an air of uncertainty is thrown by means of an equivoque, -maintained throughout the paper, in respect -to Mr. Miller’s middle name. This equivoque is put -into the mouth of Mr. M. himself. He gives his -name, in the first instance, as Joseph A. Miller; but, -in the course of conversation, shifts it to Joseph B., -then to Joseph C., and so on through the whole alphabet, -until he concludes by desiring a copy of the -Magazine to be sent to his address as Joseph Z. -Miller, Esquire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The object of his visit to the editor is to place -in his hands the autographs of certain distinguished -American <span class='it'>literati</span>. To these persons he had written -rigmarole letters on various topics, and in all cases -had been successful in eliciting a reply. The replies -only (which it is scarcely necessary to say are all -fictitious) are given in the Magazine, with a genuine -autograph fac-simile appended, and are either burlesques -of the supposed writer’s usual style, or rendered -otherwise absurd by reference to the nonsensical -questions imagined to have been propounded by -Mr. Miller. The autographs thus given are twenty-six -in all—corresponding to the twenty-six variations -in the initial letter of the hoaxer’s middle name.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With the public this article took amazingly well, -and many of our principal papers were at the expense -of re-printing it with the wood-cut autographs. Even -those whose names had been introduced, and whose -style had been burlesqued, took the joke, generally -speaking, in good part. Some of them were at a loss -what to make of the matter. Dr. W. E. Channing, -of Boston, was at some trouble, it is said, in calling -to mind whether he had or had not actually written -to some Mr. Joseph Miller the letter attributed to -him in the article. This letter was nothing more -than what follows:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='sc'>Boston</span>, ——.</p> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='sc'>Dear Sir</span>,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No such person as Philip Philpot has ever been in -my employ as a coachman, or otherwise. The name -is an odd one, and not likely to be forgotten. The -man must have reference to some other Doctor Channing. -It would be as well to question him closely.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:4em;margin-top:0.5em;'>Respectfully yours,</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-top:0.25em;'>W. E. CHANNING.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:1em;margin-top:0.5em;'>To <span class='sc'>Joseph X. Miller</span>, Esq.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The precise and brief sententiousness of the divine -is here, it will be seen, very truly adopted, or “hit off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In one instance only was the <span class='it'>jeu-d’esprit</span> taken in -serious dudgeon. Colonel Stone and the Messenger -had not been upon the best of terms. Some one of -the Colonel’s little brochures had been severely -treated by that journal, which declared that the -work would have been far more properly published -among the quack advertisements in a spare corner -of the Commercial. The colonel had retaliated by -wholesale vituperation of the Messenger. This being -the state of affairs, it was not to be wondered at -that the following epistle was not quietly received on -the part of him to whom it was attributed:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='sc'>New York</span>, ——.</p> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='sc'>Dear Sir</span>,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I am exceedingly and excessively sorry that it is -out of my power to comply with your rational and -reasonable request. The subject you mention is one -with which I am utterly unacquainted. Moreover it -is one about which I know very little.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:4em;margin-top:0.5em;'>Respectfully,</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-top:0.25em;'>W. L. STONE.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:1em;margin-top:0.5em;'><span class='sc'>Joseph V. Miller</span>, Esq.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>These tautologies and anti-climaces were too much -for the colonel, and we are ashamed to say that he -committed himself by publishing in the Commercial -an indignant denial of ever having indited such an -epistle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The principal feature of this autograph article, -although perhaps the least interesting, was that -of the editorial comment upon the supposed MSS., -regarding them as indicative of character. In these -comments the design was never more than semi-serious. -At times, too, the writer was evidently led -into error or injustice through the desire of being -pungent—not unfrequently sacrificing truth for the -sake of a <span class='it'>bon-mot</span>. In this manner qualities were -often attributed to individuals, which were not so -much indicated by their hand-writing, as suggested -by the spleen of the commentator. But that a strong -analogy <span class='it'>does</span> generally and naturally exist between -every man’s chirography and character, will be denied -by none but the unreflecting. It is not our purpose, -however, to enter into the <span class='it'>philosophy</span> of this -subject, either in this portion of the present paper, -or in the abstract. What we may have to say will -be introduced elsewhere, and in connection with particular -MSS. The practical application of the theory -will thus go hand in hand with the theory itself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Our design is three-fold:—In the first place, seriously -to illustrate our position that the mental features -are indicated (with certain exceptions) by the -hand-writing; secondly, to indulge in a little literary -gossip; and, thirdly, to furnish our readers with a -more accurate and at the same time a more general -collection of the autographs of our <span class='it'>literati</span> than is to -be found elsewhere. Of the first portion of this design -we have already spoken. The second speaks -for itself. Of the third it is only necessary to say -that we are confident of its interest for all lovers of -literature. Next to the person of a distinguished -man-of-letters, we desire to see his portrait—next -to his portrait, his autograph. In the latter, especially, -there is something which seems to bring him -before us in his true idiosyncrasy—in his character -of <span class='it'>scribe</span>. The feeling which prompts to the collection -of autographs is a natural and rational one. But -complete, or even extensive collections, are beyond -the reach of those who themselves do not dabble in -the waters of literature. The writer of this article -has had opportunities, in this way, enjoyed by few. -The MSS. now lying before him are a motley mass -indeed. Here are letters, or other compositions, from -every individual in America who has the slightest -pretension to literary celebrity. From these we propose -to select the most eminent names—as to give -<span class='it'>all</span> would be a work of supererogation. Unquestionably, -among those whose claims we are forced to -postpone, are several whose high <span class='it'>merit</span> might justly -demand a different treatment; but the rule applicable -in a case like this seems to be that of celebrity, -rather than that of true worth. It will be understood -that, in the necessity of selection which circumstances -impose upon us, we confine ourselves <span class='it'>to the -most noted among the living literati of the country</span>. -The article above alluded to, embraced, as we have -already stated, only twenty-six names, and was not -occupied <span class='it'>exclusively</span> either with living persons, or, -properly speaking, with literary ones. In fact the -whole paper seemed to acknowledge no law beyond -that of whim. Our present essay will be found to -include <span class='it'>one hundred autographs</span>. We have thought -it unnecessary to preserve any particular order in -their arrangement.</p> - -<hr class='tbk118'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i080.jpg' alt='Signature of Chas (Charles) Anthon' id='iid-0005' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Professor <span class='sc'>Charles Anthon</span>, of Columbia College, -New York, is well known as the most erudite of our -classical scholars; and, although still a young man, -there are few, if any, even in Europe, who surpass -him in his peculiar path of knowledge. In England -his supremacy has been tacitly acknowledged by the -immediate re-publication of his editions of Cæsar, -Sallust, and Cicero, with other works, and their adoption -as text-books at Oxford and Cambridge. His -amplification of Lemprière did him high honor, but, -of late, has been entirely superseded by a Classical -Dictionary of his own—a work most remarkable for -the extent and comprehensiveness of its details, as -well as for its historical, chronological, mythological, -and philological <span class='it'>accuracy</span>. It has at once completely -overshadowed every thing of its kind. It -follows, as a matter of course, that Mr. Anthon has -many little enemies, among the inditers of merely -big books. He has not been unassailed, yet has assuredly -remained uninjured in the estimation of all -those whose opinion he would be likely to value. -We do not mean to say that he is altogether without -faults, but a certain antique Johnsonism of style is -perhaps one of his worst. He was mainly instrumental -(with Professor Henry and Dr. Hawks) in -setting on foot the New York Review, a journal of -which he is the most efficient literary support, and -whose most erudite papers have always been furnished -by his pen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The chirography of Professor Anthon is the most -regularly beautiful of any in our collection. We see -the most scrupulous precision, finish, and neatness -about every portion of it—in the formation of individual -letters, as well as in the <span class='it'>tout-ensemble</span>. The -perfect symmetry of the MS. gives it, to a casual -glance, the appearance of Italic print. The lines are -quite straight, and at exactly equal distances, yet -are written without black rules, or other artificial aid. -There is not the slightest superfluity, in the way of -flourish or otherwise, with the exception of the twirl -in the C of the signature. Yet the whole is rather -neat and graceful than forcible. Of four letters now -lying before us, one is written on pink, one on a faint -blue, one on green, and one on yellow paper—all of -the finest quality. The seal is of green wax, with -an impression of the head of Cæsar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is in the chirography of such men as Professor -Anthon that we look with certainty for indication of -character. The life of a scholar is mostly undisturbed -by those adventitious events which distort the -natural disposition of the man of the world, preventing -his real nature from manifesting itself in his MS. -The lawyer, who, pressed for time, is often forced to -embody a world of heterogeneous memoranda, on -scraps of paper, with the stumps of all varieties of -pen, will soon find the fair characters of his boyhood -degenerate into hieroglyphics which would puzzle -Doctor Wallis or Champollion; and from chirography -so disturbed it is nearly impossible to decide -any thing. In a similar manner, men who pass -through many striking vicissitudes of life, acquire in -each change of circumstance a temporary inflection -of the hand-writing; the whole resulting, after many -years, in an unformed or variable MS., scarcely to be -recognised by themselves from one day to the other. -In the case of literary men generally, we may expect -some decisive token of the mental influence upon the -MS., and in the instance of the classical devotee we -may look with <span class='it'>especial</span> certainty for such token. We -see, accordingly, in Professor Anthon’s autography, -each and all of the known idiosyncrasies of his taste -and intellect. We recognise at once the scrupulous -precision and finish of his scholarship and of his -style—the love of elegance which prompts him to -surround himself, in his private study, with gems of -sculptural art, and beautifully bound volumes, all -arranged with elaborate attention to form, and in the -very pedantry of neatness. We perceive, too, the -disdain of superfluous embellishment which distinguishes -his compilations, and which gives to their -exterior appearance so marked an air of Quakerism. -We must not forget to observe that the “want of -force” is a want as perceptible in the whole character -of the man, as in that of the MS.</p> - -<hr class='tbk119'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i084.jpg' alt='Signature of Washington Irving' id='iid-0006' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The MS. of Mr. <span class='sc'>Irving</span> has little about it indicative -of his genius. Certainly, no one could suspect from -it any nice <span class='it'>finish</span> in the writer’s compositions; nor is -this nice finish to be found. The letters now before -us vary remarkably in appearance; and those of late -date are not nearly so well written as the more antique. -Mr. Irving has travelled much, has seen many -vicissitudes, and has been so thoroughly satiated with -fame as to grow slovenly in the performance of his -literary tasks. This slovenliness has affected his -hand-writing. But even from his earlier MSS. there -is little to be gleaned, except the ideas of simplicity -and precision. It must be admitted, however, that -this fact, in itself, is characteristic of the literary -manner, which, however excellent, has no prominent -or very remarkable features.</p> - -<hr class='tbk120'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i085.jpg' alt='Signature of Park Benjamin' id='iid-0007' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>For the last six or seven years, few men have occupied -a more desirable position among us than Mr. -<span class='sc'>Benjamin</span>. As the editor of the American Monthly -Magazine, of the New Yorker, and more lately of -the Signal, and New World, he has exerted an influence -scarcely second to that of any editor in the -country. This influence Mr. B. owes to no single -cause, but to his combined ability, activity, causticity, -fearlessness, and independence. We use the -latter term, however, with some mental reservation. -The editor of the World is independent so far as the -word implies unshaken resolution to follow the bent -of one’s own will, let the consequences be what they -may. He is no respecter of persons, and his vituperation -as often assails the powerful as the powerless—indeed -the latter fall rarely under his censure. -But we cannot call his independence, at all times, -that of principle. We can never be sure that he will -defend a cause merely because it is the cause of -truth—or even because he regards it as such. He is -too frequently biassed by personal feelings—feelings -now of friendship, and again of vindictiveness. He -is a warm friend, and a bitter, but not implacable -enemy. His judgment in literary matters should not -be questioned, but there is some difficulty in getting -at his real opinion. As a prose writer, his style is -lucid, terse, and pungent. He is often witty, often -cuttingly sarcastic, but seldom humorous. He frequently -injures the force of his fiercest attacks by an -indulgence in merely vituperative epithets. As a -poet, he is entitled to far higher consideration than -that in which he is ordinarily held. He is skilful and -passionate, as well as imaginative. His sonnets have -not been surpassed. In short, it is as a poet that his -better genius is evinced—it is in poetry that his -noble spirit breaks forth, showing what the man is, -and what, but for unhappy circumstances, he would -invariably appear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Benjamin’s MS. is not very dissimilar to -Mr. Irving’s, and, like his, it has no doubt been -greatly modified by the excitements of life, and by -the necessity of writing much and hastily; so that -we can predicate but little respecting it. It speaks -of his exquisite sensibility and passion. These betray -themselves in the nervous variation of the MS. as -the subject is diversified. When the theme is an ordinary -one, the writing is legible and has force; but -when it verges upon any thing which may be supposed -to excite, we see the characters falter as they -proceed. In the MSS. of some of his best poems -this peculiarity is very remarkable. The signature -conveys the idea of his <span class='it'>usual</span> chirography.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i087.jpg' alt='Signature of John P. Kennedy' id='iid-0008' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Kennedy</span> is well known as the author of -“Swallow Barn,” “Horse-Shoe Robinson,” and “Rob -of the Bowl,” three works whose features are strongly -and decidedly marked. These features are boldness -and force of thought, (disdaining ordinary embellishment, -and depending for its effect upon masses -rather than upon details) with a predominant <span class='it'>sense -of the picturesque</span> pervading and giving color to the -whole. His “Swallow Barn,” in especial (and it is -by the first effort of an author that we form the truest -idea of his mental bias), is but a rich succession of -picturesque still-life pieces. Mr. Kennedy is well to -do in the world, and has always taken the world -easily. We may therefore expect to find in his chirography, -if ever in any, a full indication of the chief -feature of his literary style—especially as this chief -feature is so remarkably prominent. A glance at his -signature will convince any one that the indication -is to be found. A painter called upon to designate -the main peculiarity of this MS. would speak at once -of the <span class='it'>picturesque</span>. This character is given it by the -absence of hair-strokes, and by the abrupt termination -of every letter without tapering; also in great -measure by varying the size and slope of the letters. -Great uniformity is preserved in the whole air of the -MS., with great variety in the constituent parts. -Every character has the clearness, boldness and precision -of a wood-cut. The long letters do not rise or -fall in an undue degree above the others. Upon the -whole, this is a hand which pleases us much, although -its <span class='it'>bizarrerie</span> is rather too piquant for the general -taste. Should its writer devote himself more exclusively -to light letters, we predict his future eminence. -The paper on which our epistles are written is very -fine, clear, and <span class='it'>white</span>, with gilt edges. The seal is -neat, and just sufficient wax has been used for the -impression. All this betokens a love of the elegant -without effeminacy.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i089.jpg' alt='Signature of G: Mellen' id='iid-0009' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The hand-writing of <span class='sc'>Grenville Mellen</span> is somewhat -peculiar, and partakes largely of the character of -his signature as seen above. The whole is highly indicative -of the poet’s flighty, hyper-fanciful character, -with his unsettled and often erroneous ideas of the -beautiful. His straining after effect is well paralleled -in the formation of the preposterous G in the -signature, with the two dots by its side. Mr. Mellen -has genius unquestionably, but there is something -in his temperament which obscures it.<a id='r3'/><a href='#f3' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[3]</span></sup></a></p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<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'>Since this article was prepared for the press, we have been grieved to hear of the death of Mr. Mellen.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i089b.jpg' alt='Signature of J K Paulding' id='iid-0010' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>No correct notion of Mr. <span class='sc'>Paulding’s</span> literary peculiarities -can be obtained from an inspection of his -MS., which, no doubt, has been strongly modified by -adventitious circumstances. His small <span class='it'>a</span>s, <span class='it'>t</span>s, and -<span class='it'>c</span>s are all alike, and the style of the characters generally -is French, although the entire MS. has much -the appearance of Greek text. The paper which he -ordinarily uses is of a very fine glossy texture, and -of a blue tint, with gilt edges. His signature is a -good specimen of his general hand.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i090a.jpg' alt='Signature of L. H. Sigourney' id='iid-0011' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. <span class='sc'>Sigourney</span> seems to take much pains with her -MSS. Apparently she employs <span class='it'>black lines</span>. Every -<span class='it'>t</span> is crossed, and every <span class='it'>i</span> dotted, with precision, while -the punctuation is faultless. Yet the whole has nothing -of effeminacy or formality. The individual -characters are large, well and freely formed, and -preserve a perfect uniformity throughout. Something -in her hand-writing puts us in mind of Mr. Paulding’s. -In both MSS. perfect regularity exists, and -in both the style is <span class='it'>formed</span> or <span class='it'>decided</span>. Both are -beautiful; yet Mrs. Sigourney’s is the most legible, -and Mr. Paulding’s nearly the most illegible in the -world. From that of Mrs. S. we might easily form -a true estimate of her compositions. Freedom, dignity, -precision, and grace, without originality, may -be properly attributed to her. She has fine taste, -without genius. Her paper is usually good—the seal -small, of green and gold wax, and without impression.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i090b.jpg' alt='Signature of Robert Walsh' id='iid-0012' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Walsh’s</span> MS. is peculiar, from its large, sprawling -and irregular appearance—rather rotund than -angular. It always seems to have been hurriedly -written. The <span class='it'>t</span>s are crossed with a sweeping scratch -of the pen, which gives to his epistles a somewhat -droll appearance. A <span class='it'>dictatorial</span> air pervades the -whole. His paper is of ordinary quality. His seal -is commonly of brown wax mingled with gold, and -bears a Latin motto, of which only the words <span class='it'>trans</span> -and <span class='it'>mortuus</span> are legible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Walsh cannot be denied talent; but his reputation, -which has been bolstered into being by a -<span class='it'>clique</span>, is not a thing to live. A blustering self-conceit -betrays itself in his chirography, which upon -the whole, is not very dissimilar to that of Mr. E. -Everett, of whom we shall speak hereafter.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i091.jpg' alt='Signature of J H Ingraham' id='iid-0013' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Ingraham</span>, or Ingrahame, (for he writes his -name sometimes with, and sometimes without the <span class='it'>e</span>,) -is one of our most <span class='it'>popular</span> novelists, if not one of our -best. He appeals always to the taste of the ultra-romanticists, -(as a matter, we believe, rather of pecuniary -policy than of choice) and thus is obnoxious to -the charge of a certain cut-and-thrust, blue-fire, melodramaticism. -Still, he is capable of better things. His -chirography is very unequal; at times, sufficiently -clear and flowing, at others, shockingly scratchy and -uncouth. From it nothing whatever can be predicated, -except an uneasy vacillation of temper and of purpose.