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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9cfd45b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67962 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67962) diff --git a/old/67962-0.txt b/old/67962-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3c6ebea..0000000 --- a/old/67962-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6777 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXI, No. 1, -July 1842, 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. XXI, No. 1, July 1842 - -Author: Various - -Editors: George Rex Graham - Rufus W. Griswold - -Release Date: May 1, 2022 [eBook #67962] - -Language: English - -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 - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, VOL. XXI, -NO. 1, JULY 1842 *** - - GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE. - Vol. XXI. July, 1842 No. 1. - - - Contents - - Fiction, Literature and Articles - - The Polish Mother - The Fancy-Fair - Harry Cavendish - The Bridal - The Lightning of the Waters - The Sisters - Boston Ramblings - Autumn - The Brother and Sister - Tropical Birds - The Girdle of Fire - Review of New Books - - Poetry, Music and Fashion - - “Thou Hast Loved.” - Viola - Morning Prayer - Le Faineant - The Dying Minstrel to His Muse - The Daughter of Herodias - Callore - A Dirge - Sonnet to My Mother - To An Infant in the Cradle - Will Nobody Marry Me? - To —— - The Stage - “To Win the Love of Thee.” - Latest Fashions - - Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook. - - * * * * * - - GRAHAM’S - - LADY’S AND GENTLEMAN’S - - MAGAZINE, - - EMBELLISHED WITH - - MEZZOTINT AND STEEL ENGRAVINGS, MUSIC, ETC. - - WILLIAM C. BRYANT, J. FENIMORE COOPER, RICHARD H. DANA, HENRY W. - LONGFELLOW, CHARLES F. HOFFMAN, THEODORE S. FAY, J. H. MANCUR, - - MRS. EMMA C. EMBURY, MRS. SEBA SMITH, MRS. “MARY CLAVERS,” MRS. E. F. - ELLET, MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS, MRS. FRANCES S. OSGOOD, ETC., - PRINCIPAL CONTRIBUTORS. - - GEORGE R. GRAHAM AND RUFUS W. GRISWOLD, EDITORS. - - VOLUME XXI. - - PHILADELPHIA: - GEORGE R. GRAHAM, NO. 98 CHESNUT STREET. - ........... - 1842. - - * * * * * - - INDEX - - TO THE - - TWENTY-FIRST VOLUME. - - FROM JUNE TO DECEMBER, 1842, INCLUSIVE. - -An Appeal in behalf of an International Copyright. By 14 - Cornelius Mathews, - -Bridal, The. By Robert Morris, 13 -Boston Ramblings. By Miss Leslie, 33 -Brother and Sister, The. By Emma C. Embury, 38 -Bud and Blossom, The. By Mrs. Seba Smith. 61 - (Illustrated.), -Bryant, Wm. C., his Writings, 102 -Ben Blower’s Story. By Charles Fenno Hoffman, 132 -Bogart, Alexander H., 155 -Bainbridge, Memoir of. By J. Fenimore Cooper, 240 -Barrett, Elizabeth B., 303 - -Characterless Women. By Mrs. Seba Smith, 199 -Clam Bake, The. By Jeremy Short, 215 -Charles VIII. of France, Segur’s Life of, 286 - -De Pontis, a Tale of Richelieu. By the Author of “Henri 65, 135, 172, - Quatre,” 235 -Dawes, Rufus, The Poetry of. By Edgar A. Poe, 205 -Dale, Richard, Memoir of. By J. Fenimore Cooper, 289 - -Error, A Tale. By Emma C. Embury, 83 -Editor’s Table, 106, 155, 221, - 286, 343 - -Fancy Fair, The. By Mrs. A. M. F. Annan, 4 -Fitch, John, Notice of. By Noah Webster, 108 - -Girdle of Fire, The. By Percie H. Selton, 50 - -Harry Cavendish. By the “Author of Cruising in the last 9, 69, 117, - War,” 201, 281, 330 -Hester Ormesby. By Mrs. Emma C. Embury, 269 -Hasty Marriage, The. By Robert Morris, 336 - -Johnsons, The. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, 96 - -Lightning of the Waters. By Reynell Coates, M. D., 16 - -Malina Gray. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, 210, 273, 304 -Minstrelsy of the Revolution, 221 - -Niagara Falls, Letter from. By Horace Greeley, 107 -Night at Haddon Hall, A. By the Author of “Letters from 194 - Ancient Castles,” - -Polish Mother, The. (Illustrated.), 1 -Persecutor’s Daughter. By C. J. Peterson, 320 - -Reviews of New Books, 56, 102, 152, - 218, 286, 339 -Reprimand, The. By Epes Sargent. (Illustrated.), 216 -Race for a Sweetheart, A. By Seba Smith, 326 - -Sisters, The, A Tale of the Sixteenth Century. By Henry 21, 73, 125 - W. Herbert, -Shakspeare. By Theodore S. Fay, 142, 192 -Somers, Richard, Memoir of. By J. Fenimore Cooper, 157 -Sketch of a Case, or a Physician Extraordinary. By “Mary 187 - Clavers,” -Scott’s Critical Writings, 218 -Speculation, or Dyspepsia Cured. By H. T. Tuckerman, 279 - -Tropical Birds. By Park Benjamin, 44 -Tennyson’s Poems, 152 -Talfourd’s Miscellaneous Writings, 218 -Truth, A Tale. By Mrs. Frances Sargent Osgood, 316 - -Waste Paper, A Tale. By Mrs. Frances Sargent Osgood, 146 - -Young Wife, The. By the Author of “A Marriage of 257 - Convenience,” - - POETRY. - -Autumn. By Albert Pike, 37 -Autumn, Approach of. By Wm. Falconer, 124 -Alice, The Lady. (Illustrated.) By Park Benjamin, 145 -Autumn, A Reverie in. By Wm. Falconer, 209 -Affection, True. (Illustrated.), 319 - -Callore. By Alexander A. Irvine, 20 - -Daughter of Herodius, The. By Mrs. Frances Sargent 14 - Osgood, -Dirge. By James Russell Lowell, 31 - -Elizabeth. By J. T. S. Sullivan, 68 - -Faineant, Le. By Charles F. Hoffman, 8 -Farewell, The Exile’s. By W. H. Racey, 68 -Farewell to a Fashionable Acquaintance. By S. G. 95 - Goodrich, -Fame, The Student’s Dream of. By Robert Morris, 101 -First and Last Parting. By C. F. Hoffman, 191 -Farewell, The, 329 - -“Hath not thy Rose a Canker?” By Lois B. Adams, 82 -Heart, The Haunted. By Mary L. Lawson, 141 -Hymn for the Funeral of a Child. By James Aldrich, 172 -Holy Nights, The. By Henry Morford, 332 - -“I Saw Her Once,” A Song. By Richard H. Dana, 256 - -Life, The Future. By William Cullen Bryant, 104 -“Love’s Time is Now.” By Park Benjamin, 200 -L’Amour Sans Ailes. By C. F. Hoffman, 272 - -Morning Prayer. (Illustrated.), 3 -Minstrel, The Dying, to his Muse. By Wm. Falconer, 8 -Maiden’s Sorrow, The. By Wm. C. Bryant, 64 -Madoc, The Song of. By G. Forester Barstow, 120 -My Mother. A Dream. By Mrs. Balmanno, 239 - -Pets, The Playful. (Illustrated.), 204 -Prayer, The Child’s. By Robert Morris, 234 -Pastor’s Visit. (Illustrated.), 336 - -Return of Youth. By Wm. C. Bryant, 185 -Religion, The Power of. By Miss A. C. Pratt. 198 - (Illustrated.), - -Sonnet. To my Mother. By T. H. Chivers, 32 -Stage, The. By William Wallace, 53 -Song. By Charles F. Hoffman, 64 -Sonnet. By W. W. Story, 79 -Song. By Hon. Mrs. Norton, 95 -Student, The Spanish. By Henry W. Longfellow, 109, 196, 229 -Storm, The Sunset. By Rufus W. Griswold, 145 -Sonnet. “Bear On,” 175 -Sonnet. The Smile, 180 -Sonnet. “Rejoice!” 214 -Sonnet. The Unattained. By Mrs. Seba Smith, 256 -Sonnet. The Serenade, 279 -Shepherd, The, and the Brook. By William Falconer, 280 -Sonnet. By Mrs. Seba Smith, 303 -Sonnets, Four. By Elizabeth B. Barrett, 303 - -“Thou Hast Loved.” By Mrs. Seba Smith, 3 -To an Infant in the Cradle. By George B. Cheever, 44 -To ——. By George Lunt, 53 -To My Sisters. By Anna Cora Mowatt, 72 -To a Swallow. By Wm. Falconer, 82 -To Fanny H. By Mrs. Seba Smith, 131 -To a Lady Singing. By George Hill, 191 -To a Belle who is not a Blue Belle. By Mrs. Ellet, 200 -To Almeida in New England. By James T. Fields, 204 -To the Earth. By James Aldrich, 204 -To the Night Wind in Autumn. By George H. Colton, 336 - -Uncas, The Last Leap of. By Park Benjamin, 79 - -Viola. By James Aldrich, 3 -Voyage, The Life. By Mrs. F. S. Osgood, 265 - -Watchers, The. (Illustrated.), 64 -Walk, The Forest, and Picnic. By Alfred B. Street, 130 -Will Nobody Marry Me? By Geo. P. Morris, 44 -Wintemoyeh: A Legend of Mackinaw. By George H. Colton, 170 - -“You Call Us Inconstant.” By H. T. Tuckerman, 134 - - STEEL ENGRAVINGS. - - LINE AND MEZZOTINT. - -Morning Prayer, engraved by Sadd. -The Polish Mother, engraved by Dunnell. -The Bud and Blossom, by Welch & Walter. -The Watchers, engraved by Sartain. -The Proposal, engraved by A. Jones. -The Lady Alice, engraved by Dick. -The Blessing, engraved by Dunnell. -The Playful Pets, engraved by Sartain. -The Pet Rabbit, engraved by Sadd. -The Reprimand, engraved by Gimbrede. -True Affection, by Rawdon, Wright & Hatch. -Awaiting the Husband’s Return, engraved by Sadd. -The Pastor’s Visit, engraved by Dick. - - MUSIC. - -“To Win the Love of Thee,” A Ballad, 54 -The Zanoni Gallop, 102 -The September Waltz, 151 -The Summer Night, 217 -“Write to Me, Love,” 285 - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: -E. T. Parris., E. G. Dunnel. -_The Polish Mother._ -Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine.] - - - - - GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE. - - Vol. XXI. PHILADELPHIA: JULY, 1842. No. 1. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE POLISH MOTHER. - - -It was a gorgeous bridal. The old hall of the palace was lit up with a -thousand lights, and crowded with all the wealth, beauty and rank of -Poland. The apartment blazed with the jewels of its occupants. Princes -with their proud dames, high officers of state, nobles whose domains -vied in extent with kingdoms, and lordly beauties beneath whose gaze all -bent in adoration, had gathered at that magnificent festival to do honor -to the bridal of the fair daughter of their host. And loveliest among -the lovely was the bride. Tall and majestic in every movement, with a -queenly brow, and a face such as might have been that of the mother of -the gods, she moved through the splendid apartment the theme of every -admiring tongue. Nor less remarkable was her husband. Warsaw beheld no -noble tread her palaces more lordly in his bearing than the Count -Restchifky. The fire of a hundred warrior ancestors burned in his eye. -The fame of his high lineage, of his extended possessions, of his feats -in arms, followed his footsteps wherever he went. In manly beauty the -court of Poland had no rival to the count, in majestic loveliness the -realm furnished no equal to his bride. And now, as they stood together -in that proud old hall, surrounded by all that was noble and beautiful -in the land, the peerless beauty of the countess and the princely -bearing of her husband shone pre-eminent. - -Never had Warsaw seen such a festival. All that the most boundless -wealth and all that a taste the most fastidious could do to add to the -splendor of the occasion had been done, and the guests, one and all, -bore testimony to the success of the princely entertainer. The air was -laden with incense, flowers bloomed around, unseen music filled the hall -with harmony, and statues and carvings of rare device met the eye at -every turn. If Aladdin had been there he would not have asked that his -enchanted palace should excel in magnificence the one before him. No -visionary, in his wildest dream, could imagine aught more beautiful. And -through this unrivalled ball the count and his bride moved, conscious -that all this splendor was evoked for their honor, feeling that not a -heart in all the vast assembly but envied their exalted lot. At every -step congratulations met them until they turned away sick with -adulation. What wonder that the rose grew still deeper on the cheek of -the bride, that her eyes flashed with brighter brilliancy, or that her -step became more queenly? Could aught mortal wholly resist the -intoxication of that hour? - - . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . - -Years had elapsed. That fair young bride had become a mother; but time -had passed over her without destroying one lineament of her majestic -beauty. But the scene had changed from that through which she moved on -her bridal night. There were no longer around her wealth and splendor -and beauty, the flattery of the proud, the envy of the fair. She sat -alone—alone with her two children, one a lovely girl of sixteen, and -the other a smiling boy whose birth three years before had thrilled her -husband’s heart with ecstasy, filled a province with rejoicings. But now -that husband was away from her side, that province lay smoking around -her. Her own proud home, where since her marriage she had spent the -happiest hours of her life, had been sacked and given to the flames, and -she now sat leaning against a shattered parapet, with her face buried in -her hands, and the bitter tear of a mother’s anguish rolling down her -cheeks. At her feet, leaning on her for succor, and clasping her hand, -sat her daughter; while her boy, too young as yet to be conscious of the -misery around him, smiled as he played with the jewelled cross depending -from his mother’s neck. A broken sword, a dismounted cannon, the -shattered staff of a lance, at the feet of the group, betokened that the -vassals of the count had not yielded up her house to rapine without a -deadly struggle; and indeed, of the hundreds of hearts which beat there, -but the day before, only those of the mother and her two children had -escaped captivity or death. Part of the palace was yet in flames, while, -on the plain beyond, a village threw its lurid conflagration across the -sky. Desolation and despair sat enthroned around. Who that had seen that -mother on her bridal night, could have foretold that her after life -would reveal a scene like this? - -The Polish war for independence had broken out. Among the foremost of -the patriotic band which perilled all for their country, was the Count -Restchifky. His sword had been unsheathed at the outbreak of the -conflict, his fortune had been poured the first into the coffers of the -state. From his own estates he had raised and equipped as gallant a band -as ever followed lord to the tented field. And for a short space the war -seemed to prosper. But then came the reverse. From every quarter the -haughty Catharine poured her countless legions, headed by the fierce -Suwarrow, into Poland, and smoking fields and slaughtered armies soon -told that the day of hope for that ill-fated land was over. Yet a few -noble spirits, among whom the count was foremost, still held out for -their country, fighting every foot of ground, and though retreating -before the overwhelming forces of the foe, compelling him to purchase -every rood of land he gained by the lives of hundreds of his venal -followers. It was at this period, and while the count was far from his -home, that his palace had been attacked, and given to the flames. Afar -from succor, unconscious whether or not her husband yet lived, and -trembling for the lives of her offspring amid the desolation which -surrounded them, what wonder that even the proud heart of the countess -gave way, and that she wept in utter agony over her ruined country and -her dismantled home! - -“Oh! mother,” said the daughter, “if we only knew where father was, or -if he yet lived, we might still be happy. Wealth is nothing to us, for -will we not still love each other? Dry your tears, dear mother, for -something tells me that father lives and will yet rejoin us.” - -At these words of comfort, more soothing because coming from a quarter -so unexpected, the mother looked up, and, drawing her daughter to her -bosom, kissed her, saying, - -“You are right, my child. We will hope for the best. And if your father -has indeed fallen, and we are alone in the world, I will remember that I -have you to comfort me, and strive—to—be happy,” and, in despite of -her effort to be calm, the tears gushed into her eyes at the bare -thought of the possible loss of her husband. - -“But see, mother,” suddenly exclaimed the daughter, “see the cloud of -dust across the plain—can it betoken the return of the foe?” and she -drew close to her mother’s side. - -The mother gazed with eager eyes across the plain, and her cheek paled -as she thought she distinguished the banner of Russia borne in the -advance. - -“It is, it is as I feared,” said the daughter, “they come to carry us -into captivity. Oh! let us hide from their sight—there are secret -recesses in the ruins yet where we might defy scrutiny.” - -“No,” said the mother, all the spirit of her race rising in her at this -crisis, “no, my daughter, it would not become us, like base-born churls, -thus to fly from a foe. The wife and children of Count Restchifky will -meet his enemies on his own hearth-stone, all dismantled though it be.” - -With these words she clasped her babe closer to her bosom, and sat down -again behind the parapet to await, as the daughter of a hundred princes -should await, the approach of her murderers; and although perhaps her -cheek was a hue paler, the lofty glance of her eye quailed not. Her -daughter sank to her feet and buried her face in her mother’s robe. But -after a few minutes she regained courage, and looked timidly out across -the plain. At the first glance she started and said eagerly, - -“But see, mother, can they really be enemies? They wave their banners as -if to us—they increase their speed—surely, surely that gallant -horseman in the advance is my own dear father.” - -A moment the mother gazed eagerly on the approaching horseman, but a -moment only. The eye of the wife saw that her husband was indeed there, -and, with a glad cry, she clasped her children in her arms and burst -into a flood of joyful tears. She was still weeping when the count, -dismounting from his charger, rushed forward and clasped her in his -arms. - -“Thank God!” he ejaculated, “you at least are left to me. I had feared -to find you no more. May the lightning of heaven blast the cravens who -could thus desolate the home of a woman.” - -“My husband, oh! my husband!” was all that the wife could say. - -“Father, dear father, you are safe—oh! we shall yet be happy,” said the -daughter as she clung to her restored parent. - -The father kissed and re-kissed them all, and for once his stern nature -was moved to tears, but they were tears of joy. - -His story was soon told. Finding that all hope of saving his country was -over, and eager to learn the fate of those he had left at home, he had -cut his way through the enemy with a few gallant followers. As he drew -near the vicinity of his palace, he had heard strange rumors of the -sacking of his home, and on every side his own eyes beheld the ravages -of the foe. Torn with a thousand fears respecting the fate of those he -loved better than life, he had pressed madly on, and when the blackened -and smoking walls of his palace had risen before him in the distance he -had almost given way to despair. But, at length, his eager eye caught -sight of a group amid the ruins, and his heart told him that those he -loved remained yet to cheer his ruined fortunes. - -No pen can do justice to the feelings of gratitude which throbbed in the -bosom of that father as he pressed his wife and children successively to -his heart. His plans were soon laid. He had, by remittances to England -on the outbreak of the war, provided his family against want, and -thither they now bent their steps. Over his ruined country he shed many -a tear, but, at such times, the smiles of his wife and children were -ever ready to cheer his despondency; and as he gazed on his lovely -family he felt that there was much yet in this world to bid him be -happy. - - * * * * * - - - - - “THOU HAST LOVED.” - - - BY MRS. SEBA SMITH. - - - Dearest, in thine eye’s deep light - Is a look to tears allied— - Sorrow struggling with delight, - Each the other seeks to hide; - Thou, the freighted ark of life - Lonely floating on the sea, - With thy being’s treasure rife— - Thou hast wearied thus to be. - - Thou hast sent thy dove from thee— - Forth hast launched thy dove of peace, - And the branch, though green it be, - Can it bid thy doubtings cease? - Though it speak of hope the while, - Verdant spots and sunny bowers, - Can it bring thee back the smile - That beguiled thy vacant hours? - - Take thy dove and fold its wing— - Fold its ruffled wing to rest; - Deluge airs around it ring: - Let it nestle on thy breast. - Dearest, all thy care is vain— - Mark its trembling, weary wings; - But it comes to thee again, - And an olive branch it brings. - - Take it, bind it unto thee, - Though the leaves are dim with tears; - Such thy woman lot must be— - Love and sorrow, hopes and fears. - Bind the branch of promise ever - To thy heart, with fear oppressed, - Let the leaves of hope, oh! never, - Withered, leave their place of rest. - - * * * * * - - - - - VIOLA. - - - BY JAMES ALDRICH. - - - This simple chain of sunny hair, - Thus braided by thy gentle hand, - Anear my heart I ever wear, - Since thou art gone to shadow-land. - - Whene’er upon the little gift - Of thy sweet love my eye is cast, - Will welcome memory come and lift - The curtains of the silent Past! - - Ah! my fond heart, as well it may, - Feels then, in all its depth anew, - That which, when thou wait called away, - Ennobled and immortal grew! - - Lost one! to thee I’ll constant prove, - Long as I walk this mortal strand, - So may I claim thy perfect love - When we shall meet in shadow-land. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: -_PAINTED BY LUCY ADAMS._, _ENGRAVED BY H. S. SADD._ -_Morning Prayer._ -_Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine_] - - * * * * * - - - - - MORNING PRAYER. - - - ILLUSTRATION OF A PICTURE. - - - He is not here! - We meet around the altar yet once more, - Where we our prayers have blent so oft before, - And drop a tear - Upon the holy book from which he read - Who sleeps, at length, in peace, among the silent dead. - - Yet from on high - He looketh on us—widow, daughter, son— - Pointing the course by which he glory won. - He still is nigh, - On angel’s wings, to comfort us and guide,— - Unseen, but not unfelt, forever by our side. - - Father in heaven! - Who hast called home the leader of our band, - And the bright glories of the better land - Unto him given, - O, be with us, and keep us in the way - That leads, through this dark night, to an unending day! - - Strengthen our hearts - To bear, with fortitude, the ills of time; - Preserve them ever from the winter’s rime, - So let our parts - Be acted, that again the prayer and song - We may together blend, and through all time prolong! - - * * * * * - - - - - THE FANCY-FAIR. - - - BY MRS. A. M. F. ANNAN. - - - “With her personage, her tall personage, - Her height, forsooth, she hath prevailed with him.” - Shakspeare. - -“Good morning, Saybrooke,” said a gentleman named Creswell, meeting a -friend; “I have just ascertained to whom Collins is married—a lady of -your city—Laura Sands.” - -“Amazing!” exclaimed Saybrooke, striking down his cane with such energy -that the other started; “why, she is six feet high!” - -“Not quite,” returned Creswell, laughing; “and, though somewhat large, -she is one of the most queenly looking women—” - -“Pshaw! Victoria has put that word out of fashion, or at least changed -its signification.” - -“I beg pardon—I had forgotten your horror of large women, or, rather, I -did not regard it, supposing it was your affectation—everybody has at -least one.” - -“Affectation! take care, or I’ll raise my stick at you!” - -“Well, it is unaccountable that a man of your inches should have such -notions. Now, for a little fellow, like myself, it would be bad taste to -be following women who might look as if they could flog him, but with -your six feet two, and abundant proportions, the case is different. On -the contrary, I can’t imagine anything more comical than a little wife -hanging on your arm; she would look like a reticule—not straining a -pun.” - -“In saying I detest large women, I make no committal by preferring very -small ones; but, seriously, I would no more expect to find a woman’s -soul in all its sweetness, delicacy and purity hidden in a coarse, -capacious body, than I could think of loving a woman for the -recommendation—‘_Sexu fæmina, ingenio vir._’” - -“There it is with you men of fortune! You become so finical from having -all sorts of attractions paraded before you, that you stand still -waiting for perfection, till at last, in despair, you tie up your eyes, -and, like a child at blind man’s buff, spring forward and secure the -first against whom you stumble. Now, we poor, hard-working dogs—but -I’ll get out of heart if I talk about my own grievances. I have a lady -selected for you, beautiful, accomplished, with a thousand excellencies, -and of station in society and all that, just to suit, but this last -freak has chilled my good intentions. So good bye, till I get into a -better humor!” - -In the evening the two gentlemen met again, as Saybrooke was coming out -of an exchange office, in the act of securing his pocket book. - -“Have you been filling or emptying that article, which?” asked Creswell. - -“The more agreeable alternative,” replied his friend. - -“Then you are the very fellow I wished to see. I have an appointment for -you to-night—to take you to a ladies’ fair.” - -“The mischief! when you know that fancy-fairs are my aversion, and not -from caprice but from real principle. I don’t know anything more -disgusting than to see a room full of Misses, taking advantage of some -either really or nominally worthy purpose, to exhibit themselves to the -public, and to gratify a petty and an indelicate vanity, by flirting -over their pincushions and doll-babies with any fellow who can afford an -admittance shilling for the honor.” - -“Come, come, that’s really too severe, but just now I have not time to -take the other side of the question. This, however, is no ordinary -occasion. It is an impromptu affair, undertaken by a number of charming, -whole-hearted girls, to raise a fund in aid of the sufferers by a recent -public disaster, and more taste, enthusiasm, and liberality, I have -never seen exhibited. If you wish to see the _élite_ of our beauty and -fashion, under the most favorable circumstances, you had better avail -yourself of my invitation.” - -“If that is the case, I have no scruples. I intended to appropriate a -part of this very supply to a charity so unquestionable, and it may as -well pass through the medium you have selected as any other. So I’m at -your service.” - -At the appointed time they reached the —— Saloon, in which the fair -was held, and Creswell, who from previous visits was posted as to all -concerning it, led his friend, for a cursory inspection, around the -room. Its arrangements were novel and tasteful, its decorations of the -most rich and appropriate character, and the fair projectors were -fulfilling their duties with a dignity, grace, and decorum that -surprised as well as gratified the fastidious stranger. - -“Now, if you are satisfied,” said Creswell, “I’ll give myself the -trouble to advise you in the disposal of that spare cash of yours—come -to this table,” and bowing to its fair attendant, he took up a large and -magnificently bound quarto volume, and turned over its pages; “I have -heard you express a fondness, Saybrooke,” he continued, “for what you -call the only ladies’ science—Botany; did you ever see any thing to -equal this?” It was a collection of dried flowers, of such as best -preserve their color, pressed with great niceness and skill, and pasted -on the smooth, white pages so carefully, some singly and some in groups, -that it required close examination to distinguish them from delicate -water-color drawings. Beneath them were written, in an exquisite hand, -clear, full, and accurate technical descriptions, and on intermediate -pages quotations appropriate to their symbolical characters, or fanciful -and elegant passages, evidently original. - -“This must have been the work of a lady, judging from its ingenuity and -beauty,” said Saybrooke. - -“It was done by Miss Martha Grainger, was it not?” asked Creswell, -turning to the title page, which was a graceful vignette, executed, even -to the lettering, in leaves and flowers, but it contained no name. - -“Of course,” returned the pretty vender; “no other of us could have had -the taste, patience, and knowledge for such a work, to say nothing of -the talent the literary illustrations display. I really think it was a -piece of heroism in her to give up a possession so beautiful, and one -that must have cost her a world of labor and care.” - -“If it is not already sold, I shall be happy to become its purchaser,” -said Saybrooke; and paying for his acquisition with much satisfaction, -they walked on. The next thing that struck their notice was a large vase -encrusted with shells, and filled with fragrant and splendid flowers. It -was white, and transparent as alabaster, and of an antique form, as rare -as beautiful. Saybrooke examined it carefully. “How superior,” said he, -“to the unshapely, crockery-looking ware commonly seen as -shell-work—nothing could be more perfectly elegant and classical than -it is.” - -“Is it of your workmanship, Miss Ellen?” asked Creswell. - -“I am sorry to say, very far from it. It is a donation from Martha -Grainger; she had just finished it for herself, but, with her usual -generous benevolence, gave it up in hope that it might be turned to the -benefit of the unfortunate. The flowers, which you seem to admire so -much, Mr. Creswell, are also of her culture. Her windows, you know, were -the rivals of the green-houses, but she robbed them all to fill it. -Suppose you take it for your office? There is no one who will value it -more.” - -“Ah, if I could afford to have all I value! but I would not desecrate -anything so pure and sweet, by stowing it away among the rough -book-cases, and dust, and cobwebs of a poor lawyer’s office. Now, my -friend here could give it a place not unworthy. If it were placed within -your curtains, Saybrooke, I’d engage that you would have more bright -eyes peeping through your windows than you ever had before.” - -“The temptation is too strong to be resisted,” answered Saybrooke, -smiling, and he placed his card in a handle of the vase, as its -purchaser. “I am glad to find that the botanical lady has a real love of -flowers,” he continued, as he walked away with a China rose, which he -had selected, in his hand; “it is not always the case; a proficiency in -the science argues a clear and discriminating mind; the other seems to -belong to a naturally refined taste.” - -“Pray, Mr. Creswell, can’t you find us a purchaser for this?” asked a -lady, pointing to a glass case, which contained a set of elaborately -carved ivory chess-men. - -“An exquisite set,” said Saybrooke, “they look like fairy work.” - -“I think this is not the first time I have seen them, madam; can you -remind me where they came from?” said Creswell. - -“They were added to our stock by Miss Grainger, an effort of self-denial -that I fear I never could have attained. They were sent to her as a -present by an uncle in India, but she is so conscientious that she -offered them for our undertaking, saying that she could not be satisfied -to keep them for mere amusement, when a set for ten dollars would answer -as well. Of course we cannot expect to get their real value, as, very -properly, there are few persons who would offer a couple of hundred -dollars for a thing of the kind, but we are in hopes that some one -willing to aid the cause will take them at a price which, at least, will -not be unworthy of the generosity of the donor.” - -“As it is not very likely, from present appearances,” said Saybrooke, -“that the artists of the Celestial Empire will have the courage and -leisure to execute toys so singularly elaborate and ingenious for some -time to come, I may as well avail myself of the opportunity, and take -possession of these. Will this be sufficient for them, madam?” - -“Thank you, sir, for your liberality,—it is more than we expected;” -said the lady, looking after the stranger with much curiosity. - -“That Miss Grainger must be a remarkable person to be possessed of so -much talent and industry, and so much open-handed generosity. But what -have you there?” Creswell was looking at a pair of small paintings which -ornamented one of the stalls, and Saybrooke continued, after joining -him, “these are really beautiful little things, and from their apparent -reference to the late calamity, they must have been furnished expressly -for this occasion. They are evidently by the same hand, yet it must have -been difficult for one person to do them in so short a time. There is -much feeling, as well as originality, in the designs, and not less -spirit than grace in their execution. May I ask, Miss, from whom these -were obtained?” - -“They are from the pencil of a lady, sir,—the all-accomplished Miss -Grainger.” - -“Miss Grainger again!” said Saybrooke smiling; “they are marked for -sale, I believe?” - -“They are, sir, though we would prefer letting them remain here till the -sale is over.” - -“Certainly; but you will let me secure them in time?” and having -completed the purchase, he followed Creswell; “there now,” said he, “I -think I have done my part, so I shall tie up my purse-strings; but pray -who is this Miss Grainger?” - -“What do you imagine her to be?” - -“An active, bustling, fussy old maid, such a person who is always to be -found in the like enterprises; but in addition she must have an enlarged -mind, which, having freed her from the selfishness peculiar to her -relative position, still furnishes her with resources to devote to -general benevolence.” - -“You never were more mistaken in your life,—but what do you think of -that oriental _kiosk_ which the ladies have fitted up as the -post-office?” - -“I was just going to remark that it is particularly tasteful and -beautiful.” - -“The plan is another of the labors of Miss Grainger,—but we must ask -for letters to finish our business.” - -“Certainly, but where is your fair _virtuoso_? you must point her out to -me.” - -“Very well, come along, and I’ll introduce you, but of one thing I must -apprise you beforehand,—with all her admirable qualities she is, -unfortunately, quite—a large woman—the largest, I should think, in the -room.” - -“That is unfortunate,” said Saybrooke, looking disturbed; “but as I wish -merely to have my curiosity gratified, and to pay a tribute of respect -to an intellectual and a useful woman, I shall put up with that.” - -Creswell paused to speak with an acquaintance, and Saybrooke walked -forward. Suddenly a lady swept by, almost jostling him, and of a size -that over-shadowed all around her. She was beflounced and befurred, had -a tall feather waving above her hat, a decided shade on her upper lip, -and a step like a grenadier. - -“See here, Creswell, you needn’t mind taking me to see Miss Grainger,—I -don’t want to be introduced to her,” said Saybrooke. - -“You have changed your mind very suddenly,” returned Creswell. - -“You told me she was the largest woman in the room, and by accident I -have just met her. I recognized her, of course, and my curiosity is -amply gratified.” - -Creswell followed his eye, and burst into an irrepressible fit of -laughter. “Oh, very well,” said he, “if you are satisfied, so am I. But -here is the post-office. Anything here, ladies, for Stanley Saybrooke, -Esq.?—just excuse me, while you are waiting for your letter.” - -The postmistress was one of the youngest of the association, and whilst -she was searching, with much archness and significancy, among the -letters, the eyes of Saybrooke fell upon a lady farther back in the -alcove, from whom a single look acted like magic on him. The features -were of a form and symmetry the most faultlessly classical, and were -radiant with an expression of sweetness and intelligence. Her eyes were -large and of a soft blue, her complexion was of the purest white and -red, and her hair, of a rich brown, fell in a single large curl, smooth -and glossy, down either side of her face. She wore a small black velvet -bonnet, which contrasted strikingly with the pearliness of her skin, and -which, excepting in a little bordering of blond around the face, was -entirely without ornament. Vexatiously, as our hero thought it, there -was nothing of her figure to be seen; she sat wrapped in a large shawl, -on an ottoman behind a table, and appeared quite unconscious of -attracting attention, or, at least, indifferent to it. - -“Here is a letter, sir;” said the officious little postmistress, with a -mischievous smile, but Saybrooke stood unheeding; “there is nothing -else, sir;” she added, and recollecting himself, he walked reluctantly -away. The letter was a little poetical bagatelle, to which he paid no -attention, and reconnoitering the _kiosk_, he placed himself where, by -keeping among the folds of a curtain, he might retain a view of the face -which had so much fascinated him. Though, at his distance, he could not -overhear a word, he watched her quiet, yet neither cold nor languid -manner, to the many who approached and addressed her. “What a -lovely—lovely creature she is!” thought he, “if I had not so long -dropped my school-boy notions of love at first-sight, I really would -believe myself captivated!—how calm she is!—how unembarrassed and -dignified, and yet how gracious!” - -Creswell returned, but Saybrooke, ashamed to ask a single question lest -it might betray him, pleaded fatigue, and declined walking farther, and -his friend, who had been watching him, to his secret amusement, left him -to the indulgence of his observations. - -By this time the story of his liberality, exaggerated, of course, had -made its way over the room, and many were the efforts of the fair -promenaders to catch the attention of a stranger so fashionable in -appearance, so handsome, and reportedly so rich; but if he noticed the -attractions of any, it was only to remark how inferior they were to -those he was so intently contemplating. At length, to his extreme -delight, he observed that she had picked up the rose which he had -dropped on the table in his first bewilderment. “What a dolt I have -been,” said he to himself; “after coming here to lay out money in -charity, to take and retain an equivalent for it!” and to ease his -conscience, he decided to get rid of the vase. So calling a servant who -was attending on the tables, he directed him where to find it, and to -present it to the designated lady in the post-office, with the -compliments of a gentleman. He watched as the commission was executed. -There was no flutter in the manner of the fair incognito, no wonder nor -exultation. She merely asked the man a question or two, and dismissed -him without a message. Her bearing suited him to a charm. It was that of -a sultana receiving tribute. - -“What a hand—what an incomparable hand!” was his next thought. One of -his very few coxcomberies was a passion for beautiful hands, and it had -its full gratification in the one which lay beside his vase, with whose -whiteness it did not suffer in comparison. It was not small, but was -exquisitely shaped, full, smooth and tapering, with not an irregular -protuberance to detract from its graceful outlines. It set his fancy at -a new picture. He imagined himself at his little mosaic -chess-table—which was so small that any two at it were in very sociable -proximity—and that snowy hand at the other side. Then he looked at her -forehead, which was large and nobly developed—he was something of a -phrenologist—and he decided that she had a genius for chess, -consequently, that his recent purchase of chess-men might thus be -suitably transferred. Accordingly, he hurried off to send it, but after -he had done so, he found, on returning, his place occupied by a crowd. - -The room had filled, and disappointed and abstracted he wandered about -for an hour before he found an opportunity to speak to Creswell. The -latter at length approached him, saying, - -“I have a message for you from a lady.” - -“What lady?” asked Saybrooke, eagerly, hoping it was _the_ lady—the -only one he cared about at the moment. - -“The one to whom you sent your vase and chess-men; she says that if you -don’t take them back she will offer them for sale anew.” - -“I hope she did not think me impertinent in sending them?” said -Saybrooke, looking alarmed, “how did she discover that it was I?” - -“It was easy to ascertain by whom they were purchased, and she judged -accordingly.” - -“Then you know her?” - -“Certainly.” - -“Pray introduce me, won’t you?—immediately, if you please, my dear -Creswell.” - -“I would rather not. You won’t like her—for a very _material_ reason.” - -“I will—positively—I do like her—I’m half in love already.” - -“With her face, you mean—that’s a pretty scrape for a man of twenty-six -to get into! however, I may have an opportunity after a while, so be -patient. There’s a fine figure,” he continued, looking through a glass -he had picked up from a table, and then handing it to Saybrooke—“there -in that recess—the lady with her back towards us.” - -“Very fine, but the glass contracts too much; at full size I dare say -the proportions would scarcely appear so perfect. Who is she?” - -“A particular favorite of mine, the owner of this shawl, which I am -carrying to her. Come along, and you shall have a nearer view.” - -The lady was at the farther end of the saloon, and with some difficulty -they threaded their way towards her. She was talking, and still had her -back towards them. “A fine figure, indeed,” said Saybrooke, as they -advanced, “but, she seems—isn’t she rather large?—why, upon my -word—Creswell—she must be full five feet nine, if not ten!” and, -putting his arm through his friend’s, he was drawing him in another -direction. - -“Stop! don’t jerk me off my feet, my dear fellow!” said Creswell; “I -must go on to deliver the shawl; allow me, Miss Grainger,” he continued, -“to present my friend, Mr. Saybrooke—” and as the lady turned round to -curtsey, Saybrooke recognized the brilliant face of the post-office. - -Never was there a more instantaneous revolution. “I’ll call you out for -this night’s work!” whispered Saybrooke, while the lady was replying to -the parting compliments of her former companions. Creswell pretended to -look very much surprised, and after a little while, when he made a move -to proceed, Saybrooke gave him a deprecatory shake of the head, at which -they parted for the night. - -The next morning Creswell called at the lodgings of his friend. “I am -glad,” said he, “that you were not disappointed in Miss Grainger.” - -“Disappointed!—she is the most fascinating woman I ever met with—full -of sweetness, feeling, and intellect! I do not remember to have enjoyed -a conversation more in my life than the one we had as I escorted her -home last night” - -“Why, Saybrooke! you certainly did not do that? she is unquestionably -large enough to take care of herself!” - -“You are an impudent dog, Creswell,” returned Saybrooke, laughing. - -“But, seriously, Saybrooke, it is a great pity that Miss Grainger is so -large; to a man of your sentiments, who never could see a woman over the -medium height without thinking of an ogress, it must very much -neutralize the effect of her unrivalled face, her winning manners, and -her delightfully _spirituelle_ conversation.” - -“If you’ll oblige me by remaining civilly quiet, for a few minutes, I’ll -tell you how I argued that point. I stated to myself that the larger -women I had seen were as small ones examined through a magnifying glass, -every defect being thus rendered more apparent. Now, I continued, here -is a woman of the magnified size, without a single defect, and she is of -course entitled to a magnified portion of admiration.” - -“Very good.” - -“And then I recollected that I was not the first who had come to such a -conclusion. That Juno would not have looked the queen of Olympus had she -been other than a large woman—that had the rib of Menelaus been but a -small bone of contention, Troy might have been standing to this day.” - -“Pshaw!” said Creswell. - -“And that a man must have a very contracted imagination to fancy a -little Venus De Medicis, a little Cleopatra or a little Mary Stuart.” - -About six months after this, a gentleman and lady passing, bowed to -Creswell through his office window while an acquaintance was sitting -with him. - -“A magnificent looking couple—who are they?” said the latter. - -“The new bride and groom, Stanley Saybrooke, and Martha Grainger, that -was. By the by, I made that match.” - -“Indeed! how did you accomplish it?” - -“Just by persuading the lady to sit still for a few hours. He had a most -absurd aversion to large women, and as I knew that Martha, who, in fact, -is a sort of cousin of mine, would suit him exactly in other respects, I -laid a plan to get him in love with her before he found out her size, so -I took him to a fancy-fair, where he saw a great number of her -productions, and heard a great deal of her character, and then I -contrived to give him a sight of her beautiful face, having, as I said, -apprised her that she would oblige me very much by keeping her seat -until I gave her notice. That finished the business. He stared till he -was conquered, and then the three or four extra inches became very small -matters indeed.” - -“But now, since they are married, won’t the defects shoot up again?” - -“Not at all. I never saw a fellow so proud of a wife. He says that a -small casket could not contain so lofty an intellect and so noble a -heart!” - - * * * * * - - - - - LE FAINEANT. - - - BY C. V. HOFFMAN, AUTHOR OF “GREYSLAER,” “THE VIGIL OF FAITH,” ETC. - - - “Now arouse thee, Sir Knight, from thine indolent ease, - Fling boldly thy banner abroad in the breeze, - Strike home for thy lady—strive hard for the prize, - And thy guerdon shall beam from her love-lighted eyes!” - - “I shrink not the trial,” that bluff knight replied— - “But I battle—not _I_—for an unwilling bride; - Where the boldest may venture to do and to dare, - My pennon shall flutter—my bugle peal there! - - “I quail not at aught in the struggle of life, - I’m not all unproved even now in the strife, - But the wreath that I win, all unaided—alone, - Round a faltering brow it shall never be thrown!” - - “Now fie on thy manhood, to deem it a sin - That she loveth the glory thy falchion might win, - Let them doubt of thy prowess and fortune no more, - Up! Sir Knight, for thy lady—and do thy devoir!” - - “She hath shrunk from my side, she hath failed in her trust, - Not relied on my blade, but remembered its rust; - It shall brighten once more in the field of its fame, - But it is not for her I would now win a name.” - - The knight rode away, and the lady she sigh’d, - When he featly as ever his steed would bestride, - While the mould from the banner he shook to the wind - Seemed to fall on the breast he left aching behind. - - But the rust on his glaive and the rust in his heart - Had corroded too long and too deep to depart, - And the brand only brightened in honor once more, - When the heart ceased to beat on the fray-trampled shore. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE DYING MINSTREL TO HIS MUSE. - - - BY WILLIAM FALCONER. - - - Farewell, gentle Muse! fare thee well, and for ever! - No more in the greenwood with thee must I stray: - Thy flowers which I cherished have bloomed but to wither, - Like youth’s vernal wreath, they all faded away: - Yet sweet was the morn, timid Muse, when I sought thee, - In the green ruined tower by the wild Scottish rill; - A heart framed for joy like the wine-cup I brought thee, - With Fancy’s rich draught thou the chalice didst fill. - - O soft was thy dawning, thou mental Aurora, - It shed on my morning-dream heaven’s young ray, - With the seraph-wing’d bird through the cloudlets of glory - My soul soared exulting through life’s early day; - Then love’s vernal flush filled my bosom with gladness, - And she whom I loved shared its passion with thee; - She left me to pine in the chill shade of sadness, - Then crossed I in anguish the wide-spreading sea. - - But thou wert more faithful, for rocked on the ocean - ’Twas thou who mad’st lovely the dreams of my rest, - My spirit went forth on the wings of emotion - To sport with the bird o’er the blue waters’ breast. - Now in my pent bosom life’s last pulses tremble - Like sear fluttering leaves on yon wind-beaten tree, - With spring-loving birds on its boughs that assemble - My soul to the Land of the Spirit shall flee. - - Then come, O my wild lyre, my sole earthly treasure, - ’Neath Death’s downy pinions come slumber in peace; - Leave the world to the rosy-crown’d vot’ries of Pleasure, - Its garlands must wither—its Bacchanals cease! - Dear Enchantress, farewell! but that friend of my bosom - Revisit once more, o’er the waves’ deafening swell, - Inspire him that one fleeting flowret may blossom - To the memory of him who hath loved him so well! - _Paris, France._ - - * * * * * - - - - - HARRY CAVENDISH. - - - BY THE AUTHOR OF “CRUISING IN THE LAST WAR,” THE “REEFER OF ’76,” ETC. - - - THE PRIVATEER. - -I remained but a short time in the Arrow after we sailed finally from -the port of ——; for happening to fall in with and capture a rakish -little schooner, Captain Smyth resolved to arm and send her forth to -cruise against the enemy on her own account. A long Tom was accordingly -mounted on a pivot amidships, a complement of men placed in her, and the -command given to our second lieutenant, with myself for subordinate. -Thus equipped, we parted company from our consort, who bore away for the -north, while we were to cruise in the Windward Passage. - -For several days we met with no adventure. The weather was intensely -sultry. He who has never witnessed a noontide calm on a tropical sea can -have no idea of the stifling heat of such a situation. The sea is like -molten brass; no breath of air is stirring; the atmosphere is dry and -parched in the mouth, and the heavens hang over all their canopy of -lurid fire, in the very centre of which burns with intense fierceness -the meridian sun. The decks, the cabin, and the tops are alike stifling. -The awnings may indeed afford a partial shelter from the vertical rays -of the sun, but no breeze can be wooed down the eager windsail; while, -wherever a stray beam steals to the deck through an opening in the -canvass, the turpentine oozes out and boils in the heat, and the planks -become as intolerable to the tread as if a furnace was beneath them. - -It was on one of the hottest days of the season, and about a fortnight -after we parted from the Arrow, that we lay thus becalmed. The hour was -high noon. I stood panting for breath by the weather railing, dressed in -a thin jacket and without a cravat, feverishly looking out across the -ocean to discern, if possible, a mist or cloud or other evidence of an -approaching breeze. My watch was in vain. There was no ripple on the -deep, but a long monotonous undulation heaved the surface of the water, -which glittered far and near like a mirror in which the sun is reflected -vertically, paining and almost blinding the gaze. The schooner lay -motionless on the ocean, the shadow of her boom shivering in the wave, -as the swell undulated along. Silence reigned on the decks. To a -spectator at a distance, who could have beheld our motionless shadow in -the water, we would have seemed an enchanted ship, hanging midway -betwixt the sea and sky. - -Noon passed, and the afternoon drew heavily along, yet still no breeze -arose to gladden our listless spirits. Two bells struck and then three, -but the same monotony continued. Wearied out at length I was about -turning from the weather quarter to go below, when I fancied I saw a -sail far down on the horizon. I paused and looked intently in the -direction where the welcome sight had been visible. For a moment the -glare of the sun and the water prevented me from distinguishing with any -accuracy whether what I saw was really a sail or not, but at length my -doubts were removed by the cry of the look-out on the fore-castle, and -before half an hour it became evident that the vessel to windward was a -square-rigged craft, but of what size or character it was impossible to -determine. - -“They must have had a puff of wind up yonder,” remarked the second -lieutenant to me, “or else they could not have come within sight so -rapidly.” - -“But the breeze has left them ere this,” I said, “for they have not -moved for the last quarter of an hour.” - -“We shall probably know nothing more of them until nightfall, for the -wind will scarcely make before sunset, even if it does then. He has the -weather gauge. Until I know something more of him I would rather change -positions.” - -“He is some fat merchantman,” I replied, “we will lighten his plethoric -pocket before morning.” - -During the afternoon the calm continued, our craft and the stray sail -occupying their relative positions. Meantime, innumerable were the -conjectures which we hazarded as to the character of our neighbor; and -again and again were our glasses put in requisition to see if any thing -could be discovered to decide our conflicting opinions. But the royals -of a ship, when nothing else of her is visible, give scarcely any clue -as to her character; and accordingly hour after hour passed away, and we -were still altogether ignorant respecting the flag and strength of our -neighbor. Toward sunset, however, signs of a coming breeze began to -appear on the seaboard, and when the luminary wheeled his disc down the -western line of the horizon, the sea to windward was perceptibly ruffled -by the wind. - -“Ah! there it comes at last—” said the second lieutenant, “and, by my -halidome, the stranger is standing for us. Now, if he will only keep in -his present mind until we can get within range of him, I am no officer -of the United Colonies if I do not give him some hot work. By St. -George, the men have had so little to do of late, and they long so -eagerly to whet their palates, that I would venture to attack almost -twice our force—eh! Cavendish! You have had such a dare-devil brush -with the buccaneers lately that I suppose you think no common enemy is -worth a thought.” - -“Not altogether,” said I, “but I think we shall have our wish gratified. -Yonder chap is certainly twice our size, and he carries his topsails as -jauntily as a man-of-war.” - -“Faith! and you’re right, Harry,” said my old messmate, as he shut the -glass with a jerk, after having, in consequence of my last remark, taken -a long look at the strange sail, “that’s no sleepy merchantman to -windward. But we’ll swagger up to him, nevertheless; one doesn’t like to -run away from the first ship he meets.” - -I could not help smiling when I thought of the excuses with which the -lieutenant was endeavoring to justify to himself his contemplated attack -on a craft that was not only more than twice our size, but apparently an -armed cruizer, for I knew the case would have been the same if this had -been the hundredth, instead of the first vessel he had met after -assuming a separate command, as no man in the corvette had been more -notorious for the recklessness with which he invited danger. Perhaps -this was the fault of his character. I really believe that he would, if -dared to it, have run into Portsmouth itself, and fired the British -fleet at anchor. In our former days, when we had been fellow officers on -board the Arrow, we had often differed on this trait in his character, -and perhaps now he felt called on, from a consciousness of my opinion, -to make some excuse to me for his disregard of prudence in approaching -the stranger; for, as soon as the breeze had made, he had close-hauled -the schooner, and, during the conversation I have recorded, we were -dashing rapidly up towards the approaching ship. - -As we drew nearer to the stranger, my worst suspicions became realized. -Her courses loomed up large and ominous, and directly her hammock -nettings appeared, and then her ports opened to our view, six on a side; -while, almost instantaneously with our discovery of her force, a roll of -bunting shot up to her gaff, and, unrolling, disclosed the cross of St. -George. There was now no escape. The enemy had the weather gauge, and -was almost within closing distance. However prudent a more wary approach -might have been hitherto, there was no longer any reason for the -exercise of caution. It would be impossible for us now to avoid a -combat, or get to windward by any manœuvre; and to have attempted to -escape by going off before the wind would have been madness, since of -all points of sailing that was the worst for our little craft. Gloomy, -therefore, as the prospect appeared for us, there was no hesitation, but -each man, as the drum called us to quarters, hurried to his post with as -much alacrity as if we were about to engage an inferior force, instead -of one so overwhelmingly our superior. - -The moon had by this time risen and was calmly sailing on, far up in the -blue ether, silvering the deep with her gentle radiance, and showering a -flood of sparkles on every billowy crest that rolled up and shivered in -her light. Everywhere objects were discernible with as much distinctness -as under the noon-day sun. The breeze sang through our rigging with a -joyous sound, singularly pleasing after the silence and monotony of the -day; and the waves that parted beneath our cut-water rolled glittering -astern along our sides, while ever and anon some billow, larger than its -fellows, broke over the bow, sending its foam crackling back to the -foremast. Around the deck our men were gathered, each one beside his -allotted gun, silently awaiting the moment of attack. The cutlasses had -been served out; the boarding pikes and muskets were placed convenient -for use; the balls had already been brought on deck; and we only waited -for some demonstration on the part of the foe to open our magazine and -commence the combat in earnest. At length, when we were rapidly closing -with him, the enemy yawed, and directly a shot whistled high over us. - -“Too lofty by far, old jackanapes,” said the captain of our long Tom, -“we’ll pepper you after a different fashion when it comes to our turn to -serve out the iron potatoes. Ah! the skipper’s tired of being silent,” -he continued, as Mr. Vinton ordered the old veteran to discharge his -favorite piece, “we’ll soon see who can play at chuck-farthing the best, -my hearty. Bowse away, boys, with that rammer—now we have her in a -line—a little lower, just a trifle