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i092a.jpg' alt='Signature of W C Bryant' id='iid-0014' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Bryant’s</span> MS. puts us entirely at fault. It is -one of the most common-place clerk’s hands which -we ever encountered, and has no character about it -beyond that of the day-book and ledger. He writes, -in short, what mercantile men and professional pen-men -call a fair hand, but what artists would term an -abominable one. Among its regular up and down -strokes, waving lines and hair-lines, systematic taperings -and flourishes, we look in vain for the force, -polish, and decision of the poet. The <span class='it'>picturesque</span>, -to be sure, is equally deficient in his chirography and -in his poetical productions.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i092b.jpg' alt='Signature of Fitz-Greene Halleck' id='iid-0015' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Halleck’s</span> hand is strikingly indicative of his -genius. We see in it some force, more grace, and -little of the picturesque. There is a great deal of -freedom about it, and his MSS. seem to be written -<span class='it'>currente calamo</span>, but without hurry. His flourishes, -which are not many, look as if thoughtfully planned, -and deliberately, yet firmly executed. His paper is -very good, and of a blueish tint—his seal of red wax.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i093a.jpg' alt='Signature of N. P. Willis.' id='iid-0016' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Willis</span>, when writing carefully, would write a -hand nearly resembling that of Mr. Halleck; although -no similarity is perceptible in the signatures. His -usual chirography is dashing, free, and not ungraceful, -but is sadly deficient in force and picturesqueness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It has been the fate of this gentleman to be alternately -condemned <span class='it'>ad infinitum</span>, and lauded <span class='it'>ad nauseam</span>—a -fact which speaks much in his praise. We -know of no American writer who has evinced greater -versatility of talent; that is to say, of high talent, -often amounting to genius; and we know of none who -has more narrowly missed placing himself at the head -of our letters.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The paper of Mr. Willis’ epistles is always fine, and -glossy. At present, he employs a somewhat large -seal, with a dove, or carrier-pigeon, at the top, the -word “Glenmary” at bottom, and the initials “N. -P. W.” in the middle.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i093b.jpg' alt='Signature of Rufus Dawes' id='iid-0017' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Dawes</span> has been long known as a poet; but his -claims are scarcely yet settled—his friends giving -him rank with Bryant and Halleck, while his opponents -treat his pretensions with contempt. The truth -is, that the author of “Geraldine” and “Athenia of -Damascus” has written occasional verses very well—so -well, that some of his minor pieces may be considered -equal to any of the minor pieces of either -of the two gentlemen above-mentioned. His longer -poems, however, will not bear examination. “Athenia -of Damascus” is pompous nonsense, and “Geraldine” -a most ridiculous imitation of Don Juan, in which -the beauties of the original have been as sedulously -avoided, as the blemishes have been blunderingly -culled. In style, he is, perhaps, the most inflated, -involved, and falsely-figurative, of any of our more -noted poets. This defect, of course, is only fully -appreciable in what are termed his “sustained efforts,” -and thus his shorter pieces are often exceedingly -good. His apparent erudition is mere verbiage, -and, were it real, would be lamentably out of place -where we see it. He seems to have been infected -with a blind admiration of Coleridge—especially of -his mysticism and cant.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i095.jpg' alt='Signature of Henry W. Longfellow' id='iid-0018' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>H. W. Longfellow</span>, (Professor of Moral Philosophy -at Harvard,) is entitled to the first place among -the poets of America—certainly to the first place -among those who have put themselves prominently -forth as poets. His good qualities are all of the highest -order, while his sins are chiefly those of affectation -and imitation—an imitation sometimes verging -upon downright theft.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His MS. is remarkably good, and is fairly exemplified -in the signature. We see here plain indications -of the force, vigor, and glowing richness of his -literary style; the deliberate and steady <span class='it'>finish</span> of -his compositions. The man who writes thus may -not accomplish much, but what he does, will always -be thoroughly done. The main beauty, or at least -one great beauty of his poetry, is that of <span class='it'>proportion</span>; -another, is a freedom from extraneous embellishment. -He oftener runs into affectation through his endeavors -at simplicity, than through any other cause. Now -this rigid simplicity and proportion are easily perceptible -in the MS., which, altogether, is a very excellent -one.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i096a.jpg' alt='Signature of J. Pierpont' id='iid-0019' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The Rev. <span class='sc'>J. Pierpont</span>, who, of late, has attracted -so much of the public attention, is one of the most -accomplished poets in America. His “Airs of Palestine” -is distinguished by the sweetness and vigor -of its versification, and by the grace of its sentiments. -Some of his shorter pieces are exceedingly terse and -forcible, and none of our readers can have forgotten -his Lines on Napoleon. His rhythm is at least equal -in strength and modulation to that of any poet in -America. Here he resembles Milman and Croly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His chirography, nevertheless, indicates nothing -beyond the common-place. It is an ordinary clerk’s -hand—one which is met with more frequently than -any other. It is decidedly <span class='it'>formed</span>; and we have no -doubt that he <span class='it'>never</span> writes otherwise than thus. The -MS. of his school-days has probably been persisted -in to the last. If so, the fact is in full consonance -with the steady precision of his style. The flourish -at the end of the signature is but a part of the writer’s -general enthusiasm.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i096b.jpg' alt='Signature of W. Gilmore Simms' id='iid-0020' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Simms</span> is the author of “Martin Faber,” “Atalantis,” -“Guy Rivers,” “The Partisan,” “Mellichampe,” -“The Yemassee,” “The Damsel of Darien,” -“The Black Riders of the Congaree,” and one -or two other productions, among which we must not -forget to mention several fine poems. As a poet, indeed, -we like him far better than as a novelist. His -qualities in this latter respect <span class='it'>resemble</span> those of Mr. -Kennedy, although he equals him in no particular, -except in his appreciation of the graceful. In his -sense of beauty he is Mr. K.’s superior, but falls behind -him in force, and the other attributes of the author -of Swallow Barn. These differences and resemblances -are well shown in the MSS. That of Mr. S. -has more slope, and more uniformity in detail, with -less in the mass—while it has also less of the picturesque, -although still much. The middle name is -Gilm<span class='it'>o</span>re; in the cut it looks like Gilm<span class='it'>e</span>re.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i097.jpg' alt='Signature of O. A. Brownson' id='iid-0021' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The Rev. <span class='sc'>Orestes A. Brownson</span> is chiefly known to -the literary world as the editor of the “Boston Quarterly -Review,” a work to which he contributes, each -quarter, at least two-thirds of the matter. He has -published little in book form—his principal works -being “Charles Elwood,” and “New Views.” Of -these, the former production is, in many respects, -one of the highest merit. In logical accuracy, in comprehensiveness -of thought, and in the evident frankness -and desire for truth in which it is composed, we -know of few theological treatises which can be compared -with it. Its conclusion, however, bears about -it a species of hesitation and inconsequence, which -betray the fact that the writer has not altogether succeeded -in convincing himself of those important truths -which he is so anxious to impress upon his readers. -We must bear in mind, however, that this is the fault -of Mr. Brownson’s subject, and not of Mr. Brownson. -However well a man may reason on the great topics -of God and immortality, he will be forced to admit -tacitly in the end, that God and immortality are things -to be felt, rather than demonstrated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On subjects less indefinite, Mr. B. reasons with the -calm and convincing force of a Combe. He is, in every -respect, an extraordinary man, and with the more -extensive resources which would have been afforded -him by early education, could not have failed to bring -about important results.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His MS. indicates, in the most striking manner, -the unpretending simplicity, directness, and especially, -the <span class='it'>indefatigability</span> of his mental character. His -signature is more <span class='it'>petite</span> than his general chirography.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i099.jpg' alt='Signature of B. Tucker' id='iid-0022' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Judge <span class='sc'>Beverly Tucker</span>, of the College of William -and Mary, Virginia, is the author of one of the -best novels ever published in America—“George -Balcombe”—although, for some reason, the book -was never a popular favorite. It was, perhaps, somewhat -too didactic for the general taste.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He has written a great deal, also, for the “Southern -Literary Messenger” at different times; and, at -one period, acted in part, if not altogether, as editor -of that Magazine, which is indebted to him for some -very racy articles, in the way of criticism especially. -He is apt, however, to be led away by personal feelings, -and is more given to vituperation for the mere -sake of <span class='it'>point</span> or pungency, than is altogether consonant -with his character as judge. Some five years -ago there appeared in the “Messenger,” under the -editorial head, an article on the subject of the “Pickwick -Papers” and some other productions of Mr. -Dickens. This article, which abounded in well-written -but extravagant denunciation of everything -composed by the author of “The Curiosity Shop,” -and which prophesied his immediate downfall, we -have reason to believe was from the pen of Judge -Beverly Tucker. We take this opportunity of mentioning -the subject, because the odium of the paper -in question fell altogether upon our shoulders, and it -is a burthen we are not disposed and never intended -to bear. The review appeared in March, we think, -and we had retired from the Messenger in the January -preceding. About eighteen months previously, -and when Mr. Dickens was scarcely known to the -public at all, except as the author of some brief tales -and essays, the writer of this article took occasion -to predict, in the Messenger, and in the most emphatic -manner, that high and just distinction which -the author in question has attained. Judge Tucker’s -MS. is diminutive, but neat and legible, and -has much force and precision, with little of the -picturesque. The care which he bestows upon his -literary compositions makes itself manifest also in -his chirography. The signature is more florid than -general hand.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i101a.jpg' alt='Signature of John Sanderson' id='iid-0023' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Sanderson</span>, Professor of the Greek and Latin -languages in the High School of Philadelphia, is well -known as the author of a series of letters, entitled -“The American in Paris.” These are distinguished -by ease and vivacity of style, with occasional profundity -of observation, and, above all, by the frequency of -their illustrative anecdotes, and figures. In all these -particulars, Professor Sanderson is the precise counterpart -of Judge Beverly Tucker, author of “George -Balcombe.” The MSS. of the two gentlemen are -nearly identical. Both are neat, clear and legible. -Mr. Sanderson’s is somewhat the more crowded.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i101b.jpg' alt='Signature of H. F. Gould.' id='iid-0024' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>About Miss <span class='sc'>Gould’s</span> MS. there is great neatness, -picturesqueness, and finish, without over-effeminacy. -The literary style of one who writes thus will always -be remarkable for sententiousness and epigrammatism; -and these are the leading features of Miss -Gould’s poetry.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i102a.jpg' alt='Signature of C. S. Henry' id='iid-0025' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Prof. <span class='sc'>Henry</span>, of Bristol College, is chiefly known -by his contributions to our Quarterlies, and as one of -the originators of the New-York Review, in conjunction -with Dr. Hawks and Professor Anthon. His -chirography is now neat and picturesque, (much resembling -that of Judge Tucker,) and now excessively -scratchy, <span class='it'>clerky</span>, and slovenly—so that it is nearly -impossible to say anything respecting it, except -that it indicates a vacillating disposition, with unsettled -ideas of the beautiful. None of his epistles, -in regard to their chirography, end as well as they -begin. This trait denotes <span class='it'>fatigability</span>. His signature, -which is bold and decided, conveys not the faintest -idea of the general MS.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i102b.jpg' alt='Signature of Emma C. Embury' id='iid-0026' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. <span class='sc'>Embury</span> is chiefly known by her contributions -to the Periodicals of the country. She is one of the -most nervous of our female writers, and is not destitute -of originality—that rarest of all qualities in a -woman, and especially in an American woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her MS. evinces a strong disposition to fly off at -a tangent from the old formulæ of the Boarding Academies. -Both in it, and in her literary style, it would -be well that she should no longer hesitate to discard -the absurdities of mere fashion.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i103a.jpg' alt='Signature of Wm. Landor.' id='iid-0027' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Landor</span> acquired much reputation as the author -of “Stanley,” a work which was warmly commended -by the press throughout the country. He has also -written many excellent papers for the Magazines. -His chirography is usually <span class='it'>petite</span>, without hair-lines, -close, and somewhat stiff. Many words are carefully -erased. His epistles have always a rigorous formality -about them. The whole is strongly indicative of -his literary qualities. He is an elaborately careful, -stiff, and pedantic writer, with much affectation and -great talent. Should he devote himself ultimately -to letters, he cannot fail of high success.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i103b.jpg' alt='Signature of Eliza Leslie' id='iid-0028' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss <span class='sc'>Leslie</span> is celebrated for the homely naturalness -of her stories and for the broad satire of her -comic style. She has written much for the Magazines. -Her chirography is distinguished for neatness -and finish, without over-effeminacy. It is rotund, -and somewhat diminutive; the letters being separate, -and the words always finished with an inward twirl. -She is never particular about the quality of her paper -or the other externals of epistolary correspondence. -From her MSS. in general, we might suppose -her solicitous rather about the effect of her compositions -as a whole, than about the polishing of the -constituent parts. There is much of the picturesque -both in her chirography and in her literary style.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i104.jpg' alt='Signature of Joseph C. Neal' id='iid-0029' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Neal</span> has acquired a very extensive reputation -through his “Charcoal Sketches,” a series of papers -originally written for the “Saturday News,” of this -city, and afterwards published in book form, with illustrations -by Johnston. The whole design of the -“Charcoal Sketches” may be stated as the depicting -of the wharf and street <span class='it'>loafer</span>; but this design has -been executed altogether in caricature. The extreme -of burlesque runs throughout the work, which is, also, -chargeable with a tedious repetition of slang and -incident. The loafer always declaims the same nonsense, -in the same style, gets drunk in the same way, -and is taken to the watch-house after the same fashion. -Reading one chapter of the book, we read all. -Any single description would have been an original -idea well executed, but the dose is repeated <span class='it'>ad nauseam</span>, -and betrays a woful poverty of invention. The -manner in which Mr. Neal’s book was belauded by -his personal friends of the Philadelphia press, speaks -little for their independence, or less for their taste. -To dub the author of these “Charcoal Sketches” -(which are really very excellent police-reports) with -the title of “the American Boz,” is either outrageous -nonsense, or malevolent irony.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In other respects, Mr. N. has evinced talents which -cannot be questioned. He has conducted the “Pennsylvanian” -with credit, and, as a political writer, he -stands deservedly high. His MS. is simple and legible, -with much space between the words. It has force, -but little grace. Altogether, his chirography is good; -but as he belongs to the editorial corps, it would not -be just to suppose that any deductions, in respect to -character, could be gleaned from it. His signature -conveys the general MS. with accuracy.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i106a.jpg' alt='Signature of Seba Smith' id='iid-0030' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Seba Smith</span> has become somewhat widely celebrated -as the author, in part, of the “Letters of Major -Jack Downing.” These were very clever productions; -coarse, but full of fun, wit, sarcasm and sense. -Their manner rendered them exceedingly popular, -until their success tempted into the field a host of -brainless imitators. Mr. S. is also the author of several -poems; among others, of “Powhatan, a Metrical -Romance,” which we do not very particularly -admire. His MS. is legible, and has much simplicity -about it. At times it vacillates, and appears unformed. -Upon the whole, it is much such a MS. as -David Crockett wrote, and precisely such a one as we -might imagine would be written by a <span class='it'>veritable</span> Jack -Downing; by Jack Downing himself, had this creature -of Mr. Smith’s fancy been endowed with a real -entity. The fact is, that “The Major” is not <span class='it'>all</span> -a creation; at least one half of his character actually -exists in the bosom of his originator. It was the Jack -Downing half that composed “Powhatan.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i106b.jpg' alt='Signature of Jos. Hopkinson' id='iid-0031' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Judge <span class='sc'>Hopkinson’s</span> hand is forcible, neat, legible, -and devoid of superfluity. The characters have -much slope, and whole words are frequently run together. -The lines are at equal distances, and a -broad margin is at the left of the page, as is the case -with the MSS. of Judge Marshall, and other jurists. -The whole is too uniform to be picturesque. The -writing is always as good at the conclusion, as at the -commencement of the epistles—a rare quality in -MSS., evincing <span class='it'>indefatigability</span> in the writer.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i107.jpg' alt='Signature of Alexander Slidell' id='iid-0032' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Lieutenant <span class='sc'>Slidell</span>, some years ago, took the additional -name of Mackenzie. His reputation, at one -period, was extravagantly high—a circumstance -owing, in some measure, to the <span class='it'>esprit de corps</span> of the -navy, of which he is a member, and to his private -influence, through his family, with the Review-cliques. -Yet his fame was not altogether undeserved; -although it cannot be denied that his first book, -“A Year in Spain,” was in some danger of being -overlooked by his countrymen, until a benignant star -directed the attention of the London bookseller, -Murray, to its merits. Cockney octavos prevailed; -and the clever young writer who was cut dead in his -Yankee habiliments, met with bows innumerable in -the gala dress of an English <span class='it'>imprimatur</span>. The work -now ran through several editions, and prepared the -public for the kind reception of “The American in -England,” which exalted his reputation to its highest -pinnacle. Both these books abound in racy description; -but are chiefly remarkable for their gross deficiencies -in grammatical construction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lieut. Slidell’s MS. is peculiarly neat and even—quite -legible, but altogether too petite and effeminate. -Few tokens of his literary character are to be -found, beyond the <span class='it'>petiteness</span>, which is exactly analogous -with the minute detail of his descriptions.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i108a.jpg' alt='Signature of Francis Lieber' id='iid-0033' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Francis <span class='sc'>Lieber</span> is Professor of History and Political -Economy in the College of South Carolina, and -has published many works distinguished by acumen -and erudition. Among these we may notice a “Journal -of a Residence in Greece,” written at the instigation -of the historian Niebuhr; “The Stranger in -America,” a piquant book abounding in various information -relative to the United States; a treatise on -“Education;” “Reminiscences of an intercourse -with Niebuhr;” and an “Essay on International -Copy-Right”—this last a valuable work.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Professor Lieber’s personal character is that of the -frankest and most unpretending <span class='it'>bonhommie</span>, while -his erudition is rather massive than minute. We -may therefore expect his MS. to differ widely from -that of his brother scholar, Professor Anthon; and -so in truth it does. His chirography is careless, -heavy, black, and forcible, without the slightest attempt -at ornament—very similar, upon the whole -to the well-known chirography of Chief Justice Marshall. -His letters have the peculiarity of a wide -margin left at the top of each page.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i108b.jpg' alt='Signature of Sarah J. Hale' id='iid-0034' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. <span class='sc'>Hale</span> is well known for her masculine style -of thought. This is clearly expressed in her chirography, -which is far larger, heavier, and altogether -bolder than that of her sex generally. It resembles -in a great degree that of Professor Lieber, and is not -easily deciphered.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i109a.jpg' alt='Signature of Edward Everett' id='iid-0035' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Everett’s</span> MS. is a noble one. It has about it -an air of deliberate precision emblematic of the -statesman, and a mingled grace and solidity betokening -the scholar. Nothing can be more legible, -and nothing need be more uniform. The man who -writes thus will never grossly err in judgment, or -otherwise; but we may also venture to say that he -will never attain the loftiest pinnacle of renown. -The letters before us have a seal of red wax, with an -oval device bearing the initials E. E. and surrounded -with a scroll, inscribed with some Latin words which -are illegible.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i109b.jpg' alt='Signature of Robert M. Bird' id='iid-0036' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Dr. <span class='sc'>Bird</span> is well known as the author of “The -Gladiator,” “Calavar,” “The Infidel,” “Nick of -the Woods,” and some other works—Calavar being, -we think, by far the best of them, and beyond doubt -one of the best of American novels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His chirography resembles that of Mr. Benjamin -very closely; the chief difference being in a curl of -the final letters in Dr. B.’s. The characters, too, -have the air of not being able to keep pace with the -thought, and an uneasy want of finish seems to have -been the consequence. A vivid imagination might -easily be deduced from such a MS.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i110a.jpg' alt='Signature of John Neal' id='iid-0037' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>John Neal’s</span> MS. is exceedingly illegible and -careless. Many of his epistles are perfect enigmas, -and we doubt whether he could read them himself -in half an hour after they are penned. Sometimes -four or five words are run together. Any one, from -Mr. Neal’s penmanship, might suppose his mind to -be what it really is—excessively flighty and irregular, -but active and energetic.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i110b.jpg' alt='Signature of C M Sedgwick' id='iid-0038' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The penmanship of Miss <span class='sc'>Sedgwick</span> is excellent. -The characters are well sized, distinct, elegantly but -not ostentatiously formed, and with perfect freedom -of manner, are still sufficiently feminine. The hair-strokes -differ little from the downward ones, and the -MSS. have thus a uniformity they might not otherwise -have. The paper she generally uses is good, -blue, and machine-ruled. Miss Sedgwick’s hand-writing -points unequivocally to the traits of her -literary style—which are strong common sense, and -a masculine disdain of mere ornament. The signature -conveys the general chirography.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i111a.jpg' alt='Signature of J. Fenimore Cooper' id='iid-0039' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. <span class='sc'>Cooper’s</span> MS. is very bad—<span class='it'>unformed</span>, with -little of distinctive character about it, and varying -greatly in different epistles. In most of those before -us a steel pen has been employed, the lines are -crooked, and the whole chirography has a constrained -and school-boyish air. The paper is fine, and of a -bluish tint. A wafer is always used. Without appearing -ill-natured, we could scarcely draw any inferences -from such a MS. Mr. Cooper has seen -many vicissitudes, and it is probable that he has -not always written thus. Whatever are his faults, -his genius cannot be doubted.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i111b.jpg' alt='Signature of J. L. Hawks' id='iid-0040' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Dr. <span class='sc'>Hawks</span> is one of the originators of the “New -York Review,” to which journal he has furnished -many articles. He is also known as the author of -the “History of the Episcopal Church of Virginia,” -and one or two minor works. He now edits the -“Church Record.” His style, both as a writer and -as a preacher, is characterized rather by a perfect -<span class='it'>fluency</span> than by any more lofty quality, and this trait -is strikingly indicated in his chirography, of which -the signature is a fair specimen.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i112a.jpg' alt='Signature of Henry Wm Herbert' id='iid-0041' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This gentleman is the author of “Cromwell,” “The -Brothers,” “Ringwood the Rover,” and some other -minor productions. He at one time edited the “American -Monthly Magazine,” in connection with Mr. Hoffman. -In his compositions for the Magazines, Mr. -<span class='sc'>Herbert</span> is in the habit of doing both them and himself -gross injustice, by neglect and hurry. His longer -works evince much ability, although he is rarely -entitled to be called original. His MS. is exceedingly -neat, clear, and forcible; the signature affording -a just idea of it. It resembles that of Mr. Kennedy -very nearly; but has more slope and uniformity, -with, of course, less spirit, and less of the picturesque. -He who writes as Mr. Herbert, will be found always -to depend chiefly upon his merits of <span class='it'>style</span> for a -literary reputation, and will not be unapt to fall into -a pompous grandiloquence. The author of “Cromwell” -is sometimes wofully turgid.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i112b.jpg' alt='Signature of C. H. Waterman' id='iid-0042' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. <span class='sc'>Esling</span>, formerly Miss Waterman, has attracted -much attention, of late years, by the tenderness -and melody of her short poems. She deserves <span class='it'>nearly</span> -all the commendation which she has received. Her -MS. would generally be considered beautiful; but -formed, like that of most of her sex, upon a regular -school-model, it is, of course, not in the slightest degree -indicative of character.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i113a.jpg' alt='Signature of E. F. Ellet' id='iid-0043' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. <span class='sc'>E. F. Ellet</span> has published one or two books, -exclusively of a volume of poems, but is chiefly known -to the literary world by her numerous contributions -to the Magazines. As a translator from the Italian, -she has acquired an enviable reputation. Her hand, -of which the signature above scarcely conveys a full -idea, is clear, neat, forcible and legible; just such a -hand as one would desire for copying MSS. of importance. -We have observed that the writers of such -epistles as those before us, are often known as translators, -but seldom evince high originality or very -eminent talent of any kind.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i113b.jpg' alt='Signature of M M Noah' id='iid-0044' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Judge <span class='sc'>Noah</span> has written several plays which took -very well in their time, and also several essays and -other works, giving evidence of no ordinary learning -and penetration on certain topics—chiefly connected -with Israelitish history. He is better known, however, -from the wit and universal <span class='it'>bonhommie</span> of his -editorial paragraphs. His peculiar traits of character -may be traced in his writing, which has about it -a free, rolling, and open air. His lines are never -straight, and the letters taper too much to please the -eye of an artist, and have now and then a twirl, like -the tail of a pig, which gives to the whole MS. an -indescribably quizzical appearance, and one altogether -in consonance with the general notion respecting -the quondam Major, and present Judge, than whom -no man has more friends or fewer enemies.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i114.jpg' alt='Signature of J. G. Palfrey' id='iid-0045' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Professor <span class='sc'>Palfrey</span> is known to the public principally -through his editorship of the “North American -Review.” He has a reputation for scholarship; and -many of the articles which are attributed to his pen -evince that this reputation is well based, so far as the -common notion of scholarship extends. For the rest, -he seems to dwell altogether within the narrow -world of his <span class='it'>own</span> conceptions; imprisoning them by -the very barrier which he has erected against the -conceptions of others.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His MS. shows a total deficiency in the sense of -the beautiful. It has great pretension—great straining -after effect; but is altogether one of the most -miserable MSS. in the world—forceless, graceless, -tawdry, vacillating and unpicturesque. The signature -conveys but a faint idea of its extravagance. -However much we may admire the mere <span class='it'>knowledge</span> -of the man who writes thus, it will not do to place -any dependence upon his wisdom or upon his taste.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This article will be concluded in our next number, and will embrace the autograph of every writer of note -in America.</p> - -<hr class='tbk121'/> - -<div><h1><a id='king'></a>THE KING’S BRIDE.</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. H. DANA.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>There</span> is no scenery in England more beautiful than -that to be found in portions of the New Forest. Huge -gray old oaks, gnarled, and twisted, and aspiring to -heaven; deep glens, overshadowed by canopies of -leaves, through which the light but faintly struggles; -vast arcades, stretching far away in the distance, and -buried in religious gloom; wild wood roads, that -wind hither and thither among the giant trees in fanciful -contortions; and open, sunny glades, intersected -by sparkling streamlets, waving with verdant -grass, and now and then disclosing a fairy cottage -nestled in the edge of the forest, are to this day, the -characteristics of this favorite hunting ground of the -conqueror and his immediate successors. There is a -solitude about this old labyrinthine chace, which is -perfectly bewitching. You may travel for miles, in -the more secluded parts of the forest, without meeting -a human being, or seeing the smoke of a single -cottage curling among the foliage; but on every hand -you will behold trees growing in the wildest luxuriance, -and tread on a sward as soft and thick as the -richest velvet. You will, for a space, hear nothing -but the sound of a nut rattling to the ground, or the -song of some wood bird down in a brake; and then -you will rouse the deer from their retreat, a rustle -will be heard down in the under-growth, and you -will catch a sight of the noble herd, perchance, as -they go trotting away into the darker recesses of the -forest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such is the New Forest now, and such it was eight -centuries ago, on a bright sunny morning, towards -the end of summer. The hour was still early, for the -dew yet sparkled in the grass, or pattered down from -the foliage as the wind stirred among the forest branches. -The scene was one of the loveliest the chace afforded—a -bright glade embosomed in the most silent -depths of the forest. The whole of this open space -was carpeted with the thickest and greenest grass, -varying in hue, at every breath of the balmy wind -over the undulated surface. On one side, the glade -was bounded by a gentle elevation, covered with stately -oaks, whose giant branches, spreading out far and -wide, buried their trunks in the obscurity of a constant -twilight—and on the other three sides the -ground either extended itself in a plain, or sloped so -gently off, that the descent was nearly imperceptible. -Thousands of wild flowers spangled the surface of -the glade, some flaunting proudly on the air, and -some modestly hiding under the long grass, yet all -sending forth the most delicious perfume—while innumerable -birds, of every variety of plumage, hopped -from twig to twig, or skimmed across the glade, filling -the air with untold harmonies,—and high in the -heaven, a solitary lark, lingering there long after -his fellows had departed, poured forth his lay with -such sweet, such liquid harmony, that a stranger, unaccustomed -to his song, and unable to distinguish his -tiny form far up in the sunny ether, might well have -fancied those unrivalled notes the breathings of an -unseen cherubim.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such was the scene on which there now gazed two -beings, both beautiful, but one surpassingly so. The -elder of the two might have been one and thirty, and -both his face and figure were moulded in the noblest -style of manly beauty. His broad brow, chiselled -features, and commanding port, bespoke him one born -to rule, although the simple and somewhat mean -garb he wore argued that he was not rich in this -world’s goods. The attire of his companion was richer, -but less gay, and she wore the veil of a novice. -Her face, however, made up in loveliness for whatever -absence of ornament there was in her dress, and -indeed she might well have challenged the world to -produce her rival. The fair delicate skin through -which the blue veins could be seen meandering, the -snowy brow that seemed made for the temple of -the loveliest and purest thoughts, the golden hair -that lay in wreathes upon the forehead, and the blue -eye whose azure depths seemed to conceal mysteries -as pure and rapturing as those of heaven, made up a -countenance of overpowering beauty, even without -that expression, so high and seraphic, which beamed -with her every word, and threw over each lineament -of her face a loveliness almost divine. Her figure -was like that of a sylph, yet full and rounded in every -limb; and beneath her dress peeped forth one of -the most delicate feet that ever trod green sward. She -was perhaps eighteen, though she might have been -younger. She sat now on a low bank, at the very -edge of the forest, while her companion reclined at -her feet, holding one of her tiny hands in his broad -palm, and gazing up into her eyes with a look of the -deepest, yet most respectful passion. Nor were the -maiden’s orbs averted from his gaze, for ever and anon -she would twine her fingers playfully yet half sadly -in his locks, and return his look with all a woman’s -tenderness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sweet one,” said the hunter, as if continuing -a conversation, “I have sometimes, during our -separation for the last six long months, almost desponded, -especially when I heard how urgent my -brother was that you should wed his favorite Warren, -and when I reflected that your aunt, the good abbess -Christiana, was so hostile to my suit. But I did you -injustice, dear one, and thus,” and he kissed the hands -of his companion again and again, “I sue for pardon. -God only knows,” he added in a sadder tone, -“whether I shall ever have my rights. They sneer -at me now as a landless prince, and that purse-proud -Surrey hath no better name for me than Deer’s-foot, -because I am not always able to follow the hunt with -a steed. But so long as thou art true to me, sweet -Maud, all these will be as nothing; and the time may -come when we shall yet be happy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fear not, Beauclerk,” said the princess—for it -was Matilda of Scotland who spoke, and he whom -she addressed was the younger son of the conqueror, -the penniless dependent of him whom men called the -Red King, “fear not—all, as you say, will be well. -I feel it, I know it. Do you believe in presentiments, -dear Henry?” and pushing aside her lover’s thick -locks, she held her hand on his forehead, and looked -with her sunny orbs full into his eyes, as if she would -playfully read his very soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Presentiments trouble me not much, despite what -the books say thereof,” answered the frank hunter, -“I trust rather to my sword and my good right arm, -though forsooth, they availed me little when I was -cooped up in St. Michael’s Mount by my two kingly -and loving brothers. Aye! presentiments and prophesies, -and such things, trouble me but little, or I would -e’en have consolation now, in all my troubles, in calling -to mind the words of my father—the saints assoilzie -his memory!—since dying, he said, ‘that I -should be inheritor of all his honors, and should excel -both Robert and William in riches and power.’ By -St. George, the riches had best come soon, for I gave -my last mark away this morning. No, kind Maud, -I place little faith in presentiments. But you sigh. -If it pains you that I credit them not, why, then I -am the most devout believer in all England,” and -again he pressed that fair hand to his lips, “why do -you ask the question?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because,” said the princess, blushing at his eagerness, -“I have had a presentiment that we should -yet be happy, and that full soon. I know not how it -is to happen; but of this I am assured, we shall live -for brighter days. The abbess threatens me with the -veil if I do not wed Surrey, and even now forces me, -in her presence, to wear a tissue of horse-hair; but -though I can as yet see no escape from the alternative, -I am not the less certain that it will never be -mine to choose. So now, despond no more, dear -Beauclerk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks, thanks, for your cheering homily,” said -the young prince laughing, for her sanguine words -had affected him with an unusual gaiety. “I can -hunt now with some spirit. Little does Surrey think, -while he is getting ready for the chase and perhaps -sneering at me as a laggard for not being up to set -out with the rest, that I have stolen out into the forest -to meet her for whom he would give the whole of his -broad lands.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What answer the princess might have made to this -somewhat vain-glorious speech, we know not, but at -this instant a party appeared on the scene in the guise -of a knight, somewhat advanced in years, and as he -approached hastily, he said:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must forgive me, my dear lady, if I urge you -to take horse. The abbess knows your journey will -have consumed but a day, and that you should have -reached Wilton last night, and I shall have a hard -task to excuse your protracted stay without betraying -you. The men-at-arms are drawn up but a little space -off, and, though they are all my servitors, it is best -that they should know nothing to reveal. The prince -here will understand me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Assuredly, Sir John; and if he they call Beauclerk -ever attains power, he will not forget those who befriended -the landless prince. I will bring up Maud -in an instant.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The knight bowed, and retreated into the wood. A -few parting words were exchanged betwixt the lovers, -a few tears were shed by Maud, which were kissed -off by the prince, and then, with one long, last embrace, -they tore themselves asunder, and in a few -minutes the princess had rejoined her train. Prince -Henry stood looking vacantly in the direction where -she had disappeared, until the sound of her beast’s -tramp had died in the distance, when, slowly mounting -his steed, who had awaited its master in a neighboring -copse, he entered one of the forest roads, and -proceeded leisurely onwards. He had journeyed thus -about half an hour when he heard a hunting horn -sound close by him, and directly he beheld approaching -the gallant array of his brother.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ha! my good cousin Deer’s-foot, well met,” said -the Earl of Surrey; “we have been looking for you. -I told your friend here, who swore you were yet abed, -that we should meet you afoot in the forest before -the day was over—and thereon we have laid a wager. -I trow we have neither won. It would be but fair to -give you the bet, would it not?” said the gay Earl -with a half concealed sneer, as he glanced from his -own rich suit to the prince’s garb.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You may both want yet, fair sirs, all you can -spare,” answered the prince; “but let us see who -will be first in at the death. You were always apt at -that, my lord,” and he turned to the royal treasurer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay, and shall maintain my reputation, your highness,” -said Breteuil, recollecting he addressed almost -a beggar; “and, if I may judge by your steed, even -against yourself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We shall see—we shall see,” said the prince. -“I lay you a new steed, my lord, I distance you to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Done,” said the treasurer, laughing; “you have -thrown away your horse. But here is the king, and -lo!” and as he spoke the horn announced that a stag -had been roused, “the game is afoot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the word the eager sportsmen gave spur to their -steeds, and the cavalcade swept gaily off in the chase.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Never had a more gallant array than that which -now followed the royal stag, woke up the echoes of -the forest. Knights and squires, priests and pages, -warriors and ecclesiastics, princes of the blood royal -and high officers of state, pressed forward in the -chase, now scouring along the level plain, now dashing -away through the arcades of the forest, and now -plunging recklessly through brake and dell, as the -hounds dogged the flight of the noble animal into his -once secure retreat. Yet it was well worthy of note -how compactly the hunters kept around the king, -none venturing to outstrip him, and only a few of the -oldest maintaining an even rein with him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Often during the chase the prince and Breteuil -passed and repassed each other, and at every recognition -Henry would gaily remind the treasurer of his -wager. At length, however, the pursuit became -more hot, the king gave rein to his steed and pressed -on, and in passing some broken ground the royal party -became separated, and those who were younger or -better mounted than the rest swept on ahead. Among -these was Prince Henry, who, though his steed was -none of the best, kept up a not ignoble pace, until at -length his arbalast caught against a tree, and he was -nearly thrown from his horse. He checked his steed -at once, and recovered his cross-bow, but the string -was broken, rendering the weapon useless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ha! My gallant prince,” said the treasurer, as -he swept by; “you can scarcely hit your game now, -even if you keep on. I trow your steed is mine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A malison on the string,” said the prince bitterly; -“there is nothing left for me except to sneak -back to Winchester. But, no! I bethink me now -there is a forester’s hut somewhere nigh here. Ah! -yonder is its smoke curling over the tree-tops. I -will hie me there, and get a new string. If the stag -turns at the dell below, he will head up this way, and -I may yet win my wager, for, the saints know, I can -ill afford to lose my only steed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With these words the prince again gave spurs to his -horse, and was soon before the forester’s hut.