more—that’s it—there she goes;” -and as he applied the match, the flame streamed from the mouth of the -gun, a sharp, quick report followed, and the smoke, clinging a moment -around the piece in a white mass, broke into fragments and eddied away -to leeward on the gale; while the old veteran, stepping hastily aside, -placed his hand over his eyes, and gazed after the shot, with an -expression of intense curiosity stamped on every feature of his face. -Directly an exulting smile broke over his countenance, as the -fore-top-sail of the ship fell—the ball having hit the yard. - -“By the holy and thrue cross,” said a mercurial Irishman of the old -veteran’s crew, “but he has it there—hurrah! Give it to him nately -again—it’s the early thrush that catches the early worm.” - -“Home with the ball there, my hearties,” sung out the elated veteran, -“she is yawing to let drive at us—there it comes. Give her as good as -she sends.” - -The enemy was still, however, at too great a distance to render her fire -dangerous, and after a third shot had been exchanged betwixt us—for the -stranger appeared to have, like ourselves, but a single long gun of any -weight—this distant and uncertain firing ceased, and both craft drew -steadily towards each other, determined to fight the combat, as a -gallant combat should be fought, yard arm to yard arm. - -The wind had now freshened considerably, and we made our way through the -water at the rate of six knots an hour. This soon brought us on the bows -of the foe. Our guns, meanwhile, had been hastily shifted from the -starboard to the larboard side, so that our whole armament could be -brought to bear at once on the ship. As we drew up towards the enemy a -profound silence reigned on our deck—each man, as he stood at his gun, -watching her with curious interest. We could see that her decks were -well filled with defenders, and that marksmen had been posted in the -tops to pick off our crew. But no eye quailed, no nerve flinched, as we -looked on this formidable array. We felt that there was nothing left for -us but to fight, since flight was alike dishonorable and impossible. - -At length we were within pistol shot of the foe, and drawing close on to -his bows. The critical moment had come. That indefinable feeling which -even a brave man will feel when about engaging in a mortal combat, shot -through our frames as we saw that our bowsprit was overlapping that of -the enemy, and knew that in another minute some of us would perhaps be -in another world. But there was little time for such reflections now. -The two vessels, each going on a different tack, rapidly shot by each -other, and, in less time than I have taken to describe it, we lay -broadside to broadside, with our bows on the stern of the foe, and our -tafferel opposite his foremast. Until now not a word had been spoken on -board either ship; but the moment the command to fire was passed from -gun to gun, a sheet of flame instantaneously rolled along our sides, -making our light craft quiver in every timber. The rending of timbers, -the crash of spars, and the shrieks of the wounded, heard over even the -roar of battle, told us that the iron missiles had sped home, bearing -destruction with them. A momentary pause ensued, as if the crew of the -enemy had been thrown into a temporary disorder—but the delay was only -that of a second or two—and then came in return the broadside of the -foe. But this momentary disorder had injured the aim of the Englishman, -and most of his balls passed overhead, doing considerable injury however -to the rigging. Our men had lain flat on the deck after our discharge, -since our low bulwarks afforded scarcely any protection against the fire -of the enemy, and when, therefore, his broadside came hurtling upon us, -the number of our wounded was far less than under other circumstances -would have been possible. - -“Thank God! the first broadside is over,” I involuntarily exclaimed, -“and we have the best of it.” - -“Huzza! we’ll whip him yet, my hearties,” shouted the captain of our -long Tom; “give it to him with a will now—pepper his supper well for -him. Old Marblehead, after all, against the world!” - -With the word our men sprang up from the decks, and waving their arms on -high, gave vent to an enthusiastic shout ere they commenced re-loading -their guns. The enemy replied with a cheer, but it was less hearty than -that of our own men. Little time, however, was lost on either side in -these bravados; for all were alike conscious that victory hung, as yet, -trembling in the scales. - -“Out with her—aye! there she has it,” shouted a grim veteran in my -division, “down with the rascally Britisher.” - -“Huzza for St. George,” came hoarsely back in reply, as the roar of the -gun died on the air, and, at the words, a ball whizzed over my -shoulders, and striking a poor fellow behind me on the neck, cut the -head off at the shoulders, and while it bore the skull with it in its -flight, left the headless trunk spouting its blood, as if from the jet -of an engine, over the decks. I turned away sickened from the sight. The -messmates of the murdered man saw the horrid sight, but they said -nothing, although the terrible energy with which they jerked out the -gun, told the fierceness of their revengeful feelings. Well did their -ball do its mission; for as the smoke eddied momentarily away from the -decks of the enemy, I saw the missile dismount the gun which had fired -the last deadly shot, scattering the fragments wildly about, while the -appalling shrieks which followed the accident told that more than one of -the foe had suffered by that fatal ball. - -“We’ve revenged poor Jack, my lads,” said the captain of the gun,—“away -with her again. A few more such shots and the day’s our own.” - -The combat was now at its height. Each man of our crew worked as if -conscious that victory hung on his own arm, nor did the enemy appear to -be less determined to win the day. The guns on either side were plied -with fearful rapidity and precision. Our craft was beginning to be -dreadfully cut up, we had received a shot in the foremast that -threatened momentarily to bring it down, and at every discharge of the -enemy’s guns one or more of our little crew fell wounded at his post. -But if we suffered so severely it was evident that we had our revenge on -the foe. Already his mizzen-mast had gone by the board, and two of his -guns were dismounted. I fancied once or twice that his fire slackened, -but the dense canopy of smoke that shrouded his decks and hung on the -face of the water prevented me from observing, with any certainty, the -full extent of the damage we had done to the enemy. - -For some minutes longer the conflict continued with unabated vigor on -the part of our crew; but at the end of that period, the fire of the -Englishman sensibly slackened. I could scarcely believe that our success -had been so decisive, but, in a few minutes longer, the guns of the -enemy were altogether silenced, and directly afterwards a voice hailed -from him, saying that he had surrendered. The announcement was met by a -loud cheer from our brave tars, and, as the two vessels had now fallen a -considerable distance apart, the second lieutenant determined to send a -boat on board and take possession. Accordingly, with a crew of about a -dozen men, I pushed off from the sides of our battered craft. - -As we drew out of the smoke of the battle we began to see the real -extent of the damage we had done. The ship of the enemy lay an almost -perfect wreck on the water, her foremast and mizzen-mast having both -fallen over her side; while her hull was pierced in a continuous line, -just above water mark, with our balls. Here and there her bulwarks had -been driven in, and her whole appearance betokened the accuracy of our -aim. I turned to look at the schooner. She was scarcely in a better -condition, for the foremast had by this time given way, and her whole -larboard side was riddled with the enemy’s shot. A dark red stream was -pouring out from her scuppers, just abaft the mainmast. Alas! I well -knew how terrible had been the slaughter in that particular spot. I -turned my eyes from the melancholy spectacle, and looked upwards to the -calm moon sailing in the clear azure sky far overhead. The placid -countenance of the planet seemed to speak a reproof on the angry -passions of man. A moment afterward we reached the captured ship. - -As I stepped on deck I noticed that not one solitary individual was to -be seen; but in the shattered gun-carriage, and the dark stains of blood -on the deck, I beheld the evidences of the late combat. The whole crew -had apparently retreated below. At this instant, however, a head -appeared above the hatchway and instantly vanished. I was not long in -doubt as to the meaning of this strange conduct, for, almost immediately -a score of armed men rushed up the hatchway, and advancing toward us -demanded our surrender. I saw at once the dishonorable stratagem. Stung -to madness by the perfidy of the enemy, I sprang back a few steps to my -men, and rallying them around me, bid the foe come on. They rushed -instantly upon us, and in a moment we were engaged in as desperate a -_mêlée_ as ever I had seen. - -“Stand fast, my brave lads,” I cried, “give not an inch to the cowardly -and perfidious villains.” - -“Cut him down, and sweep them from the decks,” cried the leader of the -men, stung to the quick by the taunt of cowardice. “St. George against -the rebels.” - -A brawny desperado at the words made a blow at me with his cutlass, but -hastily warding it off I snatched a pistol from my belt, and fired at my -antagonist, who fell dead to the deck. The next instant the combat -became general. Man to man, and foot to foot, we fought, desperately -contesting every inch of deck, each party being conscious that the -struggle was one of life or death. The clashing of cutlasses, the crack -of fire-arms, the oaths, the shouts, the bravado, the shrieks of the -wounded, and the dull heavy fall of the dead on the deck, were the only -sounds of which we were conscious during that terrible _mêlée_, and -these came to our ears not in their usual distinctness, but mingled into -one fearful and indescribable uproar. For myself, I scarcely heard the -tumult. My whole being was occupied in defending myself against a -Herculean ruffian who seemed to have singled me out from my crew, and -whom it required all my skill at my weapon to keep at bay. I saw nothing -but the ferocious eye of my adversary; I heard only the quick rattle of -our blades. I have said once before that my proficiency at my weapon had -passed into a proverb with my messmates, and had I not been such a -master of my art, I should, on the present occasion, have fallen a -victim to my antagonist. As it was, I received a sharp wound in the arm, -and was so hotly pressed by my vigorous foe that I was forced to give -way. But this temporary triumph proved the destruction of my antagonist. -Flushed with success, he forgot his wariness, and made a lunge at me -which left him unprotected. I moved quickly aside, and, seizing my -advantage, had buried my steel in his heart before his own sword had -lost the impetus given to it by his arm. As I drew out the reeking -blade, I became aware, for the first time, of the wild tumult of sounds -around me. A hasty glance assured me that we barely maintained our -ground, while several of my brave fellows lay on the deck wounded or -dying; but before I could see whether the ranks of the foe had been -equally thinned, and while yet scarcely an instant had passed since the -fall of my antagonist, a loud, clear huzza, swelling over the din of the -conflict, rose at my side, and, turning quickly around, I saw to my joy -that the shout proceeded from a dozen of our tars who had reached us at -that moment in a boat from the schooner. In an instant they were on -deck. - -“Down with the traitors—no quarter—hew them to the deck,” shouted our -indignant messmates as they dashed on the assailants. But the enemy did -not wait to try the issue of the combat. Seized with a sudden panic, -they fled in all directions, a few jumping overboard, but most of them -tumbling headlong down the hatchways. - -We were now masters of the deck. As I instantly guessed, the report of -the fire-arms had been heard on board the schooner, when, suspecting -foul play, a boat had instantly pushed off to our rescue. - -“A narrow escape, by Jove!” said my messmate who had come to my aid, -“these traitorous cowards had well nigh overpowered you, and if they -could have cut your little party off they would, I suppose, have made -another attempt on the schooner—God confound the rascals!” - -“Your arrival was most opportune,” said I, “a few minutes later and it -would have been of no avail.” And then, as I ran my eye over our -comparatively gigantic foe, I could not restrain the remark, “It is a -wonder to me how we conquered.” - -“Faith, and you may well say that,” laughingly rejoined my messmate; “it -will be something to talk of hereafter. But the schooner hasn’t come -off,” he added, glancing at our craft, “without the marks of this -fellow’s teeth. But I had forgot to ask who or what the rascal is.” - -The prize proved to be a privateer. She had received so many shot in her -hull, and was already leaking so fast, that we concluded to remove the -prisoners and blow her up. Her crew were accordingly ordered one by one -on deck, handcuffed, and transferred to the schooner. Then I laid a -train, lighted it and put off from the prize. Before I reached our -craft—which by this time had been removed to some distance—the ship -blew up. - -We rigged a jury mast, and by its aid reached Charleston, where we -refitted. Our capture gave us no little reputation, and while we -remained in port we were lionized to our hearts’ content. - -Eager, however, to continue the career so gloriously begun, we staid at -Charleston no longer than was absolutely necessary to repair our -damages. In less than a fortnight we left the harbor, and made sail -again for the south. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE BRIDAL. - - - A SCENE FROM REAL LIFE. - - - BY ROBERT MORRIS. - - -The scene was one of mirth, and joy, and loveliness, and beauty. Two -spacious parlors had been thrown open in one of the largest houses in -Arch street. Lights had glittered in the various chambers since early -sundown—carriages by dozens had driven up to the door, each freighted -with friends or relatives, so that the world without found little -difficulty in arriving at the conclusion that some extraordinary scene -of festivity was in progress within the walls of that spacious mansion. - -It was about nine o’clock when we entered. The two large parlors, -brilliantly illuminated by gas, and glittering with a rich collection of -young and beautiful females, each dressed in the most tasteful or -gorgeous manner, presented a scene truly magnificent. For a moment the -eye seemed to quail before the general flash, while the mind also grew -dizzy; but these feelings lasted but for the instant, as friends were to -be met on all sides, and we soon found ourselves mingling in the giddy -and trifling conversation that too many of our fair countrywomen seem to -delight in on such occasions. Still, as the first flash passed by, we -paused to contemplate the scene in a calmer and more meditative spirit. - -The party was a “Bridal” one, and the bride was the daughter of one of -our most respectable merchants, a worthy, good-hearted man, who had -devoted himself to his business, and paid no attention whatever to the -frivolities of fashionable life. The bride seemed _very_ young—not more -than sixteen or seventeen. She could not be regarded as beautiful in the -general appreciation of the word, and yet she had one of the sweetest -faces that we ever saw. She had soft blue eyes, brown hair which fell -over her shoulders in ringlets, a pretty and expressive mouth, with -teeth that appeared to us faultless. Her complexion was clear, but her -face looked rather pale, although at times it became flushed and ruddy -as the rose. Her dress was of the richest white satin, and the ornaments -of her hair and neck and wrists consisted almost exclusively of pearls. -Her frame was slight and full of symmetry, and her voice was remarkable -for the gentleness and amiability of its tone. We gazed upon her calmly -for many minutes, and the thought passed through our mind—“So young, so -fair, so delicate, so happy, and yet so willing to enter upon the severe -responsibilities of the wife and the mother.” “Who,” we inquired of -ourselves, “may read that young creature’s destiny? Doubtless she loves -the object of her choice with a woman’s virgin and devoted -love—doubtless she believes that the next sixteen years of her life -will prove radiant with happiness, even more so than the girlish and -sunny period which has but just gone by—and doubtless the youth who has -won that gentle heart believes that he possesses the necessary -requisites of mind and disposition to render her happy. And yet how -often has the bright cup of joy been dashed from the lips of woman when -about to quaff it! How often does man prove recreant and false! How -often is he won from his home and his young wife, whose heart gives way -slowly, but fatally and steadily, under the influence of such -indifference and neglect!” But we paused and dismissed these gloomy -reflections. The nuptial ceremony was pronounced—for a moment all was -breathless silence—and then the busy hum broke forth as audibly as -ever. The wedding was a brilliant one in all respects. It was followed -up by party after party, so that nearly a month rolled away before the -giddy round was over. The only one who did not appear to mingle fully in -the general feeling, was the mother of the bride. She loved her daughter -so tenderly that it seemed impossible for her to consign her to other -hands. She was one of those women who devote themselves wholly to their -children, and who have no world without them. On the night of the -wedding, a tear would occasionally roll down her cheek as she gazed upon -her chaste child, and as a tide of maternal recollections melted all her -soul! - - * * * * * - -The world rolled on. We frequently saw the young bride in the streets, -and her cousin, who was our immediate neighbor, spoke of her prospects -as cheering and happy. But one evening, just after sundown, and less -than a year since we had seen each other at the wedding, he called, and -with rather a grave aspect invited us to accompany him for a few minutes -to the house of his aunt—the same house that had glittered with so much -light, and re-echoed with so much laughter on the night of the Bridal. -We proceeded along calmly, for although somewhat struck by the sedate -aspect of our friend, it did not excite much surprise. On arriving at -the house, the first objects that attracted attention were the closed -and craped windows, and the awful silence that seemed to “breathe and -sadden all around.” Our friend still refrained from speaking, but led on -to the _Chamber of Death_! Our worst apprehensions were realized. The -fair young creature, who less than a year before had stood before us -radiant with loveliness and hope, was now still, pale, and cold in the -icy embrace of death. Her last agonies were dreadful, but the sweet, -soft smile, that told of a gentle heart, still lingered on her features. -Her infant survived,—but the sudden decease of that cherished one shed -a gloom over that home and its happy household, which is not yet totally -dispelled. The windows of the dwelling are still bowed, and the -afflicted mother, although a sincere Christian, and anxious to yield in -a Christian spirit to the decrees of Divine Providence, frequently finds -herself melting in tears, and her whole soul convulsed with grief at the -memory of her dear _Clara_. - -_And such are human hopes and expectations!_ - - * * * * * - - - - - THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS. - - - BY MRS. FRANCES S. OSGOOD. - - - PART I. - - Serene in the moonlight the pure flowers lay; - All was still save the plash of the fountain’s soft play; - And white as its foam gleamed the walls of the palace; - But within were hot lips quaffing fire from the chalice; - For Herod, the Tetrarch, was feasting that night - The lords of Machærus, and brave was the sight! - Yet mournful the contrast, without and within, - _Here_ were purity, peace,—_there_ were riot and sin! - The vast and magnificent banquetting room - Was of marble, Egyptian, in form and in gloom; - And around, wild and dark as a demon’s dread thought, - Strange shapes, full of terror, yet beauty, were wrought. - Th’ ineffable sorrow, that dwells in the face - Of the Sphynx, wore a soft and mysterious grace, - Dim, even amid the full flood of light poured - From a thousand high clustering lamps on the board; - Those lamps,—each a serpent of jewels and gold,— - That seemed to hiss forth the fierce flame as it rolled. - Back flashed to that ray the rich vessels that lay - Profuse on the tables in brilliant array; - And clear thro’ the crystal the glowing wine gleamed, - And dazzling the robes of the revellers seemed, - While Herod, the eagle-eyed, ruled o’er the scene, - A lion in spirit, a monarch in mien. - - The goblet was foaming, the revel rose high. - There were pride and fierce joy in the haughty king’s eye, - For his chiefs and his captains bowed low at his word, - And the feast was right royal that burden’d the board. - - Lo! light as a star thro’ a gathered cloud stealing, - What spirit glanced in ’mid the guard at the door? - Their stern bands divide, a fair figure revealing; - She bounds, in her beauty, the dim threshold o’er. - - Her dark eyes are lovely with tenderest truth; - The bloom on her cheek is the blossom of youth; - And the smile, that steals thro’ it, is rich with the ray - Of a heart full of love and of innocent play. - - Soft fall her fair tresses her light form around; - Soft fall her fair tresses, nor braided nor bound; - And her white robe is loose, and her dimpled arms bare; - For she is but a child, without trouble or care; - - Now round the glad vision wild music is heard,— - Is she gifted with winglets of fairy or bird; - For, lo! as if borne on the waves of that sound, - With white arms upwreathing, she floats from the ground. - - Still glistens the goblet,—’tis heeded no more! - And the jest and the song of the banquet are o’er; - For the revellers, spell-bound by beauty and grace, - Have forgotten all earth, save that form and that face. - - It is done!—for one moment, mute, motionless, fair, - The phantom of light pauses playfully there; - The next, blushing richly, once more it takes wing, - And she kneels at the footstool of Herod the King. - - Her young head is drooping, her eyes are bent low, - Her hands meekly crossed on her bosom of snow, - And, veiling her figure, her shining hair flows, - While Herod, flushed high with the revel, arose. - - Outspake the rash monarch,—“Now, maiden, impart, - Ere thou leave us, the loftiest hope of thy heart! - By the God of my fathers! what e’er it may be,— - To the half of my kingdom,—’tis granted to thee!” - - The girl, half-bewildered, uplifted her eyes, - Dilated with timid delight and surprise, - And a swift, glowing smile o’er her happy face stole, - As if some sunny wish had just woke in her soul. - - Will she tell it? Ah, no! She has caught the wild gleam - Of a soldier’s dark eye, and she starts from her dream; - Falters forth her sweet gratitude,—veils her fair frame,— - And glides from the presence, all glowing with shame. - - - PART II. - - Of costly cedar, rarely carved, the royal chambers ceiling, - The columned walls, of marble rich, its brightest hues revealing; - Around the room a starry smile the lamp of crystal shed, - But warmest lay its lustre on a noble lady’s head; - Her dark hair, bound with burning gems, whose fitful lightning glow, - Is tame beside the wild, black eyes that proudly flash below: - The Jewish rose and olive blend their beauty in her face; - She bears her in her high estate with an imperial grace; - All gorgeous glows with orient gold the broidery of her vest; - With precious stones its purple fold is clasped upon her breast; - She gazes from her lattice forth. What sees the lady there? - A strange, wild beauty crowns the scene,—but she has other care! - Far off fair Moab’s emerald slopes, and Jordan’s lovely vale; - And nearer,—heights where fleetest foot of wild gazelle would fail; - While crowning every verdant ridge, like drifts of moonlit snow, - Rich palaces and temples rise, around, above, below, - Gleaming thro’ groves of terebinth, of palm, and sycamore, - Where the swift torrents dashing free, their mountain music pour; - And arched o’er all, the Eastern heaven lights up with glory rare - The landscape’s wild magnificence;—but she has other care! - Why flings she thus, with gesture fierce, her silent lute aside? - Some deep emotion chafes her soul with more than wonted pride; - But, hark! a sound has reached her heart, inaudible elsewhere, - And hushed, to melting tenderness, the storm of passion there! - The far-off fall of fairy feet, that fly in eager glee, - A voice, that warbles wildly sweet, some Jewish melody! - She comes! her own Salomé comes! her pure and blooming child! - She comes, and anger yields to love, and sorrow is beguiled: - Her singing bird! low nestling now upon the parent breast, - She murmurs of the monarch’s vow with girlish laugh and jest:— - - “Now choose me a gift and well! - There are so many joys I covet! - Shall I ask for a young gazelle? - ’Twould be more than the world to me; - Fleet and wild as the wind, - Oh! how I would cherish and love it! - With flowers its neck I’d bind, - And joy in its graceful glee. - - “Shall I ask for a gem of light, - To braid in my flowing ringlets? - Like a star thro’ the veil of night, - Would glisten its glorious hue; - Or a radiant bird, to close - Its beautiful, waving winglets - On my bosom in soft repose, - And share my love with you!” - - She paused,—bewildered, terror-struck; for, in her mother’s soul, - Roused by the promise of the king, beyond her weak control, - The exulting tempest of Revenge and Pride raged wild and high, - And sent its storm-cloud to her brow, its lightning to her eye! - Her haughty lip was quivering with anger and disdain, - Her beauteous, jewelled hands were clenched, as if from sudden pain. - - “Forgive,” Salomé faltering cried, “Forgive my childish glee! - ’Twas selfish, vain,—oh! look not thus! but let me ask for _thee_!” - Then smiled,—it was a deadly smile,—that lady on her child, - And “Swear thou’ll do my bidding, now!” she cried, in accents wild: - “Ah! when, from earliest childhood’s hour, did I thine anger dare! - Yet, since an oath thy wish must seal,—by Judah’s hopes, I swear!” - Herodias stooped,—one whisper brief!—was it a serpent’s hiss, - That thus the maiden starts and shrinks beneath the woman’s kiss? - A moment’s pause of doubt and dread!—then wild the victim knelt,— - “Take, take _my_ worthless life instead! Oh! if thou e’er hast felt - A mother’s love,—thou canst not doom—no, no! ’twas but a jest! - Speak!—speak! and let me fly once more, confiding, to thy breast!” - A hollow and sepulchral tone was hers who made reply: - “The oath! the oath!—remember, girl! ’tis registered on high!” - Salomé rose,—mute, moveless stood as marble, save in breath, - Half senseless in her cold despair, her young cheek blanched like - death! - But an hour since, so joyous, fond, without a grief or care, - Now struck with wo unspeakable,—how dread a change was there! - “It shall be done!” was that the voice that rang so gaily sweet, - When, innocent and blest she came, but now, with flying feet? - “It shall be done!” she turns to go, but, ere she gains the door, - One look of wordless, deep reproach she backward casts,—no more! - But late she sprang the threshold o’er, a light and blooming child, - Now, reckless, in her grief she goes a woman stern and wild. - - - PART III. - - With pallid check, dishevelled hair, and wildly gleaming eyes, - Once more before the banquetters, a fearful phantom flies! - Once more at Herod’s feet it falls, and cold with nameless dread - The wondering monarch bends to hear. A voice, as from the dead, - From those pale lips, shrieks madly forth,—“Thy promise, king, I - claim, - And if the grant be foulest guilt,—not mine,—not mine the blame! - Quick, quick recall that reckless vow, or strike thy dagger here, - Ere yet this voice demand a gift that chills my soul with fear! - Heaven’s curse upon the fatal grace that idly charmed thine eyes! - Oh! better had I ne’er been born than be the sacrifice! - The word I speak will blanch thy cheek, if human heart be thine, - It was a fiend in human form that murmured it to mine. - To die for _me_! a thoughtless child! for _me_ must blood be shed! - Bend low,—lest angels hear me ask!—oh! God!—the Baptist’s head!” - - * * * * * - - - - - THE LIGHTNING OF THE WATERS. - - - BY DR. REYNELL COATES. - - -There are few phenomena observable on the ocean, more striking than the -phosphorescence of the water, when seen in high perfection. It has -forcibly attracted the attention of poets and philosophers in all ages, -and many and curious have been the speculations of those who have -endeavored to explain the brilliant apparition. In later times, however, -the progress of natural science has dissipated the mystery to a -considerable extent, destroying a portion of its romantic interest, -without, thereby, diminishing its exquisite beauty. - -We are well informed, at present, that all the brilliant pyrotechny of -Neptune is the effect of animal secretion, not differing essentially in -cause from that which ornaments our groves and meadows, when the -glow-worms of Europe, the fire-flies of North America, or the fulgoure -of the Indies are lighting their fairy love-lanterns beneath the cool, -green leaves, or filling the air with their mimic meteors. - -To those who are not familiar with microscopic researches, it may seem -almost impossible that animal life can be multiplied to such excess in -the transparent waters, where not a mote is visible by daylight, as to -give rise to the broad and bright illumination of the sea, so frequently -observed within the lower latitudes; and many, for this reason, have -attributed these night-fires of the deep to the impurity and occasional -fermentation of the ocean,—a cause which they esteem more nearly -commensurate with the magnificence of the result. Such theorists regard -this phosphorescence as similar to that so constantly produced by -putrifying fish and decaying wood. - -These ideas, as I have stated, are no longer tenable, and the real -origin of the phenomenon is better understood. But even now, the few who -have witnessed it in full extent, variety, and grandeur—a privilege -rarely enjoyed, except by those who have made long voyages, and have -become familiar with many seas—are lost in wonder; and, unless -professionally devoted to the study of natural history, they find it -difficult to credit the assertion, that all these vast displays are mere -results of living action. - -It may prove interesting, then, to those who are fond of such -investigations, to offer some remarks on the multitudinous character of -those tribes of simple and transparent beings, which swarm about the -surface of the ocean, and may be found continually changing in race and -habits, with almost every degree of latitude we traverse. - -If you will take the trouble, on some suitable occasion during the month -of November or December, to descend into a _fashionable oyster cellar_, -and ask admission to the pile of freshly opened shells stowed in the -usual receptacle, which is in some dark vault or closet about the -premises, you may chance to witness, on a diminutive scale, the -far-famed phosphorescence of the sea, without enduring the heavy -_immigration tax_ levied, with unrelenting severity, by the old -trident-bearer upon all novices, except, perhaps, a few fortunate -favorites. - -Take up the shovel that leans against the wall, order the light removed -and the door closed, and then proceed to disturb the shells. If they -have been taken from the water, where it is purely salt,—and still more -certainly if gathered from the beds of blue marine mud that are the -favorite resort of the finest oysters—the moment you throw a shovelful -upon the top of the pile, the whole mass, jarred by the blow, will -become spangled with hundreds of brilliant stars—not in this case pale -and silvery, but of the richest golden-green or blue. None of these -stars may equal in size the head of the finest pin; but so intense is -the light emitted by them, that a single, and scarcely visible point -will sometimes illuminate an inch of the surrounding surface, even -casting shadows from the little spears of sea-grass growing in its -neighborhood. - -Choose one of the most conspicuous of these diminutive tapers, and, -without removing it from the shell, carry it towards the gas-lamp. As -you approach, the brilliancy of the star declines; and when the full -flood of light is thrown upon the shell, it nearly, or entirely -disappears. If you press your finger rudely upon the spot, you will -again perceive the luminous matter diffused, like a fluid, over the -surrounding surface, and shining, for an instant, more brightly than -ever, even under the immediate glare of the gas. Then all is over. You -have crushed one of the glow-worms of the deep—an animal, once probably -as vain of his golden flame as you of any of your brilliant -endowments—perhaps some sentinel there stationed to alarm his sleeping -brethren of the approach of danger—perhaps an animalcular Hero trimming -her solitary lamp to guide her chosen one, through more than Leander’s -dangers, along the briny path to her rocky bower, beset by all the -microscopic monsters of the corallines! At all events, despise it as you -may, this little being was possessed of life, susceptible of happiness, -and endowed with power to outshine, with inborn lustre, the richest gem -in Europe’s proudest diadem! - -The sea is filled in many regions, and at various seasons, with -incalculable multitudes of living creatures, in structure much -resembling this little parasite, but often vastly more imposing in -dimensions. The smallest tribes that are able to call attention to their -individual existence generally wander, like erratic stars, beneath the -waves. They may be seen by thousands shooting past the vessel, on -evenings when the moon is absent or obscured, suddenly lighting their -torches when the motion of the bow produces a few curling swells and -breakers on either hand, and whirling from eddy to eddy, as they sweep -along the side and are lost in the wake. From time to time the vessel, -in her progress, disturbs some large being of similar powers, who -instantly ejects a trail of luminous fluid which, twining, and waving -about among contending currents, assumes the semblance of a silver -snake. But the most surprising of all proofs of the infinity of life is -furnished by those inconceivably numerous bands of shining animalcules, -too small for human vision, which in their aggregate effect perform, -perhaps, the grandest part in beautifying the night scene on the ocean. - -The crest of every wave emits a pale and milky light and every ripple -that, urged onward too rapidly before the breeze, expires in spreading -its little patch of foam upon the water, increases the mysterious -brightness. On a starless evening the novice may find it very difficult -to account for the distinctness with which even the distant billows may -be traced by their whitened summits, while every other object is thrown -into the deepest shade. The gentle radiation from within the foam -deceives the eye:—it seems a mere reflection from the surface; and he -turns again and again towards the heavens, with the constantly renewed -impression, that the moon has found some transient opening in the cloudy -canopy through which descends a thin pencil of rays to be glinted back -from the edges of the waves. - -Though certain portions of the ocean, generally, present but slender -proofs of phosphorescence,—such being peculiarly the case within the -gloomy limits of the Gulf Stream, for reasons not to be appropriately -mentioned here—yet no observing person can have passed a week upon the -ocean, or rowed his skiff by night on any of our principal harbors, -without becoming familiar with most of the appearances to which allusion -has been made. A mere voyage to Europe frequently presents much grander -examples; but he who would enjoy the view of the phenomenon in its -fullest glory, must “cross earth’s central line” “and brave the stormy -spirit of the Cape.” - -Let me transport you for a few moments into the midst of the Indian -Ocean! The sultry sun of February has been basking all day upon the -heated waters from a brassy sky without a cloud—the vapors of the upper -regions resembling a thin veil of dust, fiery and glowing, as if -recently ejected from the mouth of some vast furnace! But the tyrant has -gone to his repose, and we enjoy some respite from his scorching -influence. It is not cool, but the temperature is tolerable, _and this -is much_! Leave the observation of the barometer to the captain! You -cannot prevent a hurricane, should it be impending. Then trust such -cares to those in whom is vested the responsibility, and come on deck -with me. - -There is no moon—but the “sentinel stars” are all at their post. -Observe those broad flashes reflected upward from beneath the bows, and -playing brightly upon the jib! At every plunge of the vessel, as she -sinks into the trough of the sea, you might read a volume fluently by -that mild radiance; and beautiful indeed is the view from the fore -stay-sail nettings, looking down upon the curling wreaths on either side -of the cut-water, and the long lines of foam thrown off by the swell as -the vessel gracefully breasts the coming wave, all glowing like molten -silver intermingled with a thousand diamonds! - -But I will not lead you thitherward—a noble sight awaits us in our -wake. Step to the stern and lean with me over the taffrail. What a -glorious vision! For miles abaft, our course presents one long and wide -canal of living light—the clear, blue ocean, transparent as air, -filling it to repletion; while the darker waters around appear like some -dense medium through which superior spirits have constructed this magic -path-way for us and us alone, so nicely are its breadth and depth -adjusted to the form of our gallant bark. Has not the galaxy been torn -from heaven, and whelmed beneath the waves to form that burning road? -No! no! Though thousands of bright orbs are set in that nether firmament -to strengthen the delusion, yet it cannot be. Night’s stormy cincture -never gleamed like this, nor bore such dazzling gems. There it still -glimmers with its myriad sparks, athwart the dark blue vault, paled by -the radiance of its sea-born rival, while huge globes of fire roll from -beneath the keel, and blaze along the silvery track like showers of -wandering meteors, but all too gentle in their aspect to be deemed of -evil-augury. - -Those stars are literally _living stars_,—that ocean galaxy is formed -of living beings only,—and even those meteors, invisible by day, except -when they approach unusually near to the surface, are active in pursuit -of prey. Observe one closely, and you perceive its motions. Formed like -a great umbrella of transparent jelly, with fibres, yards in length, -trailing from its margin, and the handle carved into a beautiful group -of leaves, it flaps its way regularly through the water with a stately -march, and wo to the unfortunate creature that becomes involved in the -meshes of its stinging tendrils. - -This is no exaggerated picture, for such are the beautiful phenomena -occasionally witnessed in the Indian and Pacific Oceans. The animals -upon whose agency they are dependent, generally become invisible by -daylight in consequence of their transparency; but there are certain -tribes among them whose peculiar structure renders them conspicuous: and -of these one of the most remarkable is known to naturalists by the title -of Salpa. - -There are many species of the salpæ, but they bear a closer likeness to -each other than do most of these simple tribes of being. In form they -all resemble diminutive purses, composed of highly transparent jelly, -with wide mouths like the ordinary clasp—and strengthened by a net-work -of ribbons interwoven with the general texture of the purse. These are -designed to supply the place of muscles. The salpæ move through the -water by contracting the net-work, so as to render the cavity smaller -and expel the water from it with some force; then, relaxing the fibres, -they allow their natural elasticity to expand them to their original -form; thus drawing in a fresh supply of fluid with which to renew the -effort. In this manner they are driven onward, always retreating from -the principal orifice of the sac. But I will not detain you with a -detailed description of their singular organization. It is enough for -our present purpose to state that near the bottom of the purse, within -the thickness of its walls, there is a golden spot, as if a solitary -coin was there deposited. This spot alone enables us to see the animal -distinctly when floating in the water. - -When young, these little creatures adhere together in strings or cords -arranged like the leaflets of a pinnated leaf, in consecutive pairs, to -the number of twenty or more. At that period, the most common species in -the South Atlantic rarely exceed one half an inch in length, and the -yellow spot hardly equals in size an ordinary grain of sand; yet, in -certain regions of the ocean these salpæ swarm in such inconceivable -multitudes that the sea assumes the appearance of a sandy shoal for -miles in length and breadth. To the depth of many fathoms their delicate -bodies are closely huddled together, until the constant repetition of -the diminutive colored spots renders the water perfectly opaque, and so -increases its consistence that the lighter ripple of the surface breaks -upon the edge of the animated bank, while the heavier billows roll on -smoothly, with the regular and more majestic motion of the ground swell. -In passing through such tracts the speed of the vessel is sometimes -sensibly checked by the increased resistance of the medium in which she -moves; and when a bucket full of brine is lifted from the sea, it may -contain a larger portion of living matter than of the fluid in which it -floats. - -There can be no reasonable doubt that most of those false shoals which -disfigure the older charts—their existence proved upon authorities of -known veracity and denied by others no less credible—have really been -laid down by navigators who have met with beds of salpæ, and were -ignorant of their true nature. - -I have never seen these animals emitting light, but it is well known -that many phosphorescent animalcules shine only in certain stages of the -weather or at certain seasons of the year: and as several distinguished -travellers have spoken of their luminous properties, it is at least -probable that they or their congeners act an important part in dramas -similar to that which has been just described. At all events, their -history clearly shows the vastness of the scale of animal existence in -the superficial waters of the ocean. But for the little yellow spot -within their bodies, they would be totally invisible at the distance of -a few feet in their native fluid, and could not interfere appreciably -with the progress of the rays of light. - -If further proof were necessary to show the incalculable increase of -many oceanic tribes, it might be found in the history of living beings -much more familiar to the mariner. Most persons have met with notices of -the Portuguese man-of-war, called, by naturalists _physalia_, a living -air sac of jelly provided with a sail, armed with a multitude of -dependant bottle shaped stomachs, all capable of seizing prey, and -colored more beautifully than the rainbow. This splendid creature -pursues its way over the waves with all the skill of an accomplished -pilot, and furnishes, when caught, one of the most astonishing examples -of the adaptation of animal structure to the peculiar wants, and theatre -of action of living beings, one of the most striking evidences of -Omniscient Wisdom which nature offers to the moralist. The physalia -rarely sails in squadrons, but wanders solitary and self-dependent over -the tropical seas, a terror even to man, by the power which it possesses -of stinging and inflicting pain upon whatever comes in contact with its -long, trailing cables. - -But there is another little sailor called the _velella_; unprovided with -offensive weapons, though formed in most respects upon a model somewhat -similar to that of the physalia, unguarded as the peaceful trader -against the piratical attacks of a thousand enemies, its very race would -soon become extinct, were it not for its unlimited increase. - -Provided with a flat, transparent, oval scale of cartilage, for the -support of a gelatinous body, it floats by specific levity, alone, for -it has no air vessel—and employs its hundreds of stomachs for ballast. -Another scale arising at right angles with the first and covered with -thin membrane, supplies it with a sail. This unprotected creature serves -as food for many predatory tribes, and of these, the most voracious is -the barnacle. The flesh devoured, the scales still float for many days, -mere wrecks of these gay vessels. - -The velellæ are usually found in fleets, and to convey some idea of -their numbers, I may state that on one occasion, when sailing before the -western winds, beyond the southern latitude of the Cape of Good Hope, -our ship encountered a group of globular masses of a pale yellow color -swimming upon the surface and surrounded by fringes of an unknown -substance. Each mass resembled the eggs of some great sea-bird, reposing -on a nest of buoyant feathers. Taking them with a dip net, from the -chains, we found the yellow masses to be globular cryptogamous plants, -to every one of which adhered a group of barnacles, far larger than the -largest I had ever seen before.[1] Many of these last were so intent -upon demolishing their prey, that, even in leaving their native element, -to fall into the hands of tyrants more dangerous than themselves, it was -not always relinquished. Grasping in their horny arms the unfortunate -velellæ, they continued grinding the soft jelly from the tougher -cartilage, with an avidity and determination that reminded me strongly -of the scene in Byron’s Siege of Corinth, where Alp, the renegade, - - “Saw the lean dogs beneath the wall - Hold, o’er the dead, their carnival, - Gorging and growling o’er carcass and limb; - They were too busy to bark at him!” - -This drew our attention to the source from which such plentiful supplies -of food were obtained, and on examination, the ocean was found literally -covered with the scales of the murdered velellæ, faintly distinguishable -by their glistening in the sunshine, and interspersed with a few living -specimens waiting their turn in the general massacre. We scooped them up -by thousands; and for three long days the ship swept onward “dead before -the wind” with the steady and scarcely paralleled speed of more than ten -knots an hour, thus accomplishing a change of more than seven hundred -miles in longitude, before the last remnant of this unhappy fleet was -passed. - -Though it is not pretended that these little sea-boats possess the -phosphorescent quality, their numbers and the wide extent of their -flotilla will suffice to render far less wonderful the vastness of those -beautiful results of animal secretion which have furnished the subject -of this sketch. - -But there are other similar and more remarkable phenomena attendant on -these brilliant night scenes, that can only be explained, either by -supposing that myriads of these aquatic beings are endowed with a -community of instinct, or, that the changes of the weather influenced -them in such a way as to awaken all their luminous powers upon the -instant, without the intervention of any mechanical disturbing cause, in -the mere frolic mood of nature. - -Those who have visited the Chinese islands, or either of several other -well known regions in the Pacific, have been occasionally surprised, on -a calm moon-light night, when scarce a swell, and not a ripple is -perceptible, to see the ocean suddenly converted into one wide pool of -milk! As described by a few observers who have been so fortunate as to -witness this rare and strange appearance, the color is so equally -diffused over the whole field of view, that all resemblance to the -ordinary hue is lost, and yet no wandering stars,—no scattered torches -can be seen—not even beneath the bows—so feeble is the intensity of -the light emitted, that several have denied the agency of -phosphorescence in producing this remarkable effect, and were convinced -there was a real change in the nature of the fluid; but others, less -enamored of the supernatural, have clearly proved that even this -phenomenon is due to the activity of an infinity of animalcules. - -The very rarity of such occurrences distinctly shows that the -microscopic beings which produce it do not emit their light at all -times, and there must exist some cause for this wide-spread and -consentaneous action. To community of instinct it can hardly be -attributed. - -We may understand the fact, wonderful as it may be, that an army of -emmets should cross a public road or open space, from field to field, or -from forest to forest, fashioning themselves, as they are sometimes -known to do, into the form of a snake, by crawling over each other’s -backs, by dozens, from the tail to the head of the figure; thus -shortening it at one extremity, while they lengthen it at the other, and -cause it to advance slowly towards their desired retreat! We may -understand this evidence of untaught wisdom, for we see its purpose and -its usefulness. Such means enable these defenceless beings to elude the -vigilance of their feathery enemies, whose beaks, but for the terror of -the mimic reptile, would soon annihilate the weak community. - -We may even comprehend that more magnificent display of providential -guidance witnessed in the habits of the coral animals, where nations of -separate beings, outnumbering a thousand times the living population of -the earth and air, enjoy one common life, and build up islands, for the -use of man, on models definitely fixed. For here, also, there is -_purpose_, and were it not that every individual of the host performs -his proper duty—constructing, _here_ a buttress, _there_ an -alcove,—the dash of the billows and the fury of the storm would soon -disintegrate the growing structure. The reef that lies athwart the -mariner’s path, and strews itself with wrecks, would never rise above -the surface, to gather the seeds of vegetation, attract the cool, fresh -moisture from the air, and lay foundations for the future happiness and -wealth of man. - -But how shall we explain an instinct by which myriads of creatures, -totally distinct and unconnected, are induced, without apparent end or -object, to act in concert over leagues of sea, as it would seem merely -to fright the passing voyager! It may be that the action of these -animalcules, by which the milky glimmering is occasioned, is -involuntary. It may be the result of atmospheric or electric influence -upon the living frame, to serve some hidden purpose in their unknown -economy; for many things, even in our own organic history, surpass our -powers of comprehension; we know neither their nature nor their use. But -analogy would lead us to infer the exercise of _will_ in all the various -phenomena of phosphorescence, however impenetrable the purpose of its -exercise may be. Like the insect songs of a summer night, or the -love-light of the glow-worm and the fire-fly, they probably control or -guide the motions of the individual or of whole communities. - -This idea receives some countenance from the history of a more -remarkable example of this sub-marine meteor, witnessed in the southern -summer of 1823-4, near the island of Tristan d’Acunha, under -circumstances never to be forgotten—and with one short notice of its -character I will leave the reader to his reflections upon these wonders -of the deep. - -The night was dark and damp—the western breeze too light to steady the -vessel, and she rolled heavily over the wide swell of the South -Atlantic, making it difficult for a landsman to maintain his footing on -the deck. A fog-bank, which hung around the northern horizon at sunset, -now came sweeping slowly down upon us in the twilight. The captain -ordered the light sails furled in expectation of a squall, and we stood -leaning together over the bulwarks, watching the mist, which approached -more and more rapidly, till it resembled, in the increasing darkness, an -immense and toppling wall extending from the water to the clouds, and -seemed threatening to crush us beneath it. There was something -peculiarly awful in its impenetrable obscurity; and even the crew -relinquished their several occupations to gaze on the unusual aspect of -the fog. It reached us;—but just at this moment, a flash, like a broad -sheet of summer lightning, spread itself over the ocean as far as the -eye could reach, but deep below the waves. Five or six times, at -intervals, of a few seconds, the flash was repeated, and then the vessel -was enveloped in the mist. The breeze immediately quickened; the sailors -sprang to their stations, and, for a few minutes, the bustle of -preparation for a change of wind attracted the exclusive attention of -every one. In this short interval, the narrow belt of vapor had passed -off to leeward, and left us bounding merrily along at the rate of ten -knots an hour, with a spanking norther full upon our beam, over waves -sparkling and dancing in the clear, bright moon-light. But, _the -lightning of the waters was gone_! - ------ - -[1] The Anatifa Vitrea. - - * * * * * - - - - - CALLORE. - - - BY ALEXANDER A. IRVINE. - - - Thou art ever fair to me— - Fairer than the Autumn moon, - Or a fountain, in its glee, - Singing through the woods of June— - Fairer than a streamlet bright - Flowing on in shimmered light, - Darkling under grassy sedge - Fringing all the river’s edge, - Rippling by the breezes fann’d, - Sliding over silver sand, - Through the meadow gayly ranging - With an aspect ever changing, - Yet with quiet depths below, - And an even, constant flow, - Pensive, musical and slow— - Ever such thou art to me, - Laughing, blue-eyed Callore! - - Oh! the stars have sybil tones! - Singing by their golden thrones, - Singing as they watching stand - In their weird and silent land! - But thy voice is sweeter far - Than the music of the star! - Melting on the air at even, - With a mystic sound - Flowing, flowing all around, - ’Till the soul is raised to heaven - Oh! at moments such as these - I could kneel on bended knees, - Ever kneel and hear thee sing, - Silent, rapt and worshipping. - - As a bark upon the tide - Moving on to symphony, - With its dipping oars beside - Keeping time melodiously, - So thou movest on thy way, - Ever graceful, ever gay. - Or, perchance, in sportive band, - With thy sisters hand in hand, - Swinging all in mystic round— - Thou wilt dance with gentle sound, - A sound as that of fairy feet, - Soft, harmonious and sweet, - As woodland waterfalls at night - Tinkling in the still starlight. - - How thine eyes with tears o’erflow - At the troubled tale of wo— - In those eyes I love to look, - They to me are as a book. - There I read without disguise, - And a joy beyond control, - All that in thine inner soul - As upon an altar lies— - Gazing thus, I feel as when - Buried from the haunts of men, - In some quiet shady nook, - Looking downwards in the brook— - I have heard the forest breeze - Wake mysterious melodies, - Bringing sounds of childish play - From the solitudes away, - Singing as a gleesome boy, - Ravishing the soul with joy, - Lifting it on pinions free— - Silver-tonguéd Callore! - - Ever, ever thou art meek, - With a mirthful soberness; - None have ever heard thee speak - Of thy passing loveliness— - Thou dost joy to be away - From the garish light of day; - Brooding o’er each holy feeling - Soft across thy bosom stealing; - With thine eyelids downward bent, - Musing in a meek content, - Like a saint upon a shrine - Wrapt in dreams of bliss divine! - Surely, thou art not of earth— - With the angels is thy birth— - Thou hast come awhile, to be - My guide to heaven, Callore! - - * * * * * - - - - - THE SISTERS. - - - A TALE OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. - - - BY H. W. HERBERT, AUTHOR OF “RINGWOOD THE ROVER,” “THE BROTHERS,” - “CROMWELL,” ETC. ETC. - - - PART I. - -In one of those sweet glens, half pastoral half sylvan, which may be -found in hundreds channelling the steep sides of the moorland hills, and -sending down the tribute of their pure limestone springs to the broad -rapid rivers which fertilize no less than they adorn the lovely vales of -Western Yorkshire, there may be seen to this day the ruins of an old -dwelling-house, situate on a spot so picturesque, so wild, and yet so -soft in its romantic features, that they would well repay the traveller -for a brief halt, who, but too often, hurries onward in search of more -remote yet certainly not greater beauties. The gorge, within the mouth -of which the venerable pile is seated, opens into the broader valley -from the north-eastern side, enjoying the full light and warmth of the -southern sunshine; and, although very narrow at its origin, where its -small crystal