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ho! there, within,” he exclaimed; “a string -for the prince. Marry, old mistress, have they never -a keeper here better than you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These words were addressed to an old woman who -met him at the threshold of the hut as he dismounted, -and who appeared to be the only human being inhabiting -the cabin. And she was one who might well -occasion the prince’s exclamation of surprise. Her -skin was like that of a corpse; her eyes were sunk -deep into her head; her hair was grizzled and gray; -her long bony fingers might have been those of a -skeleton, and when she spoke, her hollow sepulchral -tones made even the courageous prince shudder. She -seemed to pay no regard to her visitor’s inquiry for -a string, but fastening her basilisk-like eyes upon -him, she said or rather chaunted, in Norman -French, a rude lay, of which the following verses -are a translation:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Hasty news to thee I bring,</p> -<p class='line0'>Henry, thou art now a king;</p> -<p class='line0'>Mark the words, and heed them well,</p> -<p class='line0'>Which to thee in sooth I tell,</p> -<p class='line0'>And recall them in the hour</p> -<p class='line0'>Of thy royal state and power.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>For the space of almost a minute after she had -ceased, the prince gazed speechlessly on this novel -being, awed alike by her strange demeanor, and her -sepulchral eye. Nor were the words she chaunted -without effect on her hearer. It was a superstitious -age, and though few men of his day were less influenced -by the supernatural than Henry, there was -something in the sybil’s look which chilled his heart -with a strange feeling, half fear, half awe. He had -not recovered from his surprise, when a horseman -rushed wildly up to the hut, and the prince had -scarcely recognized one of his warmest friends, -Beaumont, when that gentleman breathlessly exclaimed:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The king is slain!—Tyrell’s arrow glanced -from a bow and struck your royal brother to his -heart!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The words of Beaumont acted on the prince like -the charm which dissipates a spell. He started, as -if aroused from some strange dream, looked a moment -in wild surprise at his companion, and gradually -comprehending the strange and sudden transition -in his fortunes, he sprung with a bound into his -saddle, and plunging his rowels up to the heel in his -horse’s side, exclaimed:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then this is no place for me—follow to Winchester, -Beaumont,—and now for a crown and -Maud!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next instant his horse’s hoofs were thundering -across the stones, as he galloped furiously to the -capital.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>History relates how he reached Winchester, with -his steed bathed in foam, and, without slackening his -pace, dashed up to the door of the royal treasury, a -few minutes in advance of Breteuil. History also -tells how the energy of the young prince broke -through the meshes of the wily traitor, and secured -for Beauclerk the crown; but it does not add that, -after the unwilling treasurer had surrendered the -keys of the regalia, his new master said, half laughingly -and half ironically, to the haughty peer who -had so often neglected him when only a prince—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, my lord! did I not say I would win the -race? I trow your steed is mine!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The discomfited Breteuil bit his lip and was silent, -but that night his best charger was sent to the royal -stables; while the rest of the hunters, who were now -fast pouring in from the chase, with the populace -which at the first news of the Red King’s death had -begun to shout “King Henry,” gathered around their -young monarch and filled the air with their acclamations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maud is right,” said the king to himself, as he -beheld the enthusiasm displayed by his people, “to -say nothing of the old sybil. Ah! what will my -sweet one think when she hears this?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Three months later and all the chivalry of the realm -was gathered in the church at Westminster, while -the populace without thronged every avenue to that -princely cathedral. Never indeed had a prouder assemblage -met at any royal ceremonial. The church -blazed with jewels. Nobles in their robes of state; -bishops and archbishops with mitre and crozier; -countesses whose beauty out-dazzled their diamonds; -knights and squires and pages of every rank; burghers -with their chains of gold; men-at-arms encased in -steel; halberdiers and archers; yeomen with quarter -staffs, and foresters with arbalasts; men of every -situation of life, and bright ladies, whose loveliness -was beyond compare, were gathered in the gorgeously -ornamented church, amid the waving of banners, -the sound of music, the rustling of costly robes, -and the smoke of ascending incense, to gaze on the -marriage of their monarch to his fair and blushing -bride. And there she stood before the altar in all -her virgin beauty, her fair blue eyes suffused with -tears of joy; while her manly lover stood at her -side, the proudest cavalier in all that bright array. -And when the archbishop ascended the pulpit, and -demanded if any one there objected to the union, the -whole audience shouted aloud “that the matter was -rightly settled;” then again pealed forth the anthem, -and again the incense rose in clouds to the fretted -roof. The music ceased, the words were said, the -crown was placed on the brow of the princess, and -the hunter of the forest, amid the acclamations of his -people, pressed to his heart the <span class='sc'>King’s Bride</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you believe in presentiments now?” said the -young queen, half laughing, to her royal husband -when they reached the palace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am a convert to your faith whatever it may be, -sweet one. Nay! you shall preach no sermon over -my retraction, for thus I forbid the homily,” and the -king drew the blushing Maud towards him and fondly -kissed her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Many an iron monarch has, since then, sat on the -English throne, and many a fair princess has been -led by her lover to the altar, but never has a happier -or more beautiful pair wore the regal crown in the -realm of our ancestors.</p> - -<hr class='tbk122'/> - -<div><h1><a id='mer'></a>MERRY ENGLAND.</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. LOWELL.</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'><span class='sc'>Hurrah</span> for merry England,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Queen of the land and sea,</p> -<p class='line0'>The champion of truth and right,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The bulwark of the free!</p> -<p class='line0'>Hurrah for merry England!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Upon thy seagirt isle</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou sittest, clothed in righteousness,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Secure of Heaven’s smile!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>When ruled the fairhaired Saxon,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Yes, thou wert merry then;</p> -<p class='line0'>And, as they girt their bucklers on,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy meanest serfs were men;</p> -<p class='line0'>And merry was the castle-hall</p> -<p class='line0'>  With jest and song and tale,</p> -<p class='line0'>When bearded lips with mead were white</p> -<p class='line0'>  And rang the loud Washael!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And, when grim Denmark’s black-browed prows</p> -<p class='line0'>  Tore through thine Emerald sea,</p> -<p class='line0'>And many a wild blue eye was turned</p> -<p class='line0'>  In savage lust on thee,—</p> -<p class='line0'>When, in the greenest of thy vales,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The gusts of summer air</p> -<p class='line0'>Blew out in long and shaggy locks</p> -<p class='line0'>  The sea-king’s yellow hair,—</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Yet Alfred was in England,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And merry yet again</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy white-armèd Saxon maidens were</p> -<p class='line0'>  When, on the drunken Dane,</p> -<p class='line0'>The sudden thunders of thy war</p> -<p class='line0'>  With arrowy hail did pour,</p> -<p class='line0'>And grim jaws dropt that quivered yet</p> -<p class='line0'>  With savage hymns to Thor.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thy merry brow was fair and free,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thine eye gleamed like a lance,</p> -<p class='line0'>When thy good ash and yew did crush</p> -<p class='line0'>  The gilded knights of France;</p> -<p class='line0'>When Paris shook within her walls</p> -<p class='line0'>  And trembled as she saw</p> -<p class='line0'>Her snow-white lilies trampled down</p> -<p class='line0'>  Beneath thy lion’s paw.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Queen Bess’s days were merry days,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Renowned in song and tale,</p> -<p class='line0'>Stout days that saw the last brown bead</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of many a tun of ale;</p> -<p class='line0'>Queen Bess’s days were golden days</p> -<p class='line0'>  And thou full proudly then</p> -<p class='line0'>Did’st suckle at thy healthy breasts</p> -<p class='line0'>  The best of Englishmen.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thou hast been merry, England,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But art thou merry now,</p> -<p class='line0'>With sweat of agonizing years</p> -<p class='line0'> Upon thy harlot brow,</p> -<p class='line0'>Grimed with the smoke of furnaces</p> -<p class='line0'>  That forge with damned art</p> -<p class='line0'>The bars of darkness that shut in</p> -<p class='line0'>  The poor man’s starving heart?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Oh free and Christian England!</p> -<p class='line0'>  The Hindu wife no more</p> -<p class='line0'>Shall burn herself in that broad realm</p> -<p class='line0'>  Saint George’s cross waves o’er;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou art the champion of the right,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The friend of the opprest,</p> -<p class='line0'>And none but freemen now shall tread</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thine Indies of the West.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But thou canst ship thy poison,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Wrung from lean Hindu slaves,</p> -<p class='line0'>To fill all China with dead souls</p> -<p class='line0'>  That rot in living graves;</p> -<p class='line0'>And, that thy faith may not be seen</p> -<p class='line0'>  Barren of goodly works,</p> -<p class='line0'>At Saint Jean D’Acre thou sent’st up</p> -<p class='line0'>  To Heaven three thousand Turks.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Fling high your greasy caps in air,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Slaves of the forge and loom,</p> -<p class='line0'>If on the soil ye’re pent and starved</p> -<p class='line0'>  Yet underneath there’s room;</p> -<p class='line0'>Fling high your caps, for, God be praised,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Your epitaph shall be,</p> -<p class='line0'>“Who sets his foot on English soil</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thenceforward he is free!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Shout too for merry England</p> -<p class='line0'>  Ye factory-children thin,</p> -<p class='line0'>Upon whose little hearts the sun</p> -<p class='line0'>  Hath never once looked in;</p> -<p class='line0'>For, when your hollow eyes shall close</p> -<p class='line0'>  The poor-house hell to balk,</p> -<p class='line0'>(Thank God for liberty of speech)</p> -<p class='line0'>  The parliament will talk.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thank God, lean sons of Erin,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Who reverence the Pope</p> -<p class='line0'>In England consciences are free</p> -<p class='line0'>  And ye are free—to hope;</p> -<p class='line0'>And if the Church of England priest</p> -<p class='line0'>  Distrain—why, what of that?</p> -<p class='line0'>Their consciences are freer still</p> -<p class='line0'>  Who wear the shovel-hat.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The poet loves the silent past,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And, in his fruitful rhyme,</p> -<p class='line0'>He sets the fairest flowers o’er</p> -<p class='line0'>  The grave of buried time;</p> -<p class='line0'>But, from the graves of thy dark years,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The night-shade’s ugly blue</p> -<p class='line0'>And spotted henbane shall grow up</p> -<p class='line0'>  To poison Heaven’s dew.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Woe to thee, fallen England,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Who hast betrayed the word,</p> -<p class='line0'>And knelt before a Church when thou</p> -<p class='line0'>  Shouldst kneel before the Lord!</p> -<p class='line0'>And, for that scarlet woman</p> -<p class='line0'>  Who sits in places high,</p> -<p class='line0'>There cometh vengeance swift to quench</p> -<p class='line0'>  The lewdness in her eye.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Woe to thee, fallen England,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Who, in thy night-mare sleep,</p> -<p class='line0'>O’er a volcano’s heart dost toss</p> -<p class='line0'>  Whence sudden wrath shall leap</p> -<p class='line0'>Of that forgotten Titan</p> -<p class='line0'>  Who now is trodden down</p> -<p class='line0'>That one weak Guelphic girl may wear</p> -<p class='line0'>  Her plaything of a crown!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>That Titan’s heart is heaving now,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And, with its huge uprise,</p> -<p class='line0'>On their sand basements lean and crack</p> -<p class='line0'>  The old moss-covered lies;</p> -<p class='line0'>For freedom through long centuries</p> -<p class='line0'>  Lives in eternal youth,</p> -<p class='line0'>And nothing can for ever part</p> -<p class='line0'>  The human soul and truth.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk123'/> - -<div><h1><a id='mar'></a>MARRIAGE.</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 RUFUS DAWES.</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'><span class='sc'>The</span> inmost region of the mind, where dwells</p> -<p class='line0'>The essences of unborn thought,—those <span class='it'>ends</span></p> -<p class='line0'>In which Effects, through Causes, dwell in power,</p> -<p class='line0'>Opened. ’Twas in vision, and I saw</p> -<p class='line0'>A palace of vast size—such as the eye,</p> -<p class='line0'>The natural eye of man, never beheld.</p> -<p class='line0'>Its massy walls of unhewn agate towered,</p> -<p class='line0'>Girt by a colonnade of crysolite;</p> -<p class='line0'>And there were ninety columns of huge bulk,</p> -<p class='line0'>Sustaining an entablature of gold,</p> -<p class='line0'>Diamond and ruby, glittering like the sun.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The windows were each one a double plate</p> -<p class='line0'>Of spacious crystal, sliding from the touch</p> -<p class='line0'>Each side in golden frames. The portico</p> -<p class='line0'>Hung o’er a flight of alabaster steps,</p> -<p class='line0'>Extending to a lawn of delicate moss,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where browsed a flock of innocent, white lambs,</p> -<p class='line0'>That little children garlanded with flowers.</p> -<p class='line0'>Around the palace, orchard-trees were seen,</p> -<p class='line0'>Laden with fruit celestial, that hung down</p> -<p class='line0'>Like gems among the gold and silver leaves.</p> -<p class='line0'>Majestic vines, heavy with clustering grapes,</p> -<p class='line0'>In large festoons swung gorgeously between</p> -<p class='line0'>The opulent boughs that dropped with nectarines.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>’Twas on a mountain’s summit, high and broad,</p> -<p class='line0'>Commanding a magnificent expanse,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where Art, in its essential excellence,</p> -<p class='line0'>Glowed in potential forms, where Nature, too,</p> -<p class='line0'>Un-ultimated in terrestrial things,</p> -<p class='line0'>Bloomed in angelic beauty. To the east</p> -<p class='line0'>A river, brinked luxuriantly with flowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>Lapsed silently. The deep-enameled dome,</p> -<p class='line0'>Whose measureless horizon knew no bounds,</p> -<p class='line0'>Was draped with clouds that broke celestial rays,</p> -<p class='line0'>Shining down shadowless. Turning, I saw</p> -<p class='line0'>A pair of Consorts, whose exalted home</p> -<p class='line0'>Was in this paradise. No forms of earth,</p> -<p class='line0'>No mortal lineaments—no reach of thought</p> -<p class='line0'>Poetic, when imagination wings</p> -<p class='line0'>Homeward to Heaven, could in the least compare</p> -<p class='line0'>With their angelic radiance;—they were</p> -<p class='line0'>Beauty itself in form,—two, and yet one,—</p> -<p class='line0'>One angel male and female—a true Man.</p> -<p class='line0'>He was her Understanding, she his Will;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thence, but one mind in heavenly marriage formed.</p> -<p class='line0'>Her love was cradled in his thought, that loved</p> -<p class='line0'>Her love and nursed it—as the tender drops</p> -<p class='line0'>Clasp the warm sunbeams, while the smile of Heaven</p> -<p class='line0'>Breaks in the rainbow. Such is genuine love.</p> -<p class='line0'>He in his form more radiantly shone</p> -<p class='line0'>Than that sublime achievement of fine art,</p> -<p class='line0'>That shows the power of luminous Truth to kill</p> -<p class='line0'>Sinuous Error;—she, than Guido’s gem</p> -<p class='line0'>More beautiful, more human, and more true.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I saw, and lo! two dromedaries, each</p> -<p class='line0'>Bearing a golden basket, one of bread,</p> -<p class='line0'>The other of ripe fruit; they came and knelt.</p> -<p class='line0'>Each took and gave the other,—he the bread,</p> -<p class='line0'>She the ripe fruit. The dromedaries then</p> -<p class='line0'>Rose and departed. I beheld them kneeling</p> -<p class='line0'>Beside the river, and when they had drunk</p> -<p class='line0'>I saw them rise again and kiss each other,</p> -<p class='line0'>And then depart. I looked again, and lo!</p> -<p class='line0'>The consorts had withdrawn. They were the first</p> -<p class='line0'>Of the new birth of Marriage here on earth—</p> -<p class='line0'>A promise for the future, when a Time,</p> -<p class='line0'>And Times, and half a Time shall be fulfilled.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk124'/> - -<div><h1><a id='ind'></a>INDIAN TRADITIONS.—No. II.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>FORT POINT.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY D. M. ELWOOD.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';fs:0.9em;' --> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>“His spirit wraps the misty mountain,</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>His memory sparkles o’er the fountain;</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>The meanest rill—the mightiest river—</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Rolls mingling with his name forever.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The</span> beautiful towns and villages of Connecticut, -bordering on Long Island sound, are not surpassed in -quiet loveliness by any others in New England. The -loveliest, perhaps, of them all, is Norwalk, situated -in the western part of the State, on a river of the -same name, which flows sweetly along through the -centre of the town. The title, we confess, is neither -euphonious nor romantic: but we would not have it -changed even for the sweetest word that ever passed -human lips. It was given it by the Aborigines on -the day when the territory was first purchased from -them, and refers, if we mistake not, to its extent northward -from the sound, called by the Indians the <span class='it'>North -walk</span>. It is, indeed, one of the most lovely spots in -Nature. Its quiet harbor is studded with verdant -islands of every size and form, while across the green -waters Long Island is seen, its dim outline scarcely -distinguishable from the blue expanse beyond. The -sound through its whole length is spotted with sheets -of snowy canvass spread to catch the breeze, and anon -the majestic steamer, like some huge leviathan, comes -laboring on her way, proudly dashing aside the foaming -waters from her prow, and leaving far behind a -whitened, widening track. But when the Storm King -is abroad, the crested waves pursue each other in -continual chase, and the long, swelling billows break -upon the shore, sending forth their rich music in the -deep organ tones of nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the eastern side of the river, and directly opposite -the present steamboat landing, is a large circular -mound, some twenty feet high, and covering a surface -of about an acre. It is perfectly level on the top, and -bordered with large, tall cedars. It is now commonly -known by the inhabitants in the vicinity as <span class='sc'>Old -Fort Point</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is a tradition respecting the object and the -erection of this mound, which I have with difficulty -procured, and which maybe interesting to many who -have visited the place, if not to strangers. For its -truth, in all particulars, I will not vouch, but give it -substantially as it has come down to us.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About two centuries ago, there lived, on the level -country about what is now Fort Point, but what was -then called Naumkeag, one of those large tribes of -native Indians, which, at the time when this land was -first visited by Europeans, were scattered over the -country from the shores of the Atlantic to the great -valley of the west. The Indians had not then been -degraded by their intercourse with the whites. The -peculiarities of their nature had not been modified by -the influence of civilization. Their tastes had not -been pampered, nor their appetites excited by the fatal -“fire water” introduced by their destroyers, nor -their bodily strength wasted by diseases, loathsome -and deadly, and till then unknown among them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From the feathered flocks of the forest and the finny -tribes of the sea, they derived an ample subsistence; -the shores, too, abounded in shell fish, and the forests -with game, so that want and famine were never -dreamt of by the happy and proud inhabitants of -Naumkeag.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Many years before the time of this sketch a large -colony separated from the principal tribe and moved -northward, settling themselves in the mountainous regions -of Massachusetts. This colony embraced about -a quarter of the whole tribe at Naumkeag—and being -composed mostly of young men and their wives, -they soon became nearly as powerful as the people -whom they had left.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Although many miles lay between them, these two -tribes long kept up a friendly intercourse with each -other, and forgot not that they had sprung from the -same common stock. Miles were passed over almost -as easily by those hardy foresters as they are by us at -the present day, even with the help of iron roads and -steam carriages. Great power of endurance was natural -to their constitution, and especially was the fatigue -of a long and rapid journey borne without inconvenience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was one of the Wannamoisetts, as those who -had removed from Naumeag now called themselves, -who was more frequent by far in his visits to the sea -shore than any other of his tribe. Every second moon -found him treading the forest with his face toward -the south. His journey usually occupied from two -to three days. Occasionally he remained at Naumkeag -for a week at a time, though for the most part, -his visits were less protracted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mononchee had of course some object or incentive -for being thus frequent and regular in his attendance -at the home of his ancestors. His very distant relationship -to the tribe would hardly demand such an -excess of filial affection. The truth was, there was -a magnet of attraction in the person of a young maiden -of Naumkeag, the sister-in-law of the chief, Wappaconet; -and a powerful magnet it was too,—for -there was not another in the whole village that possessed -a brighter eye or a more perfect form. Her -step almost realized the description of the poet,</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>        “————and fell,</p> -<p class='line0'>Trembling and soft, like moon-light on the earth.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Noalwa was not insensible to the attentions of her -constant swain; on the contrary, his wooings were -quite successful. His bravery and his manly strength—his -tall and well formed person, and flashing eye, -were well calculated to win the admiration, and, in -due course, the affections of the gentle being upon -whom his own desires centered; and the many soft -things that he whispered in her ear, (for even an Indian -<span class='it'>in love</span> can utter the sweetest phrases with a -honied mouth,) found a deep lodgment in her heart. -And it was noticed that when the period of his visits -was near at hand, her step was still lighter than usual, -and her eye danced with a new, but soft fire, though -at such times she spoke less, and seemed thoughtful -but not sad.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One evening—it was in the beginning of June, that -season so favorable to young lovers—Mononchee surprised -Noalwa sitting under a large tree close upon -the shore. The hour and the place seemed as if under -the influence of enchantment. The scene was like a -fairy land. The broad sound was spread out before -her, upon whose surface the clear moon shed her softened -rays, which, as from a mirror, were reflected -back on every side, giving to all things around an -unnatural and unearthly brightness. There seemed -a spell upon the air. It stirred not—but hung over -the earth and the sea as if to heal every imperfection -on the face of nature by its bland and genial influence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Noalwa had not been long there. An unwelcome -intruder had invaded the hour which she had set apart -for solitude and for communion in spirit and in fancy -with her absent but adored lover. The intruder had -hardly left her sight ere he was banished from her -thoughts, and as it was about a week earlier than the -customary time of Mononchee’s coming, she was -thinking how long the days would be till she saw him, -when she felt a warm kiss upon her cheek. She -screamed not—spoke not—for a deep-seated feeling -at her heart told her that those were no forbidden lips -that could kindle such raptures in her soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She gazed up at the face and form that was bending -over her with all the fondness of a first love, and -the young Indian placed himself by her side and gently -drew her to his bosom. Then followed a conversation -in low, deep, earnest tones, that both came -from, and reached the heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Wannamoisett is good—very good, to come -so soon and gladden the heart of Noalwa,” murmured -the girl as he pressed her to his breast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who would not come early and often if Noalwa -loved him?” replied he. “Her beauty is brighter -than the sun! Her eye is clearer and softer than the -moon which leaves a broad trail of light upon the -water. She sings more sweetly than the Tichanet,<a id='r4'/><a href='#f4' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[4]</span></sup></a> -and when she laughs the whole air is full of pleasant -sounds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did the Wannamoisett see any of my people as he -came hither?” asked she.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“None—for I came down by the shore. Ah! yes, -I did see one—Annawon, the Namasket.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Noalwa hung her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where did Mononchee meet him?” said she.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I saw him here!” vehemently replied the warrior, -“here—standing on this very spot. I saw his -hand grasp yours; nay, kneeling at your feet. I saw -his eager look whilst you poured into his ear words -which should have been kept for Mononchee!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be it so then,” cried the maiden, her lips quivering -with insulted pride, and her heart torn with the -agony which the unjust but perhaps reasonable suspicion -of her lover caused, “be it so! for I told him -to go—ere he told me a tale of love—to his tent -and behold the wasted form and the sunken eye of -Tituba, his wife, once loved and cherished—now -neglected. I told him that I could never be his, and -that any one who suspected Noalwa would so dishonor -herself as to break her faith with another, could -not be worthy of her love. Mononchee suspects her, -and to him let her words be applied.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But why suffer the Namasket to hold your hand? -Why play with the serpent just ready to strike deep -his fangs?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mononchee is a keen-eyed warrior,” said the maid -in irony, “he saw the hawk, but not the wren that -drove <span class='it'>him from her nest</span>. He saw Annawon at the -feet and holding the hand of Noalwa, but did not observe -with what scorn she looked upon him—did not -mark how she spurned and drove him from her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was deceived,” answered the repentant lover; -“Noalwa has a pure heart, and never again will I distrust -her. Seest thou that moon hanging yonder over -the clear water? When it is again round and full, as -it is to-night, Mononchee will come to take Noalwa -for his wife. Will she be ready to go with him then -to dwell where the hills are high and the deer are -plenty?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am yours—yours only,” and her blushing face -was hid in his bosom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After sitting for about an hour, the young man -arose. “I must return,” said he, “to my people. -Remember the full moon, Noalwa,” and he strode -rapidly away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few days after the above occurrence the Namaskets -were invited by the Wannamoisetts to partake -of a grand feast of deer and bears’ flesh at their village -in the mountains. Accordingly a large party of -the active men of the tribe started one morning, and -the evening of the next day found them with their -friends at Cohammock. The Wannamoisetts had -made their preparations on a grand, and, for them, -magnificent scale. Piles of plump deer and still -richer bears’ meat lay around, while kettles of dried -sweet corn and beans, of the last year’s growth, were -already simmering over the small fires, that the hard -kernels might become well softened and ready for use -on the morrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With the gray dawn of morning, all was bustle and -activity in the village of Cohammock. The Indian -matrons were early bestirring themselves that nothing -might be left undone to mar the festivities of the -occasion. Innumerable fires were kindled—the wooden -spit and the seething pot, the two indispensable -and almost the only culinary implements in use among -them, were put in requisition. Whilst the preparations -were going slowly on, the men of the tribe as -well as their guests were idling listlessly about, their -appetites every moment rendered sharper by the odor -of the smoking viands that were soon to form their -savory meal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And truly the banquet was not unworthy the occasion. -Just as the sun had reached the “middle point -in the heavens,” piles upon piles of boiled and roasted -flesh were spread under the shade of the tall sycamores -that grew undisturbed in all parts of the village. -A large bowl of the finest <span class='it'>succotash</span> was placed -before each guest, and if the quantity eaten be -the standard of quality, never was there served up a -better dinner than was that day disposed of in the -rude village of Cohammock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length the repast was finished. Both guests and -entertainers, with a prudence truly commendable, ate -as if expecting a famine for a month, at least, to come, -and nothing remained but to indulge in that supreme -of Indian luxuries, tobacco. Pipes were brought, -but alas! there was not a particle of the weed to be -found. Some miscreant, a fair representative of that -variety of our race at the present day—ever ready to -engender strife, had stolen and destroyed all that was -to be found in the village.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was a deficiency that could be supplied by no -other article. Venison or succotash or any other part -of the edible entertainment could have been dispensed -with, but the burning propensities of an Indian -must be indulged. The Wannamoisetts were as much -mortified as their guests were offended at this unfortunate -occurrence, but it was with difficulty the Namaskets -could be persuaded that it was not an intentional -insult; so jealous were the natives of their -own honor! Contrary to their previous intention, -they left their kinsmen in the early part of the same -afternoon, not caring to remain till morning with -those who had, in their view, been so parsimonious -in their hospitality.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Let us return again to the sea shore at Naumkeag. -A month after the feast of Cohammock, a party of -the Wannamoisett warriors were present at a grand -collation, prepared by Wappacowat, the Namasket -chief. Much were they gratified by this expression -of his friendship, for they had always regretted the -affair at their own village, and feared that an open -rupture would be the consequence. They dreaded -this, still cherishing some little spark of fraternal affection -for those whom they had unmeaningly offended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the banquet, so busily were the Wannamoisetts -engaged in despatching the shell and other fish -which their friends had made ready, that they did -not observe that Wappacowat and his followers partook -but sparingly, so that by the time they had eaten -almost to suffocation, and were illy prepared for the -least exertion, the Namaskets had taken only what -was just sufficient to stimulate them for any enterprise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length Wappacowat gave the signal to his followers -to bring the calumet, and as he did so, a close -observer might have discovered a gleam of gratified -animosity shoot across his iron features and glisten -in his snaky eye. Quickly moved his warriors, and -the devoted guests half stupified by the vast quantities -of food they had taken, saw the pipes well filled -with the luxurious plant, but did not discover the -tomahawk and the knife which they had concealed -under their deer skin robes. They sat not smoking -long, for suddenly the Namaskets rose and each one -buried his tomahawk into the brain of the Wannamoisett -next him. All—all were slain. So well had -the treacherous, fratricidal plan been matured, that -not a single one was left to carry to the desolate village -of Cohammock the tale of blood and guilt. Ah! -yes, there was one—Mononchee—the betrothed of -Noalwa, who having neglected the feast that he -might spend the time apart with the fair one, came -into the village just as the last reeking scalp had been -torn from the cloven skull. Looking an instant on -the appalling spectacle, he uttered a furious yell and -sprang like a deer towards the river. A dozen tomahawks -flew after him, and as many dark warriors -started in pursuit, but in vain, for with a few powerful -strokes the brave youth gained the opposite bank, -and bounding into the woods, effected his escape.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were buried on the spot where they fell. Perhaps -no shade of remorse passed over the minds of -the murderers, but they could not leave the victims -there for their flesh to rot and their bones to whiten -in the sun. They were buried several feet below the -surface, and the gloomy shades of night fell thick -around before the last mangled body was hidden from -the sight. And as the rising wind swept through the -thick-topped pines and tall buttonwoods around, it -wailed and sighed mournfully, as if singing a melancholy -dirge over the graves of the gallant dead. And -by the midnight hour it blew in hoarse and awful -tones, and the death shouts and groans of the dead -were heard commingling with the blast; and when -the night was darkest, and all save the growling of -the wind and these unnatural noises, was still, a lurid -flame sprang up from the centre of the spot where -the feast had been, and cast a sickening light on all -things, and the earth opened around, and the bodies -of the Wannamoisett warriors, bloody and mangled -as they were, arose and danced around it, singing -their war songs in unearthly tones, together with their -wild requiem for the dead. Ghastly and horrible they -looked, and as they danced, the blood flowed from -their opening wounds, till it reached the strange fire, -which instantly shot up in one lurid column of flame -till it attained the blackened clouds, when it disappeared -as suddenly as it had burst forth; the spectral -revellers sank back again into their fresh graves, and -all was dark and silent as before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But when the morning broke the Namaskets beheld -a spectacle scarcely less hideous than that of the -preceding night. Their victims had been buried, as -their custom was, in a sitting posture, and during the -night they had all risen, so that their heads were fully -visible above the surface of the ground. The bloody -mark of the tomahawk was still there, and every -scalp was torn off—and the eyeballs, projecting far -from the sockets, were fixed and glassy, but of a burning -red,—glowing like living fire. And from them -rays of dingy red streamed all over the village,—and -wherever one of the murderers went, those rays followed -him, and pierced him, and seemed as if they -were burning out his heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Reckless with fear and rage the murderers tore the -bodies up from the ground and dug the graves still -deeper and again they placed them in. But at midnight -the red flame burst forth and the tempest howled -fearfully. The phantom forms sprung up as before, -and this time their flesh, from their shoulders -downward, dropped off and was consumed by the fire, -and a dense smoke arose, and a red cloud slowly -gathered in the air, and hovered round and hung over -the spot like a minister of vengeance. And in the -morning their gory heads and glaring eyes had again -struggled up above the surface. And when the fratricides -saw them, a deadly terror crept over them -and the demon of remorse began to prey upon their -souls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the third night the scene was changed. The -moon did not set at her accustomed hour, but hung -just above the horizon, red as a sea of blood. And -in the midst of the fire that shot forth from the earth -at midnight, a form was seen like that of Wappacowat, -the chief. But the ghostly images were there -again, and they gathered round the form in the centre, -and with their skeleton fingers tore off its flesh -as fast as it was seared in the fire, and ground it in -their teeth with ravenous appetite. When in the -morning the dismayed villagers sought their chief -they found him not, but tied to a stake where the -midnight revel had been held was a skeleton, the -bones all picked clean except the head, which had -been cloven with a tomahawk, and from it the scalp -was also torn, and in its features, distorted as if they -had stiffened under the keenest tortures, they recognized -the countenance of their king.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dismay sat upon every guilty face, and a sullen -gloom enshrouded every heart. The tribe finding it -useless to bury deeper the bodies of their slain kinsmen -now began to build over them—but every night -one of their number disappeared, and in the morning -his fleshless bones were found tied to the fatal stake; -and still the heads rose, but every day there was one -less than before. Then the dreadful truth flashed -upon them that one of their own number must die in -that fearful manner, for every one of the Wannamoisetts -they had slain. As the number of their dead -increased, which it did by one for every midnight -hour, so did the number of spectre heads diminish. -One murdered spirit was every night appeased, and -appeared no more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still they kept on building that huge pile, and the -dreadful occupation to which they clung as affording -the only ray of hope that they might be delivered -before their turn should come round, so wrought upon -the guilty ones that they soon became almost as ghostly -as the phantoms of the night which tortured them. -But they faltered not in their task. Every day the -heads were covered and every morning they were -found in sight. And on the seventieth morning that -mound was far higher than it now stands. There was -then but one head remaining, for just seventy of the -Wannamoisetts had been slain and just seventy were -the murderers. At midnight of that day the strange -revel was, for the last time, visible, for when the skeleton -of Mononton, the last and most bloody of the -fratricides was found, the last head had disappeared -forever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The remainder of the tribe left soon after in search -of a more auspicious residence. Since the treacherous -act of their brethren, famine had weakened them -and the terrible plague laid many of their forest children -low. But wherever they wandered, the curse -of the Great Spirit followed them, and they dwindled -away until finally there was no place left for them on -the earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One fair evening in the next summer, two forms sat -upon the very mound which forms the principal subject -of this tale. One was a female of fairy proportions, -and she looked abroad over the landscape with -the eye of one to whom its beauties were familiar. -Her companion’s face was buried in his hands, and -his whole frame shook as if the recollection of some -terrible scene were passing over his memory. And -as the eye of Noalwa rested on him she, too, divining -his thoughts, shuddered, saying,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mononchee! let us go hence, never again to return! -I cannot bear to look upon these scenes where -my people lived and where yours so sadly perished. -These trees that we have planted around the mound -which covers them will bear witness that their memory -is still dear to us. Let us go, Mononchee!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went to dwell with those that were left of his -people. Many and bright were their days. Plenty -surrounded them. The tribe grew again and Mononchee -became their chief. The trees which he planted -around “Fort Point” sprang forth and flourished -luxuriantly, and the large junipers that still remain -are doubtless descended from that parent stock. But -scarcely any other green thing will grow there; it -seems a devoted place. Devoted let it be; sacred forever -to the shades of those who are sleeping in its -bosom.</p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<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'>A wild forest bird.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='sc'>Unionville</span>, Mass.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk125'/> - -<div><h1><a id='nevsh'></a>NEVER SHALL MY HEART FORGET THEE!</h1></div> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>BALLAD—SUNG BY</p> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:0.5em;margin-bottom:0.5em;font-size:1.1em;font-weight:bold;'>MR. SINCLAIR,</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>COMPOSED BY</p> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:0.5em;margin-bottom:0.5em;font-size:1.1em;font-weight:bold;'>GEORGE O. FARMER.</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='it'>Philadelphia</span>: <span class='sc'>John F. Nunns</span>, <span class='it'>184 Chesnut Street</span>.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i137.jpg' alt='musical score' id='iid-0046' style='width:75%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Never shall my heart forget thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>Come what may of joy or ill;</p> -<p class='line0'>Love, the hour when first I met thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>Lives in mem’ry still.</p> -<p class='line0'>Beauty’s hallowed light was o’er thee!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i138.jpg' alt='musical score' id='iid-0047' style='width:75%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Music’s spell was on thy tongue,</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh, to see was to adore thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>Maid of Avinlonge,</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh! to see was to adore thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>Maid of Avinlonge.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Maid, the shades of night are falling,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The blest hour of love draws nigh;</p> -<p class='line0'>Like the voice of beauty calling,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Floats the bird-song by.</p> -<p class='line0'>Tho’ our fond hearts fate should sever,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Darkly doomed to pine alone;</p> -<p class='line0'>Still as first they loved, forever</p> -<p class='line0'>  Should our souls love on.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Though from dreams of hope awaking.</p> -<p class='line0'>  I can scorn Fate’s ire to me,</p> -<p class='line0'>Smile, tho’ my own heart be breaking,</p> -<p class='line0'>  If Fate wounds not thee!</p> -<p class='line0'>Never shall my lips deceive thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  My devotion ne’er decline,</p> -<p class='line0'>Dearest, until life shall leave me,</p> -<p class='line0'>  My whole heart is thine.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk126'/> - -<div><h1><a id='spo'></a>Sports and Pastimes.—THE FOWLING-PIECE.</h1></div> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>THE LOCK—THE PERCUSSION SYSTEM—TRIGGERS—WADDING—AMMUNITION, ETC.