rivulet springs up from the lonely well-head, fringed by a -few low shrubs of birch and alder, expands here, at its mouth, into a -pretty amphitheatre or basin of a few acres circuit. A wild and feathery -coppice of oak, and birch, and hazel, with here and there a mountain -ash, showing its bright red berries through the rich foliage, clothes -all the lower part of the surrounding slopes; while, far above, the -seamed and shattered faces of the gray, slaty limestone rise up like -artificial walls, their summits crowned with the fair purple heather, -and every nook and cranny in their sides crowded with odorous wild -flowers. Within the circuit of these natural limits, sheltering it from -every wind of heaven, except the gentle south, the turf lies smooth and -even as if it were a cultured lawn; while a few rare exotic shrubs, now -all run out of shape, and bare, and straggling, indicate even yet the -time when it was a fair shrubbery, tended by gentle hands, and visited -by young and lovely beings, now cold in their untimely sepulchres. The -streamlet, which comes gushing down the glen with its clear, copious -flow, boiling and murmuring about the large gray boulders which -everywhere obstruct its channels, making a thousand mimic cataracts, and -wakening ever a wild, mirthful music, sweeps here quite close to the -foot of the eastern cliff, the feathery branches of the oakwood dipping -their foliage in its eddies, and then, just as it issues forth into the -open champaine, wheels round in a half circle, completely fanning the -little amphitheatre above, except at one point hard beneath the opposite -hill face, where a small winding horse track, engrossing the whole space -between the streamlet and the limestone rock, gives access to the lone -demesne. A small green hillock, sloping down gently to the southward, -fills the embracing arms of the bright brook, around the northern base -of which is scattered a little grove of the most magnificent and noblest -sycamores that I have ever seen; but on the other side, which yet -retains its pristine character of a smooth open lawn, there are no -obstacles to the view over the wide valley, except three old gnarled -thorn bushes, uncommon from their size and the dense luxuriance of their -matted greenery. It was upon the summit of this little knoll that the -old homestead stood, whose massive ruins of red freestone, all overgrown -with briers, and tall rank grass and dock leaves, deface the spot which -they adorned of old; and, when it was erect in all its fair proportions, -the scene which it overlooked, and its own natural attractions, rendered -it one of the loveliest residences in all the north of England—the -wide, rich, gentle valley, all meadow land or pasture, without one brown -ploughed field to mar its velvet green; the tall, thick hawthorn hedges, -with their long lines of hedgerow timber, oak, ash and elm, waving above -the smooth enclosures; the broad, clear, tranquil river flashing out -like a silver mirror through the green foliage; the scattered -farm-houses, each nestled as it were among its sheltering orchards; the -village spire shooting up from the clump of giant elms which over-shadow -the old grave-yard; the steep, long slope on the other side of the vale, -or strath, as it would be called in Scotland, all mapped out to the eye, -with its green fences and wide hanging woods; and, far beyond, the -rounded summits of the huge moorland hills, ridge above ridge, purple, -and grand, and massive, but less and less distinct as they recede from -the eye, and melt away at last into the far blue distance—such was the -picture which its windows overlooked of old, and which still laughs as -gaily in the sunshine around its mouldering walls and lonely -hearth-stone. - -But if it is fair now, and lovely, what was it as it showed in the good -old days of King Charles, before the iron hand of civil war had pressed -so heavily on England? The grove of sycamores stood there, as they stand -now, in the prime and luxuriance of their sylvan manhood; for they are -waxing now aged and somewhat gray and stag-horned; and the thorn bushes -sheltered, as they do now, whole choirs of thrushes and blackbirds, but -all the turf beneath the scattered trees and on the sunny slope was -shorn, and rolled, and watered, that it was smooth and even, and far -softer than the most costly carpet that ever wooed the step of Persian -beauty. The Hall was a square building, not very large, of the old -Elizabethan style, with two irregular additions, wings, as they might be -called, of the same architecture, though of a later period, and its -deep-embayed oriel windows, with their fantastic mullions of carved -freestone, its tall quaint chimneys, and its low porch, with overhanging -canopy and clustered columns, rendered it an object singularly -picturesque and striking. The little green within the gorge of the upper -glen, which is so wildly beautiful in its present situation, left as it -is to the unaided hand of nature, was then a perfect paradise; for an -exquisite taste had superintended its conversion into a sort of -untrained garden; an eye well used to note effects had marked its -natural capabilities, and, adding artificial beauties, had never -trenched upon the character of the spot by anything incongruous or -startling. Rare plants, rich-flowering shrubs, and scented herbs were -indeed scattered with a lavish hand about its precincts, but were so -scattered that they seemed the genuine productions of the soil; the -Spanish cistus had been taught to carpet the wild crags in conjunction -with the native thyme and heather; the arbutus and laurestinus had been -brought from afar to vie with the mountain ash and holly; the clematis -and the sweet scented vine blended their tendrils with the rich English -honeysuckle and the luxuriant ivy; rare lotuses might be seen floating -with their azure colored cups and broad green leaves upon the glassy -basins, into which the mountain streamlet had been taught to expand, -among the white wild water lilies and the bright yellow clusters of the -marsh marigold; roses of every hue and scent, from the dark crimson of -Damascus to the pale blush of soft Provence, grew side by side with the -wild wood-brier and the eglantine, and many a rustic seat, of mossy -stone or roots and unbarked branches, invited the loitering visiter in -every shadowy angle. - -There was no spot in all the north of England whereon the winter frowned -so lightly as on those sheltered precincts—there was no spot whereon -spring smiled so early, and with so bright an aspect—wherein the summer -so long lingered, pouring her gorgeous flowers, rich with her spicy -breath, into the very lap of autumn. It was, indeed, a sweet spot, and -as happy as it was sweet and beautiful, before the curse of civil war -was poured upon the groaning land, with its dread train of foul and -fiendish ministers; and yet it was not war, nor any of its direct -consequences, that turned that happy home into a ruin and a desolation. -It was not war—except the struggles of the human heart—the conflict of -the fierce and turbulent passions—the strife of principles, of motives, -of desires, within the secret soul, maybe called war, as, indeed, they -might, and that with no figurative tongue, for they are surely the -hottest, the most devastating, the most fatal of all that bear that -ominous and cruel appellation. - -Such was the aspect then of Ingleborough Hall, at the period when it was -perhaps the most beautiful; and when, as is but too often the case, its -beauties were on the very point of being brought to a close forever. The -family which owned the manor, for the possessions attached to the old -homestead were large, and the authority attached to them extended over a -large part of Upper Wharfdale, was one of those old English races which, -though not noble in the literal sense of the word, are yet so ancient, -and so indissolubly connected with the soil, that they may justly be -comprised among the aristocracy of the land. The name was Saxon, and it -was generally believed—and probably with truth—that the date of the -name, and of its connection with that estate, was at the least coeval -with the conquest. To what circumstances it was owing that the -Hawkwoods, for such was the time-honored appellation of the race, had -retained possession of their fair demesne when all the land was allotted -out to feudal barons and fat priests, can never now be ascertained; nor -does it indeed signify; yet that it was to some honorable cause, some -service rendered, or some high exploit, may be fairly presumed from the -fact that the mitred potentate of Bolton Abbey, who levied his tythes -far and near throughout those fertile valleys, had no claims on the -fruits of Ingleborough. During the ages that had passed since the advent -of the Norman William, the Hawkwoods had never lacked male -representatives to sustain the dignity of their race; and gallantly had -they sustained it; for in full many a lay and legend, aye! and in grave, -cold history itself, the name of Hawkwood might be found side by side -with the more sonorous appellations of the Norman feudatories, the -Ardens, and Maulevers, and Vavasours, which fill the chronicles of -border warfare. At the period of which we write, however, the family had -no male scion—the last male heir, Ralph Hawkwood, had died some years -before, full of years and of domestic honors—a zealous sportsman, a -loyal subject, a kind landlord, a good friend—his lot had fallen in -quiet times and pleasant places, and he lived happily, and died in the -arms of his family, at peace with all men. His wife, a calm and placid -dame, who had, in her young days, been the beauty of the shire, survived -him, and spent her whole time, as she devoted her whole mind and spirit, -in educating the two daughters, joint heiresses of the old manor-houses, -who were left by their father’s death, two bright-eyed fair-haired -prattlers, dependent for protection on the strong love but frail support -of their widowed mother. - -Years passed away, and with their flight the two fair children were -matured into two sweet and lovely women; yet the same fleeting suns -which brought to them complete and perfect youth were fraught to others -with decay, and all the carking cares, and querulous ailments of old -age. The mother, who had watched with keen solicitude over their budding -infancy, over the promise of their lovely childhood, lived indeed, but -lived not to see or understand the full accomplishment of that bright -promise. Even before the elder girl had reached the dawn of womanhood, -palsy had shaken the enfeebled limbs, and its accustomed -follower—mental debility—had, in no small degree, impaired the -intellect of her surviving parent; but long before her sister had -reached her own maturity, the limbs were helplessly immovable, the mind -was wholly clouded and estranged. It was not now the wandering and -uncertain darkness that flits across the veiled horizon of the mind -alternately with vivid gleams, flashes of memory and intellect, brighter -perhaps than ever visited the spirit until its partial aberrations had -jarred its vital principle—it was that deep and utter torpor, blanker -than sleep and duller, for no dreams seem to mingle with its day-long -lethargy—that absolute paralysis of all the faculties of soul and body, -which is so beautifully painted by the great Roman satirist, as the - - “omnii - Membrorum damno major dementia, quæ nec - Homina servorum, nec vultum agnoscit amici - Cum quo præterita cænavit nocti, nec illos - Quos genuit, quos eduxit”— - -that still, sad, patient, silent suffering, which sits from day to day -in the one usual chair, unconscious of itself and almost so of all -around it; easily pleased by trifles, which it forgets as soon, deriving -its sole real and tangible enjoyment from the doze in the summer -sunshine, or by the sparkling hearth of winter. Such was the mother now; -so utterly, so hopelessly dependent on the cares and gratitude of those -bright beings whose infancy she had nursed so devotedly—and well was -that devotedness now compensated; for day and night, winter and summer, -did those sweet girls by turn watch over the frail, querulous -sexagenarian—never both leaving her at once, one sleeping while the -other watched, attentive ever to her importunate and ceaseless cravings, -patient and mild to meet her angry and uncalled for lamentations. - -You would have thought that a seclusion so entire, from all society of -their equals, must have prevented their acquiring those usual -accomplishments, those necessary arts, which every English gentlewoman -is presumed to possess as things of course—that they must have grown up -mere ignorant, unpolished country lasses, without a taste or aspiration -beyond the small routine of their dull daily duties—that long -confinement must have broken the higher and more spiritual parts of -their fine natural minds—that they must have become mere moping -household drudges—and so to think would be so very natural, that it is -by no means easy to conceive how it was brought to pass, that the very -opposite of this should have been the result. The very opposite it was, -however—for as there were not in the whole West Riding two girls more -beautiful than Annabel and Marian Hawkwood, so were there surely none so -highly educated, so happy in themselves, so eminently calculated to -render others happy. Accomplished as musicians both, though Annabel -especially excelled in instrumental music, while her young sister was -unrivalled in voice and execution as a songstress; both skilled in -painting; and if not poetesses in so much as to be stringers of words -and rhymes, certainly such, and that too of no mean order, in the wider -and far higher acceptation of the word; for their whole souls were -attuned to the very highest key of spiritual sensibility—romantic, not -in the weak and ordinary meaning of the term, but as admirers of all -things high, and pure, and noble—worshippers of the beautiful, whether -it were embodied in the wild scenery of their native glens, in the rock, -the stream, the forest, the sunshine that clothed all of them in a rich -garb of glory, or the dread storm that veiled them all in gloom and -terror—or in the master-pieces of the schools of painting and of -sculpture—or in the pages of the great, the glorious of all ages—or in -the deeds of men, perils encountered hardily, sufferings constantly -endured, sorrows assuaged by charitable generosity. Such were they in -the strain and tenor of their minds; gentle, moreover, as the gentlest -of created things; humble to their inferiors, but with a proud, and -self-respecting, and considerate humility; open, and free, and frank -toward their equals; but proud, although not wanting in loyalty and -proper reverence for the great, and almost haughty of demeanor to their -superiors, when they encountered any such, which was, indeed, of rare -and singular occurrence. It was a strange thing, indeed, that these lone -girls should have possessed such characters, so strongly marked, so -powerful and striking; should have acquired accomplishments, so many and -so various in their nature. It will appear, perhaps, even stranger to -merely superficial thinkers, that the formation of those powerful -characters had been, for the most part, brought about by the very -circumstances which would at first have appeared most -unpropitious—their solitary habits namely, and their seclusion, almost -absolute seclusion, from the gay world of fashion and of folly. The -large and opulent county, in which their patrimony lay, was indeed then, -as now, studded with the estates, the manors, and the parks of the -richest and the noblest of England’s aristocracy, yet the deep glens and -lofty moorlands among which Ingleborough Hall was situate, are even to -this day a lonely and sequestered region; no great post-road winds -through their devious passes; and, although in the close vicinity of -large and populous towns, they are, even in the nineteenth century, but -little visited, and are occupied by a population singularly primitive -and pastoral in all its thoughts and feelings. Much more then in those -days, when carriages were seen but rarely beyond the streets of the -metropolis, when roads were wild and rugged, and intercourse between the -nearest places, unless of more than ordinary magnitude, difficult and -uncertain, was that wild district to be deemed secluded. So much so, -indeed, was this the case, at the time of which I write, that there were -not within a circle of some twenty miles two families of equal rank, or -filling the same station in society, with the Hawkwoods. This, had the -family been in such circumstances of domestic health and happiness as -would have permitted the girls to mingle in the gaieties of the -neighborhood, would have been a serious and severe misfortune; as they -must, from continual intercourse with their inferiors, have contracted, -in a greater or less degree, a grossness both of mind and manners; and -would, most probably, have fallen into that most destructive -habit—destructive to the mind, I mean, and to all chance of progress or -advancement—the love of queening it in low society. It was, therefore, -under their circumstances, including the loss of one parent and the -entire bereavement of the other, fortunate in no small degree that they -were compelled to seek their pleasures and their occupations, no less -than their duties, within the sphere of the domestic circle. - -The mother, who was now so feeble and so helpless, though never a person -of much intellectual energy, or indeed of much force of any kind, was -yet in the highest sense of the word a lady; she had seen in her youth -something of the great world, apart from the rural glens which witnessed -her decline; had mingled with the gay and noble even at the court of -England, and, being possessed of more than ordinary beauty, had been a -favorite and in some degree a belle. From her, then, had her daughters -naturally and unconsciously imbibed that easy, graceful finish which, -more than all beside, is the true stamp of gentle birth and bearing. -Long before children can be brought to comprehend general principles or -rules of convention, they can and do acquire habits, by that strange -tact of imitation and observance which certainly commences at a stage so -early of their young, frail existences, that we cannot, by any effort, -mark its first dawning—habits which, thus acquired, can hardly be -effaced at all—which will endure unaltered and invariable when tastes, -and practices, and modes of thought and action, contracted long, long -afterward, have faded quite away and been forgotten. Thus was it, then, -with these young creatures; while they were yet mere girls, with all the -pure, right impulses of childhood bursting out fresh and fair, they had -been trained up in the midst of high, and honorable, and correct -associations—naught low, or mean, or little; naught selfish, or -dishonest, or corrupt had ever come near to them—in the sight of virtue -and in the practice of politeness they had shot up into maturity; and -their maturity, of consequence, was virtuous and polished. In after -years, devoted as they were to that sick mother, they had no chance of -unlearning anything; and thus, from day to day, they went on gaining -fresh graces, as it were, by deduction from their foregone teachings, -and from the purity of their young natures—for purity and nature, when -united, must of necessity be graceful—until the proudest courts of -Europe could have shown nothing, even in their most difficult circles, -that could surpass, even it could vie with, the easy, artless frankness, -the soft and finished courtesy, the unabashed yet modest grace of those -two mountain maidens. - -At the period when my sad tale commences—for it is no less sad than -true—the sisters had just reached the young yet perfect bloom of mature -womanhood, the elder, Annabel, having attained her twentieth summer, her -sister Marian being exactly one year younger; and certainly two sweeter -or more lovely girls could not be pictured or imagined—not in the -brightest moments of the painter’s or the poet’s inspiration. They were -both tall and beautifully formed—both had sweet low-toned voices—that -excellent thing in woman!—but here all personal resemblance ended; for -Annabel, the elder, had a complexion pure and transparent as the snow of -the untrodden glacier before the sun has kissed it into roseate blushes, -and quite as colorless; her features were of the finest classic outline; -the smooth, fair brow, the perfect Grecian nose, the short curve of the -upper lip, the exquisite arch of the small mouth, the chiselled lines of -the soft rounded chin, might have served for a model to a sculptor, -whereby to mould a mountain nymph or Naiad; her rich luxuriant hair was -of a light and sunny brown, her eyes of a clear, lustrous blue, with a -soft, languid, and half melancholy tenderness for their more usual -expression, which united well with the calm, placid air which was almost -habitual to her beautiful features. To this no contrast more complete -could have been offered than by the widely different style of Marian’s -loveliness. Though younger than her sister, her figure was more full and -rounded—so much so, that it reached the very point where symmetry is -combined with voluptuousness—yet was there nothing in the least degree -voluptuous in the expression of her bright artless face. Her forehead, -higher than Annabel’s, and broader, was as smooth and as white as -polished marble; her brows were well-defined and black as ebony, as were -the long, long lashes that fringed her laughing eyes—eyes of the -brightest, lightest azure that ever glanced with merriment, or melted -into love—her nose was small and delicate, but turned a little upwards, -so as to add, however, rather than detract from the _tout ensemble_ of -her arch, roguish beauty—her mouth was not very small, but exquisitely -formed, with lips redder than anything in nature, to which lips can be -well compared, and filled with teeth, regular, white and beautifully -even—fair as her sister’s, and, like hers, showing every where the tiny -veins of azure meandering below the milky skin, Marian’s complexion was -yet as bright as morning—faint rosy tints and red, warm blushes -succeeding one another, or vanishing away and leaving the cheek pearly -white, as one emotion followed and effaced another in her pure, innocent -mind. Her hair, profuse in its luxuriant flow, was of a deep dark brown, -that might have been almost called black, but for a thousand glancing -golden lights and warm rich shadows that varied its smooth surface with -the varying sunshine, and was worn in a thick, massive plait low down in -the neck behind, while on either side the brow it was trained off and -taught to cluster in front of either tiny ear in an abundant maze of -interwoven curls, close and mysteriously enlaced as are the tendrils of -the wild vine, which, fluttering on each warm and blushing cheek, fell -down the swan-like neck in heavy natural ringlets. But to describe her -features is to give no idea, in the least, of Marian’s real -beauty—there was a radiant, dazzling lustre that leaped out of her -every feature, lightning from her quick, speaking eyes, and playing in -the dimples of her bewitching smile, that so intoxicated the beholder -that he would dwell upon her face entranced, and know that it was -lovely, and feel that it was far more lovely, far more enthralling than -any he had ever looked upon before; yet, when without the sphere of that -enchantment, he should be all unable to say wherein consisted its -unmatched attraction. - -Between the natural disposition and temperaments of the two sisters -there was perhaps even a wider difference than between the -characteristics of their personal beauty; for Annabel was calm, and -mild, and singularly placid, not in her manners only, but in the whole -tenor of her thoughts, and words, and actions; there was a sort of -gentle melancholy, that was not altogether melancholy either, pervading -her every tone of voice, her every change of feature. She was not -exactly grave, nor pensive, nor subdued, for she could smile very -joyously at times, could act upon emergencies with readiness, and -quickness, and decision, and was at all times prompt in the expression -of her confirmed sentiments; but there was a very remarkable -tranquillity in her mode of doing every thing she did, betokening fully -the presence of a decided principle directing her at every step, so that -she was but rarely agitated, even by accidents of the most sudden and -alarming character, and never actuated by any rapid impulse. The very -opposite of this was Marian Hawkwood; for, although quite as upright and -pure minded as her sister, and, what is more, of a temper quite as -amiable and sweet, yet was her mood as changeful as an April day; -although it was more used to mirth and joyous laughter than to frowns or -tears either, yet had she tears as ready at any tale of sorrow as are -the fountains of the spring shower in the cloud, and eloquent frowns and -eyes that lightened their quick indignation at any outrage, or -oppression, or high-handed violence; her cheek would crimson with the -tell-tale blood, her flesh would seem to thrill upon her bones, her -voice would choke, and her eyes swim with sympathetic drops whenever she -read, or spoke, or heard of any noble deed, whether of gallant daring, -or of heroic self-denial. Her tongue was prompt always, as the sword of -the knight errant, to shelter the defenceless, to shield the innocent, -to right the wronged, and sometimes to avenge the absent. Artless -herself, and innocent in every thought and feeling, she set no guard on -either; but as she felt and thought so she spoke out and acted, fearless -even as she was unconscious of any wrong, defying misconstruction, and -half inclined to doubt the possibility of evil in the minds of others, -so foreign did it seem, and so impossible to her own natural and, as it -were, instinctive sense of right. - -Yet although such in all respects as I have striven to depict them, the -one all quick and flashing impulse, the other all reflective and -considerate principle, it was most wonderful how seldom there was any -clashing of opinion and diversity of judgment as to what was to be done, -what left undone, between the lovely sisters. Marian would, it is true, -often jump at once to conclusions, and act as rapidly upon them, at -which the more reflective Annabel would arrive only after some -consideration—but it did not occur more often that the one had reason -to repent of her precipitation than the other of her over -caution—neither, indeed, had much cause for remorse of this kind at -all, for all the impulses of the one, all the thoughts and principles of -the other, were alike pure and kindly. With words, however, it was not -quite so; for it must be admitted that Marian oftentimes said things, -how unfrequently soever she did aught, which she would willingly have -recalled afterwards; not, indeed, that she ever said anything unkind or -wrong in itself, and rarely anything that could give pain to another, -unless that pain were richly merited indeed—but that she gradually came -to learn, long before she learned to restrain her impulses, that it may -be very often unwise to speak what in itself is wise—and very often, if -not wrong, yet certainly imprudent and of evil consequences to give loud -utterance even to right opinions. - -Such were the persons, such the dispositions of the fair heiresses of -Ingleborough, at the time when they had attained the ages I have -specified, and certainly, although their sphere of usefulness would have -appeared at first sight circumscribed, and the range of their enjoyments -very narrow, there rarely have been seen two happier or more useful -beings than Annabel and Marian Hawkwood, in this wide world of sin and -sorrow. - -The care of their bereaved and hapless parent occupied, it is true, the -greater portion of their time, yet they found many leisure hours to -devote to visiting the poor, aiding the wants of the needy, consoling -the sorrows of those who mourned, and sympathizing with the pleasures of -the happy among their humble neighbors. To them this might be truly -termed a work of love and pleasure, for it is questionable whether from -any other source the lovely girls derived a higher or more satisfactory -enjoyment, than from their tours of charity among their village -pensioners. Next in the scale of happiness stood, doubtless, the society -of the old vicar of that pastoral parish, a man who had been their -father’s friend and counsellor in those young days of college -friendship, when the fresh heart is uppermost in all, and selfishness a -dormant passion; a man old enough almost to have been their grandsire, -but with a heart as young and cheery as a boy’s—an intellect -accomplished in the deepest lore of the schools, both classical and -scientific, and skilled thoroughly in all the niceties and graces of -French, and Spanish, and Italian literature. A man who had known courts, -and camps too, for a short space in his youth; who had seen much, and -suffered much, and yet enjoyed not a little, in his acquaintance with -the world; and who, from sights, and sufferings, and enjoyments, had -learned that if there is much evil, there is yet more of good even in -_this_ world—had learned, while rigid to his own, to be most lenient to -his neighbor’s failings—had learned that charity should be the fruit of -wisdom!—and had learned all this only to practise it in all his daily -walks, to inculcate it in all his weekly lessons. This aged man, and his -scarce less aged wife, living scarcely a stone’s throw from the Hall, -had grown almost to think themselves a portion of the family; and surely -no blood kindred could have created stronger ties of kindness than had -the familiarity of long acquaintance, the confidence of old hereditary -love. Lower yet in the round of their enjoyments, but still a constant -source of blameless satisfaction, were their books, their music, their -drawings, the management of their household, the cultivation of their -lovely garden, the ministering to the wants of their loved birds and -flowers. Thus, all sequestered and secluded from the world, placed in -the midst of onerous duties and solicitudes almost innumerable, though -they had never danced at a ball, nor blushed at the praises of their own -beauty flowing from eloquent lips, nor listened to a lover’s suit, -queens might have envied the felicity, the calm, pure, peaceful -happiness of Annabel and Marian. - -They were, indeed, _too_ happy! I do not mean too happy to be virtuous, -too happy to be mindful of, and grateful to, the Giver of all joy—but, -as the common phrase runs, too happy for their happiness to be enduring. -That is a strange belief—a wondrous superstition!—and yet it has been -common to all ages. The Greeks, those wild poetic dreamers, imagined -that their vain gods, made up of mortal attributes, _envied_ the bliss -of men, fearing that wretched earthlings should vie in happiness with -the possessors of Olympus. They sang in their dark mystic choruses, - - “That perfect bliss of men not childless dies, - But, ended, leaves a progeny behind - Of woes, that spring from fairest fortune blind—” - -and, though their other doctrines of that insuperable destiny, that -absolute necessity, to resist which is needless labor; and of ancestral -guilt, still reproducing guilt through countless generations, would seem -to militate against it, there was no more established faith, and no more -prevalent opinion, than that unwonted fortunes were necessarily followed -by most unusual wo—hence, perhaps, the stern self-mortification of the -middle ages—hence, certainly, the vulgar terror, prevalent more or less -among all classes, and in every time and country, that children are too -beautiful, too prematurely wise, too good, to be long-lived—that -happiness is too great to be lasting—that mornings are too fine to -augur stormless days! And we—aye! we ourselves—we of a better and -purer dispensation—we half believe all this, and more than half tremble -at it, although in truth there is no cause for fear in the -belief—since, if there be aught of truth in the mysterious creed, which -facts do in a certain sense seem to bear out, we can but think, we -cannot but perceive, that this is but a varied form of care and mercy -vouchsafed by the Great All-perfect, towards his frail creatures—that -this is but a merciful provision to hinder us from laying up for -ourselves “treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and -where thieves break through and steal”—a provision to restrain us from -forgetting, in the small temporary bliss of the present, the boundless -and incomparable beatitude of the future—to warn us against bartering, -like Esau, our birthright for a mess of pottage. - -But I am not now called to follow out this train of thought, suggested -by the change in the fortunes of those to whom I am performing the part -of historian—by the change I say in their fortunes—a change arising, -too, from the very circumstances, as is so frequently the case, which -seemed to promise the most fairly for their improvement and their -permanence—oh, how blind guides are we—even the most far-sighted of us -all—how weak and senseless judges, even the most sagacious—how false -and erring prophets, even the wisest and the best!— - -But I must not anticipate, nor overrun my scent, meriting, like a -babbling hound, the harsh thong of the huntsman critic. It was, as I -have said already, somewhere in the summer wherefrom Annabel reckoned -her twentieth, and Marian her nineteenth year—very late in the last -month of summer, an hour or two before the sunset of as beautiful an -evening as ever smiled upon the face of the green earth; the sky was -nearly cloudless, though a thin gauze-like haze had floated up from the -horizon, and so far veiled the orb of the great sun, that the eye could -gaze undazzled on his glories; and the whole air was full of a rich -golden light which flooded all the level meadows with its -lustre,—except where they were checkered by the long cool blue shadows, -projected from the massive clumps of noble forest trees, which singly or -in groups diversified the lovely vale—and gilded the tall slender -steeple of the old village church, and glanced in living fire from the -broad oriel windows of the Hall. Such was the evening, and so beautiful -the prospect, with every sound and sight in perfect harmony—the sharp -squeak of the rapid swifts wheeling their airy circles around the -distant spire, the full and liquid melodies of thrush and blackbird from -out the thorn bushes upon the lawn, the lowing of the cows returning -from their pasture to pay the evening tribute, the very cawing of the -homeward rooks blended by distance into a continuous and soothing -murmur, the rippling music of the stream, the low sigh of the west wind -in the foliage of the sycamores, the far shout of the children happy at -their release from school, the carol of a solitary milkmaid, combining -to make up music as sweet as can be heard or dreamed of. That lovely -picture was surveyed, and that delicious melody was listened to by eyes -and ears well fitted to appreciate their loveliness—for at an open -casement of a neat parlor in the Hall, with furniture all covered with -those elegant appliances of female industry—well-filled drawings, and -books, and instruments of music, and work baskets, and frames for -embroidery—which show so pleasantly that the apartment is one, not of -show, but of calm home enjoyment, sat Annabel, alone—for the presence -of the frail paralytic being, who dozed in her arm-chair at the farther -end of the room, cannot be held to constitute society. Marian, for the -first time in her life, was absent from her home on a visit, which had -already endured nearly six weeks, to the only near relative of the -family who was yet living—a younger sister of her mother—who had -married many years ago a clergyman, whose piety and talents had raised -him to a stall in the cathedral church of York, where he resided with -his wife—a childless couple. This worthy pair had passed a portion of -the summer at the Hall, and, when returning to the metropolis of the -county, had prevailed on their younger niece, not altogether without -difficulty, to go with them for a few weeks, and see a little of society -on a scale something more extended than that which her native vales -could offer. It was the first time in their lives that the sisters ever -had been parted for more than a few days, and now the hours were -beginning to appear very long to Annabel, as weeks were running into -months, and the gorgeous suns of summer were fast preparing to give -place to the cold dews and frosty winds of autumn. The evening meal was -over, and a solitary thing was that meal now, which used to be the most -delightful of the day, and hastily did the lonely sister hurry it over, -thinking all the while what might be Marian’s occupation at the moment, -and whether she too was engaged in thoughts concerning her far friends -and the fair home of her childhood. It was then in a mood half -melancholy, and half listless, that Annabel was gazing from her window -down the broad valley to the eastward, marvelling at the beauty of the -scenery, though she had noted every changing hue that flitted over the -far purple hills a thousand times before; and listening to every sweet -familiar sound, and yet at the same time pondering, as if she were quite -unconscious of all that met her senses, about things which, she fancied, -might be happening at York, when on a sudden her attention was aroused -by a dense cloud of dust rising beyond the river, upon the line of the -highroad, and sweeping up the valley with a progress so unusually rapid -as indicated that the objects, which it veiled from view, must be in -more than commonly quick motion. For a few moments she watched this -little marvel narrowly, but without any apprehension or even any -solicitude, until, as it drew nearer, she could perceive at times bright -flashes as if of polished metal gleaming out through the murky wreaths, -and feathers waving in the air. The year was that in which the hapless -Charles, all hopes of reconciliation with the parliament being decidedly -frustrated, displayed the banner of civil war, and drew the sword -against his subjects. The rumors of the coming strife had circulated, -like the dread sub-terraneous rumblings which harbinger the earth-quake, -through all the country far and near, sad omens of approaching evil; and -more distinctly were they bruited throughout Yorkshire, in consequence -of the attempt which had been made by the royal party to secure Hull -with all its magazines and shipping—frustrated by the energy and spirit -of the Hothams—so that, as soon as she perceived that the dust was, -beyond all doubt, stirred up by a small party of well appointed horse, -Annabel entertained no doubts as to the meaning, but many serious -apprehensions as to the cause, of the present visitation. The road by -which the cavaliers were proceeding, though well made and passable at -all times, was no considerable thoroughfare; no large or important towns -lay on its route, nay, no large villages were situated on its margins; -it was a devious, winding way, leading to many a homely farm-house, many -a small sequestered hamlet, and affording to the good rustics a means of -carrying their wheat, and eggs, and butter, or driving their fat cattle -and black-faced moorland sheep to market, but it was not the direct line -between any two points or places worthy of even a passing notice. It is -true, that some twelve or fifteen miles down the valley, there was a -house or two tenanted by gentry—one that might, by a liberal courtesy, -have been designated as a castle—but above Ingleborough Hall, to the -northwestward, there was no manor-house or dwelling of the aristocracy -at all, until the road left the _ghylls_, as those wild glens are -designated, and joined the line of the great northern turnpike. It was -extremely singular then, to say the least, that a gay troop of riders -should appear suddenly in that wild spot, so far from anything that -would be likely to attract them; and Annabel sat some time longer by the -window, wondering, and at the same time fearing, although, in truth, she -scarce knew what, until, at about a mile’s distance, she saw them halt, -and, after a few moments’ conversation with a farming man on the -wayside, as if to inquire their route, turn suddenly down a narrow -by-road leading to the high narrow bridge of many arches which crossed -the noble river, and gave the only access to the secluded site of -Ingleborough. When she saw this, however, her perturbation became very -great; for she well knew that there lay nothing in that direction, -except one little market-town, far distant, and a few scattered -farm-houses on the verge of the moors, so that there could be little -doubt that Ingleborough was indeed their destination. The very moment -that she arrived at this conclusion, Annabel called a serving-man and -bade him run quick to the vicarage, and pray good Doctor Summers to come -up to her instantly, as she was in great strait, and fain would speak -with him; and, at the same time, with an energy of character that hardly -could have been expected from one so young and delicate, ordered the men -of the household, including in those days the fowler and the falconer, -and half a dozen sturdy grooms, and many a supernumerary more, whom we -in these degenerate times have long discarded as incumbrances, to have -their arms in readiness—for every manor-house then had its regular -armory—and to prepare the great bell of the Hall to summon all the -tenants, on the instant such proceeding might be needful. - -In a few moments the good gray-haired vicar came, almost breathless from -the haste with which he had crossed the little space between the -vicarage and the manor; and a little while after his wife followed him, -anxious to learn, as soon as possible, what could have so disturbed the -quiet tenor of a mind so regulated by high principles, and garrisoned by -holy thoughts, as Annabel’s. Their humble dwelling, though scarce a -stone’s throw from the Hall, was screened by a projecting knoll, -feathered with dense and shadowy coppice, which hid from it entirely the -road by which the horsemen were advancing; so that the worthy couple had -not perceived or suspected anything to justify the fears of Annabel, -until they were both standing in her presence—then, while the worthy -doctor was proffering his poor assistance, and his good wife inquiring -eagerly what was amiss, the sight of that gay company of cavaliers, with -feathers waving and scarfs fluttering in the wind, and gold embroideries -glancing to the sun, as, having left the dusty road, they wheeled -through the green meadows, flashed suddenly upon them. - -“Who can they be? What possibly can bring them hither?” exclaimed -Annabel, pointing with evident trepidation towards the rapidly -approaching horsemen; “I fear, oh, I greatly fear some heavy ill is -coming—but I have ordered all the men to take their arms, and the great -bell will bring us twenty of the tenants in half as many minutes. What -can it be, good doctor?” - -“In truth I know not, Annabel,” replied the good man, smiling cheerfully -as he spoke; “in truth I know not, nor can at all conjecture; but be -quite sure of this, dear girl, that they will do, to us at least, no -evil—they are King Charles’ men beyond doubt, churchmen and cavaliers, -all of them—any one can see that; and though I know not that we have -much to fear from either party, from them at least we have no earthly -cause for apprehension. I will go forth, however, to meet them, and to -learn their errand—meantime, fear nothing.” - -“Oh! you mistake me,” she answered at once; “oh! you mistake me very -much, for I did not, even for a moment, fear personally anything; it was -for my poor mother I was first alarmed, and all our good, kind -neighbors, and, indeed, all the country around, that shows so beautiful -and happy this fair evening—oh! but this civil war is a dread thing, -and dread, I fear, will be the reckoning of those who wake it—” - -“Who wake it _without cause_, my daughter! A dreadful thing it is at all -times, but it may be a necessary, aye! and a holy thing—when freedom or -religion are at stake—but we will speak of this again; for see, they -have already reached the farther gate, and I must speak with them before -they enter here, let them be who they may;” and with the words, pressing -her hand with fatherly affection, “Farewell,” he said, “be of good -cheer, I purpose to return forthwith,” then left the room, and hurrying -down the steps of the porch, walked far more rapidly than seemed to suit -his advanced years and sedentary habits across the park to meet the -gallant company. - -A gallant company, indeed, it was, and such as was but rarely seen in -that wild region, being the train of a young gentleman of some eight or -nine and twenty years, splendidly mounted, and dressed in the -magnificent fashion of those days, in a half military costume, for his -buff coat was lined throughout with rich white satin, and fringed and -looped with silver, a falling collar of rich Flanders lace flowing down -over his steel gorget, and a broad scarf of blue silk supporting his -long silver-hilted rapier—by his side rode another person, not -certainly a menial servant, and yet clearly not a gentleman of birth and -lineage; and after these a dozen or more of armed attendants, all -wearing the blue scarf and black feathers of the royalists, all nobly -mounted and accoutred, like regular troopers, with sword and dagger, -pistols and musquetoons, although they wore no breastplates, nor any -sort of defensive armor. A brace of jet-black greyhounds, without a -speck of white upon their sleek and glistening hides, ran bounding -merrily beside their master’s stirrup, and a magnificent gosshawk sat -hooded on his wrist, with silver bells and richly decorated jesses. So -much had the ladies observed, even before the old man reached the party; -but when he did so, pausing for a moment to address the leader, that -gentleman at once leaped down from his horse, giving the rein to a -servant, and accompanied him, engaged apparently in eager conversation, -toward the entrance of the Hall. This went far on the instant to restore -confidence to Annabel; but when they came so near that their faces could -be seen distinctly from the windows, and she could mark a well-pleased -smile upon the venerable features of her friend, she was completely -reassured. A single glance, moreover, at the face of the stranger showed -her that the most timid maiden need hardly feel a moment’s apprehension, -even if he were her country’s or her faction’s foe; for it was not -merely handsome, striking, and distinguished, but such as indicates, or -is supposed to indicate, the presence of a kindly disposition and good -heart. Annabel had not much time, indeed, for making observations at -that moment, for it was scarce a minute before they had ascended the -short flight of steps, which led to the stone porch, and entered the -door of the vestibule—a moment longer, and they came into the parlor, -the worthy vicar leading the young man by the hand, as if he were a -friend of ten years’ standing. - -“Annabel,” he exclaimed, in a joyous voice, as he crossed the threshold -of the room, “this is the young Lord Vaux, son of your honored father’s -warmest and oldest friend; and in years long gone by, but unforgotten, -my kindest patron. He has come hither, bearing letters from _his_ -father—knowing not until now that you, my child, were so long since -bereaved—letters of commendation, praying the hospitality of -Ingleborough, and the best influence of the name of Hawkwood, to levy -men to serve King Charles in the approaching war. I have already told -him—” - -“How glad, how welcome, doubtless, would have been his coming,” answered -Annabel, advancing easily to meet the youthful nobleman, although a deep -blush covered all her pale features as she performed her unaccustomed -duty, “had my dear father been alive, or my poor mother”—casting a -rapid glance towards the invalid—“been in health to greet him. As it -is,” she continued, “the Lord Vaux, I doubt not, in the least, will -pardon any imperfections in our hospitality, believing that if in aught -we err, it will be error, not of friendliness or of feeling, but of -experience only, seeing I am but a young mistress of a household. You, -my kind friend, and Mistress Summers, will doubtless tarry with us while -my Lord Vaux gives us the favor of his presence.” - -“Loath should I be, indeed, dear lady, thus to intrude upon your -sorrows, could I at all avoid it,” replied the cavalier; “and charming -as it must needs be to enjoy the hospitalities tendered by such an one -as you, I do assure you, were I myself concerned alone, I would remount -my horse at once, and ride away, rather than force myself upon your -courtesy. But, when I tell you that my father’s strong opinion holds it -a matter of importance—importance almost vital to the king, and to the -cause of Church and State in England—that I should levy some force here -of cavaliers, where there be so few heads of noble houses living, to act -in union with Sir Philip Musgrave, in the north, and with Sir Marmaduke -Langdale, I both trust and believe that you will overlook the trouble -and intrusion, in fair consideration of the motives which impel me.” - -“Pray—” said she, smiling gaily—“pray, my Lord Vaux, let us leave, -now, apology and compliment—most unaffectedly and truly I am glad to -receive you, both as the son of my father’s valued friend, and as a -faithful servant of our most gracious king—we will do our best, too, to -entertain you; and Doctor Summers will aid you with his counsel and -experience in furthering your military levies. How left you the good -earl, your father? I have heard mine speak of him many times, and ever -in the highest terms of praise, when I was but a little girl—and my -poor mother much more recently, before this sad calamity affected her so -fearfully.” - -Her answer, as it was intended, had the effect at once of putting an end -to all formality, and setting the young nobleman completely at his ease; -the conversation took a general tone, and was maintained on all sides -with sufficient spirit, until, when Annabel retired for a little space -to conduct her mother to her chamber, De Vaux found himself wondering -how a mere country girl, who had lived a life so secluded and domestic, -should have acquired graces both of mind and manner, such as he never -had discovered in court ladies; while she was struck even in a greater -degree by the frank, unaffected bearing, the gay wit, and sparkling -anecdote, blended with many a touch of deeper feeling, which -characterized the youthful nobleman. After a little while she -reappeared, and with her was announced the evening meal, the pleasant -sociable old-fashioned supper, and as he sat beside her, while she -presided, full of calm modest self-possession, at the head of her -hospitable board, with no one to encourage her, or lend her countenance, -except the good old vicar and his homely helpmate, he could not but draw -fresh comparisons, all in her favor too, betwixt the quiet graceful -confidence of the ingenuous girl before him, and the _minauderies_ and -meretricious airs of the court dames, who had been hitherto the objects -of his passing admiration. Cheerfully, then, and pleasantly the evening -passed away; and when upon her little couch, hard by the invalid’s sick -bed, Annabel thought over the events of the past day, she felt -concerning young De Vaux, rather as if he had been an old familiar -friend, with whom she had renewed an intercourse long interrupted, than -as of a mere acquaintance whom that day first had introduced, and whom -the next might possibly remove forever. Something there was, when they -met next, at breakfast on the following morning, of blushing bashfulness -in Annabel which he had not observed, nor she before experienced; but it -passed rapidly away, and left her self-possessed and tranquil—while -surely in the sparkling eye, the eager haste with which he broke away -from his conversation with Dr. Summers, as she entered, in his hand half -extended, and then half awkwardly, half timidly, withdrawn, there was -much indication of excited feeling, widely at variance with the stiff -and even formal mannerism inculcated and practised in the court of the -unhappy Charles. It needs not now, however, to dwell on passing -conversations, to narrate every trifling incident—the morning meal once -finished, De Vaux mounted his horse, and rode forth in accordance with -the directions of the loyal clergyman, to visit such among the -neighboring farmers as were most likely to be able to assist him in the -levying a horse regiment. A few hours passed, and he returned full of -high spirits and hot confidence—he had met everywhere assurances of -good will to the royal cause, had succeeded in enlisting some ten or -more of stout and hardy youths, and had no doubt of finally -accomplishing the object, which he had in view, to the full height of -his aspirations. After dinner, which in those primitive days was served -at noon, he was engaged for a time in making up despatches for his -father, which having been sent off by a messenger of his own trusty -servants to the castle in Northumberland, he went out and joined his -lovely hostess in the sheltered garden, which I have described above; -and there they lingered until the sun was sinking in the west behind the -huge and purple headed hills, which covered the horizon in that -direction—the evening circle and the social meal succeeded, and when -they parted for the night, if Annabel and young De Vaux could not be -said to be enamored, as indeed they could not yet, they had at least -made so much progress to that end, that each esteemed the other the most -agreeable and charming person it had been hitherto their fortune to -encounter; and, although this was decidedly the farthest point to which -the thoughts of Annabel extended, when he had laid down on his bed, with -the sweet rays of the harvest moon flooding his room with quiet lustre, -and the voice of the murmuring rivulet and the low flutter of the west -wind in the giant sycamores blending themselves into a soft and soothing -melody, the young lord found himself considering how gracefully that -fair pale girl would fill the place, which had been long left vacant by -his mother, in the grand Hall of Gilsland Castle. Another, and another -day succeeded—a week slipped away—a second and third followed it, and -still the ranks of the royal regiment, though they were filling rapidly, -had many vacancies, and arms had yet to be provided, and standards, and -musicians—passengers went and came continually between the castle and -the manor; and all was bustle and confusion in the lone glens of -Wharfdale. Meantime a change was wrought in Annabel’s demeanor, that all -who saw remarked—there was a brighter glow than ever had been seen -before in her transparent cheeks; her eyes sparkled almost as -brilliantly as Marian’s; her lips were frequently arrayed in bright and -beaming smiles; her step was light and springy as a young fawn’s upon -the mountain—Annabel was in love, and had discovered that it was -so—Annabel was beloved, and knew it—the young lord’s declaration and -the old earl’s consent had come together, and the sweet maiden’s heart -was given, and her hand promised, almost before the asking. Joy! joy! -was there not joy in Ingleborough? The good old vicar’s tranquil air of -satisfaction, the loud and eloquent mirth of his kind-hearted -housewife—the merry gay congratulations of wild Marian, who wrote from -York, half crazy with excitement and delight—the evident and lovely -happiness of the young promised bride—what pen of man may even aspire -to describe them. All was decided—all arranged—the marriage was, so -far at least, to be held private, that no festivities nor public -merriment should bruit it to the world, until the civil strife should be -decided, and the king’s power established; which all men fancied at that -day it would by a single battle—and which, had Rupert wheeled upon the -flank of Essex at Edge-Hill, instead of chasing the discomfited and -flying horse of the Roundheads miles from the field of battle, would -probably have been the case. The old earl had sent the wedding gifts to -his son’s chosen bride, had promised to be present at the nuptials, the -day of which was fixed already; but it had been decided, that when De -Vaux should be forced to join the royal armies, his young wife should -continue to reside at Ingleborough, with her bereaved mother and fond -sister, until the wished-for peace should unite England once again in -bonds of general amity, and the bridegroom find honorable leisure to -lead his wife in state to his paternal mansions. Days sped away! how -fast they seemed to fly to those young happy lovers! How was the very -hour of their first interview noted, and marked with the white in the -deep tablets of their minds—how did they, shyly half, half fondly, -recount each to the other the first impressions of their growing -fondness—how did they bless the cause that brought them thus -together—_Proh! cæca mens mortalium!_—oh! the short-sighted scope of -mortal vision!—alas! for one—for both!— - -The wedding day was fixed, and now was fast approaching; and hourly was -Marian with the good uncle and his dame expected at the Hall, and wished -for, and discoursed of by the lovers—“and oh!