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The</span> flint and steel lock, like the matchlock, has had its -day; and the one is as likely as the other to supersede the -detonator. There were some sportsmen who long retained -the flint in preference to the copper-cap. Their partiality -for the old system arose from their inability to depart from -the manner of taking aim to which they had been accustomed—they -fired too forward! It was said, too, that a -barrel fired by a detonating lock, did not throw shot so efficiently -as the other. That objection is now obviated -by making barrels perfectly cylindrical throughout the -whole length of the tube. We prefer the copper-cap -lock for its simplicity, to any other system of firing by -percussion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A bad lock, in these <span class='it'>march-of-improvement</span> days, is rarely -fixed to a gun. Since the use of detonators has become general, -the quality of the lock is not of so much consequence -to the sportsman as it was previously. The quickness of -firing with the old flint and steel locks depended so much on -the workmanship of the lock, that a properly-tempered and -well-filed one was invaluable. The introduction of detonators -has by no means improved the quality of the workmanship -of the lock—it has rather deteriorated it. The fact is, -the master gunmakers, finding the lock not so much looked -at as formerly, are become indifferent to obtaining the -assistance, or unwilling to incur the expense of first-rate -workmen. The hardening and filing of a lock in an artist-like -manner, requires no common skill. The best locks -ever turned out were those made on the flint and steel principle, -at the time when detonators first came into vogue; -the smartness with which the percussion locks fired, obliged -the makers of the flint and steel locks to bestow double diligence -and labor on their work, conscious that a rival was in -the field with whom it required no ordinary pains to compete. -Flint locks, whether as applied to the fowling-piece -or the musket, will soon be forgotten, or remembered only -to give a romantic interest to some tale of other times, as the -arbalast and long-bow serve only to remind us of our Norman -and Saxon ancestors! It requires some mechanical -knowledge and some experience, to decide on the merit of a -lock. The vulgar method of trying one is this:—The operator -draws back the hammer with his thumb, not touching -the trigger with his finger, and if the works in the interior -catch and snap smartly at the half-way, and when the hammer -is drawn back, he may rely on the main-spring being -sufficiently strong and free to fire the caps: then, with his -thumb still on the hammer, he draws the trigger and lets the -hammer glide slowly down upon the pivot. With a little -practice he will be able, in some degree, to discriminate between -a good lock and a bad one. To prove the difference -in quality, he should take up a well-finished lock; that is, -one of hard material, well filed, and having springs of a -suitable and corresponding strength, and compare it with an -inferior lock; by a nice touch he will perceive the difference: -the hammer of the former slides backwards and forwards -with a smooth, even force; whilst that of the latter -runs rough and gritty, as if clogged with sand. If this somewhat -uncertain mode of trial serve no other purpose, it will -enable the shooter, when he takes up a gun that has been -used since being cleaned, to discover whether the lock is -sufficiently free from rust and dirt as to be fit for the day’s -service; for most assuredly, if the lock be clogged, when -thus worked backwards and forwards, it will not snap, or in -sporting phrase <span class='it'>talk</span>; and in that case it would be unsafe to -use it. A detonating lock that will bear this trial, and will -invariably fire the cap, may be pronounced quite good -enough for any sporting purpose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The triggers should be what are technically termed <span class='it'>box-triggers</span>, -and should be taken from the stock and cleaned at -least once during the season, and oftener if very much exposed -to dust, rain, or a damp atmosphere. They should -be adjusted with scrupulous nicety, so as to require only a -slight touch to draw them: they should not, indeed, fire as -easily as the hair-triggers of duelling pistols, but should be -fixed so firmly as that the sportsman should not be liable to -discharge his piece, while bringing it up to his shoulder -cocked, with his finger upon one of the triggers. The triggers -may sometimes be regulated by filing, hardening, or -softening the scear spring, or filing the wedge-like part of -the scear which falls into the notches of the tumbler: and -sometimes it is necessary to file that part of the trigger -which comes in contact with the scear, but this operation -requires to be carefully performed. A valuable lock should -not be placed in the hands of an unskilful workman for the -apparently trifling purpose of regulating the triggers, nor -yet for any other purpose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wadding we should recommend is that made of felt, -and anointed with some chemical preparation. We are not -sure that this is the very best description of wadding, but -we know of none better. New waddings are constantly invented. -The metallic wadding, concave wadding, punched -cards, or punched hat wadding, are any of them good, as -regards shooting. The chief reason why we bestow a preference -on the anointed wadding is, because the barrel is -kept less foul, and may be fired so many times oftener without -requiring cleaning, than when any other description of -wadding with which we are acquainted is used. We are -not partial to a tight wadding, but it should fit so that when -the barrel is clean and smooth within, the charge will not -stir. There is little fear of the charge stirring after a barrel -has been fired a few times, as the place where the leading -or foulness accumulates in greatest quantity is just above -where the charge of shot lies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Considerable improvement has been made in copper-caps -since they were first introduced. The composition in all of -them is now good; that which possesses the anti-corrosive -principle is perhaps best. There is much difference in the -copper of which they are made, but that is of little consequence -when good locks with concave or well shielded hammers -are used, otherwise those made of bad copper are said -to be dangerous. We never heard of an accident from them. -The shooter should be particular in procuring copper-caps -of a proper size; for if they do not fit the pivots, considerable -inconvenience will be experienced. When too small, -they will not explode; and when too large, the cap on the -second pivot is apt to fly off when the first barrel is fired. -The shooter will find it convenient to carry a quantity of -caps loose in his waistcoat pocket, with a reserve in a box -(a metal box water-tight is best) to have recourse to should -those in his pocket become wet. He should take care that -there be nothing in his pocket to choke the caps; and by -way of precaution, he should, before putting a cap on the -pivot, see that there be no dirt in the cap, and that it be -perfect.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The best powder does not soil the gun so much as inferior -powder. After using good powder, a redness will be observed -round the orifice of the pivot. After using coarse -powder, a white or black appearance will present itself. -The purer the powder is, the oftener may a barrel be fired -without requiring to be cleaned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the measure on the flask is regulated as it ought to -be, it will hold the requisite charge for a clean barrel on a -warm dry day. It behoves the shooter, then, when the atmosphere -is moist and the wind boisterous, to increase the -charge of powder in each barrel in a trifling degree. However -stormy the day may be, the shooter may prevent the -particles of powder from being blown away while he is -charging; but he cannot prevent them adhering to the damp -leaded interior of the barrels. Indeed, if the barrels be -damp, as they cannot fail to be if the air be so, and there be -no wind at all, they cannot be held quite perpendicular, so -that the whole charge of powder shall find its way to the -breech. One-fifth of the charge will sometimes adhere. -Doubtless, when tight wadding is used, the whole, or nearly -the whole, of the charge finds its way to the bottom: but in -what state? A portion of it is wet!—and the result is, that, -when the piece is discharged, only four-fifths ignite!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fowling-piece should be put by clean, oiled, and the -barrels corked or stopped, and with the hammers upon the -pivots. It should be kept in a cloth or woolen case, in a dry -room, and, when not in constant use, occasionally rubbed -with linen dipped in olive oil. The inside of the barrel -should be frequently oiled, the oil being immediately wiped -out with a dry cloth wrapped round the cleaning rod. -Neat’s-foot oil is best for the lock, and linseed oil is recommended -for the stocks, but it is so offensive that we prefer -olive oil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Large-grained powder is generally stronger than small-grained. -It is well to be cautious that the grain is not so -large as not to fill the nipple freely, or misfires will be the -consequence. Powder which suits one gun may not suit -another; the larger the bore of the gun, the larger should be -the grain of the powder. An instrument for trying the -strength of powder should not be trusted to: the best trial -is with the gun in which the powder is intended to be used, -and there can be no better target for trying the comparative -strength of different powders, than an unbound book fixed -firmly against something solid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The heavier and harder the metal of which shot is made -the better.<a id='r5'/><a href='#f5' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[5]</span></sup></a></p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<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'>As shot is numbered differently by different manufacturers, -we give the number to the ounce of the sizes to which -we have referred:</p> - -<table id='tab3' summary='' class='center'> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>A. A.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>about</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>40</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>A.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>50</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>B. B.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>60</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>B.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>75</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>1.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>80</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>2.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>110</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>3.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>130</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>4.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>180</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>5.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>220</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>6.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>270</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>7.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>350</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>8.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>600</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>9.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>1000</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'>10.</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle0'>—</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab3c5 tdStyle3'>1700</td><td class='tab3c6 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -</table> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHARGING THE FOWLING-PIECE.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>It is not usual to charge the gun until arriving at the -shooting ground. When there, however advisable on the -score of caution it may be, flashing off a quantity of powder -to clear out, dry, and warm the gun before loading, has certainly -a cockney appearance; the more sportsman-like practice -is,—the party having reliance on the person who cleans -his gun,—merely to permit the ramrod to fall lightly to the -bottom of each barrel. The barrels are then held as perpendicularly -as possible while the powder is poured in, so -that nearly the whole charge may reach home, and not adhere -in its descent. The barrel is then tapped with the ramrod, -or the gun slightly shook against the foot, that powder -may find its way into the pivots,—that is the more necessary -when coarse-grained powder is used. A wadding is -then gently pressed down. The shot is next poured in, and -a slight shake of the gun in an upward direction causes it -to lie evenly;—a wadding is pressed upon it. The shooter -next removes the remains of the caps, and looks whether -the powder has found its way to the orifice of the pivots, and -if it has, he places fresh caps on; if powder is not visible at -the orifice of the pivots, he removes any obstacle with a -pricker, and contrives to push down a few grains of powder. -It is very material to attend to this point, to prevent -miss-fires.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>THE WIRE-CARTRIDGE.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The wire-cartridge was invented, in 1828, by Mr. Jenour. -It consists of a cylindrical case or network of wire, the -meshes of which are somewhat more than an eighth of an -inch square; at the lower end the wire partially closes; the -wire case is then enveloped in fine paper, and at the upper -end a cork wadding, cut so as to fit the gauge of the gun, is -affixed, the case is then filled with shot and bone dust. The -first cartridges made, though ingenious in construction, were -defective in operation. It was a matter of no ordinary difficulty -to fabricate them in such a manner that the shot -should leave the case at the precise distance required. This -at first could not be done so that they might be trusted in -every instance; every alternate cartridge might fire well, -but the rest would fire irregularly, being liable to ball,—that -is, the shot would not leave the case until fifty or sixty -yards from the gun, and such cartridges were, of course, not -only useless but dangerous. They have been from time to -time improved, and almost every difficulty has been overcome. -The sporting cartridges now made never ball, they -act with a considerable degree of precision and certainty, -and that they may be safely trusted may be inferred from -the fact that they are often preferred by persons engaged in -pigeon matches. Various materials were used experimentally -to fill up the interstices between the pellets, but nothing -seems to answer so well as the material now used. Another -difficulty in their construction presented itself. It was requisite -to accommodate them to the various methods of -boring used by different gunmakers, and the unequal length -of barrels, the object in view being to produce a cartridge -that would suit all barrels of the same gauge, and this has -been in a great measure, if not wholly, accomplished. The -liability to ball, notwithstanding various improvements made -in them, was not effectually obviated for many years, during -which they were tried, and in many instances prematurely -condemned, either from real defects, or from the parties -not knowing how to use them. They were not brought to -perfection until the year 1837.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wire-cartridges possess two principal advantages over -loose shot; they are propelled with greater velocity, and -thrown more evenly. A loose charge is always thrown in -patches; the shots of a cartridge, as seen on a target, are -comparatively equi-distant from each other.</p> - -<hr class='tbk127'/> - -<div><h1><a id='rev'></a>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</h1></div> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Guy Fawkes; or The Gunpowder Treason. An Historical -Romance. By</span> <span class='sc'>William Harrison Ainsworth</span>, -<span class='it'>Author of “The Tower of London,” “Jack Sheppard,” -&c. Philadelphia. Lea and Blanchard.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>What Mr. William Harrison Ainsworth had been doing -before he wrote “Rookwood” is uncertain; but it seems to -us that he made his literary <span class='it'>début</span> with that work. It was -generally commended; but we found no opportunity of -perusing it. “Crichton” followed, and this we read; for -our curiosity was much excited in regard to it by certain -discrepancies of critical opinion. In one or two instances it -was unequivocally condemned as “flat, stale and unprofitable,” -although, to be sure, the critics, in these one or two -instances, were men of little note. The more prevalent idea -appeared to be that the book was a miracle of wit and wisdom, -and that Ainsworth who wrote “Crichton,” was in -fact Crichton <span class='it'>redivivus</span>. We have now before us a number -of a Philadelphia Magazine for the month of April, -1840, in which the learned editor thus speaks of the work -in question—“Mr. Ainsworth is a powerful writer; his -‘Crichton’ <span class='it'>stands at the head of the long list of English -novels—unapproachable and alone</span>. . . . This great glory is -fairly Mr. Ainsworth’s due, and in our humble opinion, <span class='it'>the -fact is incontrovertible</span>.” Upon a perusal of the novel so -belauded, we found it a somewhat ingenious admixture of -pedantry, bombast, and rigmarole. No man ever read -“Crichton” through twice. From beginning to end it is -one continued abortive effort at effect. The writer keeps us -in a perpetual state of preparation for something magnificent; -but the something magnificent never arrives. He is -always saying to the reader, directly or indirectly, “<span class='it'>now</span>, in -a <span class='it'>very</span> brief time, you shall see what you shall see!” The -reader turns over the page in expectation, and meets with -nothing beyond the same everlasting assurance:—another -page and the same result—another and still the same—and -so on to the end of the performance. One cannot help fancying -the novelist in some perplexing dream—one of those -frequently recurring visions, half night-mare half asphyxia, -in which the sufferer, although making the most strenuous -efforts to <span class='it'>run</span>, finds a walk or a crawl the <span class='it'>ne plus ultra</span> of -his success in locomotion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The plot is monstrously improbable, and yet not so much -improbable as inconsequential. A German critic would say -that the whole is excessively <span class='it'>ill-motivert</span>. No one action -follows necessarily upon any one other. There is, at all -times, the greatest parade of <span class='it'>measures</span>, but measures that -have no comprehensible result. The author works busily -for a chapter or two with a view of bringing matters in train -for a certain end; and then suffers this end to be either -omitted—unaccomplished—or brought to pass by accidental -and irrelevant circumstances. The reader of taste very -soon perceives this defect in the conduct of the story, and, -ceasing to feel any interest in marches and countermarches -that promise no furtherance of any object, abandons himself -to the investigation of the page only which is immediately -before him. Despairing of all amusement from the <span class='it'>construction</span> -of the book, he falls back upon its immediate -descriptions. But, alas, what is there here to excite any -emotion in the bosom of a well-read man, beyond that of -contempt? If an occasional interest is aroused, he feels it -due, not to the novelist, but to the historical reminiscences -which even that novelist’s inanity cannot render altogether -insipid. The turgid pretension of the style annoys, and the -elaborately-interwoven pedantry irritates, insults, and disgusts. -He must be blind, indeed, who cannot understand -the great pains taken by Mr. Ainsworth to interlard the book -in question with second-hand hits of classical and miscellaneous -erudition; and he must be equally blind who cannot -perceive that <span class='it'>this</span> is the chicanery which has so impressed -the judgment, and dazzled the imagination of such critics -as he of the aforesaid Magazine. We know nothing at all -of Mr. Ainsworth’s scholarship. There are some very -equivocal blunders in “Crichton,” to be sure; but <span class='it'>Ainsworth</span> -is a classical name, and we must make <span class='it'>very</span> great -allowances for the usual errors of press. We say, however, -that, from all that appears in the novel in question, he may -be as really ignorant as a bear. True erudition—by -which term we here mean only to imply much diversified -reading—is certainly discoverable—is positively indicated -only in its ultimate and total <span class='it'>results</span>. We have observed -elsewhere, that the mere grouping together of fine things -from the greatest multiplicity of the rarest works, or even -the apparently natural inweaving into any composition of -the sentiments and manner of these works, is an attainment -within the reach of every moderately-informed, ingenious, -and not indolent man, having access to any ordinary collection -of good books. Of all vanities the vanity of the unlettered -pedant is the most sickening, and the most transparent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Ainsworth having thus earned for himself the kind of -renown which “Crichton” could establish with the rabble, -made his next appearance before that rabble with “Jack -Sheppard.” Seeing what we have just seen, we should by -no means think it wonderful that this romance threw into -the greatest astonishment the little critics who so belauded -the one preceding. They could not understand it at all. -They would not believe that the same author had written -both. Thus they condemned it in loud terms. The Magazine -before alluded to, styles it, in round terms, “the most -corrupt, flat, and vulgar fabrication in the English language -. . . a disgrace to the literature of the day.” Corrupt -and vulgar it undoubtedly is, but it is by no means so <span class='it'>flat</span> -(if we understand the critic’s idea of the term) as the -“Crichton” to which it is considered so terribly inferior. -By “<span class='it'>flat</span>” we presume “uninteresting” is intended. To -us, at least, no novel was less <span class='it'>interesting</span> than “Crichton,” -and the only interest which it <span class='it'>could</span> have had for any reader -must have arisen from admiration excited by the apparently -miraculous <span class='it'>learning</span> of the plagiarist, and from the -air of owlish profundity which he contrives to throw -over the work. The interest, if any, must have had regard -to the author and not to his book. Viewed as a work -of art, and without reference to any supposed moral or immoral -tendencies, (things with which the critic has nothing -to do) “Jack Sheppard” is by no means the <span class='it'>very</span> wretched -composition which some gentlemen would have us believe. -Its condemnation has been brought about by the revulsion -consequent upon the exaggerated estimate of “Crichton.” -It is altogether a much better book than “Crichton.” Although -its incidents are improbable—(the frequent miraculous -escapes of the hero, for instance, without competent -means) still they are not, as in “Crichton,” at the same time -inconsequential. Admitting the facts, these facts hang together -sufficiently well. Nor is there any bombast of style; -this negative merit, to be sure, being no merit of the author’s, -but an enforced one resulting from the subject. The chief -defect of the work is a radical one, the nature and effect of -which we were at some pains to point out in a late notice of -Captain Marryatt’s “Poacher.” The story being, no doubt, -written to order, for Magazine purposes, and in a violent -hurry, has been scrambled through by means of <span class='it'>incident</span> -solely. It is totally wanting in the <span class='it'>autorial comment</span>. The -writer never pauses to speak, in his own person, of what is -going on. It is possible to have too much of this comment; -but it is far easier to have too little. The most tedious books, -<span class='it'>ceteris paribus</span>, are those which have none at all. “Sir -Charles Grandison,” “Clarissa Harlowe,” and the “Ernest -Maltravers” of Bulwer embody instances of its superabundance. -The genius of the author of “Pelham” is in nothing -more evident than in the interest which he has infused into -some of his late works <span class='it'>in spite</span> of their ultra-didacticism. -The “Poacher” just mentioned, and “The Arabian Nights” -are examples of deficiency in the commenting principle, -and are both intolerably tedious <span class='it'>in spite</span> of their rich variety -of incident. The <span class='it'>juste milieu</span> was never more admirably -attained than in De Foe’s “Robinson Crusoe” and in the -“Caleb Williams” of Godwin. This latter work, from the -character of its incidents, affords a fine opportunity of contrast -with “Jack Sheppard.” In both novels the hero escapes -repeatedly from prison. In the work of Ainsworth the -escapes are merely narrated. In that of Godwin they are -<span class='it'>discussed</span>. With the latter we become at once absorbed in -those details which so manifestly absorb his own soul. We -read with the most breathless attention. We close the book -with a real regret. The former puts us out of all patience. -His marvels have a nakedness which repels. Nothing he -relates seems either probable or possible, or of the slightest -interest, whether the one or the other. His hero impresses -us as a mere chimæra with whom we have no earthly concern, -and when he makes his final escape and comes to the -gallows, we would feel a very sensible relief, but for the -impracticability of hanging up Mr. Ainsworth in his stead. -But if “Jack Sheppard” is a miserably inartistical book, -still it is by no means so utterly contemptible and silly as -the tawdry stuff which has been pronounced “<span class='it'>the best of -English novels, standing at the head of the long list unapproachable -and alone!</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of “The Tower of London” we have read only some -detached passages—enough to assure us, however, that the -“<span class='it'>work</span>,” like Yankee razors, has been manufactured merely -“to sell.” “Guy Fawkes,” the book now lying before us, -and the last completed production of its author, is positively -beneath criticism and beneath contempt. The design of Mr. -Ainsworth has been to fill, for a certain sum of money, a -stipulated number of pages. There existed a necessity of -<span class='it'>engaging</span> the readers whom especially he now addresses—that -is to say the lowest order of the lettered mob—a necessity -of enticing them into the commencement of a perusal. -For this end the title “Guy Fawkes or The Gunpowder -Plot” was all sufficient, at least within the regions of Cockaigne. -As for fulfilling any reasonable expectations, derived -either from the <span class='it'>ad captandum</span> title, or from his own notoriety -(we dare not say reputation) as a novelist—as for exerting -himself for the permanent or continuous amusement of -the poor flies whom he had inveigled into his trap—all this, -with him, has been a consideration of no moment. He had -a <span class='it'>task</span> to perform, and not a duty. What were his readers -to Mr. Ainsworth?—“What Hecuba to him, or he to -Hecuba?” The result of such a state of affairs is self-evident. -With his <span class='it'>best</span> exertions, in his earliest efforts, with -all the goadings of a sickening vanity which stood him well -instead of nobler ambition—with all this, he <span class='it'>could</span> do—he -<span class='it'>has done</span>—but little; and without them he has now accomplished -exactly nothing at all. If ever, indeed, a novel were -<span class='it'>less</span> than nothing, then that novel is “Guy Fawkes.” To -say a word about it in the way of serious criticism, would -be to prove ourselves as great a blockhead as its author. -<span class='it'>Macte virtute</span>, my dear sir—proceed and flourish. In the -meantime we bid you a final farewell. Your next volume, -which will have some such appellation as “The Ghost of -Cock-Lane,” we shall take the liberty of throwing unopened -out of the window. Our pigs are not all of the description -called learned, but they will have more leisure for its examination -than we.</p> - -<hr class='tbk128'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Gift: A Christmas and New-Year’s Present for -1842. Carey and Hart: Philadelphia.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This volume of “The Gift” is superior to any yet published. -Mrs. Embury has an entertaining story, and Miss -Leslie’s account of a “Family that Didn’t take Boarders” -is also quite amusing. Mr. Simms has a well narrated tale—Mr. -Seba Smith has another—Professor Frost another—Mrs. -Ellet, also, and the author of “A New Home.” We -ourselves have one which is not ended so well as it might -be—a good subject spoiled by hurry in the handling. The -poetry, in general, is insipid. Mrs. Sigourney has not done -herself justice. Lieut. G. W. Patten, U. S. A. has three -effusions, neither of which do credit to the Annual. This -gentleman, who writes frequently, and should therefore -write well, is singularly remiss in his metaphors, and often -grievously deficient in his grammar. What does he mean, at -page 309, by</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>As sleep the brave so thou <span class='it'>should</span> sleep (?)</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>or, at page 165, by</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The storm is on the sea—I hear its <span class='it'>wings</span></p> -<p class='line0'>In <span class='it'>thunder fretting</span> o’er the lifted wave (?)</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>This is surely a most singular instance of metaphor run -mad! Here are three conflicting images at one time in the -brain of the poet. By the word “wings” the reader is made -to understand the prosopopeia of the storm as a <span class='it'>bird</span>; by -“thunder” (a <span class='it'>natural</span> accompaniment of tempests) he is -brought back to the impersonified storm; by “fretting” he -is left in no doubt that the writer’s ideas are running upon a -<span class='it'>horse</span>—and all this in the compass of one line and a half!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “Stanzas” by Park Benjamin have a rich simplicity -which of all literary qualities is the most difficult of attainment, -and of all merits the most uncertain of appreciation; -but we are sorry to say that they are the <span class='it'>only</span> good verses -in the volume.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The engravings are very fine. We will speak of them -briefly one by one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “Country Girl,” by Cheney from Sully, is a <span class='it'>truthful</span> -picture. The design is perfect. The only fault of the execution -lies in the undue breadth of the face; this defect would -be remedied by deepening the shade beneath the left ear. -The work of the engraver is well done.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Vignette Head,” by Cheney from Sully—one of the -latter’s favorite heads—the face that of a pouting hoyden. -The hair is beautifully <span class='it'>massed</span>. The <span class='it'>vignetting</span> is carried -too low as regards the bosom, from which half an inch should -be taken off at bottom, or otherwise some lines of shading -introduced to relieve it of its blank appearance. The arm -is execrable—the hand worse—both are too massive and -sinewy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dulcinea,” by Cheney from Leslie. No fault can be -found with this picture, which is admirable in every respect. -The right arm, in especial, is exquisitely rounded and -foreshortened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Tough Story” by J. J. Pease, from W. S. Mount. -Mr. Mount’s merits are those of acute observation and fidelity. -These merits, although not of the highest order, have -the advantage of being universally appreciable. This is an -advantage which he secures—<span class='it'>clinches</span>—by dealing only -in homely subjects. If he has ideality (a question which as -yet we have had no means of deciding) and would employ -his peculiar talents upon loftier themes, he might attain a -very desirable eminence indeed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nothing could be more true to nature than the picture -before us; but the painter has sacrificed to this truth (at -some points) artistical effects of superior value. What can -be more displeasing, for example, than the unrelieved nakedness -of the wall in the back ground, or the situation of the -group precisely in the centre of the design, or, especially, -than the tall regular stove pipe, running up parallel with -the back of the standing figure, and dividing the apartment -exactly in two?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Gipsy,” by Cheney from Sully, is altogether out of -drawing as regards the face, which is, again, too broad to -the left. This is a very usual error in side faces. The fingers -are badly engraved, particularly those of the right hand, -which look as if covered with a net or pic-nic glove. The -foliage in this picture is not very well executed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Sled” by W. E. Tucker, from Chapman, is a most -effective design, evincing the well-educated artist. The -idea of rapid motion is skilfully embodied in the countenance -of the boy, in the peculiar falling curve of the hill, and exquisitely -<span class='it'>corroborated</span> in the whirl of the clouds. This is -the true artistical keeping. The limbs of the boy are too -small for his head and body, and the left hand appears to -have been cut from a turnip. This latter defect is chargeable -to the engraver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Raffle” by A. Lawson from Mount. This is another -of Mr. Mount’s idiosyncrasies, and is absolute perfection <span class='it'>in -its way</span>. The defects of the work (considered as a mere -picture) which we pointed out in the “Tough Story,” are -not observable here. The grouping of the figures and the -arrangement of the design generally, are as admirable as -the varied expression of the Yankee faces. The light, however, -is too equally disposed about the room, and, in especial, -upon the three middle personages. It is difficult, moreover, -to imagine these three persons so illumined, and the back of -the foreground figure at the same time so fully in shade. -These are petty objections—but it is right they should be -made.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Portia,” by Forrest from Sully, is an engraving in which -the mere mechanism is excellent; and, in fact, the work is, -upon the whole, highly creditable to Mr. Forrest. The -hands, however, are badly done; the left especially. Some -knowledge of drawing is absolutely essential in one who -copies. This knowledge cannot be supplied by even Chinese -fidelity in depicting dot for dot and line for line. The -picture, altogether, we prefer to any in the book. Were we -in the habit of purchasing paintings this “Portia” by Sully -is the only one here which we would purchase.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The paper of “The Gift” for 1842 does not seem to us sufficiently -good. The binding is certainly magnificent, but -would have been vastly improved by the use of a thicker -board.</p> - -<hr class='tbk129'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Amenities of Literature, consisting of Sketches and Characters -of English Literature. By</span> <span class='sc'>J. D’Israeli</span>, <span class='it'>D.C.L. -F. S. A. 2 vols. I. & H. G. Langley: New York.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The reputation of the elder D’Israeli as scholar and philosopher -is at least as well founded as that of any man of -his age. He has given to the world a series of <span class='it'>peculiar</span> -books—books in which the richest variety of <span class='it'>recherché</span> -detail and anecdote about literary affairs, is made subservient -to the most comprehensive survey and analysis of letters -themselves, considered in respect to their important spiritual -uses. He is the only <span class='it'>savant</span> upon record who has -busied himself, without pedantry, among the <span class='it'>minutiæ</span> of -classical lore. His works will last as long as the language -in which they are written. The “Curiosities of Literature,” -the “Literary Character,” the “Miscellanies of Literature,” -the “Calamities of Authors,” and all but the present “Amenities -of Literature” are, however, but incidental labors -arising from a more extensive design—a “History of English -Literature”—of which he thus speaks. “It was my -intention not to furnish an arid narrative of books and of -authors, but, following the steps of the human mind through -the wide track of time, to trace from their beginnings the -progress and the decline of public opinions, and to illustrate, -as the objects presented themselves, the great incidents in -our national annals.” In this magnificent project the philosopher -was arrested by blindness. The “Amenities of -Literature” is a portion and in fact the beginning of the -great scheme which can now never be completed. We -need say no more to recommend it to the reader. The two -volumes before us are issued in the customary careful and -tasteful style of the Langleys.</p> - -<hr class='tbk130'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Critical and Miscellaneous Writings of Sir Edward -Lytton Bulwer, author of “Pelham,” &c. 2 vols. -Lea and Blanchard: Philadelphia.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>We have read these volumes with the highest pleasure. -They embrace all of the known minor writings of Bulwer, -with the exception of his shorter fictions; and we recognize -in the collection several very excellent articles which had -arrested our attention and excited our curiosity while their -authorship was undivulged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Bulwer is <span class='it'>never</span> lucid, and seldom profound. His -intellect seems to be rather well balanced than lofty—rather -comprehensive than penetrative. His taste is exquisite. -His style, in its involution and obscurity, partakes of the involution -of his thoughts. Apart from his mere intellect, -however,—or rather as a portion of that intellect—we recognize -in his every written word the keenest appreciation -of the right, the beautiful, and the true. Thus he is a man -worthy of all reverence, and we do not hesitate to say that -we look upon the charges of immoral tendency which have -been so pertinaciously adduced against his fictions, as absurdly -<span class='it'>little</span> and untenable, in the mass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The volumes now before us are plain evidence of the noble -spirit which has constantly actuated him. The papers -here published were written at various epochs of his life. -We look through them in vain for anything false, as a whole, -or unchivalrous, or impure, or weak, or tasteless, or ignoble. -Were we addicted <span class='it'>jurare in verba magistri</span>, there lives no -man upon whose faith we would more confidently rely than -upon that of Bulwer—no man whose opinion upon any -point involving a question of truth, or justice, or taste, we -would be more willing to adopt unexamined.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We have been especially pleased with an article (in the -volumes now before us) entitled “Literature Considered as -a Profession,” and with another “Upon the Spirit of True -Criticism.” Some remarks in the latter paper are quite as -applicable to our own country as to Great Britain.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘To say this is good and that is bad,’ says La Bruyère, -‘is not morality.’ Very true, neither is it criticism. There -is no criticism in this country—considering that word as the -name of a science. A book comes out—it is capital, says -one—it is detestable, says another. Its characters are unnatural—its -characters are nature itself. On both sides -there is affirmation, on neither proof. In fact no science -requires such elaborate study as criticism. It is the most -analytical of our mental operations—to pause—to examine—to say -<span class='it'>why</span> that passage is a sin against nature, or that plot -a violation of art—to bring deep knowledge of life in all its -guises—of the heart in all its mysteries to bear upon a sentence -of approval or disapprobation—to have cultivated the -feeling of beauty until its sense of harmony has grown as -fine as the ear of a musician—equally sensitive to discord—or -alive to new combinations:—these are no light qualities, -and these are not qualities, it may be answered, to be lightly -lavished away. Every new book, it may be said, does not -deserve that we should so honor it. We need not invoke the -Past, and summon all Nature to hear us praise a butterfly, -or crush a bug. We may on slight works arrogate the censor—yes, -but we must first have been chosen the censor, by -the acumen we have testified on great ones. Now, when an -author who has risen into eminence, who begins to produce -an effect upon his age, whose faults it becomes necessary to -indicate as a warning, whose beauties we should illustrate -as an example—when such a man produces a new work, -what is the cant cry of the critics? ‘The peculiar merits -and failings of Mr. So and So are too well known for us at -this time of day to repeat them. The present work has all -the characteristics of the last—if it does not increase, it will -not diminish the well-earned reputation of the author.’ -Then come the extracts, and a word or two at the end as -precise and lucid as those at the beginning, and——there’s -<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE CRITICISM</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For my part, I please myself sometimes with drawing -the ideal picture of a good critic, as Bolingbroke drew that -of a patriot king. What a crowd of accomplishments, not -easily seen by the superficial, belong to that character! -Literature and morality are so entwined that you rarely find -the real critic unless he is also the moralist. The union is -almost necessary. In Quinctilian how beautifully the deduction -closes the dogma! and even in Johnson the habit of -moralizing gives dignity to his criticisms. In both sciences -the study of mankind, of the metaphysical nature within -us, alone insures a sound judgment: in both, without a delicate -yet profound perception of the harmonious, the beautiful, -the august, no commanding excellency is obtained. -The goodness of a man and the goodness of a book are not -such different qualities as people suppose. A person, however, -<span class='it'>may</span> be, though he is not often, a good moralist without -being a good man: to preach and practice are faculties -not inseparable. But I doubt if a man can be a great critic -who has not, at least, the elementary qualities of a good man. -I consider that he must keep the intellectual sight clear from -envy, and malice, and personal dislikes. He must examine -the work above and remote from all the petty considerations -that attach to the man. He must be on the alert for genius, -ready to encourage even a rival to himself. Where this largeness -of mind is not visible, there is always something petty -and crippled in the mind of the professional critic. He may -make one great criticism, but he cannot criticise with greatness -habitually. Perhaps he reviews some dead author—for -the dead interfere not with the living; or he wastes a world -of generosity, like Southey, in praising some rhymester of -the pantry, who is little enough while he attracts honor to -the praiser to plunge into forgetfulness the praise. The -good critic—that rare ideal, must have in him courage to -blame boldly, magnanimity to eschew envy, benevolence to -search for obscure merit. He must have genius to appreciate, -and learning to compare: he must have an eye for -beauty, an ear for music, a heart for feeling, a mind for reason. -‘We are conscious of excellency,’ says some author, -‘in proportion to the excellence within ourselves.’ ”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>We wish also to call attention to a very excellent article -on the subject of “International Copyright.” The only -paper in the collection which we could have wished omitted -is one entitled “A Letter to the Quarterly Review,”—an -attempt at vindictive retaliation upon Lockhart. We admire -this gentleman quite as little as Mr. Bulwer can possibly -do, but we grieve to see an attack which has neither -vigor nor wit, and which proves nothing beyond the writer’s -wrath and utter incapacity for satire.</p> - -<hr class='tbk131'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Pic Nic Papers. By various Hands. Edited by</span> -<span class='sc'>Charles Dickens</span>, Esq. <span class='it'>author of “The Pickwick Papers,” -&c. 2 vols. Lea and Blanchard: Philadelphia.