—” would Annabel say, -half sportively and half in earnest—“well was it for my happiness, De -Vaux, that _she_ was absent when you first came hither, for had you seen -her first, her far superior beauty, her bright wild radiant face, her -rare arch _naïveté_, her flashing wit, and beautiful enthusiasm, -would—_must_ have captivated you all at once—and what had then become -of your poor Annabel?” - -And then would the young lord vow—and vow in all sincerity and truth as -he believed, that had he met her first in the most glorious courts of -Europe, with all the gorgeous beauties of the world to rival her, she -would alone have been the choice of his soul—his soul first touched by -her of women!—And then he would ask in lowered tones, and with a sly -simplicity of manner, whether if _he_ had loved another, she could have -still loved him; to which with all the frank and fearless purity, which -was so beautiful a trait in Annabel—“Oh! yes—” she would reply, and -gaze with calm reliance, as she did so, into her lover’s eyes—“oh yes, -dear Ernest—and then how miserably wretched must I have been, through -my whole life thereafter. Oh! yes, I loved you—though then I knew it -not, nor indeed thought at all about it until you spoke to me—I loved -you dearly—tenderly!—and I believe it would have almost killed me, to -look upon you afterward as the wife of another.” - -The wedding day was but a fortnight distant, and strange to say, it was -the very day two months gone, which had seen their meeting. Wains had -arrived from Gilsland, loaded with arms and uniforms, standards and -ammunition—two of the brothers of De Vaux, young gallant cavaliers, had -come partly to officer the men, partly to do fit honor to their -brother’s nuptials. The day, although the season had now advanced far -into brown October, was sunny, mild and beautiful; the regiment had that -day, for the first time, mustered in arms in Ingleborough park, and a -gay show they made with glittering casques and corslets, fresh from the -armorer’s anvil, and fluttering scarfs and dancing plumes, and bright -emblazoned banners. - -The sun was in the act of setting—De Vaux and Annabel were watching his -decline from the same window in the Hall, whence she had first -discovered his unexpected coming; when, as on that all eventful evening, -a little dust was seen arising on the high road beyond the river, and in -a moment a small mounted party, among which might be readily descried -the fluttering of female garments! - -“It is my sister—” exclaimed Annabel, jumping up on the instant, and -clasping her hands eagerly—“it is my dear, dear sister—come, Ernest, -come; let us go meet dear Marian.” No time was lost; but arm in arm they -sallied forth, the lovers; and met the little train just this side the -park gates. - -Marian sprang from her horse, light as a spirit of the air, and rushed -into her sister’s arms and clung there with a long and lingering -embrace, and as she raised her head a bright tear glittered on either -silky eyelash. De Vaux advanced to greet her, but as he did so, -earnestly perusing the lineaments of his fair sister, he was most -obviously embarrassed, his manner was confused and even agitated, his -words faltered—and _she_ whose face had been, a second before, beaming -with the bright crimson of excitement, whose eye had looked round -eagerly and gladly to mark the chosen of her sister—_she_ turned as -pale as ashes—brow, cheeks, and lips—pale, almost livid!—and her eye -fell abashed, and did not rise again till he had finished speaking. None -noticed it, but Annabel; for all the party were engaged in gay -congratulations, and, they recovering themselves immediately, nothing -more passed that could create surmise—but she did _note_ it, and her -heart sank for a moment; and all that evening she was unusually grave -and silent; and had not her usual demeanor been so exceedingly calm and -subdued, her strange dejection must have been seen and wondered at by -her assembled kinsfolk. - - * * * * * - - - - - A DIRGE. - - - BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. - - - Poet! lonely is thy bed, - And the turf is overhead— - Cold earth is thy cover; - But thy heart hath found release, - And it slumbers full of peace - ’Neath the rustle of green trees - And the warm hum of the bees, - ’Mid the drowsy clover; - Through thy chamber, still as death, - A smooth gurgle wandereth, - As the blue stream murmureth - To the blue sky over. - - Three paces from the silver strand, - Gently in the fine, white sand, - With a lily in thy hand, - Pale as snow, they laid thee; - In no coarse earth wast thou hid, - And no gloomy coffin-lid - Darkly overweighed thee. - Silently as snow-flakes drift, - The smooth sand did sift and sift - O’er the bed they made thee; - All sweet birds did come and sing - At thy sunny burying— - Choristers unbidden, - And, beloved of sun and dew. - Meek forget-me-nots upgrew - Where thine eyes so large and blue - ’Neath the turf were hidden. - - Where thy stainless clay doth lie, - Blue and open is the sky, - And the white clouds wander by, - Dreams of summer silently - Darkening the river; - Thou hearest the clear water run, - And the ripples every one, - Scattering the golden sun, - Through thy silence quiver; - Vines trail down upon the stream, - Into its smooth and glassy dream - A green stillness spreading, - And the shiner, perch and bream - Through the shadowed waters gleam - ’Gainst the current heading. - - White as snow, thy winding sheet - Shelters thee from head to feet, - Save thy pale face only; - Thy face is turned toward the skies, - The lids lie meekly o’er thine eyes, - And the low-voiced pine-tree sighs - O’er thy bed so lonely. - All thy life thou lov’dst its shade: - Underneath it thou art laid, - In an endless shelter; - Thou hearest it forever sigh - As the wind’s vague longings die - In its branches dim and high— - Thou hear’st the waters gliding by - Slumberously welter. - - Thou wast full of love and truth, - Of forgivingness and ruth— - Thy great heart with hope and youth - Tided to o’erflowing. - Thou didst dwell in mysteries, - And there lingered on thine eyes - Shadows of serener skies, - Awfully wild memories, - That were like foreknowing; - Through the earth thou would’st have gone, - Lighted from within alone, - Seeds from flowers in Heaven grown - With a free hand sowing. - - Thou didst remember well and long - Some fragments of thine angel-song, - And strive, through want and wo and wrong - To win the world unto it; - Thy sin it was to see and hear - Beyond To-day’s dim hemisphere— - Beyond all mists of hope and fear, - Into a life more true and clear, - And dearly thou didst rue it; - Light of the new world thou hadst won, - O’er flooded by a purer sun— - Slowly Fate’s ship came drifting on, - And through the dark, save thou, not one - Caught of the land a token. - Thou stood’st upon the farthest prow, - Something within thy soul said “Now!” - And leaping forth with eager brow, - Thou fell’st on shore heart-broken. - - Long time thy brethren stood in fear; - Only the breakers far and near, - White with their anger, they could hear; - The sounds of land, which thy quick ear - Caught long ago, they heard not. - And, when at last they reached the strand, - They found thee lying on the sand - With some wild flowers in thy hand, - But thy cold bosom stirred not; - They listened, but they heard no sound - Save from the glad life all around - A low, contented murmur. - The long grass flowed adown the hill, - A hum rose from a hidden rill, - But thy glad heart, that knew no ill - But too much love, lay dead and still— - The only thing that sent a chill - Into the heart of summer. - - Thou didst not seek the poet’s wreath - But too soon didst win it; - Without ’twas green, but underneath - Were scorn and loneliness and death, - Gnawing the brain with burning teeth, - And making mock within it. - Thou, who wast full of nobleness, - Whose very life-blood ’twas to bless, - Whose soul’s one law was giving, - Must bandy words with wickedness, - Haggle with hunger and distress, - To win that death which worldliness - Calls bitterly a living. - - “Thou sow’st no gold, and shall not reap!” - Muttered earth, turning in her sleep; - “Come home to the Eternal Deep!” - Murmured a voice, and a wide sweep - Of wings through thy soul’s hush did creep, - As of thy doom o’erflying; - It seem’d that thy strong heart would leap - Out of thy breast, and thou didst weep, - But not with fear of dying; - Men could not fathom thy deep fears, - They could not understand thy tears, - The hoarded agony of years - Of bitter self-denying. - So once, when high above the spheres - Thy spirit sought its starry peers, - It came not back to face the jeers - Of brothers who denied it; - Star-crowned, thou dost possess the deeps - Of God, and thy white body sleeps - Where the lone pine forever keeps - Patient watch beside it. - - Poet! underneath the turf, - Soft thou sleepest, free from morrow, - Thou hast struggled through the surf - Of wild thoughts and want and sorrow. - Now, beneath the moaning pine, - Full of rest, thy body lieth, - While far up in clear sunshine, - Underneath a sky divine, - Her loosed wings thy spirit trieth; - Oft she strove to spread them here, - But they were too white and clear - For our dingy atmosphere. - - Thy body findeth ample room - In its still and grassy tomb - By the silent river; - But thy spirit found the earth - Narrow for the mighty birth - Which it dreamed of ever; - Thou wast guilty of a rhyme - Learned in a benigner clime, - And of that more grievous crime, - An ideal too sublime - For the low-hung sky of Time. - - The calm spot where thy body lies - Gladdens thy soul in Paradise, - It is so still and holy; - Thy body sleeps serenely there, - And well for it thy soul may care, - It was so beautiful and fair, - Lily white so wholly. - - From so pure and sweet a frame - Thy spirit parted as it came, - Gentle as a maiden; - Now it lieth full of rest— - Sods are lighter on its breast - Than the great, prophetic guest - Wherewith it was laden. - - * * * * * - - - - - SONNET TO MY MOTHER. - - - BY T. HOLLEY CHIVERS, M. D. - - - Before mine eyes had seen the light of day, - Or that my soul had come from Heaven’s great King— - A harmless, tiny, helpless little thing— - You loved me!—While my tender being lay - In the soft rose-leaves of your heart at rest, - Like some lone bird within its downy nest, - Beneath the concave of its mother’s wing, - Unborn—your soul came in my heart to dwell, - Like perfume in the flower, each part to bring, - As warmth unto the young bird in its shell, - And built me up to what I was to be, - A semblance of thyself. Thus, being cast - In thy heart’s mould, I grew up like to thee, - And lost in thee my first friend with my last! - - * * * * * - - - - - BOSTON RAMBLINGS. - - - BY MISS LESLIE. - - - PART THE FIRST. - -Perhaps there is no place in America where the people continued to cling -so long, and so fondly, to the relics and traditions of the olden time, -as in Boston—their first era being that of the early settlers, their -second that of the revolution. At the commencement of my acquaintance -with Boston and Bostonians, I was particularly struck with the -prevalence of this feeling, having found so little of it in my native -city, Philadelphia. Yet I was sorry to hear from my eastern friends, -that comparatively it was fast subsiding, and that a fancy for modern -improvements (blended with the powerful incentive of pecuniary interest) -was rapidly superseding that veneration so long cherished for the places -and things connected with the history of their “ancient and honorable -town,” and the founders of their country’s freedom. On my second visit -to Boston I missed much that on my first I had found still undesecrated. -On my third, but few vestiges remained of the poetry, the romance, and -the quaintness that, with regard to external objects, had so interested -and amused me in the year 1832. I looked in vain for the “old familiar -faces” of certain antiquated and, perhaps, unsightly structures that I -had delighted to contemplate as the time-honored habitations of men with -undying names. They were gone, and new and more profitable buildings -erected on their site. In many of these instances “I could have better -spared a better house.” - -Fortunately the charter of the city specifies that Faneuil Hall is never -to be sold, nor can the ground on which it stands be appropriated to any -other purpose. Except that the market-place in the lower story is now -occupied by shops, the whole edifice still remains nearly as it was when -the walls of its chief apartment resounded with the acclamations of the -people who discussed, at their town meetings, those principles that led -to their self-emancipation from the sway of Britain. Acclamations -elicited by the bold and overpowering eloquence of James Otis, the -enthusiastic outbreakings of the impetuous spirit of Warren, the pure -and self-sacrificing patriotism of Quincy, and the calm but energetic -plain sense of Samuel Adams, backed by the generous liberality of that -wealthy and noble-minded merchant whose name, as president of the first -Congress, leads on the glorious array of signatures appended to the -Declaration of Independence. Did no one think of preserving the pen with -which those names were written?—the sacred quill - - “That wing’d the arrow, sure as fate, - Which ascertain’d the rights of man.” - -The full-length portrait of Peter Faneuil stands at the upper end of the -hall, looking like its guardian spirit. It is a fine copy of a small -original that was painted in his lifetime. In regarding the likeness of -a person of note (provided always that the painter is a good artist) you -can generally judge of its verisimilitude, by its representing the -features of the mind in conjunction with those of the face. If a well -painted portrait has no particular expression, you may safely conclude -that the sitter had no particular character. When, at the first glance -of a picture, you are struck with the conviction that the original -_must_ have looked exactly so, it is because you at once perceive his -mind in his face. Who that has ever seen it, while it hung so long in -the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, does not recollect Berthon’s -admirable and life-like portrait of Buonaparte in the first year of that -consulate. Every beholder was struck with an irresistible conviction of -its perfect and unimpeachable fidelity of character. There, in his gold -embroidered blue coat, his tri-colored sash, and his buff-leather -gauntlets, was the pale, thin, almost cadaverous young soldier, just -returned from the unwholesome regions of the Nile; with his dark, -uncared-for hair shading his thoughtful brow, and his deep-set, intense -eyes, that looked as if they could search into the soul of every man -they saw. So self-evident was the truth of this picture, that it was -unnecessary to be aware of its exact accordance with all the -descriptions given at that time of the republican general, who had just -made himself the chief magistrate of the French people, and was called -only Buonaparte. A few years afterward, when “the hero had sunk into the -king,” and was termed Napoleon, and when, in becoming more handsome, his -face lost much of its original expression, this picture was equally -valuable, as showing how he had looked in the early part of his wondrous -career. - -Another picture which we feel at once to be a most faithful -representation, is Greuze’s portrait of Franklin. It was painted by that -excellent artist when the venerable printer, philosopher, author, -statesman (what shall we call him) was living in Paris. The dress is a -coat and waistcoat of dark reddish silk, trimmed with brown fur. The -head is very bald at the top, and he wears his gray locks plain and -unpowdered. He has that noble expanse of forehead which is almost always -found in persons of extraordinary intellect. His eye is indicative of -strong sense and benevolence, enlivened with a keen relish for humor. -His whole countenance exhibits that union of genius and common sense, -shrewdness and kindness, which formed his character. My father had once -in his possession (but lost it by lending) a fine French engraving taken -from this very portrait, and printed in colors. He had known Dr. -Franklin intimately, and he considered it the most admirable likeness he -had ever seen—in fact the very man. - -To return to Mr. Faneuil—_his_ portrait also is highly characteristic. -No one can look at this picture of a tall, dignified gentleman, in a -suit of crimson velvet and gold, a long lace cravat, and a powdered wig, -according to the patrician costume of his time, and can view his fine -open countenance, without believing the whole to be a correct -portraiture of the opulent and public spirited merchant who, while he -was yet living, gave its first market-place, with a hall for the -accommodation of public meetings, to the town that had afforded an -asylum to his Huguenot ancestor. The remains of Peter Faneuil, who died -suddenly in 1743, are interred amid the green shades of the Granary -Burying Ground, so called from the town granary having been in its -immediate vicinity. This cemetery is close to the Tremont Hotel, and in -view of another “ancient place of graves,” belonging to the King’s -Chapel, which was founded in 1688, and, in early times, numbered among -its congregation the largest portion of the Boston aristocracy; and many -of their descendants still worship there. It is built of light brown -stone, and is frequently called the Stone Chapel. - -The length, thickness, and luxuriance of the grass, (which appears to -require perpetual mowing,) and the closeness of the burial mounds, which -seem almost piled upon each other, make it somewhat difficult to explore -the monumental memorials of the old Boston families, whose first -progenitors are slumbering beneath. A large number of these tombs are -sculptured with armorial bearings, as an evidence that their mouldering -occupants belonged, in their fatherland, to “gentle blood.” Of the -tomb-stones dated after the revolution, I saw few that bore any -indications of “the boast of heraldry, the pomp of power.” The founder -of Boston, John Winthrop, is interred in the northwest corner of this -cemetery, with his daughter, Grace Sears, (from whom the present Sears -family is descended,) and his son, Waitstill Winthrop. The mansion of -Governor Winthrop was a large two-story frame house, surrounded by a -garden, and shaded with aboriginal trees that had been left standing for -the purpose. Its location was near the old South Church, just below -School street. Its site is now covered with stores; the block of -buildings being termed South Row. I have seen an old portrait of this -chief of the Boston colonists. It represents him as a tall, thin, -dark-complexioned man, with an oval face, regular features, and a very -serious countenance. He is habited in “a sad colored suit,” with a white -lawn ruff round his neck, and a black cap on his head. In this burial -ground Cooper has placed the vault of the Lechmere family, at the -entrance of which the mother of Job Pray was found dead; and from the -gallery of the stone chapel the half maniac father of Lionel Lincoln -interrupted the marriage of his son with Cecil Dynevor, as they stood at -the altar. Though reason may reject the interesting associations that -emanate from fiction, feeling and fancy always unconsciously adopt them. -It is this which conducts so many travellers to the shores of Loch -Katrine, and sends them in a boat to the island of Ellen Douglas, though -well aware that the damsel of the lake never in reality existed. I knew -a gentleman who traversed the wilds of Connaught to visit the sea-beaten -castle of Inismore, because it had been the fancied abode of Glorvina, -the Wild Irish Girl, another charming creation of genius. And few will -wonder at his doing so, who are familiar with the work that caused the -flood-tide of Miss Owenson’s fortune, and who have, of course, read and -re-read that beautiful letter in which Horatio describes his first -acquaintance with the castle and its inmates. - -I was yet a stranger in Boston, when a few days after my arrival I -accompanied a lady and gentleman who were residents in that city, (and -excellent _ciceroni_) on an exploring walk into what is called the North -End. This is a very old part of the town, extending northerly from Court -street to Lynn street, and bounded on its eastern side by the waters of -the harbor, and on the west by those of the estuary denominated Charles -River. Its extreme point is immediately opposite to Bunker Hill. As it -did not modernize as fast as the other sections of Boston, and as its -old buildings were longer in getting demolished or furbished up, the -_habitans_ of the North End lay under the imputation of being an old -fashioned people, sadly deficient in the organ of go-a-headness, and -pitifully submitting to creep on all fours, while the rest of the -community were making unto themselves wings. There was even a scandalous -story circulated of one of their pastors, (a good old gentleman, whose -nasal elocution had not improved by age,) uttering in his prayer the -words, “Have mercy upon us miserable offenders,” in a manner that -sounded very much like, “Have mercy upon us miserable North-enders.” - -To give me an idea of the habitations of the early Bostonians, I was -purposely taken through some of the oldest and crookedest streets; -several of which had pavements so narrow that we had to break rank and -to proceed Indian file; for when we attempted to walk abreast and the -wall was politely ceded to me, the other lady took the curb-stone, and -the gentleman the gutter. Be it known, however, that a Boston gutter is -merely a minor ravine, edged with wild flowers; and not a reservoir of -liquid mud or a conduit for dirty water; all the conduits in that city -being sub-terraneous, and entirely out of sight. - -We saw very old houses, some of time-discolored brick, and some of wood -in many instances unpainted, and therefore nearly black; in a few, the -second story projected far over the first. Many of the ancient frame -habitations were very large, and must have been built by people “that -were well to do in the world.” In some, the clap-boards were -ornamentally scolloped; and in many, the window frames instead of being -inserted in the wall, were put on outside, and looked as if ready to -burst forth upon us. There were primitive porches with seats in them, -sheltered by moss-grown pent-houses, some of which would have furnished -a tolerable crop of that roof-loving plant the house-leek. There were -wooden balconies, with close heavy balustrades, of the pattern that -looks like a range of innumerable narrow jugs. In some houses, the -balconies were gone, but the door-windows belonging to them, were still -there all the same; and as they now opened upon nothing, they looked -most dangerous, especially for children or somnambulists to walk out at. -There were street-doors cut horizontally in half, with steps descending -inside instead of ascending outside. Many of the houses that stood alone -had no front entrance, but ingress and egress were obtained through a -small unpretending door in the side. This seemed to be a good plan, when -the front was facing the chill blasts of the northeast. It is very -disagreeable to have your street door blown open by the violence of the -wind. - -In an early stage of “our winding way,” we came to the junction of Union -and Marshall streets, and there I saw a large square block of dark brown -stone, on one side of which was painted in white letters the words -“Boston Stone.” Supposing it to be one of the landmarks of the city, and -something memorable, I seated myself for a few moments upon it. I was -told by one of my companions, that this stone had been an object of -great controversy among certain antiquaries of the city. In newspapers a -century old there were advertisements of shopkeepers and mechanics, who, -in giving their locations, made assurance doubly sure, by stating that -they lived near the Boston Stone. Houses were announced for sale or hire -in the neighborhood of the Boston Stone. Street-fights and dreadful -accidents happened not far from the Boston Stone. What then was the -Boston Stone? How came it there, and for what purpose? There was no -mention of it in history. Patriotic picturesque people thought it was -the foundation-stone of a flag staff or a beacon-mast; and it is certain -that the top or upper surface of the block exhibited a slight circular -cavity, evidently made on purpose for something: though practical people -contended that the hollow was not deep enough to hold anything. I -cherished for two or three months the persuasion that the Boston Stone -was either a remarkable relic connected with great events, or else that -it had been placed there when the peninsula was first laid out for a -town, as a mark to designate where some place left off, and another -place began; or perhaps to denote the very centre of the settlement. But -“the shadows, clouds and darkness” that rested upon all my conjectures, -were very prosaically dispelled just before my departure from Boston, by -a most unexciting account obtained through the medium of a grandson of -“the oldest inhabitant” of that neighborhood. The real solution of the -mystery was so very natural, that none but very commonplace people would -believe it. It simply implied that a certain apothecary of the olden -time being in want of a very large mortar, and unable to obtain one -ready made, procured this block of stone and set his boys to hollowing -it out for the purpose. They made a beginning, but soon found that the -stone was too hard and the labor too great; and having taken a spite at -the obdurate block, they shoved it out of doors and left it on the -pavement in front of the shop. From hence no one took the trouble to -remove it, and finding that the neighbors began to date from its -vicinity, the apothecary’s boys made it more _distingué_ by inscribing -it with the title of the Boston Stone—How a plain tale will put us -down. - -Shortly after quitting the Boston Stone, we came to a house at the -corner of Union and Hanover streets, which was shown to me as the one in -which Dr. Franklin was born. It is of two stories, and built partly of -brick and partly of wood. The lower part was now occupied by a little -shop, with a blue bell as a sign. Adjoining it in Hanover street was a -dark low grocery store into which you descended by a step. It looked -exactly as if it had been the soap and candle shop of Josiah Franklin. -It was easy to imagine poor Ben. serving customers behind the old -counter; cutting candle-wicks into lengths; and snatching, at intervals, -a few minutes to read a little in hidden books when nobody saw him. An -aged and excellent woman, who had passed her life in this part of the -town, told me at a subsequent period, that she well remembered, when a -little girl, seeing the old corner house (the dwelling part of the -establishment,) pulled down, and the present one erected in its stead. -The original corner house had always been regarded as one of the -habitations of the Franklin family, and the adjoining old one-story shop -(now the grocery) as theirs. It seems to me highly probable that the -elder Franklin _did_ live in Milk street (as is generally believed) at -the time his son Benjamin was born, and that the infant _was_ wrapped in -a blanket and carried over the way to the old South Church to be -christened. His baptism is noted in the register of the church, and the -date is the same as that of his birth. This speedy performance of the -rite of baptism was in accordance with the custom of the times. The Milk -street house was a small two-story frame building, and was accidentally -burnt in 1810. On the spot has since been erected a three-story -furniture warehouse. It is but a few steps from the corner of Washington -street, opposite to the Old South. There was an old printing office just -back of it; and it is said that Josiah Franklin relinquished the Milk -street house to his son James the printer, and removed with his wife and -the younger children to Hanover street, and there carried on the soap -and candle business, in the dark low one-story shop that is still there: -living in the adjoining house at the corner. That the parents of -Franklin were residents of the North End at the time of their death -there can be no doubt, as they were interred in the North Burying Ground -on Copp’s Hill. Many years ago their remains were exhumed, and -transferred to the Granary burial place in Tremont street, at the -expense of several gentlemen of Boston. A neat monument of granite has -been erected upon the mound that covers their ashes; and in the front of -the little obelisk is inserted a slab of slate, a part of the original -grave stone on Copp’s Hill. This humble medallion bears the names of -Josiah Franklin and Abiah his wife, with the date of their deaths. I -regarded this monument with much interest, as reflecting back upon his -lowly but respectable parents a portion of the honor so universally -accorded to the great man their son. - -Having diverged from Hanover street to the North Square, we soon found -ourselves in front of two very old and remarkable houses; one of which -had been the residence of Governor Hutchinson, and the other of William -Clarke, a wealthy merchant of the early part of the last century. Both -were large old-fashioned buildings, their sides and chimneys overgrown -with the scarlet-flowering creeper-vine. Above the front-door of the -Hutchinson House, was the wooden balcony from which “Stingy Tommy,” as -he was disrespectfully called by the populace, sometimes addressed the -restive and stiffnecked people whom it was his hard lot to govern; and -by whom he was so much disliked, that whether he did well or ill they -were resolved not to be pleased. Perhaps the primary cause of his -unpopularity may be traced to his parsimonious habits, or at least to -the stories circulated of them. No man that is noted for a mean and -avaricious disposition ever was or ever can be liked, either in private -life or in a public capacity. However he may attempt to disguise it by -an occasional act of liberality, the sordid spirit that is in him will -be always creeping out, and exciting disgust and contempt. Yet (as is -often the case with such persons) Governor Hutchinson spent much upon -show and finery. At the time his house was sacked by the mob (when he -narrowly escaped with his life) from this balcony were thrown the -splendid brocade gowns and petticoats of his wife, with her laced caps, -and numerous ornamental articles of dress and furniture. A bonfire was -made of them in the street before the door. - -The gentleman who piloted us on this walk through the North End was -acquainted with the occupants of the Clarke House, (much the most -curious of the two,) therefore we stopped in, and were courteously shown -its principal apartments. It was built by Mr. Clarke, in the time of -Queen Anne, and was after him occupied by Sir Henry Frankland, and -called, for awhile, the Frankland House. It had a large, wide entrance -hall, with a parlor on each side. All the ceilings were much too low for -the taste of the present times; and a low ceiling always causes a room -to look smaller than it really is. The walls of the left hand parlor had -been covered with rich tapestry, over which a modern wall-paper was now -pasted. A small portion of the papering being peeled off, we saw part of -the tapestry beneath. But the other parlor had been evidently the room -of state. The floor required no carpet, for it was _parqueté_ all over -with small square pieces of American wood, comprising, as we were told, -fifty different sorts or specimens; the light-colored pieces forming the -ground-work, and the dark ones the figure or pattern. At the first -glance it resembled an oil-cloth, or rather (to adopt a very homely -comparison) it was not unlike the block-work bed quilts that our -grandmothers took such pains in making. On this floor there was a border -all round: and in the centre the marquetry represented a large swan with -a crown on its head, and a chain round its breast. This was the -cognizance of the Clarke family. Those conversant with heraldry know -that there is always a reason, either historical, traditionary, or -allegorical, for the introduction of certain strange symbols into a coat -of arms. We were told that this tesselated floor had cost fifteen -hundred dollars. The walls of the room were divided into compartments, -edged with rich gilded mouldings; each containing an oil painting, -tolerably good, but very vividly colored. The subjects were beyond our -comprehension. We did not know whether they were what the -drawing-masters call figure-pieces, or whether they were landscapes with -figures in them. - -In the room over this parlor the chimney-piece was of marble, decorated -with a rich and admirably executed carving of flowers, fruit, and Indian -corn, beautifully arranged, and descending down the sides as far as the -hearth. Above the mantle-piece was a very _mediocre_ picture, in a -narrow gilt frame, inserted in the wall. This painting represented a boy -and girl, evidently brother and sister. The boy is presenting something -that is either a peach or an apple to the girl, who is dressed in a -ruffled night-gown and sitting on the side of a couch. The young -gentleman is standing upright, habited in a rich suit of blue and gold, -ornamented at the wrist with deep cuffs of white lace. On his legs are -white silk stockings, ascending above his knees, and buskins laced with -gold cord. Neither of the children are looking towards each other, but -both are staring out of the picture, and fixing their very large eyes on -the spectator. - -We were told that Cooper had visited this house previous to commencing -Lionel Lincoln. Changing its location to Tremont street, he has -described it as the mansion of Mrs. Lechmere. - -Few of our American cities have retained their old family domiciles as -long as the town of Boston, and they attest the opulence of many of its -early inhabitants. However, they are fast disappearing; the large -portions of ground that they occupy, surrounded with their gardens and -lofty trees, having become too valuable to escape being converted to -more profitable purposes. When I first knew Boston, the spacious domain -of Gardiner Green extended along Pemberton Hill, far back of Somerset -street, including garden, shrubbery, and pasture ground, from whence I -was sometimes disturbed at night by the tinkling of a cow-bell, which -seemed to me strange in the very heart of a large city. Near it, on -Tremont street, stood, with its pilasters and tall windows, the mansion -of Jonathan Philips, looking like the residence of an old English -nobleman. It had a smooth green lawn in front, and an elevated terrace, -which was ascended by a lofty flight of stone steps, bordered with vases -of exotics; and among its fine shade trees was the beautiful mountain -ash, with its clusters of light scarlet berries. It was built, and -originally occupied, by Mr. Faneuil, uncle to the gentleman who bestowed -the town-hall on Boston. - -Next to the house of Governor Philips stood the residence of the -talented and unfortunate Sir Harry Vane, who had come over with the -early settlers, and afterwards been appointed governor of the province -of Massachusetts. He returned to England during the protectorate of -Cromwell; and after the restoration, was committed to the Tower for the -republican principles he persisted in advocating. Charles the Second had -him tried on a charge of high treason, and he was beheaded on Tower -Hill—behaving on the scaffold with the utmost composure and dignity. He -attempted to address the people, but the drums and trumpets were sounded -to drown his voice. This house of Sir Harry Vane was near two centuries -old. It was a large brick building, with a garden at the side. The -antique back casements still retained the small diamond-shaped panes set -in lead; but, when I saw the house, its front windows looked as if they -had been modernized about a century ago. - -On my last visit to Boston, about two years since, I found that all the -above-mentioned old mansions had been demolished, and their places -filled with rows of modern structures suited to the utilitarian spirit -of the times. The old Coolidge house, in Bowdoin Square, was still -standing in 1840. It also is a large brick building, the bricks much -darkened and discolored with time and damp. The house is almost hidden -by enormous old trees, which cast their impervious branches so close to -the windows that I wondered how its inhabitants could possibly see to do -anything, unless they burned lamps or candles all day long. The dense -gloominess of shade that environed this mansion, reminded me of the -commencement of one of Moore’s earliest poems. - - “The darkness that hung upon Willemberg’s walls - Has long been remember’d with grief and dismay, - For years not a sunbeam had play’d in its halls, - And it seem’d as shut out from the regions of day.” - - * * * * * - - - - - AUTUMN. - - - BY ALBERT PIKE. - - - It is the evening of a pleasant day - In these old woods. The sun profusely flings - His flood of light through every narrow way - That winds around the trees. His spirit clings, - In orange mist, around the snowy wings - Of many a patient cloud, that now, since noon, - Over the western mountains idly swings, - Waiting when night shall come—alas! too soon! - To veil the timid blushes of the virgin moon. - - The trees with crimson robes are garmented: - Clad with frail brilliants by the Autumn frost, - For the young leaves, that Spring with beauty fed, - Their greenness and luxuriance have lost, - Gaining new beauty at too dear a cost: - Unnatural beauty, that precedes decay. - Too soon, upon the harsh winds wildly toss’d, - Leaving the naked trees ghost-like and gray, - These leaf-flocks, like vain hopes, will vanish all away. - - How does your sad, yet calm and cheerful guise, - Ye melancholy Autumn solitudes, - With my own feelings softly harmonize! - For though I love the hoar and solemn woods, - In all their manifold and changing moods— - In gloom and sunshine, storm and quietness, - By day, or when the dim night on them broods; - Their lightsome glades, their darker mysteries— - Yet the sad heart loves a still, calm scene like this. - - Soon will the year like this sweet day have fled, - With swift feet speeding noiselessly and fast, - As a ghost speeds, to join its kindred dead, - In the dark realms of that mysterious vast, - The shadow-peopled and eternal past. - Life’s current deathward flows—a rapid stream, - With clouds and shadows often overcast, - Yet lighted often by a sunny beam - Of happiness, like sweet thoughts in a gloomy dream. - - Like the brown leaves, our lov’d ones drop away, - One after one, into the dark abyss - Of Sleep and Death. The frosts of Trouble lay - Their withering touch upon our happiness, - Even as the hoar frosts of the Autumn kiss - The green lip from the unoffending leaves; - And Love and Hope and Youth’s warm cheerfulness - Flit from the heart—Age lonely sits and grieves, - Or sadly smiles, while Youth fondly his day-dream weaves. - - Day draweth to its close—night cometh on— - Death standeth dimly on Life’s western verge, - Casting his shadow o’er the startled sun— - A deeper gloom, that seemeth to emerge - From gloomy night—and bending forth, to urge - His eyeless steeds, fleet as the tempest’s blast: - And hear we not eternity’s dim surge - Thundering anear? At the dread sound aghast, - Time hurries headlong, pale with frantic terror, past. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE BROTHER AND SISTER. - - - BY MRS. EMMA C. EMBURY. - - -In the days of my early childhood, the little village of ——, separated -by green hills and broad fields from the busy city, formed one of the -pleasantest summer resorts of the wealthy inhabitants of New York. Many -a stately villa was reared upon the banks of the Hudson, many a neat -country-house sheltered itself within the winding lanes which traversed -the village, for its vicinity to the great mart offered irresistible -temptations to those whose hands were chained to the galley of commerce, -while their hearts were still wedded to nature. One of the fairest -pictures in the “chambers of mine imagery” is that of a large -old-fashioned mansion, seated in the midst of a garden “too trim for -nature, and too rude for art,” where a long avenue of cherry trees threw -a pleasant shade across the lawn, while a rude swing, suspended between -two of these sturdy old denizens of the soil, afforded a cool and -delightful lounge to the studious and imaginative child. My earliest -days were passed in that pleasant home, and my earliest lessons of -wisdom learned in the school of that pretty village; therefore it is -that my thoughts love to linger around those scenes, and therefore it is -that I have fancied others might find something of interest in _one_ of -my reminiscences. - -My shortest road to school led through a narrow green lane, rarely -traversed by the gay vehicles which dashed along the main avenues of the -village, and I was delighted to find such a quiet and shady path, where -the turf was always so soft, and the air so fragrant with the breath of -flowers. But I was soon induced to take a wide circuit rather than pass -the solitary cottage which stood within that secluded lane. It was a low -one-story building, with a broad projecting roof, throwing the narrow -windows far into shade; and, as if to add to its sombre appearance, some -former occupant had painted the house a dull lead color, which, by the -frequent washings of the rain, and powderings of wayside dust, had -assumed the grayish tint that gave to the cottage its distinctive -appellation. Every village has its haunted house, and an evil name had -early fallen on the “gray cottage.” Behind it, and so near that three -paces from the little porch would lead a person to its very brink, was a -deep and rocky ravine, forming a basin for the waters of a rapid brook, -which, after flowing in sunshine and music through half the village, -fell with sullen plash into the gloom of this wild dell. Some dark and -half forgotten tale of guilt had added the horrors of superstition to -the natural melancholy of the place, and few of the humbler inhabitants -of the neighborhood would have been willing to stand after sunset on the -brink of the Robbers’ Glen. It was said that the house, in former times, -had been the abode of wicked and desperate men. The earth of the cellar -beneath it was heaved up with hillocks like graves, and supernatural -sounds had been heard to issue from these mysterious mounds. For many -years it had stood untenanted, and the boys of the village often amused -themselves by pelting it, at a cautious distance, with stones. - -But a “haunted house” had great attractions for the mind of one who -revelled in fancies of the wild and wonderful. I was exceedingly anxious -to behold the interior of the lonely cottage, which had now become -invested with so much dignity in my eyes, and finding a few companions -of like spirit, we determined to visit it. We accordingly fixed upon a -certain Saturday afternoon, and determined to find some means of ingress -into the barred and bolted cottage. A gay and light-hearted troop were -we, as we scrambled over rail fences, gathered our aprons full of wild -flowers, or chased the bright butterflies which mocked our glad pursuit. -But as we entered the lane our merry shouts of laughter ceased, each -looked earnestly in the face of the other, as if, for the first time, -sensible of the mysterious importance of our undertaking, and, but for -shame, several would have retraced their steps. I believe not one of us -was insensible to the gloom which seemed suddenly to fall upon us, and -as we looked towards the cottage, standing in the deep shadow of a -spreading elm, while all else within the lane was glistening in the -slant beams of the declining sun, we almost feared to approach the -darkened spot. Cautiously advancing, however, and peeping through the -rusted keyhole, we found our curiosity entirely baffled by the total -darkness of the interior. It was proposed that we should climb the fence -and attempt an entrance from the rear of the building, where we should -be less likely to be interrupted or discovered by wayfarers, and after a -brief consultation, held in hurried whispers, we resolved upon the -daring feat. Silently treading the margin of the Robbers’ Glen, we -reached the back porch of the little cottage, and beheld one of the -window shutters open. We looked into the apartment but saw nothing save -the naked walls of the dilapidated room, and as one of our party turned -the latch of the door, to our great astonishment, it yielded to the -touch and allowed us free entrance. Half frightened at our own success, -we stood huddled together in the narrow passage, hesitating to advance, -when suddenly a tall woman, clad in the deepest black, and displaying a -countenance as white and (as it seemed to our excited fancies) as -ghostly and rigid as a sheeted corpse, stood in the midst of us. How we -ever got out of the house I cannot tell. I remember our desperate speed, -the wild and headlong haste with which we threw ourselves over the low -fence, and the total exhaustion we felt when once fairly escaped from -that frightful place. As we lay on the grass, to rest before returning -home, each one told her own story of that terrible apparition. None had -heard a footstep when that fearful woman came among us; none had seen -her approach, and though the sound of our own buzzing voices, and the -fixed attention with which we were just then regarding the door of the -apartment, which we wished yet dreaded to enter, might easily account -for both these circumstances, yet we all came to the conclusion that we -had seen a ghost, or, at the least, a witch. - -On the following Sunday we were scarcely less alarmed, for, just as the -services were commencing, the same tall figure, arrayed in deep mourning -and veiled to her very feet, slowly proceeded up the aisle and took her -seat on the step of the altar. My blood ran cold as I looked upon her, -and when I afterwards heard that she had recently become the occupant of -the gray cottage, my dread of her supernatural powers gave place to a -belief that she was in some way or other mysteriously connected with the -guilty deeds of which that cottage had been the scene. I did not trouble -myself to remember that the events which had flung such horror around -the Robbers’ Glen must have occurred at least half a century previous, -and therefore could have little to do with a woman yet in the prime of -life. The curiosity which her presence excited was not confined to the -children of the village. Her tall stature, her sombre garb, her veiled -face, and her singular choice of a place of abode excited the -conjectures of many an older and wiser head. But whatever interest her -appearance had awakened, it was not destined to be satisfied. Those who, -led by curiosity or real kindness, sought to visit her, were repulsed -from the threshold; no one was allowed to enter her house; all prying -inquiries were silenced, either by stern reserve or bitter -vituperations; even the village pastor was refused admittance to her -solitude; and, after months and even years, as little was known of her -as on the day she first appeared. She lived entirely alone; once in each -week she was seen walking towards the city, and on Sunday she was -regularly to be found at the foot of the pulpit—but beyond this nothing -was to be discovered. Few, very few, had ever distinctly seen the face -whose paleness gleamed out from the folds of her thick veil, and, after -some time, the people found other objects of interest, while the -children carefully avoided all approach to the haunted cottage, and -could scarcely repress a shudder of horror as they heard the low rustle -of her dusky garments on each returning Sunday. - -Years passed on; circumstances occurred to remove me from the village, -and the various changes which the heart experiences between the period -of joyous childhood and earnest womanhood, had almost effaced from my -mind all recollection of the “black witch,” when I was unexpectedly and -rather strangely made acquainted with her true history. It was a tale of -ordinary trials and sorrows, such as might have befallen many others, -and yet there are peculiarities in the sufferings of every individual as -strongly marked as are the traits of character. There was no -supernatural interest in her story, but it invested her in my mind with -the dignity of unmerited sorrow, and it enables me to open for your -perusal, gentle reader, another of the many strange written pages of -human nature. - - * * * * * - -For more than twelve years Madeline Graham had been an only child, the -darling of her invalid mother, and the pride of her doting father, when -the birth of a brother opened a new channel for the affections of all -the family. During the earliest period of his infancy the child seemed -feebly struggling for existence, but he gradually acquired strength to -resist the frequent attacks of disease, and though he gave no promise of -robust health, his constitution seemed sufficiently invigorated to -warrant a hope of prolonged life. The most unwearied exertions, however, -were necessary, and his guidance over the very threshold of being was a -task of more difficulty than the lifelong care of a hardy and healthy -child. Yet the anxiety which his precarious state awakened, and the -constant attention which he required, seemed to endear him the more -closely to the little family. He became their idol, the object of their -incessant solicitude, and comfort, happiness, even life itself was -sacrificed to his welfare. Ere he had attained his third year, Mrs. -Graham, who had long been in declining health, sank beneath the fatigue -and anxiety she had endured, while, with her dying breath, she enjoined -upon Madeline the most devoted attention to her darling boy. Madeline -scarcely needed such admonition, for, from his very birth, her brother -had been the object of her passionate love; but such a charge, given at -such a solemn moment, sank deep into the heart of the young and -sensitive girl. Falling on her knees beside her mother, she uttered a -solemn vow that no earthly affection and no other duty should ever -induce her to place her brother’s interests secondary to her own. A -smile of grateful tenderness lit up the face of the dying woman, and her -last glance thanked Madeline for the self-sacrifice to which she had -thus unconsciously pledged herself. - -From that hour the young Alfred became his sister’s especial charge. -Young as she was, her father knew that he could trust her latent -strength of character, and when she took her brother, even as a child, -to her bosom, he felt assured that his boy would never need a mother’s -care. - -Madeline Graham was no common character. Though she had scarcely counted -her fifteenth summer, she had grown up tall and stately, with a face -almost severe in its fixed and classical beauty, while her manners, calm -almost to coldness, were scarcely such as are usually found connected -with youthful feeling and girlish simplicity. Educated solely by her -parents, Madeline had acquired some of the characteristic traits of -both. To her mother’s morbid sensibility and enthusiasm she united her -father’s reserve and fixedness of purpose. She possessed strong -passions, but an innate power of repressing them seemed born with them. -Her love for truth was unbounded; even the common courtesies of society -seemed to her but as so many fetters on the limbs of the goddess of her -idolatry, and, therefore, even in her girlhood, her manners had become -characterized by a sincerity almost amounting to _brusquerie_. Her -talents were of the highest order, and her habits of reflection, which -were singularly developed in one so young, enabled her to reap a rich -harvest of knowledge from her father’s careful culture. She was one to -be admired, and praised, and wondered at, but she was scarcely -calculated to awaken affection. The spontaneous gush of feeling, the -guileless frankness of a heart that knows no evil and dreads no danger, -the warm sympathy of a youthful nature, the sweet susceptibility which, -though dangerous to its possessor, is yet so winning a trait of girlish -character—all these attributes, which seem to belong to the spring-time -of life, even as the buds and blossoms are inseparably connected with -the renewed youth of the visible creation, were wanting to Madeline. - -But it was from the religious opinions of her parents that the deepest -tint of coloring was imparted to the mind of Madeline. Mrs. Graham, a -lineal descendant of one of the sternest and most intolerant of the -puritans, had early united herself to one of the strictest of strict -sects, and had been accustomed to practise a system of self-denial as -rigid, if not quite as visible, as the penances of cloistered austerity. -The impulses of innocent gaiety, the promptings of harmless vanity, the -wanderings of youthful fancy were regarded by her only as evidences of a -sinful nature, which ought to awaken remorse as keen as that which -visits the penitent bosom of deep-dyed guilt. In the enthusiasm of her -early zeal she seemed lifted above the weaknesses of humanity, and even -the gray-headed members of the Christian community looked upon her as a -chosen servant of the truth. But her excitement had been too great; the -hour of reaction came, and it was when lukewarmness and weariness had -taken full possession of her feelings for a season, that she first met -with her future husband. Ever in extremes, an earthly passion now -absorbed the heart which had consumed its energies in zeal without -knowledge, and she married Mr. Graham without allowing herself to look -upon the broad line of separation which lay between them. Had she ever -made religion a question she would have learned the fact; for if good -taste forbade him to obtrude his opinions upon others, yet love of truth -prevented him from seeking to conceal them. Mr. Graham was a skeptic. -The great truths of revealed religion were to him but as fables to amuse -the multitude; and while in the works of creation he recognised the hand -of a Deity, he read not in the hearts of men the necessity of a -Redeemer. Mrs. Graham was horror-stricken when she discovered that her -husband was not a Christian, and in proportion as the ardor of youthful -passion faded into the tender light of conjugal affection, the terrible -abyss which yawned between them became more painfully visible to her -sight. The attempt to change his opinions again awakened her slumbering -zeal, and with all the penitence of one who was conscious of having -fallen from a state of elevated piety, she endeavored to make amends for -her temporary alienation by renewed devotion. But her system of ascetic -severity was little calculated to make religion attractive to her -husband. The “beauty of holiness” was hidden beneath the sackcloth and -ashes with which her mistaken judgment endued it, and Mr. Graham learned -to look upon her piety as the _one defect_, rather than the _crowning -grace_, in his wife’s character. Her sincere affection, and a desire to -preserve domestic harmony, at length compelled her to give up all -attempts to change her husband’s opinions, and she was therefore doomed -to cherish a secret sorrow which wasted her very life away. The ascetic -devotion which seemed so unlovely to the husband, produced a very -different effect upon the imagination of Madeline. Accustomed to regard -her mother as the best of human beings, she early learned to reverence -and imitate her fervent zeal. Her reserve of character induced her to -conceal her impressions even from the mother who labored to deepen them, -and no one suspected the severe self-discipline which, even in -childhood, she practised in imitation of her parent’s example. Her -father, who, while despising Christianity, yet paid it the involuntary -homage of considering it a very proper safeguard for women and children, -did not attempt to interfere in her religious education. He contented -himself with cultivating the field of mind, and left her mother to sow -her moral nature with the tares of prejudice along with the seed of true -piety. - -Madeline had scarcely attained her twentieth year when a sudden and -violent illness deprived her of her father, and left her the sole -guardian of her young brother. Upon looking into Mr. Graham’s affairs, -it was found that his profession had only procured for him a comfortable -subsistence, and, as his income died with him, the orphans were almost -penniless. The small house which they had long occupied, together with -its furniture and a library of some value, were all that remained. To -convert these into money was Madeline’s first care, and her next step -was to invest the amount thus obtained in the name of her brother, as a -fund for his education and future subsistence. For herself she seemed to -have no anxieties, and with a degree of disinterestedness, as rare as it -was praiseworthy, she determined to derive her own maintenance from the -labor of her hands. With characteristic energy she made all her -arrangements without consulting any one, or asking the advice of her -father’s best friends. The bold self-reliance which formed her most -striking and least amiable trait was now fully developed, and she felt -no need of other aid than that of her own strong mind. She had a deep -design to work out in future—a darling scheme to mature—a hope, which -in her stern nature assumed the form of a determination to compass, and -all sacrifices seemed light which could aid her to a successful issue. -Need I add, that her brother was the object of all her future -aspirations. - -Alfred Graham had already given evidence of precocious genius which -seemed fully to justify Madeline’s ambition. Nature in his case had -displayed her usual compensating kindness, and since she had bestowed on -him a dwarfed and diminutive form, a delicate and fragile body, made -amends by giving him a countenance of almost feminine beauty, and a mind -filled with the most exquisite perceptions. He was born a poet. His -fervid feelings, his nervous temperament, his delicate sense of beauty -in the moral and physical world—even the very fragility of constitution -which shut him out from the rude conflicts of real life, and confined -him within the limits of the fairyland of reverie—all seemed to point -out his future vocation. Too young to frame in numbers the fancies of -his childish hours, he yet breathed into his sister’s ear the eloquent -words of pure and passionless enthusiasm, and Madeline’s heart thrilled -with high hopes of his future glory. But she did not suffer nature to -direct his course. Long ere the child had seriously commenced the work -of education, she had destined him to become an apostle of Christianity -to the benighted world of paganism. Imaginative, high minded, stern, and -self-sacrificing, Madeline was just such a woman as in the olden time -might have embroidered the cross upon the mantle of her best beloved -one, and sent him forth to fight the battles of the holy church. But the -missionary of modern days has a far more difficult and therefore far -nobler office to perform. Amid belted knights and men-at-arms to do -battle with myriads of the Paynim foe is a lighter task than that which -falls upon him, who goes forth alone and single handed to face the more -insidious foes of ignorance and sin amid the blinded and perverse -heathen. Yet such was the high and holy duty to which Madeline destined -her brother, while her own ambition was limited to the hope of being the -companion of his toils and his labors. She looked forward to the time -when they should go forth hand in hand into the howling wilderness of -superstition, with the gospel as a light to their feet and a lamp to -their path, while they scattered the blessings of truth among the -benighted idolaters of distant lands. - -As Alfred advanced in life he learned the full extent of his sister’s -sacrifices for his welfare. He saw her relinquishing all the -intellectual pleasures she had once enjoyed, and devoting herself day -and night to the humble labors of the needle. He noticed her attention -to his most trifling wishes, and he did not fail to observe that while -his dress was of the neatest and finest texture, and his food of the -delicate kind which best suited the capricious appetite of an invalid, -Madeline practised the strictest economy in all that affected only her -own individual comfort. Yet Alfred did not love Madeline with the entire -affection which could alone repay her devotedness. There was too much -awe, too much fear blended with his feelings towards her. Her strong -mind and stern integrity seemed ever ready to rebuke the vacillating -temper and morbid sensibility of the youth. Superior to temptations -which had no power over herself, she had little charity for the failings -of another; and the boyish errors, often but the earliest trial of -principles which the world will hereafter put to a far more severe -test—were regarded by her as heavy sins. Educated in the seclusion of -home, she could not imagine the dangers which beset a boy from his first -entrance into the miniature world of a large school. Instead of -rewarding with her approbation the first struggles of principle with -passion in the youthful heart, she seemed only shocked and mortified -that any conflict should have been necessary, and was more keenly -sensible to the weakness which had required defence, than to the -strength which had offered resistance. Such mistaken views of character -soon checked the flow of confidence between them. Alfred could not open -his whole heart to one who was incapable of comprehending all his -feelings, and though he never needed a mother’s care, he early learned -the want of a mother’s sympathy. - -Madeline had seen sufficient proofs of Alfred’s facile temper and -instability of purpose to dread his introduction into scenes of greater -temptation, and, vainly fancying that he would be safer any where than -in the busy city, she preferred that he should enter a distant college. -At the age of seventeen he was removed from his sister’s influence to -enter upon his new course of studies, and although at first truly -unhappy at this separation from his only relative, it was not long -before the absence of her keen eye and stern rebuke became a positive -relief to him. Hitherto his life had passed amid the sombre shades of -domestic life, and with all Madeline’s noble traits of character, she -lacked the tact, so truly feminine, which enables a woman to throw -sunshine around the humblest home. The cheerful song, the pleasant jest, -the merry voice, the bright smile, the buoyant step—all the lighter -graces without which a woman’s character, however elevated and noble, is -but as a Corinthian column without its capital, or as a rose without its -perfume—were wanting to the unbending nature of Madeline. The world was -to her a scene of probation and preparation, and to waste a thought upon -enlivening its grave duties seemed to her as idle as planting flowers -around a sepulchre. When therefore Alfred found himself amid a throng of -young men from every part of the country—some ambitious of renown, some -fond of study for its own sake, some utterly careless of present duties, -some slothful and indifferent to honor, but all equally alive to -pleasurable excitement and equally eager in the pursuit of amusement, he -felt as if he had suddenly been transported to a world of which he had -never dreamed. His susceptible temper rendered him an easy prey to the -lures of gay society. Intellectual enjoyments mingled their pure odors -with the fumes of the wine cup, and the refinements of elegant taste -served to veil the native deformity of vice, until, long before he had -learned the danger of his position, he was bound in the strong toils of -sensual indulgence. Full of intellect, and wonderfully acute in his -perceptions, he soon became distinguished for his genius, and the heart -of his sister was often gladdened by tidings of his success. But she -knew not that he was drinking from more turbid waters than those which -flow from the fountain of wisdom—she dreamed not that the offering -which she hoped to bring pure and unpolluted to the altar of Heaven was -already blemished and unworthy to be presented. - -Alfred Graham was not designed by nature to be a votary of evil. -Temptation had found him weak to resist, but conscience was still true -to her charge, and the youth was as free from habitual vice as he was -destitute of unsullied virtue. When the vacations brought him to his -quiet home, the better feelings of his nature were ever aroused; he -respected the virtue of his sister’s character, and when surrounded by -that pure atmosphere which envelopes real goodness, he forgot even to -harbor a sinful thought. But day by day the profession to which he was -destined became more repugnant to his feelings, and after deferring as -long as possible the announcement of his wishes, he at length summoned -courage to reveal the truth to his sister. The blow fell upon Madeline -with almost stunning violence. He had just left college crowned with -honors and flushed with success, and Madeline was exulting in the hope -of his future usefulness, when he revealed to her his change of purpose. -The first intimation of his unwillingness to devote himself to the -church, almost drove her to frenzy. All the violence of her secret -nature broke forth in the fearful threats of temporal and eternal -punishment which she predicted for such apostacy, and Alfred’s feeble -temper was actually crushed beneath the weight of her indignation. He -trembled at the storm which he had raised, and when, after days of -entreaty and expostulation, Madeline, the stern, proud Madeline, even -knelt at his feet, and implored the child of her affections to listen to -the voice of God, speaking by the lips of her who had ever been as a -mother to his heart, the weak youth yielded to her prayers and promised -what he well knew he could not conscientiously perform. His was not the -free-will offering of talents and time and health and strength in the -service of the Redeemer. He entered the sanctuary as one driven onward -by irresistible force, not as one drawn by the cords of love and piety. - -Time passed on and taught Alfred a lesson of deep hypocrisy. His timid -and feeble nature could neither resist the influence of evil nor brave -its consequences, and therefore it was that the fair face of the youth -became more and more characterized by sanctity in proportion as his -heart became less susceptible of its influences. Happy is it for mankind -that the eye rarely pierces beneath the veil which conceals the hideous -depravity of the heart. Who but would have shrunk from the delicate -beauty of Alfred’s gentle countenance—who but would have shuddered at -the contemplation of those clear blue eyes, that feminine complexion, -the delicate rose tint of his thin cheek, and the exceeding loveliness -of his chiselled and flexible lips, if the dark mass of evil thoughts -which lay beneath that fair seeming, could have been discerned. Yet -Alfred was far from being happy. Unstable as water, he had no power over -his own impulses, and remorse preyed upon him, even while he sought to -drown his senses in indulgence. Conscience was his perpetual tormentor, -and yet a constant course of sinning and repenting left him neither time -nor will to struggle effectually with his errors. - -But a still darker change came upon his character. His health, which had -several times required a suspension of his studies, began again to fail, -a short time before the period fixed upon for his ordination, and he -eagerly seized the opportunity of deferring the dreaded ordeal. The -physicians ordered perfect relaxation from all mental labors, and -unfortunately for his future peace, the listlessness of unwonted -idleness led him to examine a chest of old papers, the accumulated -records of many years, where he accidentally met with a catalogue of his -father’s library. Alfred was so young at the time of his father’s death -that he retained little recollection of him, and Madeline had carefully -kept him in ignorance of those skeptical opinions which had so grieved -both mother and daughter. It was with no little surprise, therefore, -that Alfred found the names of so great a number of infidel works among -his father’s books. He pondered long upon the subject, and at length -conjectured the truth. This excited his interest, and a vague curiosity, -awakened rather by a belief in his sister’s desire to conceal from him -his father’s opinions, led him secretly to procure the prohibited -volumes. Upon the feeble mind of one who was “blown about by every wind -of doctrine,” and who yearned after worldly pleasures while he shrunk -with unutterable disgust from religious duties, the subtleties of the -skeptics had a most fatal effect. He had never been well grounded in the -faith, and the doubts now suggested to his mind were exactly such things -as in his present state of feeling he would gladly have adopted as -truths. These six months of respite from theological studies were spent -in the careful perusal of all skeptical writings, and when Alfred -resumed his former pursuits the plague spot of infidelity had already -given evidence of the fatal disease which was spreading over his moral -nature. - -If my tale were designed only for the eye of the student of human -nature, I might dwell long upon the strange incongruity of feeling and -action, the wonderful contrariety between principle and practice, and -all the complicated workings of a wayward heart, which characterized the -deceptive course of the young student. With his usual timid hypocrisy he -concealed every real feeling, every genuine impulse. His conduct was -apparently irreproachable, his principles seemed unimpeachable, and he -even schooled himself to come forward and enrol himself beneath the -banner of the cross, when he was but too conscious that he had already -trampled the holy emblem beneath his feet. Why did he carry his deceit -to such an awful extent? Alas! who can tell just where the waves of sin -may stay their whelming force? He feared the world’s dread laugh at his -apostacy, he shrunk from the scorn of all good men, and, above all, his -mind absolutely cowered at the thought of his sister’s bitter wrath. So -he buried his secret within his own bosom, and trusting to some future -chance to rescue him from the irksome duties of his profession, prepared -himself for the ceremony of ordination. But he was not yet sensible of -the terrible power of Conscience. - -The day came, and, as usual, crowds were assembled to witness the -dedication of the youthful candidates. The two young men—for Alfred had -a companion, a pious, humble-minded, meek-hearted youth—stood before -the altar to offer their vows. Madeline, the weeping but happy -Madeline—who had sacrificed her youth and health and beauty, aye and -the hopes ever dearest to a woman’s heart, to this one darling hope—was -there too, and as she looked on her brother bending before the altar, -while his bright curls just caught one straggling sunbeam which shed a -glory around his youthful brow, she was heard to murmur “Lo, here am I, -Lord, and the child which thou hast given me.” - -The services commenced—the prayers of the congregation had arisen to -Heaven, the incense of praise had floated upward on the solemn melody of -the organ, the exhortation to the candidates had been affectionately -uttered by an aged pastor, and the moment came when the presentation of -the two was made to the Bishop by the officiating clergyman. The solemn -appeal was then uttered— - -“_Brethren, if there be any of you who knoweth any impediment or any -notable crime on either of these persons for the which he ought not to -be admitted to the holy office, let him come forth in the name of God -and show what the crime or impediment is._” - -At these words a sudden terror seemed to seize upon Alfred Graham. His -frame shook with suppressed emotion, his countenance became livid, and -his fine features were strangely contorted as if some sudden pang had -convulsed him. The next instant he uttered a faint cry and fell -prostrate to the ground, while his very life-blood was poured at the -foot of the altar which he had dared to touch with polluted hands. - -He was borne to his home in utter insensibility. The sting of conscience -had finished the work which disease had long since begun, and the -rupture of a blood-vessel in the lungs had been the consequence of his -unnatural excitement and self-command. All that medical skill could -effect was tried, but without success, and ere the lapse of another day -it was known that Alfred Graham was sinking into the arms of death. -There was no time for repentance—no time to combat prejudices and -awaken better impulses. He lay as if in the deep torpor of -insensibility, until aroused by some cordial administered by his -physician, when his strength seemed to rally, and raising himself on his -pillow, he addressed his sister in words which fell like molten lead -upon her heart. With all the eloquence of passion he poured forth a wild -confession of his errors and his doubts, and then, in language equally -fervid but far more bitter, he reproached her—_her_ who had devoted her -whole life to his welfare—as the cause of all his guilt. He accused her -of having crushed his timid spirit by sternness and unbending rigor—of -having taught him hypocrisy by her fierce contempt for his -weaknesses—of having killed him by forcing him to a profession which he -hated and contemned. - -“I am not mad, Madeline,” he exclaimed, in a hoarse voice, broken by his -difficult and long-drawn breath, “I am not mad, but so surely as I am -now stretched upon the bed of death, so surely has your ambition and -your mistaken zeal laid me here to die. I seek not to excuse myself, and -may God forgive me my many secret sins; but never, never would my soul -have been so deeply stained had it not been for your unrelenting -indignation at my boyish follies, and your determined will in the choice -of my future destiny. I forgive you, Madeline, but you will not forgive -yourself.” - -The exertion of uttering these terrible words was too great, and ere the -sounds yet died upon the ear of the horror-stricken sister, the spirit -of the misguided youth had gone to its dread account. - -From that hour Madeline was utterly and entirely changed. Whatever were -her feelings she shared them with none, but shrunk alike from question -and sympathy. Those dying reproaches, unjust as she felt them to be, -were yet engraven in ineffacable characters upon her heart, and with a -feeling akin to the mistaken austerity which punishes the body for the -sins of the soul, she resolved to make her future life a penance for her -involuntary error. Lonely and desolate, she took up her abode in a place -well suited to her embittered and almost misanthropic feelings. For more -than ten years the gray cottage was her abode, and the labors of the -seamstress furnished her scanty subsistence. During all that period not -a creature was ever admitted beyond the threshold of her door, and all -curiosity about her had quite subsided long before the termination of -her lonely career. At length she was missed from her usual lowly seat in -church. A second Sabbath came, and still the black and veiled form of -the recluse was not seen. Common humanity demanded some inquiry into her -fate, and after several vain attempts to procure admission into the -cottage, the door was forced. Upon a truss of straw, in one corner of -the desolate chamber, lay the emaciated form of the unfortunate -Madeline, stiff, and cold, and ghastly, as if days had passed since the -spirit had escaped from its clay tenement. She died as she had lived, -lonely, and unknown, for it was not until years had elapsed that I heard -the story of the brother and the sister from the lips of one who had -known them in early days; while other incidental circumstances enabled -me to identify Madeline Graham with the tall “_weird woman_” who had so -terrified my childish fancy. - -The erring brother sleeps beneath the shadow of the sanctuary, in ground -still consecrated by holy usage, but all trace of the hapless sister has -vanished from the earth. The village graveyard is now a populous -highway, bordered by tall houses and traversed by busy feet, while the -green hillock which once marked the burial place of Madeline Graham has -long since been crushed beneath the weight of pavements, echoing to the -noisy tread of many a thoughtless wayfarer. - -Alas, for human love! and, alas, for human error! How dreary and -desolate would seem many a scene of unmerited suffering did we not know -that there is a brighter world, where all tears shall be wiped from all -eyes, and where there shall be no sorrow nor sighing through an eternity -of happiness! - - * * * * * - - - - - TO AN INFANT IN THE CRADLE. - - - BY REV. GEORGE B. CHEEVER. - - - Thou lovely miniature of Nature’s painting! - Thy beauty mingles care with my delight. - These colors are to grow: not like the fainting, - Soft, dying hues, that mark the eve’s twilight— - But evermore renewed, as if the dawn, - With its deep rosy tinge, instead of fading, - Ran hand in hand with the bright dewy morn, - The sky by sunlight with all colors shading. - - These colors are to grow, from where, an infant, - Thou sleepest cradled by thy mother’s side, - On through thy childhood’s beauty, every instant, - To maiden loveliness—thy mother’s pride. - And she will guide the pencil, hers the art - To deepen Nature’s lineaments, or alter: - To image Heaven or Earth upon the heart— - What if her love should err, her pencil falter! - - O! ’tis a sacred, sweet and fearful duty - To train these earth-born spirits for the skies! - To keep this household flower green in its beauty, - Till it in Paradise transplanted rise. - May He, who took the nurslings in his arms, - Keep thee and thine, his richest grace revealing, - Hid, as his Pilgrims, from the world’s alarms, - Where quiet brooks in pastures green are stealing! - - * * * * * - - - - - WILL NOBODY MARRY ME? - - - A COMIC SONG. - - - BY GEORGE P. MORRIS. - - - Heigh-ho! for a husband!—heigh-ho! - There’s danger in longer delay!— - Shall I never again have a beau? - Will nobody marry me, pray? - I begin to feel strange, I declare! - With beauty my prospects will fade!— - I’d give myself up to despair - If I thought I should die an old maid! - - I once cut the beaux in a huff!— - I thought it a sin and a shame - That no one had spirit enough - To ask me to alter my name! - So I turned up my nose at the short, - And rolled up my eyes at the tall; - But then I just did it in sport, - And now I’ve no lover at all! - - These men are the plague of my life!— - ’Tis hard from so many to choose!— - Should one of them wish for a wife, - Could I have the heart to refuse? - I don’t know—for none have proposed! - Oh, dear me!—I’m frightened, I vow! - Good gracious!—whoever supposed - That I should be single till now? - - * * * * * - - - - - TROPICAL BIRDS. - - - BY PARK BENJAMIN. - - -Beautiful are the Birds of the Tropics. Bright, clear, sparkling, -brilliant is their plumage. It is steeped in “all the hues that gild the -rainbow.” I seek in vain for epithets by which to convey a thought of -their surpassing beauty. Had I, dear reader, the pencil of Audubon, I -might show you what they are in repose; but repose does not display -their loveliness in its perfection. They are most charming to behold -when in motion—when their many vivid colors contrast with the deep -green of the forests, in which they live and hold their jocund revels. - -Not many years ago, I passed a winter—or, I might better say, the first -months of the year—in the Northern part of South America, where these -birds abound. There, was I often delighted by these “exquisite, gay -creatures of the element.” They seemed to me like so many winged jewels, -as they glanced about in the rays of a dazzling sun. But let me not -indulge too much in fanciful allusions, lest I should reluctantly enter -upon the real purpose I have in view in preparing this article: which is -to offer some account of Tropical Birds, so that the reader may be -attracted to the study of their Natural History. It appears to me that -our American periodicals have too much of the _dulce_ and too little of -the _utile_. It is well, sometimes, to mingle the useful with the -agreeable even in works of taste: I may fail in my attempt to do so in -this place, but I shall at least deserve the credit of having made the -attempt. - -Doubtless many of my readers have in their possession certain glass -cases in which specimens of birds with variegated plumage, having -undergone the art of the taxidermist, are arranged on artificial trees -or bushes as ornaments for the drawing room. There are many persons in -Guiana, who make it their business to kill and prepare these birds, so -that they may adorn the halls of Natural History Societies or private -cabinets. Some birds, which fly about the houses or plantations, are -easily obtained; but those, upon which most value is set, live in -distant wilds and woods, and are procured with great difficulty and only -by individuals long practised in the art. Great caution must be observed -in approaching, and greater skill in shooting them; for they must be -slain so skilfully that their feathers shall not be torn nor their color -spoiled by an effusion of blood from the wound. When one, who is -unskilful, tears or disfigures his birds, he makes up one specimen out -of two or more individuals of the same species. Thus, upon a close -examination, you may often detect the wings of one bird joined to the -body of another, or, perhaps, an old head upon young shoulders. But the -worst piece of trickery, and one which renders the specimen wholly -valueless to an ornithologist, is the altering of the natural color of -the bird by fire. I have seen many a brilliant specimen exceedingly -admired, which obtained a false lustre in this manner. - -There seems to be no limit to the wonderful varieties of these birds. -Every day brings to view some new species, which outvies its compeers in -the grace of its form and the brilliancy of its plumage. The adventurous -bird-seeker will penetrate deeper and deeper into the solitudes of those -vast forests, which, in primitive grandeur, lift up their leafy columns -and form umbrageous temples in the heart of the Southern continent. -Those lovely and still unexplored domains are the probable haunts of -thousands and thousands of birds of dazzling beauty. The clear beams of -the sun, glinting through the leaves of mighty trees, play among colors, -as various and as shifting as those of gems. No human eye, save that of -some Indian hunter who may have lost his homeward way, has gazed upon -these strange, bright creatures; and the most fantastic imagination may -vainly endeavor to paint those tribes of the air which have lived in -their safe retreats, undisturbed save by one another and the war of the -elements, since light first dawned upon creation. - -Among the various little birds, black, yellow and red, which may be -observed in the midst of the sugar canes and in the many trees of -orange, mango and lemon, there is a tribe, called Tyrants, which is very -extensive. Great numbers are constantly seen. They are about the size of -our robin. One species is called “the butcher bird,” and most -appropriately, since it pounces upon and slaughters its prey with -tyrannical cruelty. It is said to be of service to the planter in -destroying grubs and insects, upon which it seizes in the manner of a -hawk. It first strikes its prey with its _bill_ (like a dun) and then -grasps it in its claws so instantaneously afterward, that the most acute -observation alone can enable one to decide on the priority of the -action. Its bill is of moderate length (unlike a tailor’s) compressed -and sharp. Its head is black and all its body is white, save the outer -feathers of the wings and tail, which are black. This family of -“Tyrants,” of which the butcher bird is an influential member, has very -extensive connections; but as they are distinguished neither for beauty -nor behavior (“handsome is that handsome does”) and can be very easily -“got round,” no great consequence is attached to their possession. - -The next most numerous tribe is one whose habits and characteristics are -widely dissimilar—the Parrots. These exhibit plumage of the most -diversified hues; but the predominating is bright green. This is often -set off and contrasted by black, lilac, pink, orange, violet and blue. -It is impossible to tell how many species have been discovered; for our -traveller refers the specimen which he has obtained to some former -description, and then points out the differences. “This,” says one, “is -the _blue_ parrot; our specimens, however, are bright _lilac_, with -_red_ spots on the back, between the wings”—a remark which, were it -made by a native of the Emerald Isle, would be called a bull; but the -fact, nevertheless, may be as true as the somewhat notorious one that -“black-berries are red when they are green.” - -The parrots are of all sizes from the macaw or ava, down to the smallest -paroket. The common green parrot, which is known in the United States, -and taught to speak, is of the medium size. The best and clearest -whistle is uttered by the homely brown parrot, which is brought from -Africa. It is likewise the most docile. These birds resemble humanity in -other respects besides the faculty of speech; some are hopelessly -stupid, while others take to learning very kindly. Curious stories are -told of their powers of articulation. The smallest kind, which cannot -live in our climate, are sometimes very successfully educated. The -manager of a plantation, which I visited, owned a little parrot, which -used to reside in a cage at the door of his house. As I rode up, I was -agreeably astonished by hearing the polite bird very considerately sing -out, “Boy, take the gentleman’s horse—boy, why the deuse don’t you take -the horse!” - -The largest kind is the macaw. It is a huge, clumsy _thing_, with a head -out of all proportion to its body, (“great head, little wit;”) its -plumage is for the most part red, interspersed with green and blue. The -noise which it makes is most horribly discordant; and its loudest yell -is very like an Indian war-whoop, (one of Mr. Cooper’s;) yet is this -monster a great favorite in the West Indies, and, as you pass the -residences of the inhabitants, you often see three or four of these ugly -wretches clambering awkwardly up the piazzas, and uttering their hoarse, -scolding cries, ten times more grating to the ear than the objurgations -of a Xantippe, heard above the shrieks of her castigated offspring. The -hardihood of these birds is surprising. There was one of them on board -of a small vessel, in which it was my ill fortune to voyage from the -mainland to the island of Barbadoes. Mr. Macaw, like a militia major in -red and blue uniform, would strut about on the lower rigging, and, as -soon as he could get near enough to the ear of a sailor, would utter one -of his shrillest and most appalling yells. Jack Tar, in his summary -method of dealing vengeance, would fetch him a blow with a handspike, -that would send him flapping to the quarter-deck; perhaps, with an utter -disregard of decorum and discipline, into the very face and eyes of the -surly old captain, who, in his rage, would beat him soundly; yet would -the valiant and stalwart feathered marine regard those lusty strokes no -more than would a pet goldfinch the taps of his lady’s fan. - -Some species of parrots exist in almost every region; the smallest and -most beautiful, however, are found only in tropical countries. They are -seldom seen near thickly populated places, but can be procured with -facility in the woods adjacent, where they live in tolerable fellowship -with their mischievous neighbors, the monkeys. - -Another numerous tribe of tropical birds is known by the name of -Chatterers. I do not know what they are called by the ornithologists; -but thus are they designated by the inhabitants, from the peculiar -sounds which they utter, (being not unlike those of a congress of -spinsters, sitting in committee of the whole on some grand question of -scandal.) They are distinguished by the epithets—red-breasted, -purple-throated, firebirds, pumpadore, red-headed, gold-headed, -white-throated, white-capped, purple-shouldered, and Mahometan. The -first five migrate; the last five stay at home. Of the former, the -firebird is so named from the fact that, in stuffed specimens, the color -is sometimes changed by the application of fire. Its natural hue is a -dark crimson, but it is susceptible of being changed, by the application -of heat, into a rich vermilion. Of the latter, the purple-shouldered is -the most rare and the most beautiful. The upper parts of its wings or -shoulders are the deepest purple; the remainder of the wings is -interspersed with blue, and they end in black. Its back is blue mingled -with black; its breast is a delicate blue, and the lower part of its -neck is a dark crimson. I describe the male bird only; for (unlike -bipeds _without_ feathers) it monopolises the beauty of the species. The -female is very plain, though there seems to be a certain winning modesty -about her, for all her homely looks. The sumptuously attired male, -(“Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these,”) if his -choice of a partner were left to himself—which I doubt—must have been -guided by a taste as unsophisticated as that of the praiseworthy -Cock-Robin, when he courted Jenny Wren, who - - “Always wore her old brown gown, - And never dressed so fine!” - -While on the subject of homeliness, I may as well conclude it by -alluding to a bird, which, on account of its hideousness, the negroes -call “Old Witch.” What a very mortifying circumstance it must be to be -so ugly, when every body else is so bewitchingly fair! Don’t you think -so, Miss Smith? (I do not mean the Miss Smith, who is reading this -article, but another.) - -Before passing to an account of the third and last family, which I shall -try to describe—being by far the most numerous, the strangest, and the -most charming of all the tropical birds—I will detain the reader for a -moment with an account of two rare species of water birds. They are in -general so classed, because, like rails, they frequent reedy ponds and -marshes and the borders of streams. I select these two species, because -the one is very curious and the other is of a kind with which classical -associations are connected, and because they admirably serve to show how -wide and fertile a field of interesting investigation lies before the -student in this particular realm of Natural History. - -The curious species is the Jacana. It is doubtful whether it should be -classed with land or water birds; it resembles the latter in its nature, -its habits, the form of its body, the shape of its bill, and the -diminutiveness of its head; it differs essentially, however, from all -others of the class, in the curious spurs which protrude from its wings; -its claws are very long and slender, and its nails very pointed and -sharp—hence has been derived its name, “The Surgeon.” It is exceedingly -wild and can be caught only by stratagem. These birds are of various -colors: some dark, tinged with violet; some green; some black; some -dusky red. Their flight is very rapid, and their cry sharp and shrill. -They travel in pairs, frequenting the borders of rivers and deep -marshes. That which is particularly singular about the Jacana is the -manner in which it is armed; when it strikes with its wings, it must do -considerable execution; it does not seem to be happily called the -Surgeon, for its instruments are rather intended to kill than cure. - -The classical species is called by moderns, “the Sultana Hen.” It is the -smallest of that genus, which was named by the ancients Porphyry—in -Greek, Πορφυριωι—in Latin, _Porphyrio_. Aristotle describes it as a -fissiped bird, with long feet, a blue plumage, with a very strongly set, -purple-colored bill, and of about the size of a domestic cock. Some old -writers, in describing this bird, have said that one of its feet was -furnished with membranes, and made to swim like a water-bird’s, and that -the other was fissiped, so that it might run like a land-bird. This is -not only untrue, but contrary to nature, and signifies no more than that -the porphyry or pelican is a bird of the shore, living on the confines -of land and water. It was easily tamed, and was very pleasing on account -of its noble carriage, its fine form, its plumage brilliant and rich in -colors of mingled blue and purple and aquamarine, its docile nature, and -its happy facility of agreeing with any companions among whom its lot -might be cast. It was held in the highest esteem by both Greeks and -Romans; they never suffered it to be eaten; they sent to Lybia for it; -always treated it with kindness, and placed it in their palaces and -temples, as worthy to dwell there on account of the nobleness of its -port, the sweetness of its temper, and the beauty of its plumage. The -largest of the species, now known as “the sultana hen,” is precisely the -same as the ancient porphyrio. The smallest is called “the little -sultana hen.” Her _petite_ majesty is very queenly, but is, no doubt, as -well satisfied with the modern name by which she is dignified, as she -would be with that which the Greeks gave to the tall highnesses of her -very old and royal family. Her robe of state is a brilliant changeable -blue and green; and it has never gone out of fashion. - -Having thus given an unsystemized and rather imperfect account of a few -species of tropical birds, I pass on to treat of the most marvellous and -most beautiful tribe of plumed creatures that float in the invisible -atmosphere. There have been more than a hundred species already -discovered, and every naturalist, who visits the equatorial regions of -this Western World, adds a new name to the splendid schedule of -HUMMING-BIRDS.[2] From their delicate structure, these tiny birds cannot -endure the rigors of our climate, where there are very few of those -gorgeous plants, upon which they banquet in tropical latitudes. There, -when the warm sun calls into life myriads of flowers, vast numbers of -humming-birds visit the fields and gardens every morning, and mingle -their golden-green tints in gleaming contrast with the white and -rose-colored blossoms, that cluster on the vines above the traveller’s -head, or spring luxuriantly at his feet. They seem, as they dart rapidly -around, humming their faintly heard tunes, to be the very Pucks and -Ariels of the light, and each night take up the burden of the fairy -song, sung at the feast of Titania, - - Over hill, over dale, - Through bush, through brier, - Over park, over pale, - Through flood, through fire, - I do wander every where, - Swifter than the moon’s sphere. - -For, at one moment, you behold “the fine apparition” before the cup of a -flower, and at the next he is gone - - “To drink the air before him and return - Or ere your pulse twice beat.” - -The bright little beings must own the very best secret of the fairies; -for none, so well as they, - - “Know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, - Where oxslips and the nodding violet grows, - Quite over canopied with luscious woodbine, - With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.” - -But alas! however elfin-like and ethereal their forms appear, they share -the fate of mortals. They are easily caught by nets thrown over them, or -killed by very fine shot or sand. I have seen some very splendid -collections. I remember one, comprising seventy-two species—from the -king of the humming-birds, as he is called, with his topaz and emerald -crown, to one so small that, when on the wing, it could scarcely be -visible. When the glass case, in which they were arranged in too studied -an order, was held in the sunshine, their myriad colors would gleam and -flash with a brilliancy as perfect as that of the many gems, after which -they are prettily named. An enumeration of some of their names will -convey an idea of their appearance—sapphire-throated, ruby-throated, -sapphire and emerald, amethystine, topaz-throated; then there are the -purple, tri-colored, violet-tufted, violet-crowned, blue-fronted, the -superb, the magnificent, the sabre-winged. And there is one which must -have been bestowed by some ornithological phrenologist, who had great -skill in interpreting “the natural language” of birds—the supercilious -humming-bird. The largest species yet discovered is that which is called -the gigantic, and the smallest, as I believe, is one that Sir William -Jardine describes as Gould’s humming-bird. - -The gigantic is in remarkable contrast to the rest of his tribe, both in -size and in the color of his plumage. He is not only the largest but the -homeliest, while the smallest is the most beautiful. The gigantic (the -monster!) is nearly eight inches in length; the crown, the back, the -under and lesser wing-coverts, brownish green, with reflections of green -tint; the under parts, light reddish mingled with a deeper tint and -shaded off with green; the feathers are generally darker at the base, -and the paler tips give a slightly waved appearance to the breast. On -the throat, the feathers, though without lustre, retain the scaly form -and texture of the more brilliant species. The wings slightly exceed the -tail in length, bend up at the tips, and exhibit the form of the most -correctly framed organ of flight; they are of a uniform brownish violet. -The tail is composed of ten feathers, of a brownish color, and with -golden-green reflections; they gradually decrease in length. This is a -very rare species. - -Gould’s is the smallest species and of the most dazzling beauty. It is -scarcely over two inches in length; its forehead, throat and upper part -of its breast are of a most brilliant green—the feathers of a scaly -form. From the crown springs a crest of bright, chestnut feathers, of a -lengthened form and capable of being raised at pleasure. The back is a -golden-green, crossed with a whitish band; the wings and tail are -brownish purple, the latter having the centre feathers tinged with -green; the lower parts are dark brownish green. The neck tufts are of -the most splendid kind, and have a chaste but brilliant effect; they are -composed of narrow feathers of a snowy whiteness—the tips of each -having a round, serrated spot of bright emerald green, surrounded with a -dark border; the largest are at the upper part of the tuft, and they -decrease in length, assuming the shape of a butterfly’s wing; shorter -feathers again spring from the base, and their green tips are relieved -on the white of the longer ones behind them. - -The most common species, and that which abounds in all parts of the West -Indies, is the ruby-crested. Though seen every day about the gardens, -near the honeysuckle and other flowering vines, it presents some of the -most splendid coloring of the family. (Those which I have mentioned are -of that sub-genus, which Linnæus calls trochilus.) The upper parts of -the head and throat are clothed entirely with those scaly formed -feathers, which always produce the parts producing the changeable hues. -On the hind head, the feathers are elongated and form a short, rounded -crest. In one position this part appears of a deep, sombre, reddish -brown; when viewed transversely it assumes a bright, coppery lustre, and -when looked upon directly with a side stream of light, it becomes of the -richest and most brilliant ruby. The scaly part of the throat and breast -again, when wanting the lustre, is of an equally sombre, greenish brown; -and, when turned to diverse lights, changes from a clear golden-green to -the most brilliant topaz. It is impossible to convey by -words—especially as it is necessary to repeat the same again and -again—an idea of these tints. The most that can be done is to name -those substances, which they most nearly resemble, then rely upon the -imagination of the reader. - -The birds, thus attempted to be described, are a few of that -multitudinous tribe which excites the liveliest wonder, and fills the -mind with admiration of that creative power, which clothes the eagle -with strength to resist the fury of the mountain storm, and so fashions -the delicate plumage of the humming-bird that the softest air from -heaven seems to visit it too roughly. The vine-clad forests and -rose-covered gardens of Guiana literally _swarm_ with these fairy-birds. -The Indian word, by which they are distinguished, signifies _beams_ or -_locks of the sun_; that such a designation is not less appropriate than -poetical, may be concluded by all who have seen them darting with the -rapidity as well as the splendor of light from flower to flower. -Compared to the humming-bird, the bee is a mere loiterer. He poises -himself on wing, while he thrusts his long, slender tube into the -flower-cups in search of food. But he subsists not simply on honey-dew -and the nectar that dwells in the lips of roses. He may often be -observed darting at the minute insects that float in the air. - -Mr. Audubon thus beautifully describes the humming-bird in quest of -food: “carefully visiting every opening flower-cup, and, like a curious -florist, removing from each those injurious insects, that otherwise -would ere long cause their beauteous petals to droop and decay. Poised -in the air, it is observed peeping cautiously and with sparkling eye -into their innermost recesses, whilst the ethereal motions of its -pinions, so rapid and so light, appear to fan and cool the flower, -without injuring its fragile texture, and produce a delightful, -murmuring sound, well adapted for lulling the insects to repose. Then is -the moment for the humming-bird to secure them. Its long delicate bill -enters the cup of a flower, and the protruded, double-tubed tongue, -delicately sensible, and imbued with a glutinous saliva, touches each -insect in succession, and draws it from its lurking place to be -instantly swallowed. All this is done in a moment, and the bird, as it -leaves the flower, sips so small a portion of its liquid honey, that the -theft, we may suppose, is looked upon with a grateful feeling by the -flower which is thus kindly relieved from the attacks of her -destroyers.” - -Their favorite places of resort were those woods, in which the superb -bignonia abounds, and when the huge trees are garlanded with parasites; -but since the cultivation of the country they frequent gardens and seem -to delight in society, becoming familiar and destitute of fear, hovering -over one side of a shrub while the fruit or flower is plucked from that -opposite. They do not alight on the ground, but easily settle on twigs -and branches, when they move sidewise in prettily measured steps, -frequently opening and closing their wings, shaking and arranging the -whole of their apparel with neatness and activity. They are particularly -fond of spreading one wing at a time, and passing each of their -quill-feathers through their bills in its whole length, when, if the sun -is shining, the wing thus plumed is very transparent and light. The -humming noise proceeds entirely from the surprising velocity with which -they perform that motion by which they will keep their bodies in the -air, apparently motionless, for hours together. When flying to any long -distance, the manner of their flight is very different from that shown -in speeding among flowers, for they sweep gracefully through the air in -long undulations, raise themselves for some distance and then fall in a -curve. - -Strange as it may seem, one of the chief characteristics of this tiny -creature, is its bravery. It will unhesitatingly attack the -mocking-bird, or the king-bird, or any other by whom it imagines its -territories invaded; it directs its sharp, needle-like bill, immediately -at the eyes of its enemy, and when so employed this must be a truly -formidable weapon. These birds are also extremely pugnacious among -themselves—two males seldom meeting, without a battle. The combatants -ascend in the air, chirping, darting and circling round each other till -the eye is no longer able to follow them. They are particularly -susceptible of jealousy, and, under the influence of this failing, they -run tilts at each other till the less doughty champion falls exhausted -to the ground. - -The nests of these little creatures are very curious; they are built -with great delicacy, but at the same time with much compactness and -warmth. Wilson says that the nest of the ruby-throated humming-bird is -generally fixed on the upper side of a horizontal branch, _not_ among -the twigs. It is sometimes, however, attached to an old moss-grown -trunk, and sometimes fastened on a strong stalk or weed in the garden. -It seldom builds more than ten feet from the ground. The nest is about -an inch in diameter and as much in depth. The outward coat is formed of -small pieces of a species of bluish-gray lichen, that vegetates on old -trees and fences, thickly glued with the saliva of the bird, giving -firmness and consistency to the whole as well as keeping out moisture. -Within this are thick, matted layers of the fine wings of certain flying -seeds, closely laid together; and, lastly, the downy substance from the -great mullein, and from the stalks of the common fern, lines the whole. -The base of the nest is continued round the stem of the branch to which -it closely adheres, and, when viewed from below, appears a mere mossy -knot or accidental protuberance. The nest of one species in Guiana is -principally composed of a spongy cellular substance, apparently similar -to that of a fungus, of which some kinds of wasps build large -habitations, suspended from the branches of trees, and an account is -given of a nest of another species composed entirely of the down of some -thistle; the seed is attached and is placed outwards, giving a jagged -and prickly appearance to the outside. Latham describes the nest of the -black humming-bird as made of cotton, entwined around the thorns and -twigs of the citron-tree, and of so firm a texture as not to be easily -broken by winds. The nest of the topaz-crested is about seven eighths of -an inch in diameter, also made of cotton, stuck over with lichens on the -outside and firmly fixed in the hanging cleft of some strong creeper by -threads of a cottony substance, and very slender roots or tendrils, the -whole lower part as if cemented by a thin coat of glue. It is probable -that the greater number build their nests nearly in the same manner. -Descriptions, however, are given of those built in different forms—one -is suspended with the entrance downwards; another is of a lengthened -form, composed of dry grass and slender roots and moss, and is not made -so compactly. A person, who saw a bird building her nest, describes her -manner of construction as very ingenious. “Bringing a pile of small -grass, she commenced upon a little twig about a quarter of an inch in -diameter, immediately below a large leaf, which entirely covered and -concealed the nest from above, the height from the ground being about -three feet. After the nest had received two or three of these grasses, -she set herself in the centre, and putting her long slender beak over -the outer edge, seemed to use it and her throat much in the same way as -a mason does his trowel, for the purpose of smoothing, rubbing it to and -fro and sweeping quite around. Each visit to the nest seemed to occupy -only a couple of seconds, and her absence from it not more than as many -minutes.” - -The extraordinary beauty of these strange beings has induced many -attempts to tame and keep them in cages, but they have not been -successful. When placed in cages and fed daintily on honey and water, -and supplied every morning with fresh cups of flowers, they have been -known to live for a long time in their native country, and in warm -weather; but no artificial warmth has as yet kept them alive for many -weeks, when transported to a less genial climate. It is conjectured, -however, that with very great care and a strict regard to diet, as the -doctors say, they will, by and by, be kept alive and happy in our -conservatories. There was once a nest of them successfully carried to -England from Jamaica. It was presented to a lady, from whose lips the -little loves would deign to accept honey. One died, probably from excess -of happiness; but the other, being more hardy, survived for two months. -Could a lady succeed in so taming one of these winged jewels so -perfectly that it would accompany her to a ball, curiously perched upon -her bouquet, or hovering around the flowers which composed it, at her -gentle bidding, so original an ornament would doubtless be more highly -prized than - - “Whole necklaces and stomachers of gems.” - -The ancient Mexicans are said to have woven their plumage into gorgeous -robes. - -If the extraordinary beauty of these birds, their mode of existence, -their nature, then habits, excite our admiration, how must we also -wonder at their structure!—the perfect adaptation of their forms to -that life which it is theirs to enjoy, and to the variations of that -glowing climate where they abound. “On presenting a humming-bird to a -common observer,” says an eminent naturalist, “the first exclamation -generally is, ‘what a beautiful little creature!’—the second, ‘but what -large wings he has!’ Such, indeed, is the case, and, in most instances, -the size of the wings and strength of the quills are entirely out of -proportion to our ideas of symmetry in a creature clothed with feathers; -but, upon comparing them with its necessities and the other parts of its -frame, their utility and design become obvious.” The principal reason -for their possessing organs of such power is, doubtless, to enable them -to pass in safety through the migrations and the long flights which are -necessary for their preservation, and, during which, they have to -withstand passing gales and showers. The delicious climes which they -inhabit are at seasons subject to tremendous rains, which drench and -almost inundate their abodes, or to hurricanes that, in a few minutes, -leave but a wreck of all that was before so splendid and luxuriant. By -means of these organs, before the dangerous season comes, which the -unerring instinct of nature warns them to avoid, they fly to districts -of country where the reparation of some previous wreck is proceeding -with all the rapidity of tropical vegetation. - -I cannot more pleasingly conclude these notices of the most wonderful -tribe of birds, than by quoting the melodious verses of a poet, who is a -native of that glowing clime which they so exquisitely adorn. - - “Still sparkles here the glory of the West, - Shows his crowned head and bares his jewell’d breast, - In whose bright plumes the richest colors live, - whose dazzling lines no mimic art can give. - The purple amethyst, the emerald’s green - Contrasted, mingle with the ruby’s sheen, - While over all a tissue is put on, - Of golden gauze by fairy fingers spun. - Small as a beetle, as an eagle brave, - In purest ether he delights to lave; - The sweetest flowers alone descends to woo, - Rifles their sweets and lives on honey-dew, - So light his kisses not a leaf is stirred - By the bold, happy, amorous humming-bird. - No disarray, no petal rudely moved, - Betrays the flower the callibree has loved.”[3] - -I have thus given partial descriptions of four of the principal tribes -of Tropical Birds. I hope the reader has not been so wearied that he -will not kindly suffer me to draw this article to a close by a brief -notice of those two birds most remarkable for their peculiar notes. The -one pours forth a stream of rich melody, which surpasses the far-famed -song of the nightingale, and is, likewise, celebrated for its peculiar -power of imitating the tones of almost every fellow-songster. The other -utters only one sound, but so strange and solemn as to inspire the mind -of the hearer with a religious awe. The natural music of the one is as -gay, cheerful and enlivening as that of the other is mournful and -soul-subduing. - -The first to which I allude is the Matthews of the woods, THE -MOCKING-BIRD. This species abound in all parts of the Western Indies; -they are found in great numbers near the sea-shore. From the trees which -grow on the beaches float their rich songs, more melodious than strains -of flute, or bugle, or any “cunningly devised instrument;” and, in -mellowness, in modulation and gradation, in extent of compass and -rapidity and brilliancy of execution, outrivalling the most magnificent -bravuras of a Sontag or a Malibran. When confined in cages and brought -to our cold climate, for the amusement of man, the bird loses, in the -loneliness of its captivity, half the richness of its voice. Though it -delights to mimic other plumed minstrels, this astonishing faculty is -feeble, in its most miraculous exhibition, when compared with its own -delicious song; but he who would listen to it in its perfection, must go -to those regions where the great magnolia shoots up its majestic trunk, -covered with evergreen leaves, and decorated with a thousand flowers, -where the forests and fields are buried in blossoms of every hue, and -where the golden orange decorates the gardens and the groves. - -The bird whose note is so melancholy is called by the Indians campanero; -by the Spaniards arapongo or guirapongo, and by the English the -bell-bird. It is extremely rare. I was so fortunate as to see a single -specimen. It is of about the size of a Barbary dove, but more gracefully -shaped, with a larger head. It is of a snowy whiteness. From the -forehead there rises a spiral tube of about a bodkin’s length. This -tube, it is said, is raised and depressed at pleasure; it is black, -dotted with white feathers, and, as it is hollow, and communicates with -the palate, it is probably elevated when filled with air, and becomes -pendulous when empty. That strange sound, for which it is remarkable, is -probably produced by the raising and depressing of this tube. It -resembles the tolling of a bell, and is very loud and distinct. It is -heard morning and evening in the woods, and one might fancy its toll to -proceed from some hidden convent, calling to matins and vespers. - -The bell-bird is seldom found in forests inhabited by other birds; it -selects lonely and desolate haunts. A recent traveller, in describing -his journey through a South American forest, writes—“Nothing can be -more still and solitary than everything around; the silence is appalling -and the desolation is awful; neither are disturbed by the sight or voice -of living thing, save one—which only adds to the impression. It is like -the clinking of metals, as if two lumps of brass were struck together; -and it sometimes resembles the distant and solemn tolling of a -church-bell, struck at long intervals. This extraordinary sound proceeds -from a bird called arapongo or guirapongo. It is about the size of a -small pigeon, white, with a circle of red round the eyes. It sits on the -tops of the highest trees, and in the deepest forests, and, though -constantly heard in the most desert places, is very rarely seen. It is -impossible to conceive any thing of a more solitary character than the -profound silence of the woods, broken only by the metallic and almost -preternatural sounds of this invisible bird, coming from the air, and -seeming to follow you wherever you go. I have watched with greet -perseverance, when the sound seemed quite close to me, and never but -once caught a glance of the cause. It passed suddenly over the top of a -very high tree, like a large flake of snow, and immediately -disappeared.” - ------ - -[2] In the United States two species only have been made known, the -Ruby-throated, charmingly described both by Wilson and Audubon, and the -Northern. I am told, however, that Audubon has recently discovered still -another. - -[3] From a poem entitled “Barbadoes,” by Dr. Chapman, a man of a fine -genius, who may be known to my readers as the author of some very fine -translations of the Greek Anthology, which have appeared in Blackwood’s -Magazine. _Callibree_ is the Indian name of the bird. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE GIRDLE OF FIRE. - - - BY PERCIE H. SELTON. - - -The lower counties of New Jersey are proverbially barren, being covered -with immense forests of pine, interspersed with cedar swamps. During the -dry summer months these latter become parched to an extent that is -incredible, and the accidental contagion of a fire-brand often wraps -immense tracts of country in flames. The rapidity with which the -conflagration, when once kindled, spreads through these swamps can -scarcely be credited except by those who know how thoroughly the moss -and twigs are dried up by the heat of an August sun. Indeed scarcely a -spot can be pointed out in West Jersey, which has not, at one time or -another, been ravaged by conflagration. It was but a few years since -that an immense tract of these pine barrens was on fire, and the -citizens of Philadelphia can recollect the lurid appearance of the sky -at night, seen at the distance of thirty or even forty miles from the -scene of the conflagration. The legendary history of these wild counties -is full of daring deeds and hair-breadth escapes which have been -witnessed during such times of peril. One of these traditionary stories -it is our purpose to relate. The period of our tale dates far back into -the early history of the sister state, when the country was even more -thinly settled than at present. - - . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . - -It was a sunny morning in midsummer, when a gay party was assembled at -the door of a neat house in one of the lower counties of New Jersey. -Foremost in the group stood a tall manly youth, whose frank countenance -at once attracted the eye. By his side was a bright young creature, -apparently about eighteen years of age, whose golden tresses were a fit -type of the sunny beauty of her countenance. But now her soft blue eyes -were dim with tears, and she leaned on the shoulder of her mother, who -was apparently equally affected. The dress of the daughter, and her -attitude of leave-taking, told that she was a bride, going forth from -the home of her childhood, to enter on a new and untried sphere of life. -The other members of the group were composed of her father, her brothers -and sisters, and the bridemen and bridemaids. - -“God bless you, my daughter, and have you in his holy keeping,” said the -father as he gave her his last embrace, “and now farewell!” - -The last kiss was given, the last parting word was said, the last long -look had been taken, and now the bridal party was being whirled through -the forest on one of the sweetest mornings of the sweet month of July. - -It was indeed a lovely day. Their way lay through an old road which was -so rarely travelled that it had became overgrown with grass, among which -the thick dew-drops, glittering in the morning sun, were scattered like -jewels on a monarch’s mantle. The birds sang merrily in the trees, or -skipped gaily from branch to branch, while the gentle sighing of the -wind, and the occasional murmur of a brook crossing the road, added to -the exhilirating influences of the hour. The travellers were all young -and happy, and so they gradually forgot the sadness of the parting hour, -and ere they had traversed many miles the green arcades of that lovely -old forest were ringing with merry laughter. Suddenly, however, the -bride paused in her innocent mirth, and while a shade of paleness -overspread her cheek, called the attention of her husband to a dark -black cloud, far off on the horizon, and yet gloomier and denser than -the darkest thunder cloud. - -“The forest is on fire!” was his instant ejaculation, “think you not so, -Charnley?” and he turned to his groomsman. - -“Yes! but the wind is not towards us, and the fire must be miles from -our course. There is no need for alarm, Ellen,” said he, turning to the -bride, his sister. - -“But our road lies altogether through the forest,” she timidly rejoined, -“and you know there isn’t a house or cleared space for miles.” - -“Yes! but my dear sis, so long as the fire keeps its distance, it -matters not whether our road is through the forest or the fields. We -will drive on briskly and before noon you will laugh at your fears. Your -parting from home has weakened your nerves.” - -No more was said, and for some time the carriage proceeded in silence. -Meantime the conflagration was evidently spreading with great rapidity. -The dark, dense clouds of smoke, which had at first been seen hanging -only in one spot, had now extended in a line along the horizon, -gradually edging around so as to head off the travellers. But this was -done so imperceptibly that, for a long time, the travellers were not -aware of it, and they had journeyed at least half an hour before they -saw their danger. At length the bride spoke again. - -“Surely, dear Edward,” she said, addressing her husband, “the fire is -sweeping around ahead of us: I have been watching it by yonder blasted -pine, and can see it slowly creeping across the trunk.” - -Every eye was instantly turned in the direction in which she pointed, -and her brother, who was driving, involuntarily checked the horses. A -look of dismay was on each countenance as they saw the words of the -bride verified. There could be no doubt that the fire had materially -changed its bearing since they last spoke, and now threatened to cut off -their escape altogether. - -“I wish, Ellen, we had listened to your fears and turned back half an -hour ago:” said the brother, “we had better do it at once.” - -“God help us—that is impossible,” said the husband, looking backwards, -“the fire has cut off our retreat.” - -It was as he said. The flames, which at first had started at a point -several miles distant and at right angles to the road the party was -travelling, had spread out in every direction, and finding the swamp in -the rear of the travellers parched almost to tinder by the draught, had -extended with inconceivable velocity in that quarter, so that a dense -cloud of smoke, beneath which a dark lurid veil of fire surged and -rolled, completely cut off any retrograde movement on the part of the -travellers. This volume of flame, moreover, was evidently moving rapidly -in pursuit. The cheeks, even of the male members of the bridal party, -turned ashy pale at the sight. - -“There is nothing to do but to push on,” said the brother, “we will yet -clear the road before the fire reaches it.” - -“And if I remember,” said the husband, “there is a road branching off to -the right, scarce half a mile ahead: we can gain that easily, when we -shall be safe. Cheer up, Ellen, there is no danger. This is our wedding -morn, let me not see you sad.” - -The horses were now urged forward at a brisk pace, and in a few minutes -the bridal party reached the cross road. Their progress was now directly -from the fire; all peril seemed at an end; and the spirits of the group -rose in proportion to their late depression. Once more the merry laugh -was heard, and the song rose up gaily on the morning air. The -conflagration still raged behind, but at a distance that placed all fear -at defiance, while in front the fire, although edging down towards them, -approached at a pace so slow that they knew it would not reach the road -until perhaps hours after they had attained their journey’s end. At -length the party subsided again into silence, occupying themselves in -gazing on the magnificent spectacle presented by the lurid flames, as, -rolling their huge volumes of smoke above them, they roared down towards -the travellers. - -“The forest is as dry as powder,” said the husband, “I never saw a -conflagration travel so rapidly. The fire cannot have been kindled many -hours, and it has already spread for miles. Little did you think, -Ellen,” he said, turning fondly to his bride, “when we started this -morning, that you should so narrowly escape such a peril.” - -“And, as I live, the peril is not yet over,” suddenly exclaimed the -brother, “see—see—a fire has broke out on our right, and is coming -down on to us like a whirlwind. God have mercy on us!” - -He spoke with an energy that would have startled his hearers without the -fearful words he uttered. But when they followed the direction of his -quivering finger, a shriek burst from the two females, while the usually -collected husband turned ashy pale, not for himself, but for her who was -dearer to him than his own life. A fire, during the last few minutes, -had started to life in the forest to their right, and, as the wind was -from that quarter, the flames were seen ahead shooting down towards the -road which the bridal party was traversing, roaring, hissing, and -thundering as they drew near. - -“Drive faster—for heaven’s sake—on the gallop!” exclaimed the husband, -as he comprehended the imminency of their danger. - -The brother made no answer, for he well knew their fearful situation, -but whipped the horses into a run. The chaise flew along the narrow -forest road with a rapidity that neither of the party had ever before -witnessed; for even the animals themselves seemed aware of their peril, -and strained every sinew to escape from the fiery death which threatened -them. - -Their situation was indeed terrible, and momentarily becoming more -precarious. The fire, when first seen, was, at least, a mile off, but -nearly equidistant from a point in the road the bridal party was -traversing; and, as the conflagration swept down towards the road with a -velocity equal to that of the travellers, it soon became evident that -they would have barely time to pass the fire ere it swept across the -road, thus cutting off all escape. Each saw this; but the females were -now paralized with fear. Only the husband spoke. - -“Faster, for God’s sake, faster,” he hoarsely cried, “see you not that -the fire is making for yonder tall pine—we shall not be able to reach -the tree first unless we go faster.” - -“I will do my best,” said the brother, lashing still more furiously the -foaming horses. “Oh! God, that I had turned back when Ellen wished me.” - -On came the roaring fire—on in one mass of flame—on with a velocity -that seemed only equalled by that of the flying hurricane. Now the -flames caught the lower limbs of a tall tree and in an instant had -hissed to its top—now they shot out their forky tongues from one huge -pine to another far across the intermediate space—and now the whirling -fire, whistled along the dry grass and moss of the swamp with a rapidity -which the eye could scarcely follow. Already the fierce heat of the -conflagration began to be felt by the travellers, while the horses, -feeling the increase of warmth, grew restive and terrified. The peril -momentarily increased. Hope grew fainter. Behind and on either side the -conflagration roared in pursuit, while the advancing flame in front was -cutting off their only avenue of escape. _They were girdled by fire._ -Faster and quicker roared the flames towards the devoted party, until at -length despair seized on the hearts of the travellers. Pale, paralized, -silent, inanimate as statues, sat the females; while the husband and -brother, leaning forward in the carriage and urging the horses to their -utmost speed, gazed speechlessly on the approaching flames. Already the -fire was within a hundred yards of the road ahead, and it seemed beyond -human probability that the travellers could pass it in time. The husband -gave one last agonizing glance at his inanimate wife. When again he -looked at the approaching flames, he saw that during that momentary -glimpse they had lessened their distance one half. He could already feel -the hot breath of the fire on his cheek. The wind, too, suddenly whirled -down with fiercer fury, and in an instant the forky tongues of the -advancing conflagration had shot across the road, and entwined -themselves around the tall pine which had been the goal of the -travellers’ hopes. He sank back with a groan. But the brother’s eye -gleamed wildly at the sight, and gathering the reins tighter around his -hand, he made one last desperate effort to force the horses onward; and -with one mad leap, they lifted the carriage from the ground as if it had -been a plaything, plunged into the fiery furnace, and the next instant -had shot through the pass. - -Charnley gave one look backwards, as if to assure himself that they had -indeed escaped—he saw the lurid mass of fire roaring and whirling -across the spot through which they had darted but a moment before; and -overcome with mingled gratitude and awe, he lowered his head on his -breast and poured out an overflowing soul in thanksgivings to the Power -which had saved them from the most dreadful of deaths. And long -afterwards, men, who travelled through that charred and blackened -forest, pointed to the memorable scene where these events occurred, and -rehearsed the thrilling feelings of those who had been encompassed by -the Girdle of Fire. - - * * * * * - - - - - TO ——. - - - BY GEORGE LUNT. - - - I call upon the waves and they reply, - But not the voice I fain would hear replied, - Vainly I seek it in the wind’s deep sigh, - Earth, air, the sky’s blue depths and ocean’s tide. - - These have their various voices, soft or stern, - Moulding our feelings to the varied hour, - And the wrung heart will hear them and return - To claim on Nature’s breast a mother’s power. - - The dewy freshness of earth’s vernal prime, - Her budding promise lapp’d in fragrant showers, - The sacred sweetness of her summer time, - And her bright bosom cover’d o’er with flowers; - - The viewless music of the breathing air, - The rushing wind that sweeps across the plain, - The breeze that dallies with the brow of care - And stirs the languid pulse to life again; - - Heaven’s glorious arch, when morning through the skies - Skirts all its blue with gold, or sweeter far - At the dim twilight, or when softly rise - The new-born moon and glittering star on star; - - And the dark-rolling voiceful sea, whose moan, - On the wide waste or by the storm-beat shore, - Asks the soul’s answer like a spirit tone, - And the deep soul speaks inly to its roar; - - These have their language, mirthful, sad, or wild, - Like changing passion in the human breast; - We call them to us, as a wilder’d child - His home’s companions, and they give us rest; - - Yet though they speak, I cannot hear—no more - Comes the sweet music of the one loved tone, - And standing lonely by the lone sea-shore - Sad as my heart falls its perpetual moan. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE STAGE. - - - BY WILLIAM WALLACE. - - - Oh! I could weep when I perceive the cloud - Of dark impurities around our Stage, - Where those creations, gay, or sad, or proud— - Hamlet’s strange wo, or wronged Othello’s rage - Hallowed fair Albion’s selectest age: - Yet would I not, like certain ones, behold - Theatric pomp proscribed in liberal land, - While pale Contempt (as once in ages old) - Kills with a single look the buskin band. - A beauty sparkles yet around the Place— - A mystic charm—a fairy-beaming grace— - Appealing loudly to the coldest heart: - These boards once held the glory of our race, - And still they reverence a Shakspeare’s Art. - - * * * * * - - - - - “TO WIN THE LOVE OF THEE.” - - - BALLAD. - - - DEDICATED TO MISS LEO M. CASSIN, OF GEORGETOWN, D. C. - - - BY J. G. E. - - - John F. Nunns, _184 Chesnut Street: Philadelphia_. - - -[Illustration: musical score] - -[Illustration: musical score] - - To win the love of thee, - I would the wealth of worlds resign, - For life has nought for me, - But one sole wish to call thee mine. - All other joys of life no more, - For me a thought shall claim, - Thou art the Idol I adore, - My happiness and fame. - To win the love of thee, - I would the wealth of worlds resign, - For life has nought for me, - But one sole wish to call thee mine. - - Strive not with ornament to hide - Thy beauty’s op’ning flower; - Simplicity should be thy bride. - For therein lies thy power. - Of Constancy the model I - To wand’ring eyes should prove, - For I should only wish to die - If e’er I lose thy love. - To win the love of thee, &c. - - * * * * * - - - - - REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. - - - _Notes of a Tour through Turkey, Greece, Egypt, Arabia Petræa, - to the Holy Land; including a Visit to Athens, Sparta, Delhi, - Cairo, Thebes, Mount Sinai, Petræa, &c. By E. Joy Morris. Two - vols. 12 mo. pp. 550. Philadelphia, Carey & Hart: 1842._ - -Were we disposed to be hypercritical, we should begin by finding some -fault with the title of these volumes. It is quite too long, besides -being tautological. Why speak of a tour through Egypt, and a visit to -Thebes! Or of a tour through Greece and a visit to Athens? It would be -as proper to announce a journey through England, including a visit to -London. He who travels over a country of course visits its capital. If -he supposes the readers of his journal do not know what city enjoys that -distinction, it is even then better to let them acquire this -geographical information by degrees. Too great and sudden developments -may defeat his object; a man’s vision is sometimes obscured by excess of -light. - -Of the improbabilities which are scattered throughout the work we have -space only to notice one or two. Mr. Morris informs us that the _harem_ -of the Governor of Smyrna, which he encountered on board a steamer, -“consisted of some half-dozen ladies, (wives,) and, with attendants, -amounted to near thirty persons.” Rather too many wives for the simple -Aga of Smyrna, and more than the Koran allows. The holy book of the -Mahommedan permits no one, save the Grand Sultan—the representative of -the prophet—to have more than two; and that highest of dignitaries, and -hereditary favorite of the immortals, has but four. The Governor of -Smyrna, we are assured by a competent authority, has but _one_ wife, and -she is of Turkish descent, and not, as our author avers, a Circassian. -Had she been of Circassia she would have been a concubine, not a wife, -or, as the author blunderingly calls her, a _Sultana_. That title -belongs only to the favorite wife of the _Sultan_. Our traveller tells -us that he offered to this lady some sweet-meats, although her husband -and the keeper of his harem were both present! An averment which we -would be as chary of believing as if it were that the “light” of the -Grand Seigneur’s palace had accepted an invitation to swim with him in -the Bosphorus! - -Mr. Morris tells us that he found in the slave market of Constantinople -two beautiful Georgian girls, “destined for the harems of the rich,” in -_cages_, but that he was “only indulged with a glance at them through -the _bars_!” Now a cage, or such a place as he intended to describe by -that word, even for the ugliest Numidian, would not be tolerated in -Constantinople for an hour; nor has there been for many years a Georgian -girl publicly exhibited in the markets of that city. When a writer, -sensible of the dulness of his performance, seeks to impart to it some -interest by weaving into its chapters romantic fictions, he should be -careful to give them an air of probability. We have not time nor -inclination to point out other “attractions” in these volumes of a -similar description. - -While writing of Athens and Constantinople, Mr. Morris doubtless had by -his side Mr. Colton’s “Visit” to those places; and in his notices of -Arabia Petræa and Egypt he has availed himself of the information -acquired by Mr. Stevens and Professor Robinson. He has made what, in the -language of the _trade_, is called a readable book; but it possesses -neither originality, vigor, nor freshness; and his delineations, besides -lacking these qualities, are often tediously long and needlessly -particular. He does not pretend to give any new topographical -information, and his work contains none. It was probably written out -from slight notes taken during his tour, and the more elaborate -descriptions of other travellers. It evinces some taste and judgment in -the selection of themes, and is now and then graced by a classical -allusion or quotation, gleaned, perhaps, from the guide-books, which -make authorship so easy to the tourist. - - * * * * * - - _Punishment by Death: Its Authority and Expediency. By Rev. - George B. Chester. One vol. 12mo. pp. 156. New York: M. W. - Dodd._ - -Several able sermons on this important subject have issued from the -press. This is a more extended and elaborate effort. It displays -learning, research, and philosophical acumen, and is worthy of general -and serious attention. We know of no treatise in our language, on this -subject, so well calculated for circulation among the people at large. -It is brief, clear, comprehensive, written in an interesting style, and -often rising to a strain of vivid and stirring eloquence. - -About half the volume is devoted to the argument from Scripture; in -which the original Noahic ordinance is taken as the ground-work, -commented upon in the Mosaic statutes, and confirmed in the New -Testament. The writings and experience of Paul are examined, and the -course of the Divine Providence is shown to be consentaneous with this -argument. The state of legislation and society in the antediluvian -world, as well as afterwards, are investigated, with the origin of -government, and the nature of its sanction in the Scriptures. - -The remainder of the book is taken up with the argument from Expediency. -The question is examined, What constitutes the perfection of criminal -jurisprudence! The efficacy of punishment by death in restraining crime -is argued, and also that the abrogation of this punishment would prove a -premium on the crime of murder, through the desire of concealing other -crimes. The law of nature is examined, with the powerful convictions of -conscience on this subject, as sustaining the Divine legislation, and -demanding support also in human law. Various objections are considered -and answered, with the occasion of the prejudice against Capital -Punishment. The book concludes with a chapter on the power and solemnity -of the argument from analogy, in reference to the sanctions of the -Divine Government. - - * * * * * - - _A Popular Treatise on Agricultural Chemistry: intended for the - use of the Practical Farmer. By Chas. Squarey, Chemist. One vol. - Lea & Blanchard: Philadelphia._ - -An excellent work, in which most of what is really valuable in the -treatises of Liebig, Davy, Johnson and Daubeny, has been condensed for -the practical reader. - - * * * * * - - _Tecumseh, or the West Thirty Years Since: A Poem: By George H. - Colton. 12mo. pp. 412. New York: Wiley & Putnam, 1842._ - -We alluded to this work very briefly in a former number, and now recur -to it mainly for the purpose of presenting some specimens of the -author’s versification, by which the reader may be enabled to judge of -its general execution. “Tecumseh” is a narrative, founded on the history -of that great chief whose name is chosen for its title, and whose -efforts to unite the various divisions of the red race into one grand -confederacy, to regain their lost inheritance, though unsuccessful, -should secure to him a fame as lasting as is awarded to the most -celebrated heroes and patriots of the world. - -The measure of the main part of the poem—extending to nine long -cantos—is octo-syllabic. It is free, and generally correct, though in -some cases marred by inexcusable carelessness, and phraseology more tame -and meaningless than, had he kept his manuscript for a few years, the -author would have permitted to go before the critics. The hero, with the -wily prophet, Els-kwa-ta-wa, who was his evil genius through life, is -introduced in the second canto. Distinguished - - “By his broad brow of care and thought, - By his most regal mien and tread, - By robes with richest wampum wrought, - And eagle’s plume upon his head,” - -he emerges with his companion from a forest; - - “Nor e’er did eye a form behold - At once more finished, firm and bold. - Of larger mould and loftier mien - Than oft in hall or bower is seen, - And with a browner hue than seems - To pale maid fair, or lights her dreams, - He yet revealed a symmetry - Had charmed the Grecian sculptor’s eye, - A massive brow, a kindled face, - Limbs chiselled to a faultless grace, - Beauty and strength in every feature, - While in his eyes there lived the light - Of a great soul’s transcendant might— - Hereditary lord by nature! - As stood he there, the stern, unmoved, - Except his eagle glance that roved, - And darkly limned against the sky - Upon that mound so lone and high, - He looked the sculptured God of Wars, - Great Odin, or Egyptian Mars, - By crafty hand, from dusky stone, - Immortal wrought in ages gone, - And on some silent desert cast, - Memorial of the mighty Past! - And yet, though firm, though proud his glance, - There was upon his countenance - That settled shade, which oft in life - Mounts upward from the spirit’s strife - As if upon his soul there lay - Some grief which would not pass away. - - “The other’s lineaments and air - Revealed him plainly brother born - Of him, who on that summit bare - So sad, yet proudly met the morn: - But, lighter built, his slender frame - Far less of grace, as strength, could claim; - And, with an eye that, sharp and fierce, - Would seem the gazer’s breast to pierce, - And low’ring visage, aye the while - Inwrought of subtlety and guile, - Whose every glance, that darkly stole, - Bespoke the crafty, cruel soul. - There was from all his presence shed - A power, a chill mysterious dread, - Which made him of those beings seem, - That shake us in the midnight dream. - Yet were his features, too, o’ercast - With mournfulness, as if the past - Had been one vigil, painful, deep and long - Of hushed Revenge still brooding over wrong. - No word was said: but long they stood, - And side by side, in thoughtful mood, - Watched the great curtains of the mist - Up from the mighty landscape move; - ’Twas surely spirit-hands, they wist, - Did lift them from above. - And when, unveiled, to them alone - The solitary world was shown, - And dew from all the mound’s green sod - Rose, like an incense, up to God, - Reclined, yet silent still, they bent - Their eyes on Heaven’s deep firmament— - As if were open to their view - The stars’ sun-flooded homes of blue— - Or gazed, with mournful sternness, o’er - The rolling prairie stretched before; - While round them, fluttering on the breeze, - The sere leaves fell from faded trees.” - -At the close of a conference which ensues, Tecumseh expresses his -determination to - - “go forth - Through the great waters of the North, - Round the far South, and o’er the West - By the lone streams, nor ever rest, - Till all the tribes united stand - In battle for their native land.” - -There are scattered through the poem many passages of minute and skilful -description of external nature, and interwoven with the main history is -a story of love, resulting, in the end, like most tales of the kind, in -the perfect felicity of the parties. Some episodes, by which the -narrative is broken, are well-wrought, and the entire poem possesses a -deep and sustained interest. The rapid action of the narrative is -illustrated by the following passive, descriptive of the last conflict, -in which Tecumseh fell: - - “Forth at the peal each charger sped, - The hard earth shook beneath their tread, - The dim woods, all around them spread, - Shone with their armor’s light: - Yet in those stern, still lines assailed - No eye-ball shrunk, no bosom quailed, - No foot was turned for flight; - But, thundering as their foemen came, - Each rifle flashed its deadly flame. - A moment, then recoil and rout, - With reeling horse and struggling shout, - Confused that onset fair; - But, rallying each dark steed once more, - Like billows borne the low reefs o’er - With foamy crest in air, - Right on and over them they bore, - With gun and bayonet thrust before, - And swift swords brandish’d bare. - Then madly was the conflict waged, - Then terribly red Slaughter raged! - - “How still is yet yon dense morass - The bloody sun below! - Where’er yon chosen horsemen pass, - There stirs no bough nor blade of grass, - There moves no secret foe! - Yet on, quick eye and cautious tread, - His bold ranks Johnson darkling led. - Sudden from tree and thicket green, - From trunk, and mound, and bushy screen, - Sharp lightning flashed with instant sheen, - A thousand death-bolts sung! - Like ripened fruit before the blast, - Rider and horse to earth were cast, - Its miry roots among; - Then wild, as if that earth were riven, - And, pour’d beneath the cope of heaven, - All hell to upper air were given, - One fearful whoop was rung, - And, bounding each from covert forth, - Burst on their front the demon birth. - ‘Off! off! each horseman to the ground! - On foot we’ll quell the foe!’ - And instant, with impetuous bound, - They hurl’d them down below. - - “Then loud the crash of arms arose, - As when two forest whirlwinds close; - Then filled all heaven their shout and yell, - As if the forests on them fell! - I see, where swells the thickest fight, - With sword and hatchet brandish’d bright - And rifles flashing sulphurous light - Through green leaves gleaming red— - I see a plume, now near, now far, - Now high, now low, like falling star, - Wide waving o’er the tide of war, - Where’er the onslaught’s led; - I see, beneath, a bare arm swing, - As tempest whirls the oak, - Bosom and high crest shivering - The war-club’s deadly stroke; - The eager infantry rush in, - Before their ranks, with wilder din, - The wav’ring strife is driven— - Above the struggling storm I hear - A lofty voice the war bands cheer, - Still, as they quail with doubt or fear, - Yet loud and louder given; - And, rallying to the clarion cry, - With club and red axe raging high, - And sharp knives sheathing low, - Fast back again confusedly - They drive the staggering foe.” - -We conclude our extracts with a graphic description of a forest scene, -from the last canto. - - “Within a wood extending wide - By Thames’s steeply winding side, - There sat upon a fallen tree, - Grown green through ages silently, - An Indian girl. The gradual change - Making all things most sweetly strange, - Had come again. The autumn sun, - Half up his morning journey, shone - With conscious lustre, calm and still; - By dell, and plain, and sloping hill - Stood mute the faded trees, in grief, - As various as their clouded leaf. - With all the hues of sunset skies - Were stamp’d the maple’s mourning dies; - In meeker sorrow in the vale - The gentle ash was drooping pale; - Brown-seared the walnut raised its head, - The oak displayed a lifeless red; - And grouping bass and white-wood hoar - Sadly their yellow honors bore; - And silvered birch and poplar rose - With foliage gray and weeping boughs; - But elm and stubborn beech retained - Some verdant lines, though crossed and stained, - And by the river’s side were seen - Hazel and willow palely green, - While in the woods, by bank and stream - And hollows shut from daylight gleam, - Where tall trees wept their freshening dews, - Each shrub preserved its summer hues. - Nor this alone. From branch and trunk - The withered wild-vines coldly shrunk, - The woodland fruits hung ripe or dry, - The leaf-strown brook flowed voiceless by; - And all throughout, nor dim nor bright. - There lived a rare and wondrous light - Wherein the colored leaves around - Fell noiselessly; nor any sound, - Save chattering squirrels on the trees, - Or dropping nuts, when stirred the breeze, - Might there be heard; and, floating high, - Were light clouds borne along the sky. - And, scarcely seen, in heaven’s deep blue - One solitary eagle flew.” - -From these passages the general character of the work may be inferred. -It is too long: it would be unwise to extend a poem on any theme to nine -cantos, of near fourteen thousand lines; and besides its diffuseness, in -parts, it has other faults, to which we have already alluded. It is the -first production, however, of an author just freed from the University; -not yet, apparently, twenty-two years old; and, so regarded, the -severest critic must deem it remarkably free from errors in design and -execution. - -Some half dozen elaborate metrical tales, founded on Indian histories or -traditions, have before appeared in this country, of which but one—the -“Yamoyden” of Sands and Eastburn—is comparable to this; and that is -inferior to it in unity, and, indeed, in almost all its essential -features. The admirable proem to “Yamoyden,” in which Sands laments in -such touching strains the early death of his associate and friend, is -not rightly considered a part of the poem to which it is prefixed. To -this Mr. Colton has produced nothing equal; nor is he worthy _yet_ to be -ranked with Sands as a poet. But “Tecumseh,” until some nobler work is -written, must be considered the best poem of its class written by an -American. - - * * * * * - - _Memoir of India and Avghanistoun, with Observations on The - Present State and Future Prospects of those Countries. By J. - Harlan, late Counsellor of State, Aid-de-Camp, and General of - the Staff, to Dost Mahomed, Ameer of Cabul. One vol. 12mo. - Philadelphia: J. Dobson, 1842._ - -General Harlan resided in India and Avghanistoun eighteen years, and his -official stations during that period were such as he would have chosen -had his principal object been to form a correct judgment in regard to -the social and political conditions of those countries. The facts and -opinions contained in this work must therefore command regard, -especially since the recent military operations in that quarter have -drawn so much attention to the British East Indian Empire. The volume -comprises remarks on the late massacre of the British Army in Cabul, and -the British policy in India; a reply to the Count Björstjerna’s work on -that country; the Russian influence in central Asia; the foreign -relations of the Indo-British government; the moral, religious and -political character and condition of the Indians and Avghans; and the -results of missionary exertions and prospects of Christianity among -them; together with an interesting sketch of the history and personal -character of Dost Mahomed, one of the most remarkable individuals that -have appeared in the oriental nations during this century. In an -appendix, the author indulges in some speculations on a passage in the -Book of Daniel, which he supposes has reference to the present condition -of the Mahommedan countries, and indicates the speedy extinction of the -Ottoman empire. The book is illustrated with maps and a portrait of the -Ex-Ameer of Cabul. - -We shall look with some anxiety for General Harlan’s “Personal Narrative -of Eighteen Years’ Residence in Asia,” which we believe is now in press. - - * * * * * - - _History of the Expedition under the command of Captains Lewis - and Clarke, to the sources of the Missouri, thence across the - Rocky Mountains, and down the river Columbia to the Pacific - Ocean: Performed during the years 1804, 1805, 1806, by order of - the Government of the United States. Two vols. Harper & - Brothers: New York._ - -The expedition of Lewis and Clarke was the first ever made through the -Oregon Territory to the Columbia River. An account of their tour was -published soon after their return; but as that work has since gone out -of print, and as the Oregon Territory is now a subject of much interest, -the Messrs. Harpers have issued the present volumes, in which -unimportant details in the former edition have been omitted, and -explanatory notes have been added, by Archibald M’Vickar, Esq. The -volumes form Nos. 154 and 155 of the Family Library. _Perkins & Purvis: -Philadelphia._ - - * * * * * - - _The Life of Wilbur Fisk, S. T. D. first President of the - Wesleyan University. By Joseph Holdich. One vol. 8vo. Pp. 455. - New York: Harper & Brothers._ - -Wilbur Fisk was one of the purest and most useful men of our time. With -a temperament remarkably sanguine and ardent, all his qualities were so -subdued and harmonized by religion, as to form one of the finest models -of elevated Christian character that has been presented to the world. He -was a native of Brattleborough, Vermont, where he was born in 1792. In -his early years he enjoyed no advantages that are not within the reach -of almost every young man of New England. When about twenty-two years of -age he began to study the law, but soon after turned his attention to -the ministry, and in the spring of 1818 was licensed to preach by a -Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church. In 1823 he was made a -ruling elder, and in 1825, principal of the Methodist Seminary of -Wilbraham. In 1829, he received the degree of Doctor in Divinity, from -Augusta College, and from Brown University, and the following year was -elected to the presidency of the Wesleyan University at Middletown. In -the autumn of 1835, he visited Europe, and passed about a year on the -continent and in Great Britain. The record of his travels, published -soon after his return, has been one of the most popular works of its -kind written by an American. He died at Middletown, after a long and -painful illness, borne with singular fortitude and resignation, on the -twenty-second of February, 1840. The Memoirs before us, by his friend -Professor Holdich, are written with ability and candor; but the most -interesting portions of the work are Dr. Fisk’s admirable private -letters, distinguished alike for a beauty of style, simplicity, -earnestness, and affection, that indicates, better than any labored -delineation by another hand, his high character and endowments. -_Philadelphia: H. Perkins._ - - * * * * * - - _A Narrative of Voyages and Commercial Enterprises. By Richard - J. Cleveland. Two vols. 12mo. Cambridge: John Owen, 1842._ - -This is one of the many narratives of adventures at sea given to the -public in consequence of the success of Mr. Dana’s “Two Years before the -Mast.” The author, who retired from the merchant service more than -twenty years ago, presents some interesting reminiscences of voyages to -India, South America, and other parts of the world, written in a style -of simple elegance rather unusual for a veteran sailor. The industry and -enterprise of the New Englanders is in nothing more conspicuous than in -their mercantile marine, and we infer from his pleasant work, that Mr. -Cleveland has done his part to gain for them their enviable reputation. - - * * * * * - - _Athanasion, and other Poems. By the Author of “Christian - Ballads.” New York: Wiley & Putnam._ - -The author of “Christian Ballads” is the Rev. Arthur Cleveland Coxe, -Rector of St. Anna’s Chapel, Morrisania, near New York: a young poet who -has won an enviable reputation by numerous contributions to the -periodical literature of the day, and by some more elaborate writings. -“Athanasion” is, perhaps, his best metrical composition. It has, with -many excellencies, some defects, which we lack space and inclination to -point out in this number of our Magazine. The volume before us is -printed in a style equal to that of the best English impressions. - - * * * * * - - _Fathers and Sons: a Novel. By Theodore E. Hook, Esq. Two vols. - 12mo. Philadelphia: Lea & Blanchard, 1842._ - -Theodore Edward Hook was one of the most popular of the authors who died -in the last year. His table wit, it is said, in freshness and -exuberance, was never equalled in England; and the humor that pervades -his writings will keep them in favor probably for centuries. The novel -before us was his last. It appeared originally by separate chapters in -the New Monthly Magazine, of which he was editor; and he was engaged in -its revision when seized by the disease which terminated his career. His -first work—excepting some plays written in his boyhood—was “Sayings -and Doings,” published in 1824. It was followed by a second and third -series of the same work; by “Maxwell,” “The Parson’s Daughter,” “Jack -Brag,” “Births, Deaths, and Marriages,” “Gilbert Gurney,” “Gurney -Married,” “Precepts and Practice,” several volumes of biography, and -“Fathers and Sons.” He died on the twenty-second day of September, 1841, -in the fifty-third year of his age. - -His last work has all his peculiarities; the most felicitous humor; -graphic delineations of character; and incidents interesting and -ingeniously diversified. We have not space for an analysis of its plot; -and one is the less necessary, as, notwithstanding the “hardness of the -times,” very few will permit the last legacy of Theodore Hook to go -unread. - - * * * * * - - _Sermons and Sketches of Sermons, by the Rev John Summerfield, - M. A. With an Introduction, by the Rev. Thomas E. Bond, M. D. - One vol. 8vo. Pp. 437. Harper & Brothers: New York._ - -John Summerfield was one of those remarkable men who have appeared from -time to time to electrify the religious world, by eloquence the most -persuasive, and lives which served as samples by which those who would -might guide their course to heaven. He began to preach in Ireland, when -but twenty years of age, and soon after came to the United States, where -he continued to labor as an evangelist until his death, which occurred -sixteen years ago. Most of the sermons and sketches of sermons included -in the volume before us were written down after their public delivery. -They possess a deep interest, especially to those who remember the -sainted author, more worthy of canonization than were ninety-nine -hundredths of those whose names are included in the calendar. _Henry -Perkins: Philadelphia._ - - * * * * * - - _Practical Geology and Mineralogy; with Instructions for the - qualitative analysis of Minerals. By Joshua Trimmer, F. G. - S.—Itum est in viscera terræ. One vol. Lea & Blanchard: - Philadelphia._ - -A valuable elementary treatise on Geology. For the convenience of those -who have not access to cabinets of minerals, the author has collected -various chemical and mineralogical details, to enable any person easily -to recognise the different minerals when discovered in the fields. In -the purely geological part of the work, Mr. Trimmer has confined himself -to facts and classifications and a few universally admitted inferences, -avoiding all questions affecting the higher generalizations, since they -are still and must long continue to be matters of controversy. The work -is illustrated with wood-cuts. We commend it to students in geology. - - * * * * * - - _Italy and the Italian Islands, from the earliest ages to the - present time. By William Spalding, Esq. With engravings and - illustrative maps and plans. Three vols. Harper & Brothers: New - York._ - -This is an able and comprehensive work, and may be consulted with -confidence by persons who wish to inquire concerning the history, -scenery, antiquities, topography, and present condition of Italy. The -author is, perhaps, less profound than he would have been if he had -contemplated a more voluminous treatise. For all purposes, however, of -general reference, or as a guide to more detailed inquiries, his volumes -may be consulted with advantage. The account of the social, religious -and political revolutions of the ancient and modern Italians, and the -history of the rise and progress of the arts and literature in Italy, -constitute two of its most valuable divisions. - -These volumes form Nos. 151, 152 and 153 of the Family Library, and are -published in the usual style of that excellent series. _Carey & Hart: -Philadelphia._ - - * * * * * - - _A Discourse on Matters pertaining to Religion; by Theodore - Parker, Minister of the Second Church in Roxburgh, - Massachusetts. Pp. 505, 8vo. Boston: Charles C. Little and James - Brown. 1842._ - -This is a bold and eloquent attack on the doctrines of the Bible, by one -who avows himself to be a Christian minister, and is ordained and -settled over a religious congregation. Some of the readers of Mr. -Parker’s “Discourse” who are unacquainted with the writings of the -German rationalists, may fancy that he is a man of deep research and -profound scholarship; but there is little danger that an intelligent -student in theology will be so deceived. The work embraces the substance -of five lectures, delivered in Boston during the last autumn. The author -denies the inspiration of the Holy Scriptures, the divinity of Jesus -Christ, and most of the other ideas of what he terms the “popular -theology.” We leave him and his labors to the critics of the Christian -churches. - - * * * * * - - _Masterman Ready, or, the Wreck of the Pacific. Written for - Young People. By Captain Marryat, R. N. Second Series. One vol., - 18mo. New York: D. Appleton & Co._ - -This is a sequel to the entertaining volume published under the same -title last year. Though “Masterman Ready” is an entertaining story, it -is far from being equal in any respect, save its freedom from the -coarser kind of jests, to “Peter Simple,” “Jacob Faithful,” or the other -early works of the author. - - * * * * * - - _Means and Ends, or Self-training. By the author of Redwood, - Hope Leslie, Home, Poor Rich Man, &c., &c. Second edition. One - vol. Harper & Brothers: New York._ - -One of the best of Miss Sedgwick’s smaller works. It is written in a -light, rambling style, enforcing truths by anecdotes or short stories. -It has been deservedly popular, and we predict that it will pass to a -third and even fourth and fifth edition. - - * * * * * - - _What’s to be Done? or, the Will and the Way. By the author of - “Wealth and Worth,” &c. One vol. 12mo. Pp. 232. New York: Harper - & Brothers._ - -The pleasant little volume entitled “Wealth and Worth,” which we -commended to our readers a month or two since, has been succeeded by -another work from the same pen, which we think even superior to its -predecessor. It is a story of American life, conveying, as its piquant -title indicates, a useful and impressive moral. The style is animated -and pure, and the sketches of character are graphic, forcible, and -various; while the plot preserves a deep and natural interest. “Wealth -and Worth” has gone through five large editions in the course of as many -months—a remarkable instance of rapidly attained popularity. A success -equally decided must attend the spirited little tale of “What’s to be -Done?” - - * * * * * - - _The Divine Rule of Faith and Practice, or a Defence of the - Catholic Doctrine, that Holy Scripture has been since the Times - of the Apostles the Sole Divine Rule of Faith and Practice to - the Church, against the dangerous Errors of the Authors of the - Tracts for the Times and the Romanists, as, particularly, that - the Rule of Faith is “made up of Scripture and Tradition - together,” &c: In which also the Doctrines of the Apostolical - Succession, the Eucharistic Sacrifice, &c., are fully discussed. - By William Goode, M. A., of Trinity College, Cambridge. Two - vols. 8vo. Philadelphia: Herman Hooker._ - -This is probably the most learned and able theological work that has -been published in England or America during the year. Those who have -read the “Tracts for the Times,” and all who feel any interest in the -religious controversies of the age, will thank us for directing to it -their attention. - - * * * * * - - _Diary and Letters of Madame D’Arblay: Edited by her Niece. - Parts I. and II. Philadelphia, Carey & Hart._ - -Miss Burney, afterward Madame D’Arblay, is best known to the literary -world as the authoress of “Evelina,” one of the most admirable and -popular novels in the English language. She died early in the year 1841, -at the advanced age of ninety, and two volumes of her autobiographical -remains have since been published in London, both of which are included -in these “parts” of the American edition. She was intimately acquainted -with Johnson, Sheridan, Burke, Boswell, and other eminent persons of -their time; and her diary, including a great number of interesting -anecdotes and reminiscences of her early career, is one of the most -entertaining works of the day. - - * * * * * - -Rufus Winter Griswold, a gentleman of fine taste and well known literary -abilities, has become associated with us as one of the editors of this -Magazine. The extensive literary knowledge of Mr. G. renders him a most -valuable coadjutor. - - * * * * * - -The connection of E. A. Poe, Esq., with this work ceased with the _May -Number_. Mr. P. bears with him our warmest wishes for success in -whatever he may undertake. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: _Fashion’s Latest Style 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. XXI, No. 1, July 1842_, George R. -Graham, Editor] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, VOL. XXI, -NO. 1, JULY 1842 *** - -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. 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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;} - body { margin-left:8%; margin-right:10%; max-width:40em;} - </style> - </head> - <body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXI, No. 1, July 1842, by Various</p> -<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> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXI, No. 1, July 1842</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editors: George Rex Graham</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'>Rufus W. Griswold</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 1, 2022 [eBook #67962]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>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</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, VOL. XXI, NO. 1, JULY 1842 ***</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:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XXI.</span> July, 1842 No. 1.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>Contents</p> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 25em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tab1c1-col2 tdStyle0' colspan='2'><span class='bold'><span style='font-size:larger'>Fiction, Literature and Articles</span></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#pol'>The Polish Mother</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#fan'>The Fancy-Fair</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#har'>Harry Cavendish</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#bri'>The Bridal</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#lig'>The Lightning of the Waters</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#sis'>The Sisters</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#bos'>Boston Ramblings</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#aut'>Autumn</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#bro'>The Brother and Sister</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#tro'>Tropical Birds</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#gird'>The Girdle of Fire</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'><span style='font-size:larger'>Poetry, Music and Fashion</span></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#thou'>“Thou Hast Loved.”</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#viol'>Viola</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#morn'>Morning Prayer</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#fai'>Le Faineant</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#dyi'>The Dying Minstrel to His Muse</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#dau'>The Daughter of Herodias</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#call'>Callore</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#dir'>A Dirge</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#sonn'>Sonnet to My Mother</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#toan'>To An Infant in the Cradle</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#wil'>Will Nobody Marry Me?</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#towho'>To ——</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#sta'>The Stage</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#win'>“To Win the Love of Thee.”</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#fash'>Latest Fashions</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -</table> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#notes'>Transcriber’s Notes</a> can be found at the end of this eBook.</p> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:0.7em;font-size:1.5em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:0.5em;font-size:1.3em;font-weight:bold;'>LADY’S AND GENTLEMAN’S</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:0.5em;font-size:2em;font-weight:bold;'>MAGAZINE,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>EMBELLISHED WITH</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>MEZZOTINT AND STEEL ENGRAVINGS, MUSIC, ETC.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>WILLIAM C. BRYANT, J. FENIMORE COOPER, RICHARD H. DANA, HENRY W. LONGFELLOW, CHARLES F. HOFFMAN, THEODORE S. FAY, J. H. MANCUR,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>MRS. EMMA C. EMBURY, MRS. SEBA SMITH, MRS. “MARY CLAVERS,” MRS. E. F. ELLET, MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS, MRS. FRANCES S. OSGOOD, ETC.,</p> -<p class='line'>PRINCIPAL CONTRIBUTORS.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:0.75em;font-size:1.2em;'>GEORGE R. GRAHAM AND RUFUS W. GRISWOLD, EDITORS.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<hr class='tbk101'/> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.3em;'>VOLUME XXI.</p> -<hr class='tbk102'/> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:1em;'>PHILADELPHIA:</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.2em;'>GEORGE R. GRAHAM, NO. 98 CHESNUT STREET.</p> -<p class='line'>...........</p> -<p class='line'>1842.</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:2em;font-size:1.5em;font-weight:bold;'>INDEX</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;font-weight:bold;'>TO THE</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>TWENTY-FIRST VOLUME.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>FROM JUNE TO DECEMBER, 1842, INCLUSIVE.</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<table id='tab3' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 28em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 7.5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0.5em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>An Appeal in behalf of an International Copyright. By <span class='sc'>Cornelius Mathews</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>14</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Bridal, The. By <span class='sc'>Robert Morris</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>13</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Boston Ramblings. By <span class='sc'>Miss Leslie</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>33</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Brother and Sister, The. By <span class='sc'>Emma C. Embury</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>38</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Bud and Blossom, The. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Seba Smith</span>. (Illustrated.),</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>61</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Bryant, Wm. C., his Writings,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>102</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Ben Blower’s Story. By <span class='sc'>Charles Fenno Hoffman</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>132</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Bogart, Alexander H.,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>155</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Bainbridge, Memoir of. By <span class='sc'>J. Fenimore Cooper</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>240</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Barrett, Elizabeth B.,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>303</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Characterless Women. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Seba Smith</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>199</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Clam Bake, The. By <span class='sc'>Jeremy Short</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>215</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Charles VIII. of France, Segur’s Life of,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>286</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>De Pontis, a Tale of Richelieu. By the Author of “Henri Quatre,”</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>65, 135, 172, 235</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Dawes, Rufus, The Poetry of. By <span class='sc'>Edgar A. Poe</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>205</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Dale, Richard, Memoir of. By <span class='sc'>J. Fenimore Cooper</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>289</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Error, A Tale. By <span class='sc'>Emma C. Embury</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>83</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Editor’s Table,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>106, 155, 221, 286, 343</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Fancy Fair, The. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. A. M. F. Annan</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>4</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Fitch, John, Notice of. By <span class='sc'>Noah Webster</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>108</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Girdle of Fire, The. By <span class='sc'>Percie H. Selton</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>50</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Harry Cavendish. By the “Author of Cruising in the last War,”</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>9, 69, 117, 201, 281, 330</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Hester Ormesby. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Emma C. Embury</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>269</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Hasty Marriage, The. By <span class='sc'>Robert Morris</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>336</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Johnsons, The. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Ann S. Stephens</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>96</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Lightning of the Waters. By <span class='sc'>Reynell Coates</span>, M. D.,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>16</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Malina Gray. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Ann S. Stephens</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>210, 273, 304</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Minstrelsy of the Revolution,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>221</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Niagara Falls, Letter from. By <span class='sc'>Horace Greeley</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>107</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Night at Haddon Hall, A. By the Author of “Letters from Ancient Castles,”</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>194</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Polish Mother, The. (Illustrated.),</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>1</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Persecutor’s Daughter. By <span class='sc'>C. J. Peterson</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>320</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Reviews of New Books,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>56, 102, 152, 218, 286, 339</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Reprimand, The. By <span class='sc'>Epes Sargent</span>. (Illustrated.),</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>216</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Race for a Sweetheart, A. By <span class='sc'>Seba Smith</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>326</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Sisters, The, A Tale of the Sixteenth Century. By <span class='sc'>Henry W. Herbert</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>21, 73, 125</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Shakspeare. By <span class='sc'>Theodore S. Fay</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>142, 192</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Somers, Richard, Memoir of. By <span class='sc'>J. Fenimore Cooper</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>157</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Sketch of a Case, or a Physician Extraordinary. By “<span class='sc'>Mary Clavers</span>,”</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>187</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Scott’s Critical Writings,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>218</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Speculation, or Dyspepsia Cured. By <span class='sc'>H. T. Tuckerman</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>279</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Tropical Birds. By <span class='sc'>Park Benjamin</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>44</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Tennyson’s Poems,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>152</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Talfourd’s Miscellaneous Writings,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>218</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Truth, A Tale. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Frances Sargent Osgood</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>316</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Waste Paper, A Tale. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Frances Sargent Osgood</span>,</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>146</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'>Young Wife, The. By the Author of “A Marriage of Convenience,”</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'>257</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<table id='tab4' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 28em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 7.5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0.5em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tab4c1-col3 tdStyle6' colspan='3'><span class='bold'><span style='font-size:larger'>POETRY.</span></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Autumn. By <span class='sc'>Albert Pike</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>37</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Autumn, Approach of. By <span class='sc'>Wm. Falconer</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>124</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Alice, The Lady. (Illustrated.) By <span class='sc'>Park Benjamin</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>145</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Autumn, A Reverie in. By <span class='sc'>Wm. Falconer</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>209</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Affection, True. (Illustrated.),</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>319</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Callore. By <span class='sc'>Alexander A. Irvine</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>20</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Daughter of Herodius, The. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Frances Sargent Osgood</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>14</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Dirge. By <span class='sc'>James Russell Lowell</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>31</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Elizabeth. By <span class='sc'>J. T. S. Sullivan</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>68</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Faineant, Le. By <span class='sc'>Charles F. Hoffman</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>8</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Farewell, The Exile’s. By <span class='sc'>W. H. Racey</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>68</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Farewell to a Fashionable Acquaintance. By <span class='sc'>S. G. Goodrich</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>95</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Fame, The Student’s Dream of. By <span class='sc'>Robert Morris</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>101</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>First and Last Parting. By <span class='sc'>C. F. Hoffman</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>191</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Farewell, The,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>329</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>“Hath not thy Rose a Canker?” By <span class='sc'>Lois B. Adams</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>82</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Heart, The Haunted. By <span class='sc'>Mary L. Lawson</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>141</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Hymn for the Funeral of a Child. By <span class='sc'>James Aldrich</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>172</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Holy Nights, The. By <span class='sc'>Henry Morford</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>332</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>“I Saw Her Once,” A Song. By <span class='sc'>Richard H. Dana</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>256</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Life, The Future. By <span class='sc'>William Cullen Bryant</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>104</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>“Love’s Time is Now.” By <span class='sc'>Park Benjamin</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>200</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>L’Amour Sans Ailes. By <span class='sc'>C. F. Hoffman</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>272</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Morning Prayer. (Illustrated.),</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>3</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Minstrel, The Dying, to his Muse. By <span class='sc'>Wm. Falconer</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>8</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Maiden’s Sorrow, The. By <span class='sc'>Wm. C. Bryant</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>64</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Madoc, The Song of. By <span class='sc'>G. Forester Barstow</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>120</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>My Mother. A Dream. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Balmanno</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>239</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Pets, The Playful. (Illustrated.),</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>204</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Prayer, The Child’s. By <span class='sc'>Robert Morris</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>234</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Pastor’s Visit. (Illustrated.),</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>336</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Return of Youth. By <span class='sc'>Wm. C. Bryant</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>185</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Religion, The Power of. By <span class='sc'>Miss A. C. Pratt</span>. (Illustrated.),</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>198</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Sonnet. To my Mother. By <span class='sc'>T. H. Chivers</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>32</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Stage, The. By <span class='sc'>William Wallace</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>53</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Song. By <span class='sc'>Charles F. Hoffman</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>64</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Sonnet. By <span class='sc'>W. W. Story</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>79</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Song. By Hon. <span class='sc'>Mrs. Norton</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>95</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Student, The Spanish. By <span class='sc'>Henry W. Longfellow</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>109, 196, 229</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Storm, The Sunset. By <span class='sc'>Rufus W. Griswold</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>145</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Sonnet. “Bear On,”</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>175</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Sonnet. The Smile,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>180</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Sonnet. “Rejoice!”</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>214</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Sonnet. The Unattained. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Seba Smith</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>256</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Sonnet. The Serenade,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>279</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Shepherd, The, and the Brook. By <span class='sc'>William Falconer</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>280</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Sonnet. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Seba Smith</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>303</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Sonnets, Four. By <span class='sc'>Elizabeth B. Barrett</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>303</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>“Thou Hast Loved.” By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Seba Smith</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>3</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>To an Infant in the Cradle. By <span class='sc'>George B. Cheever</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>44</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>To ——. By <span class='sc'>George Lunt</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>53</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>To My Sisters. By <span class='sc'>Anna Cora Mowatt</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>72</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>To a Swallow. By <span class='sc'>Wm. Falconer</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>82</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>To Fanny H. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Seba Smith</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>131</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>To a Lady Singing. By <span class='sc'>George Hill</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>191</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>To a Belle who is not a Blue Belle. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. Ellet</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>200</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>To Almeida in New England. By <span class='sc'>James T. Fields</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>204</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>To the Earth. By <span class='sc'>James Aldrich</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>204</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>To the Night Wind in Autumn. By <span class='sc'>George H. Colton</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>336</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Uncas, The Last Leap of. By <span class='sc'>Park Benjamin</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>79</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Viola. By <span class='sc'>James Aldrich</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>3</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Voyage, The Life. By <span class='sc'>Mrs. F. S. Osgood</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>265</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Watchers, The. (Illustrated.),</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>64</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Walk, The Forest, and Picnic. By <span class='sc'>Alfred B. Street</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>130</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Will Nobody Marry Me? By <span class='sc'>Geo. P. Morris</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>44</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>Wintemoyeh: A Legend of Mackinaw. By <span class='sc'>George H. Colton</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>170</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'>“You Call Us Inconstant.” By <span class='sc'>H. T. Tuckerman</span>,</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'>134</td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab4c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<table id='tab5' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 28em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 7.5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0.5em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tab5c1-col3 tdStyle6' colspan='3'><span class='bold'><span style='font-size:larger'>STEEL ENGRAVINGS.</span></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tab5c1-col3 tdStyle6' colspan='3'><span style='font-size:smaller'>LINE AND MEZZOTINT.</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>Morning Prayer, engraved by <span class='sc'>Sadd</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>The Polish Mother, engraved by <span class='sc'>Dunnell</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>The Bud and Blossom, by <span class='sc'>Welch & Walter</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>The Watchers, engraved by <span class='sc'>Sartain</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>The Proposal, engraved by <span class='sc'>A. Jones</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>The Lady Alice, engraved by <span class='sc'>Dick</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>The Blessing, engraved by <span class='sc'>Dunnell</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>The Playful Pets, engraved by <span class='sc'>Sartain</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>The Pet Rabbit, engraved by <span class='sc'>Sadd</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>The Reprimand, engraved by <span class='sc'>Gimbrede</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>True Affection, by <span class='sc'>Rawdon, Wright & Hatch</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>Awaiting the Husband’s Return, engraved by <span class='sc'>Sadd</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'>The Pastor’s Visit, engraved by <span class='sc'>Dick</span>.</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'></td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab5c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<table id='tab6' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 28em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 7.5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0.5em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab6c1 tab6c1-col3 tdStyle6' colspan='3'><span class='bold'><span style='font-size:larger'>MUSIC.</span></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab6c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab6c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab6c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab6c1 tdStyle3'>“To Win the Love of Thee,” A Ballad,</td><td class='tab6c2 tdStyle4'>54</td><td class='tab6c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab6c1 tdStyle3'>The Zanoni Gallop,</td><td class='tab6c2 tdStyle4'>102</td><td class='tab6c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab6c1 tdStyle3'>The September Waltz,</td><td class='tab6c2 tdStyle4'>151</td><td class='tab6c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab6c1 tdStyle3'>The Summer Night,</td><td class='tab6c2 tdStyle4'>217</td><td class='tab6c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab6c1 tdStyle3'>“Write to Me, Love,”</td><td class='tab6c2 tdStyle4'>285</td><td class='tab6c3 tdStyle5'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab6c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab6c2 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab6c3 tdStyle5'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='tbk103'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i006.jpg' alt='image of two people with an infant' id='iid-0001' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>E. T. Parris. E. G. Dunnel.</span><br/></p> <br/><span class='it'>The Polish Mother.</span><br/> <br/>Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine. -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<hr class='tbk104'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:1.1em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XXI.</span> PHILADELPHIA: JULY, 1842. <span class='sc'>No. 1.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk105'/> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='pol'></a>THE POLISH MOTHER.</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a gorgeous bridal. The old hall of the -palace was lit up with a thousand lights, and crowded -with all the wealth, beauty and rank of Poland. The -apartment blazed with the jewels of its occupants. -Princes with their proud dames, high officers of state, -nobles whose domains vied in extent with kingdoms, -and lordly beauties beneath whose gaze all bent in -adoration, had gathered at that magnificent festival -to do honor to the bridal of the fair daughter of their -host. And loveliest among the lovely was the bride. -Tall and majestic in every movement, with a queenly -brow, and a face such as might have been that of the -mother of the gods, she moved through the splendid -apartment the theme of every admiring tongue. Nor -less remarkable was her husband. Warsaw beheld -no noble tread her palaces more lordly in his bearing -than the Count Restchifky. The fire of a hundred -warrior ancestors burned in his eye. The fame -of his high lineage, of his extended possessions, of -his feats in arms, followed his footsteps wherever he -went. In manly beauty the court of Poland had no -rival to the count, in majestic loveliness the realm -furnished no equal to his bride. And now, as they -stood together in that proud old hall, surrounded by -all that was noble and beautiful in the land, the -peerless beauty of the countess and the princely -bearing of her husband shone pre-eminent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Never had Warsaw seen such a festival. All that -the most boundless wealth and all that a taste the -most fastidious could do to add to the splendor of -the occasion had been done, and the guests, one and -all, bore testimony to the success of the princely -entertainer. The air was laden with incense, flowers -bloomed around, unseen music filled the hall with -harmony, and statues and carvings of rare device -met the eye at every turn. If Aladdin had been there -he would not have asked that his enchanted palace -should excel in magnificence the one before him. -No visionary, in his wildest dream, could imagine -aught more beautiful. And through this unrivalled -ball the count and his bride moved, conscious that all -this splendor was evoked for their honor, feeling that -not a heart in all the vast assembly but envied their -exalted lot. At every step congratulations met them -until they turned away sick with adulation. What -wonder that the rose grew still deeper on the cheek -of the bride, that her eyes flashed with brighter brilliancy, -or that her step became more queenly? Could -aught mortal wholly resist the intoxication of that -hour?</p> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Years had elapsed. That fair young bride had become -a mother; but time had passed over her without -destroying one lineament of her majestic beauty. But -the scene had changed from that through which she -moved on her bridal night. There were no longer -around her wealth and splendor and beauty, the -flattery of the proud, the envy of the fair. She sat -alone—alone with her two children, one a lovely -girl of sixteen, and the other a smiling boy whose -birth three years before had thrilled her husband’s -heart with ecstasy, filled a province with rejoicings. -But now that husband was away from her side, that -province lay smoking around her. Her own proud -home, where since her marriage she had spent the -happiest hours of her life, had been sacked and -given to the flames, and she now sat leaning against -a shattered parapet, with her face buried in her -hands, and the bitter tear of a mother’s anguish rolling -down her cheeks. At her feet, leaning on her -for succor, and clasping her hand, sat her daughter; -while her boy, too young as yet to be conscious of the -misery around him, smiled as he played with the -jewelled cross depending from his mother’s neck. -A broken sword, a dismounted cannon, the shattered -staff of a lance, at the feet of the group, betokened -that the vassals of the count had not yielded up her -house to rapine without a deadly struggle; and indeed, -of the hundreds of hearts which beat there, but the day -before, only those of the mother and her two children -had escaped captivity or death. Part of the palace -was yet in flames, while, on the plain beyond, a village -threw its lurid conflagration across the sky. -Desolation and despair sat enthroned around. Who -that had seen that mother on her bridal night, could -have foretold that her after life would reveal a scene -like this?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Polish war for independence had broken out. -Among the foremost of the patriotic band which perilled -all for their country, was the Count Restchifky. -His sword had been unsheathed at the outbreak of the -conflict, his fortune had been poured the first into the -coffers of the state. From his own estates he had -raised and equipped as gallant a band as ever followed -lord to the tented field. And for a short space -the war seemed to prosper. But then came the -reverse. From every quarter the haughty Catharine -poured her countless legions, headed by the fierce -Suwarrow, into Poland, and smoking fields and -slaughtered armies soon told that the day of hope for -that ill-fated land was over. Yet a few noble spirits, -among whom the count was foremost, still held out -for their country, fighting every foot of ground, and -though retreating before the overwhelming forces of -the foe, compelling him to purchase every rood of -land he gained by the lives of hundreds of his venal -followers. It was at this period, and while the count -was far from his home, that his palace had been -attacked, and given to the flames. Afar from succor, -unconscious whether or not her husband yet lived, -and trembling for the lives of her offspring amid the -desolation which surrounded them, what wonder that -even the proud heart of the countess gave way, and -that she wept in utter agony over her ruined country -and her dismantled home!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! mother,” said the daughter, “if we only -knew where father was, or if he yet lived, we might -still be happy. Wealth is nothing to us, for will we -not still love each other? Dry your tears, dear mother, -for something tells me that father lives and will -yet rejoin us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At these words of comfort, more soothing because -coming from a quarter so unexpected, the mother -looked up, and, drawing her daughter to her bosom, -kissed her, saying,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are right, my child. We will hope for the -best. And if your father has indeed fallen, and we -are alone in the world, I will remember that I have -you to comfort me, and strive—to—be happy,” and, -in despite of her effort to be calm, the tears gushed -into her eyes at the bare thought of the possible loss -of her husband.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But see, mother,” suddenly exclaimed the daughter, -“see the cloud of dust across the plain—can it -betoken the return of the foe?” and she drew close -to her mother’s side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mother gazed with eager eyes across the plain, -and her cheek paled as she thought she distinguished -the banner of Russia borne in the advance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is, it is as I feared,” said the daughter, “they -come to carry us into captivity. Oh! let us hide -from their sight—there are secret recesses in the -ruins yet where we might defy scrutiny.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said the mother, all the spirit of her race -rising in her at this crisis, “no, my daughter, it -would not become us, like base-born churls, thus to -fly from a foe. The wife and children of Count Restchifky -will meet his enemies on his own hearth-stone, -all dismantled though it be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With these words she clasped her babe closer to -her bosom, and sat down again behind the parapet to -await, as the daughter of a hundred princes should -await, the approach of her murderers; and although -perhaps her cheek was a hue paler, the lofty glance -of her eye quailed not. Her daughter sank to her feet -and buried her face in her mother’s robe. But after -a few minutes she regained courage, and looked -timidly out across the plain. At the first glance she -started and said eagerly,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But see, mother, can they really be enemies? -They wave their banners as if to us—they increase -their speed—surely, surely that gallant horseman in -the advance is my own dear father.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A moment the mother gazed eagerly on the approaching -horseman, but a moment only. The eye -of the wife saw that her husband was indeed there, -and, with a glad cry, she clasped her children in her -arms and burst into a flood of joyful tears. She was -still weeping when the count, dismounting from his -charger, rushed forward and clasped her in his arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank God!” he ejaculated, “you at least are -left to me. I had feared to find you no more. May -the lightning of heaven blast the cravens who could -thus desolate the home of a woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My husband, oh! my husband!” was all that the -wife could say.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Father, dear father, you are safe—oh! we shall -yet be happy,” said the daughter as she clung to her -restored parent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The father kissed and re-kissed them all, and for -once his stern nature was moved to tears, but they -were tears of joy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His story was soon told. Finding that all hope of -saving his country was over, and eager to learn the -fate of those he had left at home, he had cut his way -through the enemy with a few gallant followers. As -he drew near the vicinity of his palace, he had heard -strange rumors of the sacking of his home, and on -every side his own eyes beheld the ravages of the -foe. Torn with a thousand fears respecting the fate -of those he loved better than life, he had pressed -madly on, and when the blackened and smoking -walls of his palace had risen before him in the distance -he had almost given way to despair. But, at -length, his eager eye caught sight of a group amid -the ruins, and his heart told him that those he loved -remained yet to cheer his ruined fortunes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No pen can do justice to the feelings of gratitude -which throbbed in the bosom of that father as he -pressed his wife and children successively to his -heart. His plans were soon laid. He had, by remittances -to England on the outbreak of the war, -provided his family against want, and thither they -now bent their steps. Over his ruined country he -shed many a tear, but, at such times, the smiles of -his wife and children were ever ready to cheer his -despondency; and as he gazed on his lovely family -he felt that there was much yet in this world to bid -him be happy.</p> - -<hr class='tbk106'/> - -<div><h1><a id='thou'></a>“THOU HAST LOVED.”</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. SEBA SMITH.</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'>Dearest, in thine eye’s deep light</p> -<p class='line0'>  Is a look to tears allied—</p> -<p class='line0'>Sorrow struggling with delight,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Each the other seeks to hide;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou, the freighted ark of life</p> -<p class='line0'>  Lonely floating on the sea,</p> -<p class='line0'>With thy being’s treasure rife—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thou hast wearied thus to be.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thou hast sent thy dove from thee—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Forth hast launched thy dove of peace,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the branch, though green it be,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Can it bid thy doubtings cease?</p> -<p class='line0'>Though it speak of hope the while,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Verdant spots and sunny bowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>Can it bring thee back the smile</p> -<p class='line0'>  That beguiled thy vacant hours?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Take thy dove and fold its wing—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Fold its ruffled wing to rest;</p> -<p class='line0'>Deluge airs around it ring:</p> -<p class='line0'>  Let it nestle on thy breast.</p> -<p class='line0'>Dearest, all thy care is vain—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Mark its trembling, weary wings;</p> -<p class='line0'>But it comes to thee again,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And an olive branch it brings.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Take it, bind it unto thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Though the leaves are dim with tears;</p> -<p class='line0'>Such thy woman lot must be—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Love and sorrow, hopes and fears.</p> -<p class='line0'>Bind the branch of promise ever</p> -<p class='line0'>  To thy heart, with fear oppressed,</p> -<p class='line0'>Let the leaves of hope, oh! never,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Withered, leave their place of rest.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk107'/> - -<div><h1><a id='viol'></a>VIOLA.</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 JAMES ALDRICH.</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'>This simple chain of sunny hair,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thus braided by thy gentle hand,</p> -<p class='line0'>Anear my heart I ever wear,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Since thou art gone to shadow-land.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Whene’er upon the little gift</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of thy sweet love my eye is cast,</p> -<p class='line0'>Will welcome memory come and lift</p> -<p class='line0'>  The curtains of the silent Past!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Ah! my fond heart, as well it may,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Feels then, in all its depth anew,</p> -<p class='line0'>That which, when thou wait called away,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Ennobled and immortal grew!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Lost one! to thee I’ll constant prove,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Long as I walk this mortal strand,</p> -<p class='line0'>So may I claim thy perfect love</p> -<p class='line0'>  When we shall meet in shadow-land.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk108'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i014.jpg' alt='two ladies and a man kneeling around a small table' id='iid-0002' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='it'>PAINTED BY LUCY ADAMS.</span> <span class='it'>ENGRAVED BY H. S. SADD.</span></span><br/></p> <br/><span class='it'>Morning Prayer.</span><br/> <br/><span class='it'>Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine.</span> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk109'/> - -<div><h1><a id='morn'></a>MORNING PRAYER.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>ILLUSTRATION OF A PICTURE.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>      He is not here!</p> -<p class='line0'>  We meet around the altar yet once more,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Where we our prayers have blent so oft before,</p> -<p class='line0'>      And drop a tear</p> -<p class='line0'>  Upon the holy book from which he read</p> -<p class='line0'>Who sleeps, at length, in peace, among the silent dead.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>      Yet from on high</p> -<p class='line0'>  He looketh on us—widow, daughter, son—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Pointing the course by which he glory won.</p> -<p class='line0'>      He still is nigh,</p> -<p class='line0'>  On angel’s wings, to comfort us and guide,—</p> -<p class='line0'>Unseen, but not unfelt, forever by our side.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>      Father in heaven!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Who hast called home the leader of our band,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And the bright glories of the better land</p> -<p class='line0'>      Unto him given,</p> -<p class='line0'>  O, be with us, and keep us in the way</p> -<p class='line0'>That leads, through this dark night, to an unending day!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>      Strengthen our hearts</p> -<p class='line0'>  To bear, with fortitude, the ills of time;</p> -<p class='line0'>  Preserve them ever from the winter’s rime,</p> -<p class='line0'>      So let our parts</p> -<p class='line0'>  Be acted, that again the prayer and song</p> -<p class='line0'>We may together blend, and through all time prolong!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk110'/> - -<div><h1><a id='fan'></a>THE FANCY-FAIR.</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. A. M. F. ANNAN.</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;'>“With her personage, her tall personage,</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Her height, forsooth, she hath prevailed with him.”</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:0em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:0.9em;'><span class='sc'>Shakspeare.</span></p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good morning, Saybrooke,” said a gentleman -named Creswell, meeting a friend; “I have just ascertained -to whom Collins is married—a lady of your -city—Laura Sands.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Amazing!” exclaimed Saybrooke, striking down -his cane with such energy that the other started; -“why, she is six feet high!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not quite,” returned Creswell, laughing; “and, -though somewhat large, she is one of the most -queenly looking women—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pshaw! Victoria has put that word out of fashion, -or at least changed its signification.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I beg pardon—I had forgotten your horror of -large women, or, rather, I did not regard it, supposing -it was your affectation—everybody has at least -one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Affectation! take care, or I’ll raise my stick at -you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it is unaccountable that a man of your -inches should have such notions. Now, for a little -fellow, like myself, it would be bad taste to be following -women who might look as if they could flog -him, but with your six feet two, and abundant proportions, -the case is different. On the contrary, I -can’t imagine anything more comical than a little -wife hanging on your arm; she would look like a -reticule—not straining a pun.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In saying I detest large women, I make no committal -by preferring very small ones; but, seriously, -I would no more expect to find a woman’s soul in all -its sweetness, delicacy and purity hidden in a coarse, -capacious body, than I could think of loving a woman -for the recommendation—‘<span class='it'>Sexu fæmina, ingenio -vir.</span>’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There it is with you men of fortune! You become -so finical from having all sorts of attractions -paraded before you, that you stand still waiting for -perfection, till at last, in despair, you tie up your -eyes, and, like a child at blind man’s buff, spring forward -and secure the first against whom you stumble. -Now, we poor, hard-working dogs—but I’ll get out -of heart if I talk about my own grievances. I have -a lady selected for you, beautiful, accomplished, -with a thousand excellencies, and of station in society -and all that, just to suit, but this last freak has -chilled my good intentions. So good bye, till I get -into a better humor!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the evening the two gentlemen met again, as -Saybrooke was coming out of an exchange office, in -the act of securing his pocket book.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you been filling or emptying that article, -which?” asked Creswell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The more agreeable alternative,” replied his -friend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you are the very fellow I wished to see. -I have an appointment for you to-night—to take you -to a ladies’ fair.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The mischief! when you know that fancy-fairs -are my aversion, and not from caprice but from real -principle. I don’t know anything more disgusting -than to see a room full of Misses, taking advantage -of some either really or nominally worthy purpose, -to exhibit themselves to the public, and to gratify a -petty and an indelicate vanity, by flirting over their -pincushions and doll-babies with any fellow who can -afford an admittance shilling for the honor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come, come, that’s really too severe, but just -now I have not time to take the other side of the -question. This, however, is no ordinary occasion. -It is an impromptu affair, undertaken by a number of -charming, whole-hearted girls, to raise a fund in aid -of the sufferers by a recent public disaster, and more -taste, enthusiasm, and liberality, I have never seen -exhibited. If you wish to see the <span class='it'>élite</span> of our beauty -and fashion, under the most favorable circumstances, -you had better avail yourself of my invitation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If that is the case, I have no scruples. I intended -to appropriate a part of this very supply to a charity -so unquestionable, and it may as well pass through -the medium you have selected as any other. So I’m -at your service.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the appointed time they reached the —— Saloon, -in which the fair was held, and Creswell, who -from previous visits was posted as to all concerning -it, led his friend, for a cursory inspection, around the -room. Its arrangements were novel and tasteful, its -decorations of the most rich and appropriate character, -and the fair projectors were fulfilling their duties -with a dignity, grace, and decorum that surprised as -well as gratified the fastidious stranger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, if you are satisfied,” said Creswell, “I’ll -give myself the trouble to advise you in the disposal -of that spare cash of yours—come to this table,” and -bowing to its fair attendant, he took up a large and -magnificently bound quarto volume, and turned over -its pages; “I have heard you express a fondness, -Saybrooke,” he continued, “for what you call the -only ladies’ science—Botany; did you ever see any -thing to equal this?” It was a collection of dried -flowers, of such as best preserve their color, pressed -with great niceness and skill, and pasted on the -smooth, white pages so carefully, some singly and -some in groups, that it required close examination to -distinguish them from delicate water-color drawings. -Beneath them were written, in an exquisite hand, -clear, full, and accurate technical descriptions, and -on intermediate pages quotations appropriate to their -symbolical characters, or fanciful and elegant passages, -evidently original.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This must have been the work of a lady, judging -from its ingenuity and beauty,” said Saybrooke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was done by Miss Martha Grainger, was it -not?” asked Creswell, turning to the title page, -which was a graceful vignette, executed, even to the -lettering, in leaves and flowers, but it contained no -name.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course,” returned the pretty vender; “no -other of us could have had the taste, patience, and -knowledge for such a work, to say nothing of the -talent the literary illustrations display. I really think -it was a piece of heroism in her to give up a possession -so beautiful, and one that must have cost her a -world of labor and care.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If it is not already sold, I shall be happy to become -its purchaser,” said Saybrooke; and paying for -his acquisition with much satisfaction, they walked -on. The next thing that struck their notice was a -large vase encrusted with shells, and filled with fragrant -and splendid flowers. It was white, and transparent -as alabaster, and of an antique form, as rare -as beautiful. Saybrooke examined it carefully. -“How superior,” said he, “to the unshapely, -crockery-looking ware commonly seen as shell-work—nothing -could be more perfectly elegant and -classical than it is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it of your workmanship, Miss Ellen?” asked -Creswell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sorry to say, very far from it. It is a donation -from Martha Grainger; she had just finished it -for herself, but, with her usual generous benevolence, -gave it up in hope that it might be turned to the -benefit of the unfortunate. The flowers, which you -seem to admire so much, Mr. Creswell, are also of -her culture. Her windows, you know, were the -rivals of the green-houses, but she robbed them all to -fill it. Suppose you take it for your office? There -is no one who will value it more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, if I could afford to have all I value! but I -would not desecrate anything so pure and sweet, by -stowing it away among the rough book-cases, and -dust, and cobwebs of a poor lawyer’s office. Now, -my friend here could give it a place not unworthy. -If it were placed within your curtains, Saybrooke, -I’d engage that you would have more bright eyes -peeping through your windows than you ever had -before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The temptation is too strong to be resisted,” answered -Saybrooke, smiling, and he placed his card -in a handle of the vase, as its purchaser. “I am -glad to find that the botanical lady has a real love of -flowers,” he continued, as he walked away with a -China rose, which he had selected, in his hand; “it -is not always the case; a proficiency in the science -argues a clear and discriminating mind; the other -seems to belong to a naturally refined taste.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pray, Mr. Creswell, can’t you find us a purchaser -for this?” asked a lady, pointing to a glass -case, which contained a set of elaborately carved -ivory chess-men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“An exquisite set,” said Saybrooke, “they look -like fairy work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think this is not the first time I have seen them, -madam; can you remind me where they came -from?” said Creswell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They were added to our stock by Miss Grainger, -an effort of self-denial that I fear I never could have -attained. They were sent to her as a present by an -uncle in India, but she is so conscientious that she -offered them for our undertaking, saying that she -could not be satisfied to keep them for mere amusement, -when a set for ten dollars would answer as -well. Of course we cannot expect to get their real -value, as, very properly, there are few persons who -would offer a couple of hundred dollars for a thing of -the kind, but we are in hopes that some one willing -to aid the cause will take them at a price which, at -least, will not be unworthy of the generosity of the -donor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As it is not very likely, from present appearances,” -said Saybrooke, “that the artists of the -Celestial Empire will have the courage and leisure -to execute toys so singularly elaborate and ingenious -for some time to come, I may as well avail myself of -the opportunity, and take possession of these. Will -this be sufficient for them, madam?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you, sir, for your liberality,—it is more -than we expected;” said the lady, looking after the -stranger with much curiosity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That Miss Grainger must be a remarkable person -to be possessed of so much talent and industry, -and so much open-handed generosity. But what -have you there?” Creswell was looking at a pair -of small paintings which ornamented one of the stalls, -and Saybrooke continued, after joining him, “these -are really beautiful little things, and from their apparent -reference to the late calamity, they must have -been furnished expressly for this occasion. They -are evidently by the same hand, yet it must have -been difficult for one person to do them in so short a -time. There is much feeling, as well as originality, -in the designs, and not less spirit than grace in their -execution. May I ask, Miss, from whom these were -obtained?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are from the pencil of a lady, sir,—the all-accomplished -Miss Grainger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Grainger again!” said Saybrooke smiling; -“they are marked for sale, I believe?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are, sir, though we would prefer letting -them remain here till the sale is over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly; but you will let me secure them in -time?” and having completed the purchase, he followed -Creswell; “there now,” said he, “I think I -have done my part, so I shall tie up my purse-strings; -but pray who is this Miss Grainger?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you imagine her to be?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“An active, bustling, fussy old maid, such a person -who is always to be found in the like enterprises; -but in addition she must have an enlarged mind, -which, having freed her from the selfishness peculiar -to her relative position, still furnishes her with resources -to devote to general benevolence.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You never were more mistaken in your life,—but -what do you think of that oriental <span class='it'>kiosk</span> which -the ladies have fitted up as the post-office?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was just going to remark that it is particularly -tasteful and beautiful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The plan is another of the labors of Miss Grainger,—but -we must ask for letters to finish our business.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly, but where is your fair <span class='it'>virtuoso</span>? you -must point her out to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well, come along, and I’ll introduce you, -but of one thing I must apprise you beforehand,—with -all her admirable qualities she is, unfortunately, -quite—a large woman—the largest, I should think, in -the room.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is unfortunate,” said Saybrooke, looking -disturbed; “but as I wish merely to have my curiosity -gratified, and to pay a tribute of respect to an -intellectual and a useful woman, I shall put up with -that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Creswell paused to speak with an acquaintance, -and Saybrooke walked forward. Suddenly a lady -swept by, almost jostling him, and of a size that over-shadowed -all around her. She was beflounced and -befurred, had a tall feather waving above her hat, a -decided shade on her upper lip, and a step like a -grenadier.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See here, Creswell, you needn’t mind taking -me to see Miss Grainger,—I don’t want to be introduced -to her,” said Saybrooke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have changed your mind very suddenly,” -returned Creswell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You told me she was the largest woman in the -room, and by accident I have just met her. I recognized -her, of course, and my curiosity is amply gratified.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Creswell followed his eye, and burst into an irrepressible -fit of laughter. “Oh, very well,” said he, -“if you are satisfied, so am I. But here is the post-office. -Anything here, ladies, for Stanley Saybrooke, -Esq.?—just excuse me, while you are waiting for -your letter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The postmistress was one of the youngest of the -association, and whilst she was searching, with -much archness and significancy, among the letters, -the eyes of Saybrooke fell upon a lady farther back -in the alcove, from whom a single look acted like magic -on him. The features were of a form and symmetry -the most faultlessly classical, and were radiant -with an expression of sweetness and intelligence. -Her eyes were large and of a soft blue, her complexion -was of the purest white and red, and her -hair, of a rich brown, fell in a single large curl, -smooth and glossy, down either side of her face. -She wore a small black velvet bonnet, which contrasted -strikingly with the pearliness of her skin, -and which, excepting in a little bordering of blond -around the face, was entirely without ornament. -Vexatiously, as our hero thought it, there was -nothing of her figure to be seen; she sat wrapped -in a large shawl, on an ottoman behind a table, and -appeared quite unconscious of attracting attention, -or, at least, indifferent to it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here is a letter, sir;” said the officious little -postmistress, with a mischievous smile, but Saybrooke -stood unheeding; “there is nothing else, sir;” -she added, and recollecting himself, he walked reluctantly -away. The letter was a little poetical -bagatelle, to which he paid no attention, and reconnoitering -the <span class='it'>kiosk</span>, he placed himself where, by -keeping among the folds of a curtain, he might retain -a view of the face which had so much fascinated -him. Though, at his distance, he could not overhear -a word, he watched her quiet, yet neither cold -nor languid manner, to the many who approached -and addressed her. “What a lovely—lovely creature -she is!” thought he, “if I had not so long dropped -my school-boy notions of love at first-sight, I really -would believe myself captivated!—how calm she is!—how -unembarrassed and dignified, and yet how -gracious!