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The “Introduction” to this work gives us its history. -“The premature death of a young publisher (Mr. Macrone) -inspired some of those who had known him personally, or -had been connected with him in business, with an earnest -desire to render some assistance to his widow and orphans. -They produced among themselves this work.” In the English -edition there were three volumes; the third consisting -of the “Charcoal Sketches” of Mr. Joseph C. Neal, of -Philadelphia. This edition we have not seen; but have -been astonished to hear that the London publisher has been -so discourteous as to print Mr. Neal’s compositions, and the -engravings which accompanied them, without the <span class='it'>name</span> of -the writer, or any farther acknowledgment than a few words -speaking of the whole as “from an American source.” -Comment upon such meanness seems altogether a work of -supererogation; but, in truth, we are in the habit of setting -our brethren across the water very bad examples in matters -of a somewhat similar kind. That Mr. Dickens had any -thing to do with the wrong now perpetrated, we will not, -however, believe for a moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The contributors to the two volumes reprinted in Philadelphia -are among the most celebrated <span class='it'>literati</span> of England. -We have, for example, articles from Dickens, from Leigh -Ritchie, Allan Cunningham, Thomas Moore, W. H. Ainsworth, -G. P. R. James, Agnes Strickland and several others. -It might be supposed, of course, that the collection would be -one of high interest: but we are forced to say that it <span class='it'>is not</span>. -In a case like this, authors (who for the most part are unburthened -with pecuniary means) are called upon to furnish -<span class='it'>gratuitous</span> papers. It is not surprising that, under such -circumstances, they content themselves with bestowing -whatever MS. they may have at hand, of least value. -Scraps from memorandum-books; effusions of early years -kept only as mementos and never destined for publication; -fragments of tales or essays definitely abandoned by the -author, who has become dissatisfied with his subject or the -mode in which it was progressing—matters such as these -form invariably the staple of compilations such as this. -There is, moreover, another important consideration—one -involving a very remarkable truth. The <span class='it'>refuse</span> labor of a -man of genius is usually inferior, and greatly so, to that of -the man of common-place talent:—very much as the dregs -of the <span class='it'>Côtes du Rhone</span> are more viscid than those of Sherry -or <span class='it'>De Grâve</span>. It is only necessary to suggest this idea to -have it at once fully appreciated and understood. The man -of talent pursues “the even tenor of his way.” He is at all -times <span class='it'>himself</span>. With the all-prevalent law of action and reaction -he has nothing to do. Never excited into wild enthusiasm, -he never experiences its consequent and inevitable -depression. Never boldly soaring, he never sadly sinks. -To write well, the man of genius must write in obedience to -his impulses. When forced to disobey them—when constrained, -by the fetters of a methodical duty, to compose at -<span class='it'>all</span> hours—it is but a portion of his nature—it is but a condition -of his intellect—that he should occasionally grovel -in platitudes of the most pitiable description. And this fact -will go farther than any one hitherto adduced, to explain -the character of a fatality which has so constantly attended -genius as to have become a sure index of its existence:—we -mean the fatality of alternate high eulogium and virulent -invective. Few men are conversant with the <span class='it'>whole</span> -works of an author. Now, in the case of two critics of equal -ability, it may happen (and we know it <span class='it'>does</span> frequently so -happen) that the opinion of one may be based solely upon -the author’s best efforts, while that of the other is deduced -from some mere task-work labored out in hours of the most -utter inappetency and exhaustion. The dissent of the latter -(a dissent just if we regard only the means of judgment) -will, of course, be extravagant in denunciation, precisely in -the ratio of his astonishment and indignation at what he -supposes the corrupt panegyric of the former.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Therefore, it should not be a matter for surprise that these -“Pic Nic Papers” are very great trash, although written -by very clever men. Their general merit, in our opinion, -is below that of the mere <span class='it'>make-weight</span> of our commonest -newspapers and magazines. One or two of the articles are -not <span class='it'>very</span> bad:—Leigh Ritchie’s “Marcus Bell,” for example; -a tale entitled “Aunt Honor;” and “The Lamplighter’s -Story,” by Mr. Dickens. This last, however, is only tolerable -through the manner in which it is told. There is not a -single paper of <span class='it'>real</span> value; and more consummate nonsense -than the greater portion of the collection we never encountered -in any respectable-looking book.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We cannot conclude our notice without a protest against -the title-page. To call this paltry publication the “Pic Nic -Papers,” and affirm it to be <span class='it'>edited</span> by Mr. Dickens—thus -inducing ideas of the popular Pickwick, is a piece of chicanery -which not even the end in view can sanction. No body -of men are justified in making capital of the public’s gullibility -for purposes of charity, public or private—for any -purposes under the sun. We do not hesitate to state the -present case <span class='it'>plainly</span>. The title affixed to this work has been -designedly so affixed, that purchasers, hastily glancing at it, -may suppose it a book upon the same plan as the “Pickwick -Papers,” and <span class='it'>written</span>, as they were, by Mr. Dickens. -No one who reflects an instant can suppose the intention to -have been anything else. Now what is this but the worst -species of <span class='it'>forgery</span>?</p> - -<hr class='tbk132'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>History of the War in the Peninsula, and in the South -of France, from the year 1807 to the year 1814. By</span> <span class='sc'>W. -F. Napier, C. B., Colonel</span>, <span class='it'>&c. From the Fourth Edition. -Complete in Four Volumes. With Numerous -Engravings. Carey and Hart: Philadelphia.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Colonel Napier’s “History of the Peninsula War” is a -work whose general features are sufficiently well understood. -In the thoroughness of its survey and in the minute and exact -particularity of its details, if not in more important and comprehensive -regards, it is equalled certainly by no other book -on the subject discussed, and perhaps by few histories of -any kind. The author’s extensive political acquaintance -with the events agitating all Europe at the period investigated, -and especially the part he bore in some of these events, -with his obvious enthusiasm for military affairs, rendered -him as fitting for the task which he has undertaken as any -individual of his age. It may be said, indeed, and not altogether -paradoxically, that he was somewhat <span class='it'>too</span> well qualified -for this task. The agitating incidents <span class='it'>quorum pars -magna fuit</span> have so forcibly impressed his imagination as -to mislead his understanding in respect to the <span class='it'>relative</span> importance -of these incidents. He discourses of the “Peninsular -Campaign” (pretty much, by the way, as all Englishmen -discourse of it) as if <span class='it'>it alone</span> were the proper subject -of all human deliberation. No one will be willing to deny -the interest which appertains to it, nor the magnitude of the -results to which it led. We mean to say, however, that, -except to Colonel Napier and the Duke of Wellington, it is -not the only important topic in the universe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hitherto the American reader of history has been able to -procure this work only from our public libraries, and the -enterprize of Messieurs Carey and Hart in placing it within -reach, is worthy of all commendation. They must have -been at unusual expense in this undertaking. The volumes -are thick octavos, and are illustrated by no less than fifty-five -lithographed plans, (which, by the way, are not very well -executed.) At the same time these publishers can scarcely -expect remuneration from a very extensive sale. By public -institutions and military men the work will be valued -and purchased. But beyond these, with few exceptions, -the public will content itself with the means already in its -power of referring to the history in our libraries. The gentlemen -in question are, of course, the best judges of their -own affairs; but it does seem to us that they have erred in -permitting the <span class='it'>foreign</span> value and reputation of the work to -influence them in making an American reprint.</p> - -<hr class='tbk133'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Ten Thousand a Year. By the Author of The Diary of -a London Physician. Carey and Hart: Philadelphia.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>There are several circumstances connected with this book -which render it an important topic for the critic. We mean -its unusual length—the previous reputation of its author—the -peculiarity of its subject—the apparent under-current -of <span class='it'>design</span> which has been attributed to it—the wide difference -of opinion existing in regard to its merit—and, especially, -the fact of its being, if not precisely the first, yet -certainly the chief of the class of <span class='it'>periodical</span> novels—the -peculiar advantages and disadvantages of which it will afford -a good opportunity for discussing. We much regret, -therefore, that we have left ourselves no room, in the present -number of the Magazine, for an extended analysis of -the work. This we may possibly undertake in December; -contenting ourselves, in the meantime, with a few observations -at random.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It appears to us that a main source of the interest which -this book possesses for the mass, is to be referred to the -<span class='it'>pecuniary</span> nature of its theme. From beginning to end it -is an affair of pounds, shillings, and pence—a topic which -comes home at least <span class='it'>as</span> immediately to the bosoms and business -of mankind, as any which could be selected. The same -<span class='it'>character</span> in the choice of subject was displayed by Doctor -Warren in his “Passages from the Diary of a London Physician.” -The <span class='it'>bodily health</span> is a point of absolutely universal -interest, and was made the basis of all the excitement in -that very popular but shamefully ill-written publication.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ten Thousand a Year” is also “shamefully ill-written.” -Its mere English is disgraceful to an L.L.D.—would be -disgraceful to the simplest tyro in rhetoric. At every page -we meet with sentences thus involved—“In order, however, -to do this effectually I must go back to an earlier period in -history than has yet been called to his attention. If it -[<span class='it'>what?—attention?—history?</span>] shall have been unfortunate -enough to attract the hasty eye of the superficial and -impatient novel-reader, I make no doubt that by such a one -certain portions of what has gone before, and which [<span class='it'>which -what?</span>] could not fail of attracting the attention of long-headed -people as being not thrown in for nothing (and therefore -to be borne in mind with a view to subsequent explanation) -have been entirely overlooked or forgotten.” The -book is full too of the grossest misusages of language—the -most offensive vulgarities of speech and violations of grammar. -The whole <span class='it'>tone</span> is in the last degree mawkish and inflated. -What can be more ridiculous that the frequent apostrophising -after this fashion—“My glorious Kate, how my -heart goes forth towards you! And thou, her brother! who -art of kindred spirit, who art supported by philosophy and -exalted by religion, so that thy constancy cannot be shaken -or overthrown by the black and ominous swell of trouble -which is increasing around thee—I know that thou wilt -outlive the storm—and yet it rocks thee! What indeed is -to become of you all? Whither will you go? And your suffering -mother, should she survive so long, is her precious -form to be borne away from Yatton?” &c. &c.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is no attempt at plot—but some of the incidents -are wofully ill adapted and improbable. The moralising, -throughout, is tedious in the extreme. Two-thirds of the -whole novel might have been omitted with advantage. The -character of Aubrey is a ridiculous piece of overdone sentimentality—and -in character generally the writer fails. -One of the worst features of the whole is the transparent -puerile attempt to throw ridicule upon the ministerial party -by dubbing them with silly names, supposed to be indicative -of peculiarities of person or character. While the oppositionists, -for example, rejoice in the euphonious appellations -of Aubrey, Delamere, and the like, their foes are called -Quirk, Gammon, Snap, Bloodsuck, Rotgut, Silly-Punctilio, -and other more stupid and beastly indecencies.</p> - -<hr class='tbk134'/> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='fash'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i153.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0048' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='it'>Latest Fashions, November 1841. For Graham’s Magazine.</span></span></p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk135'/> - -<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 -punctuation and typesetting errors have been corrected -without note.</p> - -<p class='line'> </p> - -<p class='noindent'>[End of <span class='it'>Graham’s Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 5, November 1841</span>, George R. Graham, Editor]</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, VOL. XIX, NO. 5, NOVEMBER 1841 ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> -<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7a4cb39..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i001.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i001.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 43898d3..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i001.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i002.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i002.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a4b0a1b..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i002.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i025.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i025.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c14b8ff..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i025.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i076.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i076.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c0cc12a..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i076.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i080.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i080.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 10de798..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i080.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i084.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i084.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index edc5e86..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i084.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i085.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i085.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6b00206..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i085.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i087.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i087.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b64f590..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i087.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i089.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i089.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3b9e9c7..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i089.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i089b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i089b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c005512..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i089b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i090a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i090a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 82e1ddb..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i090a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i090b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i090b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2a1f1bb..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i090b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i091.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i091.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 449de16..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i091.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i092a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i092a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f93d468..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i092a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i092b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i092b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4c05601..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i092b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i093a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i093a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 20b9965..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i093a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i093b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i093b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 05a79c4..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i093b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i095.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i095.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 363c65c..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i095.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i096a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i096a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f2b7b4a..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i096a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i096b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i096b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9cee801..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i096b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i097.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i097.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cb0e95d..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i097.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i099.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i099.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f43f371..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i099.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i101a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i101a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 91b0ea3..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i101a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i101b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i101b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a7b3b4b..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i101b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i102a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i102a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 77c4c83..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i102a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i102b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i102b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 34166a5..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i102b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i103a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i103a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2c22010..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i103a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i103b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i103b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 948a63f..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i103b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i104.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i104.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a43ae41..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i104.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i106a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i106a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d1732fb..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i106a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i106b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i106b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 546725a..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i106b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i107.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i107.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 73d3f39..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i107.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i108a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i108a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5993b99..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i108a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i108b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i108b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0dc0481..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i108b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i109a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i109a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index df7cb71..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i109a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i109b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i109b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cb5e8ff..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i109b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i110a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i110a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 411ed7b..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i110a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i110b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i110b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 808338f..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i110b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i111a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i111a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 46a232e..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i111a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i111b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i111b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index fb1ccf2..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i111b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i112a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i112a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b797991..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i112a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i112b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i112b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e09178f..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i112b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i113a.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i113a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e65c0f1..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i113a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i113b.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i113b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0bd557e..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i113b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i114.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i114.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3e92c2f..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i114.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i137.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i137.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5ffe81e..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i137.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i138.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i138.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cc6350e..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i138.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65198-h/images/i153.jpg b/old/65198-h/images/i153.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b19f753..0000000 --- a/old/65198-h/images/i153.jpg +++ /dev/null |