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Creswell returned, but Saybrooke, ashamed to ask -a single question lest it might betray him, pleaded -fatigue, and declined walking farther, and his friend, -who had been watching him, to his secret amusement, -left him to the indulgence of his observations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By this time the story of his liberality, exaggerated, -of course, had made its way over the room, and -many were the efforts of the fair promenaders to -catch the attention of a stranger so fashionable in -appearance, so handsome, and reportedly so rich; -but if he noticed the attractions of any, it was only -to remark how inferior they were to those he was so -intently contemplating. At length, to his extreme -delight, he observed that she had picked up the rose -which he had dropped on the table in his first bewilderment. -“What a dolt I have been,” said he -to himself; “after coming here to lay out money in -charity, to take and retain an equivalent for it!” and -to ease his conscience, he decided to get rid of the -vase. So calling a servant who was attending on -the tables, he directed him where to find it, and to -present it to the designated lady in the post-office, -with the compliments of a gentleman. He watched -as the commission was executed. There was no -flutter in the manner of the fair incognito, no wonder -nor exultation. She merely asked the man a question -or two, and dismissed him without a message. Her -bearing suited him to a charm. It was that of a sultana -receiving tribute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a hand—what an incomparable hand!” -was his next thought. One of his very few coxcomberies -was a passion for beautiful hands, and it -had its full gratification in the one which lay beside -his vase, with whose whiteness it did not suffer in -comparison. It was not small, but was exquisitely -shaped, full, smooth and tapering, with not an irregular -protuberance to detract from its graceful -outlines. It set his fancy at a new picture. He -imagined himself at his little mosaic chess-table—which -was so small that any two at it were in very -sociable proximity—and that snowy hand at the -other side. Then he looked at her forehead, which -was large and nobly developed—he was something -of a phrenologist—and he decided that she had a -genius for chess, consequently, that his recent purchase -of chess-men might thus be suitably transferred. -Accordingly, he hurried off to send it, but after he had -done so, he found, on returning, his place occupied -by a crowd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The room had filled, and disappointed and abstracted -he wandered about for an hour before he -found an opportunity to speak to Creswell. The -latter at length approached him, saying,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have a message for you from a lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What lady?” asked Saybrooke, eagerly, hoping -it was <span class='it'>the</span> lady—the only one he cared about at the -moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The one to whom you sent your vase and chess-men; -she says that if you don’t take them back she -will offer them for sale anew.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope she did not think me impertinent in sending -them?” said Saybrooke, looking alarmed, “how -did she discover that it was I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was easy to ascertain by whom they were -purchased, and she judged accordingly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you know her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pray introduce me, won’t you?—immediately, if -you please, my dear Creswell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would rather not. You won’t like her—for a -very <span class='it'>material</span> reason.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will—positively—I do like her—I’m half in -love already.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With her face, you mean—that’s a pretty scrape -for a man of twenty-six to get into! however, I may -have an opportunity after a while, so be patient. -There’s a fine figure,” he continued, looking through -a glass he had picked up from a table, and then handing -it to Saybrooke—“there in that recess—the lady -with her back towards us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very fine, but the glass contracts too much; at -full size I dare say the proportions would scarcely -appear so perfect. Who is she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A particular favorite of mine, the owner of this -shawl, which I am carrying to her. Come along, -and you shall have a nearer view.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lady was at the farther end of the saloon, -and with some difficulty they threaded their way -towards her. She was talking, and still had her back -towards them. “A fine figure, indeed,” said Saybrooke, -as they advanced, “but, she seems—isn’t -she rather large?—why, upon my word—Creswell—she -must be full five feet nine, if not ten!” and, putting -his arm through his friend’s, he was drawing him -in another direction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stop! don’t jerk me off my feet, my dear fellow!” -said Creswell; “I must go on to deliver the shawl; -allow me, Miss Grainger,” he continued, “to present -my friend, Mr. Saybrooke—” and as the lady turned -round to curtsey, Saybrooke recognized the brilliant -face of the post-office.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Never was there a more instantaneous revolution. -“I’ll call you out for this night’s work!” whispered -Saybrooke, while the lady was replying to the parting -compliments of her former companions. Creswell -pretended to look very much surprised, and -after a little while, when he made a move to proceed, -Saybrooke gave him a deprecatory shake of the head, -at which they parted for the night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning Creswell called at the lodgings -of his friend. “I am glad,” said he, “that you were -not disappointed in Miss Grainger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Disappointed!—she is the most fascinating -woman I ever met with—full of sweetness, feeling, -and intellect! I do not remember to have enjoyed a -conversation more in my life than the one we had as -I escorted her home last night”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, Saybrooke! you certainly did not do that? -she is unquestionably large enough to take care of -herself!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are an impudent dog, Creswell,” returned -Saybrooke, laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, seriously, Saybrooke, it is a great pity that -Miss Grainger is so large; to a man of your sentiments, -who never could see a woman over the medium -height without thinking of an ogress, it must -very much neutralize the effect of her unrivalled -face, her winning manners, and her delightfully -<span class='it'>spirituelle</span> conversation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you’ll oblige me by remaining civilly quiet, -for a few minutes, I’ll tell you how I argued that -point. I stated to myself that the larger women I -had seen were as small ones examined through a -magnifying glass, every defect being thus rendered -more apparent. Now, I continued, here is a woman -of the magnified size, without a single defect, and -she is of course entitled to a magnified portion of admiration.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And then I recollected that I was not the first -who had come to such a conclusion. That Juno -would not have looked the queen of Olympus had -she been other than a large woman—that had the rib -of Menelaus been but a small bone of contention, -Troy might have been standing to this day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pshaw!” said Creswell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And that a man must have a very contracted -imagination to fancy a little Venus De Medicis, a -little Cleopatra or a little Mary Stuart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About six months after this, a gentleman and lady -passing, bowed to Creswell through his office window -while an acquaintance was sitting with him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A magnificent looking couple—who are they?” -said the latter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The new bride and groom, Stanley Saybrooke, -and Martha Grainger, that was. By the by, I made -that match.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed! how did you accomplish it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just by persuading the lady to sit still for a few -hours. He had a most absurd aversion to large -women, and as I knew that Martha, who, in fact, -is a sort of cousin of mine, would suit him exactly in -other respects, I laid a plan to get him in love with -her before he found out her size, so I took him to a -fancy-fair, where he saw a great number of her productions, -and heard a great deal of her character, -and then I contrived to give him a sight of her -beautiful face, having, as I said, apprised her that -she would oblige me very much by keeping her seat -until I gave her notice. That finished the business. -He stared till he was conquered, and then the three -or four extra inches became very small matters -indeed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But now, since they are married, won’t the defects -shoot up again?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not at all. I never saw a fellow so proud of a -wife. He says that a small casket could not contain -so lofty an intellect and so noble a heart!”</p> - -<hr class='tbk111'/> - -<div><h1><a id='fai'></a>LE FAINEANT.</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 C. V. HOFFMAN, AUTHOR OF “GREYSLAER,” “THE VIGIL OF FAITH,” ETC.</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'>“Now arouse thee, Sir Knight, from thine indolent ease,</p> -<p class='line0'>Fling boldly thy banner abroad in the breeze,</p> -<p class='line0'>Strike home for thy lady—strive hard for the prize,</p> -<p class='line0'>And thy guerdon shall beam from her love-lighted eyes!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“I shrink not the trial,” that bluff knight replied—</p> -<p class='line0'>“But I battle—not <span class='it'>I</span>—for an unwilling bride;</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the boldest may venture to do and to dare,</p> -<p class='line0'>My pennon shall flutter—my bugle peal there!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“I quail not at aught in the struggle of life,</p> -<p class='line0'>I’m not all unproved even now in the strife,</p> -<p class='line0'>But the wreath that I win, all unaided—alone,</p> -<p class='line0'>Round a faltering brow it shall never be thrown!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Now fie on thy manhood, to deem it a sin</p> -<p class='line0'>That she loveth the glory thy falchion might win,</p> -<p class='line0'>Let them doubt of thy prowess and fortune no more,</p> -<p class='line0'>Up! Sir Knight, for thy lady—and do thy devoir!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“She hath shrunk from my side, she hath failed in her trust,</p> -<p class='line0'>Not relied on my blade, but remembered its rust;</p> -<p class='line0'>It shall brighten once more in the field of its fame,</p> -<p class='line0'>But it is not for her I would now win a name.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The knight rode away, and the lady she sigh’d,</p> -<p class='line0'>When he featly as ever his steed would bestride,</p> -<p class='line0'>While the mould from the banner he shook to the wind</p> -<p class='line0'>Seemed to fall on the breast he left aching behind.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But the rust on his glaive and the rust in his heart</p> -<p class='line0'>Had corroded too long and too deep to depart,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the brand only brightened in honor once more,</p> -<p class='line0'>When the heart ceased to beat on the fray-trampled shore.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk112'/> - -<div><h1><a id='dyi'></a>THE DYING MINSTREL TO HIS MUSE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY WILLIAM FALCONER.</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'>Farewell, gentle Muse! fare thee well, and for ever!</p> -<p class='line0'>  No more in the greenwood with thee must I stray:</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy flowers which I cherished have bloomed but to wither,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like youth’s vernal wreath, they all faded away:</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet sweet was the morn, timid Muse, when I sought thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  In the green ruined tower by the wild Scottish rill;</p> -<p class='line0'>A heart framed for joy like the wine-cup I brought thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With Fancy’s rich draught thou the chalice didst fill.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>O soft was thy dawning, thou mental Aurora,</p> -<p class='line0'>  It shed on my morning-dream heaven’s young ray,</p> -<p class='line0'>With the seraph-wing’d bird through the cloudlets of glory</p> -<p class='line0'>  My soul soared exulting through life’s early day;</p> -<p class='line0'>Then love’s vernal flush filled my bosom with gladness,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And she whom I loved shared its passion with thee;</p> -<p class='line0'>She left me to pine in the chill shade of sadness,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Then crossed I in anguish the wide-spreading sea.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But thou wert more faithful, for rocked on the ocean</p> -<p class='line0'>  ’Twas thou who mad’st lovely the dreams of my rest,</p> -<p class='line0'>My spirit went forth on the wings of emotion</p> -<p class='line0'>  To sport with the bird o’er the blue waters’ breast.</p> -<p class='line0'>Now in my pent bosom life’s last pulses tremble</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like sear fluttering leaves on yon wind-beaten tree,</p> -<p class='line0'>With spring-loving birds on its boughs that assemble</p> -<p class='line0'>  My soul to the Land of the Spirit shall flee.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Then come, O my wild lyre, my sole earthly treasure,</p> -<p class='line0'>  ’Neath Death’s downy pinions come slumber in peace;</p> -<p class='line0'>Leave the world to the rosy-crown’d vot’ries of Pleasure,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Its garlands must wither—its Bacchanals cease!</p> -<p class='line0'>Dear Enchantress, farewell! but that friend of my bosom</p> -<p class='line0'>  Revisit once more, o’er the waves’ deafening swell,</p> -<p class='line0'>Inspire him that one fleeting flowret may blossom</p> -<p class='line0'>  To the memory of him who hath loved him so well!</p> -<p class='line0'>    <span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='it'>Paris, France.</span></span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk113'/> - -<div><h1><a id='har'></a>HARRY CAVENDISH.</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 “CRUISING IN THE LAST WAR,” THE “REEFER OF ’76,” ETC.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>THE PRIVATEER.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>I remained but a short time in <span class='sc'>the Arrow</span> after -we sailed finally from the port of ——; for happening -to fall in with and capture a rakish little schooner, -Captain Smyth resolved to arm and send her forth to -cruise against the enemy on her own account. A -long Tom was accordingly mounted on a pivot amidships, -a complement of men placed in her, and the -command given to our second lieutenant, with myself -for subordinate. Thus equipped, we parted company -from our consort, who bore away for the north, while -we were to cruise in the Windward Passage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For several days we met with no adventure. The -weather was intensely sultry. He who has never -witnessed a noontide calm on a tropical sea can have -no idea of the stifling heat of such a situation. The -sea is like molten brass; no breath of air is stirring; -the atmosphere is dry and parched in the mouth, and -the heavens hang over all their canopy of lurid fire, -in the very centre of which burns with intense fierceness -the meridian sun. The decks, the cabin, and -the tops are alike stifling. The awnings may indeed -afford a partial shelter from the vertical rays of the -sun, but no breeze can be wooed down the eager -windsail; while, wherever a stray beam steals to the -deck through an opening in the canvass, the turpentine -oozes out and boils in the heat, and the planks -become as intolerable to the tread as if a furnace was -beneath them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was on one of the hottest days of the season, and -about a fortnight after we parted from <span class='sc'>the Arrow</span>, -that we lay thus becalmed. The hour was high -noon. I stood panting for breath by the weather -railing, dressed in a thin jacket and without a cravat, -feverishly looking out across the ocean to discern, if -possible, a mist or cloud or other evidence of an -approaching breeze. My watch was in vain. There -was no ripple on the deep, but a long monotonous -undulation heaved the surface of the water, which -glittered far and near like a mirror in which the sun -is reflected vertically, paining and almost blinding -the gaze. The schooner lay motionless on the ocean, -the shadow of her boom shivering in the wave, as the -swell undulated along. Silence reigned on the decks. -To a spectator at a distance, who could have beheld -our motionless shadow in the water, we would have -seemed an enchanted ship, hanging midway betwixt -the sea and sky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Noon passed, and the afternoon drew heavily along, -yet still no breeze arose to gladden our listless spirits. -Two bells struck and then three, but the same monotony -continued. Wearied out at length I was about -turning from the weather quarter to go below, when -I fancied I saw a sail far down on the horizon. I -paused and looked intently in the direction where the -welcome sight had been visible. For a moment the -glare of the sun and the water prevented me from -distinguishing with any accuracy whether what I -saw was really a sail or not, but at length my doubts -were removed by the cry of the look-out on the fore-castle, -and before half an hour it became evident -that the vessel to windward was a square-rigged -craft, but of what size or character it was impossible -to determine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They must have had a puff of wind up yonder,” -remarked the second lieutenant to me, “or else they -could not have come within sight so rapidly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the breeze has left them ere this,” I said, -“for they have not moved for the last quarter of an -hour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We shall probably know nothing more of them -until nightfall, for the wind will scarcely make before -sunset, even if it does then. He has the weather -gauge. Until I know something more of him I -would rather change positions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is some fat merchantman,” I replied, “we -will lighten his plethoric pocket before morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the afternoon the calm continued, our craft -and the stray sail occupying their relative positions. -Meantime, innumerable were the conjectures which -we hazarded as to the character of our neighbor; -and again and again were our glasses put in requisition -to see if any thing could be discovered to decide -our conflicting opinions. But the royals of a ship, when -nothing else of her is visible, give scarcely any clue -as to her character; and accordingly hour after hour -passed away, and we were still altogether ignorant -respecting the flag and strength of our neighbor. -Toward sunset, however, signs of a coming breeze -began to appear on the seaboard, and when the luminary -wheeled his disc down the western line of the -horizon, the sea to windward was perceptibly ruffled -by the wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah! there it comes at last—” said the second -lieutenant, “and, by my halidome, the stranger is -standing for us. Now, if he will only keep in his -present mind until we can get within range of him, I -am no officer of the United Colonies if I do not give -him some hot work. By St. George, the men -have had so little to do of late, and they long so -eagerly to whet their palates, that I would venture to -attack almost twice our force—eh! Cavendish! You -have had such a dare-devil brush with the buccaneers -lately that I suppose you think no common enemy is -worth a thought.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not altogether,” said I, “but I think we shall -have our wish gratified. Yonder chap is certainly -twice our size, and he carries his topsails as jauntily -as a man-of-war.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Faith! and you’re right, Harry,” said my old -messmate, as he shut the glass with a jerk, after -having, in consequence of my last remark, taken a -long look at the strange sail, “that’s no sleepy merchantman -to windward. But we’ll swagger up to -him, nevertheless; one doesn’t like to run away -from the first ship he meets.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I could not help smiling when I thought of the -excuses with which the lieutenant was endeavoring -to justify to himself his contemplated attack on a -craft that was not only more than twice our size, but -apparently an armed cruizer, for I knew the case -would have been the same if this had been the hundredth, -instead of the first vessel he had met after -assuming a separate command, as no man in the -corvette had been more notorious for the recklessness -with which he invited danger. Perhaps this -was the fault of his character. I really believe that -he would, if dared to it, have run into Portsmouth -itself, and fired the British fleet at anchor. In our -former days, when we had been fellow officers on -board <span class='sc'>the Arrow</span>, we had often differed on this -trait in his character, and perhaps now he felt called -on, from a consciousness of my opinion, to make -some excuse to me for his disregard of prudence in -approaching the stranger; for, as soon as the breeze -had made, he had close-hauled the schooner, and, -during the conversation I have recorded, we were -dashing rapidly up towards the approaching ship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As we drew nearer to the stranger, my worst suspicions -became realized. Her courses loomed up -large and ominous, and directly her hammock nettings -appeared, and then her ports opened to our -view, six on a side; while, almost instantaneously -with our discovery of her force, a roll of bunting -shot up to her gaff, and, unrolling, disclosed the cross -of St. George. There was now no escape. The -enemy had the weather gauge, and was almost within -closing distance. However prudent a more wary -approach might have been hitherto, there was no -longer any reason for the exercise of caution. It -would be impossible for us now to avoid a combat, -or get to windward by any manœuvre; and to have -attempted to escape by going off before the wind -would have been madness, since of all points of sailing -that was the worst for our little craft. Gloomy, -therefore, as the prospect appeared for us, there was -no hesitation, but each man, as the drum called us to -quarters, hurried to his post with as much alacrity as -if we were about to engage an inferior force, instead -of one so overwhelmingly our superior.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The moon had by this time risen and was calmly -sailing on, far up in the blue ether, silvering the deep -with her gentle radiance, and showering a flood of -sparkles on every billowy crest that rolled up and -shivered in her light. Everywhere objects were discernible -with as much distinctness as under the noon-day -sun. The breeze sang through our rigging with -a joyous sound, singularly pleasing after the silence -and monotony of the day; and the waves that parted -beneath our cut-water rolled glittering astern along -our sides, while ever and anon some billow, larger -than its fellows, broke over the bow, sending its foam -crackling back to the foremast. Around the deck -our men were gathered, each one beside his allotted -gun, silently awaiting the moment of attack. The -cutlasses had been served out; the boarding pikes -and muskets were placed convenient for use; the -balls had already been brought on deck; and we only -waited for some demonstration on the part of the foe -to open our magazine and commence the combat in -earnest. At length, when we were rapidly closing -with him, the enemy yawed, and directly a shot -whistled high over us.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Too lofty by far, old jackanapes,” said the captain -of our long Tom, “we’ll pepper you after a different -fashion when it comes to our turn to serve out -the iron potatoes. Ah! the skipper’s tired of being -silent,” he continued, as Mr. Vinton ordered the old -veteran to discharge his favorite piece, “we’ll soon -see who can play at chuck-farthing the best, my -hearty. Bowse away, boys, with that rammer—now -we have her in a line—a little lower, just a trifle -more—that’s it—there she goes;” and as he applied -the match, the flame streamed from the mouth of the -gun, a sharp, quick report followed, and the smoke, -clinging a moment around the piece in a white mass, -broke into fragments and eddied away to leeward on -the gale; while the old veteran, stepping hastily -aside, placed his hand over his eyes, and gazed after -the shot, with an expression of intense curiosity -stamped on every feature of his face. Directly an -exulting smile broke over his countenance, as the -fore-top-sail of the ship fell—the ball having hit the -yard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By the holy and thrue cross,” said a mercurial -Irishman of the old veteran’s crew, “but he has it -there—hurrah! Give it to him nately again—it’s -the early thrush that catches the early worm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Home with the ball there, my hearties,” sung -out the elated veteran, “she is yawing to let drive at -us—there it comes. Give her as good as she sends.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The enemy was still, however, at too great a distance -to render her fire dangerous, and after a third -shot had been exchanged betwixt us—for the stranger -appeared to have, like ourselves, but a single long -gun of any weight—this distant and uncertain firing -ceased, and both craft drew steadily towards each -other, determined to fight the combat, as a gallant -combat should be fought, yard arm to yard arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wind had now freshened considerably, and we -made our way through the water at the rate of six -knots an hour. This soon brought us on the bows of -the foe. Our guns, meanwhile, had been hastily -shifted from the starboard to the larboard side, so -that our whole armament could be brought to bear at -once on the ship. As we drew up towards the enemy -a profound silence reigned on our deck—each man, -as he stood at his gun, watching her with curious -interest. We could see that her decks were well -filled with defenders, and that marksmen had been -posted in the tops to pick off our crew. But no eye -quailed, no nerve flinched, as we looked on this formidable -array. We felt that there was nothing left -for us but to fight, since flight was alike dishonorable -and impossible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length we were within pistol shot of the foe, -and drawing close on to his bows. The critical moment -had come. That indefinable feeling which even -a brave man will feel when about engaging in a -mortal combat, shot through our frames as we saw -that our bowsprit was overlapping that of the enemy, -and knew that in another minute some of us would -perhaps be in another world. But there was little -time for such reflections now. The two vessels, -each going on a different tack, rapidly shot by each -other, and, in less time than I have taken to describe -it, we lay broadside to broadside, with our bows on -the stern of the foe, and our tafferel opposite his foremast. -Until now not a word had been spoken on -board either ship; but the moment the command -to fire was passed from gun to gun, a sheet of flame -instantaneously rolled along our sides, making our -light craft quiver in every timber. The rending of -timbers, the crash of spars, and the shrieks of the -wounded, heard over even the roar of battle, told us -that the iron missiles had sped home, bearing destruction -with them. A momentary pause ensued, as if -the crew of the enemy had been thrown into a temporary -disorder—but the delay was only that of a -second or two—and then came in return the broadside -of the foe. But this momentary disorder had -injured the aim of the Englishman, and most of his -balls passed overhead, doing considerable injury -however to the rigging. Our men had lain flat on -the deck after our discharge, since our low bulwarks -afforded scarcely any protection against the fire of -the enemy, and when, therefore, his broadside came -hurtling upon us, the number of our wounded was -far less than under other circumstances would have -been possible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank God! the first broadside is over,” I involuntarily -exclaimed, “and we have the best of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Huzza! we’ll whip him yet, my hearties,” shouted -the captain of our long Tom; “give it to him with -a will now—pepper his supper well for him. Old -Marblehead, after all, against the world!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With the word our men sprang up from the decks, -and waving their arms on high, gave vent to an enthusiastic -shout ere they commenced re-loading their -guns. The enemy replied with a cheer, but it was -less hearty than that of our own men. Little time, -however, was lost on either side in these bravados; -for all were alike conscious that victory hung, as yet, -trembling in the scales.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Out with her—aye! there she has it,” shouted -a grim veteran in my division, “down with the rascally -Britisher.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Huzza for St. George,” came hoarsely back in -reply, as the roar of the gun died on the air, and, at -the words, a ball whizzed over my shoulders, and -striking a poor fellow behind me on the neck, cut the -head off at the shoulders, and while it bore the skull -with it in its flight, left the headless trunk spouting its -blood, as if from the jet of an engine, over the decks. -I turned away sickened from the sight. The messmates -of the murdered man saw the horrid sight, but -they said nothing, although the terrible energy with -which they jerked out the gun, told the fierceness of -their revengeful feelings. Well did their ball do its -mission; for as the smoke eddied momentarily away -from the decks of the enemy, I saw the missile dismount -the gun which had fired the last deadly shot, -scattering the fragments wildly about, while the -appalling shrieks which followed the accident told -that more than one of the foe had suffered by that -fatal ball.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve revenged poor Jack, my lads,” said the -captain of the gun,—“away with her again. A few -more such shots and the day’s our own.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The combat was now at its height. Each man of our -crew worked as if conscious that victory hung on his -own arm, nor did the enemy appear to be less determined -to win the day. The guns on either side were -plied with fearful rapidity and precision. Our craft -was beginning to be dreadfully cut up, we had received -a shot in the foremast that threatened momentarily -to bring it down, and at every discharge of -the enemy’s guns one or more of our little crew fell -wounded at his post. But if we suffered so severely -it was evident that we had our revenge on the foe. -Already his mizzen-mast had gone by the board, and -two of his guns were dismounted. I fancied once -or twice that his fire slackened, but the dense canopy -of smoke that shrouded his decks and hung on the -face of the water prevented me from observing, with -any certainty, the full extent of the damage we had -done to the enemy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For some minutes longer the conflict continued -with unabated vigor on the part of our crew; but at -the end of that period, the fire of the Englishman -sensibly slackened. I could scarcely believe that -our success had been so decisive, but, in a few minutes -longer, the guns of the enemy were altogether -silenced, and directly afterwards a voice hailed from -him, saying that he had surrendered. The announcement -was met by a loud cheer from our brave tars, -and, as the two vessels had now fallen a considerable -distance apart, the second lieutenant determined to -send a boat on board and take possession. Accordingly, -with a crew of about a dozen men, I pushed -off from the sides of our battered craft.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As we drew out of the smoke of the battle we -began to see the real extent of the damage we had -done. The ship of the enemy lay an almost perfect -wreck on the water, her foremast and mizzen-mast -having both fallen over her side; while her hull was -pierced in a continuous line, just above water mark, -with our balls. Here and there her bulwarks had -been driven in, and her whole appearance betokened -the accuracy of our aim. I turned to look at the -schooner. She was scarcely in a better condition, -for the foremast had by this time given way, and her -whole larboard side was riddled with the enemy’s -shot. A dark red stream was pouring out from her -scuppers, just abaft the mainmast. Alas! I well knew -how terrible had been the slaughter in that particular -spot. I turned my eyes from the melancholy spectacle, -and looked upwards to the calm moon sailing -in the clear azure sky far overhead. The placid -countenance of the planet seemed to speak a reproof -on the angry passions of man. A moment afterward -we reached the captured ship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As I stepped on deck I noticed that not one solitary -individual was to be seen; but in the shattered gun-carriage, -and the dark stains of blood on the deck, I -beheld the evidences of the late combat. The whole -crew had apparently retreated below. At this instant, -however, a head appeared above the hatchway and -instantly vanished. I was not long in doubt as to the -meaning of this strange conduct, for, almost immediately -a score of armed men rushed up the hatchway, -and advancing toward us demanded our surrender. I -saw at once the dishonorable stratagem. Stung to -madness by the perfidy of the enemy, I sprang back a -few steps to my men, and rallying them around me, -bid the foe come on. They rushed instantly upon us, -and in a moment we were engaged in as desperate a -<span class='it'>mêlée</span> as ever I had seen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stand fast, my brave lads,” I cried, “give not -an inch to the cowardly and perfidious villains.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cut him down, and sweep them from the decks,” -cried the leader of the men, stung to the quick by -the taunt of cowardice. “St. George against the -rebels.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A brawny desperado at the words made a blow at -me with his cutlass, but hastily warding it off I -snatched a pistol from my belt, and fired at my antagonist, -who fell dead to the deck. The next instant -the combat became general. Man to man, and foot -to foot, we fought, desperately contesting every inch -of deck, each party being conscious that the struggle -was one of life or death. The clashing of cutlasses, -the crack of fire-arms, the oaths, the shouts, the -bravado, the shrieks of the wounded, and the dull -heavy fall of the dead on the deck, were the only -sounds of which we were conscious during that terrible -<span class='it'>mêlée</span>, and these came to our ears not in -their usual distinctness, but mingled into one fearful -and indescribable uproar. For myself, I scarcely -heard the tumult. My whole being was occupied in -defending myself against a Herculean ruffian who -seemed to have singled me out from my crew, and -whom it required all my skill at my weapon to keep -at bay. I saw nothing but the ferocious eye of my -adversary; I heard only the quick rattle of our blades. -I have said once before that my proficiency at my -weapon had passed into a proverb with my messmates, -and had I not been such a master of my art, -I should, on the present occasion, have fallen a victim -to my antagonist. As it was, I received a sharp -wound in the arm, and was so hotly pressed by my -vigorous foe that I was forced to give way. But this -temporary triumph proved the destruction of my antagonist. -Flushed with success, he forgot his wariness, -and made a lunge at me which left him unprotected. -I moved quickly aside, and, seizing my advantage, -had buried my steel in his heart before his -own sword had lost the impetus given to it by his -arm. As I drew out the reeking blade, I became -aware, for the first time, of the wild tumult of sounds -around me. A hasty glance assured me that we barely -maintained our ground, while several of my brave -fellows lay on the deck wounded or dying; but before -I could see whether the ranks of the foe had been -equally thinned, and while yet scarcely an instant -had passed since the fall of my antagonist, a loud, -clear huzza, swelling over the din of the conflict, -rose at my side, and, turning quickly around, I saw -to my joy that the shout proceeded from a dozen of -our tars who had reached us at that moment in a boat -from the schooner. In an instant they were on deck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Down with the traitors—no quarter—hew them -to the deck,” shouted our indignant messmates as -they dashed on the assailants. But the enemy did -not wait to try the issue of the combat. Seized with -a sudden panic, they fled in all directions, a few -jumping overboard, but most of them tumbling headlong -down the hatchways.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We were now masters of the deck. As I instantly -guessed, the report of the fire-arms had been heard -on board the schooner, when, suspecting foul play, a -boat had instantly pushed off to our rescue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A narrow escape, by Jove!” said my messmate -who had come to my aid, “these traitorous -cowards had well nigh overpowered you, and if they -could have cut your little party off they would, I -suppose, have made another attempt on the schooner—God -confound the rascals!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your arrival was most opportune,” said I, “a -few minutes later and it would have been of no -avail.” And then, as I ran my eye over our comparatively -gigantic foe, I could not restrain the remark, -“It is a wonder to me how we conquered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Faith, and you may well say that,” laughingly -rejoined my messmate; “it will be something to talk -of hereafter. But the schooner hasn’t come off,” -he added, glancing at our craft, “without the marks -of this fellow’s teeth. But I had forgot to ask who -or what the rascal is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The prize proved to be a privateer. She had received -so many shot in her hull, and was already -leaking so fast, that we concluded to remove the -prisoners and blow her up. Her crew were accordingly -ordered one by one on deck, handcuffed, and -transferred to the schooner. Then I laid a train, -lighted it and put off from the prize. Before I -reached our craft—which by this time had been removed -to some distance—the ship blew up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We rigged a jury mast, and by its aid reached -Charleston, where we refitted. Our capture gave us -no little reputation, and while we remained in port -we were lionized to our hearts’ content.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eager, however, to continue the career so gloriously -begun, we staid at Charleston no longer than -was absolutely necessary to repair our damages. In -less than a fortnight we left the harbor, and made -sail again for the south.</p> - -<hr class='tbk114'/> - -<div><h1><a id='bri'></a>THE BRIDAL.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>A SCENE FROM REAL LIFE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY ROBERT MORRIS.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The scene was one of mirth, and joy, and loveliness, -and beauty. Two spacious parlors had been -thrown open in one of the largest houses in Arch -street. Lights had glittered in the various chambers -since early sundown—carriages by dozens had driven -up to the door, each freighted with friends or relatives, -so that the world without found little difficulty -in arriving at the conclusion that some extraordinary -scene of festivity was in progress within the walls -of that spacious mansion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was about nine o’clock when we entered. The -two large parlors, brilliantly illuminated by gas, -and glittering with a rich collection of young and -beautiful females, each dressed in the most tasteful -or gorgeous manner, presented a scene truly magnificent. -For a moment the eye seemed to quail -before the general flash, while the mind also grew -dizzy; but these feelings lasted but for the instant, -as friends were to be met on all sides, and we soon -found ourselves mingling in the giddy and trifling -conversation that too many of our fair countrywomen -seem to delight in on such occasions. Still, as the -first flash passed by, we paused to contemplate the -scene in a calmer and more meditative spirit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The party was a “Bridal” one, and the bride was -the daughter of one of our most respectable merchants, -a worthy, good-hearted man, who had -devoted himself to his business, and paid no attention -whatever to the frivolities of fashionable life. The -bride seemed <span class='it'>very</span> young—not more than sixteen or -seventeen. She could not be regarded as beautiful -in the general appreciation of the word, and yet she -had one of the sweetest faces that we ever saw. -She had soft blue eyes, brown hair which fell over -her shoulders in ringlets, a pretty and expressive -mouth, with teeth that appeared to us faultless. Her -complexion was clear, but her face looked rather -pale, although at times it became flushed and ruddy -as the rose. Her dress was of the richest white -satin, and the ornaments of her hair and neck and -wrists consisted almost exclusively of pearls. Her -frame was slight and full of symmetry, and her voice -was remarkable for the gentleness and amiability of -its tone. We gazed upon her calmly for many -minutes, and the thought passed through our mind—“So -young, so fair, so delicate, so happy, and yet so -willing to enter upon the severe responsibilities of -the wife and the mother.” “Who,” we inquired of -ourselves, “may read that young creature’s destiny? -Doubtless she loves the object of her choice with a -woman’s virgin and devoted love—doubtless she -believes that the next sixteen years of her life will -prove radiant with happiness, even more so than the -girlish and sunny period which has but just gone by—and -doubtless the youth who has won that gentle heart -believes that he possesses the necessary requisites -of mind and disposition to render her happy. And -yet how often has the bright cup of joy been -dashed from the lips of woman when about to quaff -it! How often does man prove recreant and false! -How often is he won from his home and his young -wife, whose heart gives way slowly, but fatally and -steadily, under the influence of such indifference and -neglect!” But we paused and dismissed these -gloomy reflections. The nuptial ceremony was pronounced—for -a moment all was breathless silence—and -then the busy hum broke forth as audibly as -ever. The wedding was a brilliant one in all respects. -It was followed up by party after party, so -that nearly a month rolled away before the giddy -round was over. The only one who did not appear -to mingle fully in the general feeling, was the mother -of the bride. She loved her daughter so tenderly -that it seemed impossible for her to consign -her to other hands. She was one of those women -who devote themselves wholly to their children, and -who have no world without them. On the night of -the wedding, a tear would occasionally roll down -her cheek as she gazed upon her chaste child, and -as a tide of maternal recollections melted all her -soul!</p> - -<hr class='tbk115'/> - -<p class='pindent'>The world rolled on. We frequently saw the -young bride in the streets, and her cousin, who was -our immediate neighbor, spoke of her prospects as -cheering and happy. But one evening, just after -sundown, and less than a year since we had seen -each other at the wedding, he called, and with rather -a grave aspect invited us to accompany him for a -few minutes to the house of his aunt—the same -house that had glittered with so much light, and re-echoed -with so much laughter on the night of the -Bridal. We proceeded along calmly, for although -somewhat struck by the sedate aspect of our friend, -it did not excite much surprise. On arriving at the -house, the first objects that attracted attention were -the closed and craped windows, and the awful -silence that seemed to “breathe and sadden all -around.” Our friend still refrained from speaking, -but led on to the <span class='it'>Chamber of Death</span>! Our worst -apprehensions were realized. The fair young creature, -who less than a year before had stood before -us radiant with loveliness and hope, was now still, -pale, and cold in the icy embrace of death. Her last -agonies were dreadful, but the sweet, soft smile, -that told of a gentle heart, still lingered on her features. -Her infant survived,—but the sudden decease -of that cherished one shed a gloom over that home -and its happy household, which is not yet totally dispelled. -The windows of the dwelling are still -bowed, and the afflicted mother, although a sincere -Christian, and anxious to yield in a Christian spirit -to the decrees of Divine Providence, frequently finds -herself melting in tears, and her whole soul convulsed -with grief at the memory of her dear <span class='it'>Clara</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>And such are human hopes and expectations!</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk116'/> - -<div><h1><a id='dau'></a>THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS.</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. FRANCES S. OSGOOD.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>PART I.</h2> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Serene in the moonlight the pure flowers lay;</p> -<p class='line0'>All was still save the plash of the fountain’s soft play;</p> -<p class='line0'>And white as its foam gleamed the walls of the palace;</p> -<p class='line0'>But within were hot lips quaffing fire from the chalice;</p> -<p class='line0'>For Herod, the Tetrarch, was feasting that night</p> -<p class='line0'>The lords of Machærus, and brave was the sight!</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet mournful the contrast, without and within,</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Here</span> were purity, peace,—<span class='it'>there</span> were riot and sin!</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'>The vast and magnificent banquetting room</p> -<p class='line0'>Was of marble, Egyptian, in form and in gloom;</p> -<p class='line0'>And around, wild and dark as a demon’s dread thought,</p> -<p class='line0'>Strange shapes, full of terror, yet beauty, were wrought.</p> -<p class='line0'>Th’ ineffable sorrow, that dwells in the face</p> -<p class='line0'>Of the Sphynx, wore a soft and mysterious grace,</p> -<p class='line0'>Dim, even amid the full flood of light poured</p> -<p class='line0'>From a thousand high clustering lamps on the board;</p> -<p class='line0'>Those lamps,—each a serpent of jewels and gold,—</p> -<p class='line0'>That seemed to hiss forth the fierce flame as it rolled.</p> -<p class='line0'>Back flashed to that ray the rich vessels that lay</p> -<p class='line0'>Profuse on the tables in brilliant array;</p> -<p class='line0'>And clear thro’ the crystal the glowing wine gleamed,</p> -<p class='line0'>And dazzling the robes of the revellers seemed,</p> -<p class='line0'>While Herod, the eagle-eyed, ruled o’er the scene,</p> -<p class='line0'>A lion in spirit, a monarch in mien.</p> -<p class='line'> </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'>  The goblet was foaming, the revel rose high.</p> -<p class='line0'>There were pride and fierce joy in the haughty king’s eye,</p> -<p class='line0'>For his chiefs and his captains bowed low at his word,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the feast was right royal that burden’d the board.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>  Lo! light as a star thro’ a gathered cloud stealing,</p> -<p class='line0'>What spirit glanced in ’mid the guard at the door?</p> -<p class='line0'>Their stern bands divide, a fair figure revealing;</p> -<p class='line0'>She bounds, in her beauty, the dim threshold o’er.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Her dark eyes are lovely with tenderest truth;</p> -<p class='line0'>The bloom on her cheek is the blossom of youth;</p> -<p class='line0'>And the smile, that steals thro’ it, is rich with the ray</p> -<p class='line0'>Of a heart full of love and of innocent play.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Soft fall her fair tresses her light form around;</p> -<p class='line0'>Soft fall her fair tresses, nor braided nor bound;</p> -<p class='line0'>And her white robe is loose, and her dimpled arms bare;</p> -<p class='line0'>For she is but a child, without trouble or care;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Now round the glad vision wild music is heard,—</p> -<p class='line0'>Is she gifted with winglets of fairy or bird;</p> -<p class='line0'>For, lo! as if borne on the waves of that sound,</p> -<p class='line0'>With white arms upwreathing, she floats from the ground.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Still glistens the goblet,—’tis heeded no more!</p> -<p class='line0'>And the jest and the song of the banquet are o’er;</p> -<p class='line0'>For the revellers, spell-bound by beauty and grace,</p> -<p class='line0'>Have forgotten all earth, save that form and that face.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>It is done!—for one moment, mute, motionless, fair,</p> -<p class='line0'>The phantom of light pauses playfully there;</p> -<p class='line0'>The next, blushing richly, once more it takes wing,</p> -<p class='line0'>And she kneels at the footstool of Herod the King.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Her young head is drooping, her eyes are bent low,</p> -<p class='line0'>Her hands meekly crossed on her bosom of snow,</p> -<p class='line0'>And, veiling her figure, her shining hair flows,</p> -<p class='line0'>While Herod, flushed high with the revel, arose.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Outspake the rash monarch,—“Now, maiden, impart,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ere thou leave us, the loftiest hope of thy heart!</p> -<p class='line0'>By the God of my fathers! what e’er it may be,—</p> -<p class='line0'>To the half of my kingdom,—’tis granted to thee!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The girl, half-bewildered, uplifted her eyes,</p> -<p class='line0'>Dilated with timid delight and surprise,</p> -<p class='line0'>And a swift, glowing smile o’er her happy face stole,</p> -<p class='line0'>As if some sunny wish had just woke in her soul.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Will she tell it? Ah, no! She has caught the wild gleam</p> -<p class='line0'>Of a soldier’s dark eye, and she starts from her dream;</p> -<p class='line0'>Falters forth her sweet gratitude,—veils her fair frame,—</p> -<p class='line0'>And glides from the presence, all glowing with shame.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>PART II.</h2> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Of costly cedar, rarely carved, the royal chambers ceiling,</p> -<p class='line0'>The columned walls, of marble rich, its brightest hues revealing;</p> -<p class='line0'>Around the room a starry smile the lamp of crystal shed,</p> -<p class='line0'>But warmest lay its lustre on a noble lady’s head;</p> -<p class='line0'>Her dark hair, bound with burning gems, whose fitful lightning glow,</p> -<p class='line0'>Is tame beside the wild, black eyes that proudly flash below:</p> -<p class='line0'>The Jewish rose and olive blend their beauty in her face;</p> -<p class='line0'>She bears her in her high estate with an imperial grace;</p> -<p class='line0'>All gorgeous glows with orient gold the broidery of her vest;</p> -<p class='line0'>With precious stones its purple fold is clasped upon her breast;</p> -<p class='line0'>She gazes from her lattice forth. What sees the lady there?</p> -<p class='line0'>A strange, wild beauty crowns the scene,—but she has other care!</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'>Far off fair Moab’s emerald slopes, and Jordan’s lovely vale;</p> -<p class='line0'>And nearer,—heights where fleetest foot of wild gazelle would fail;</p> -<p class='line0'>While crowning every verdant ridge, like drifts of moonlit snow,</p> -<p class='line0'>Rich palaces and temples rise, around, above, below,</p> -<p class='line0'>Gleaming thro’ groves of terebinth, of palm, and sycamore,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the swift torrents dashing free, their mountain music pour;</p> -<p class='line0'>And arched o’er all, the Eastern heaven lights up with glory rare</p> -<p class='line0'>The landscape’s wild magnificence;—but she has other care!</p> -<p class='line0'>Why flings she thus, with gesture fierce, her silent lute aside?</p> -<p class='line0'>Some deep emotion chafes her soul with more than wonted pride;</p> -<p class='line0'>But, hark! a sound has reached her heart, inaudible elsewhere,</p> -<p class='line0'>And hushed, to melting tenderness, the storm of passion there!</p> -<p class='line0'>The far-off fall of fairy feet, that fly in eager glee,</p> -<p class='line0'>A voice, that warbles wildly sweet, some Jewish melody!</p> -<p class='line0'>She comes! her own Salomé comes! her pure and blooming child!</p> -<p class='line0'>She comes, and anger yields to love, and sorrow is beguiled:</p> -<p class='line0'>Her singing bird! low nestling now upon the parent breast,</p> -<p class='line0'>She murmurs of the monarch’s vow with girlish laugh and jest:—</p> -<p class='line'> </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'>      “Now choose me a gift and well!</p> -<p class='line0'>        There are so many joys I covet!</p> -<p class='line0'>      Shall I ask for a young gazelle?</p> -<p class='line0'>          ’Twould be more than the world to me;</p> -<p class='line0'>      Fleet and wild as the wind,</p> -<p class='line0'>        Oh! how I would cherish and love it!</p> -<p class='line0'>      With flowers its neck I’d bind,</p> -<p class='line0'>    And joy in its graceful glee.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>      “Shall I ask for a gem of light,</p> -<p class='line0'>        To braid in my flowing ringlets?</p> -<p class='line0'>      Like a star thro’ the veil of night,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Would glisten its glorious hue;</p> -<p class='line0'>      Or a radiant bird, to close</p> -<p class='line0'>        Its beautiful, waving winglets</p> -<p class='line0'>      On my bosom in soft repose,</p> -<p class='line0'>          And share my love with you!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>She paused,—bewildered, terror-struck; for, in her mother’s soul,</p> -<p class='line0'>Roused by the promise of the king, beyond her weak control,</p> -<p class='line0'>The exulting tempest of Revenge and Pride raged wild and high,</p> -<p class='line0'>And sent its storm-cloud to her brow, its lightning to her eye!</p> -<p class='line0'>Her haughty lip was quivering with anger and disdain,</p> -<p class='line0'>Her beauteous, jewelled hands were clenched, as if from sudden pain.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Forgive,” Salomé faltering cried, “Forgive my childish glee!</p> -<p class='line0'>’Twas selfish, vain,—oh! look not thus! but let me ask for <span class='it'>thee</span>!”</p> -<p class='line0'>Then smiled,—it was a deadly smile,—that lady on her child,</p> -<p class='line0'>And “Swear thou’ll do my bidding, now!” she cried, in accents wild:</p> -<p class='line0'>“Ah! when, from earliest childhood’s hour, did I thine anger dare!</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet, since an oath thy wish must seal,—by Judah’s hopes, I swear!”</p> -<p class='line0'>Herodias stooped,—one whisper brief!—was it a serpent’s hiss,</p> -<p class='line0'>That thus the maiden starts and shrinks beneath the woman’s kiss?</p> -<p class='line0'>A moment’s pause of doubt and dread!—then wild the victim knelt,—</p> -<p class='line0'>“Take, take <span class='it'>my</span> worthless life instead! Oh! if thou e’er hast felt</p> -<p class='line0'>A mother’s love,—thou canst not doom—no, no! ’twas but a jest!</p> -<p class='line0'>Speak!—speak! and let me fly once more, confiding, to thy breast!”</p> -<p class='line0'>A hollow and sepulchral tone was hers who made reply:</p> -<p class='line0'>“The oath! the oath!—remember, girl! ’tis registered on high!”</p> -<p class='line0'>Salomé rose,—mute, moveless stood as marble, save in breath,</p> -<p class='line0'>Half senseless in her cold despair, her young cheek blanched like death!</p> -<p class='line0'>But an hour since, so joyous, fond, without a grief or care,</p> -<p class='line0'>Now struck with wo unspeakable,—how dread a change was there!</p> -<p class='line0'>“It shall be done!” was that the voice that rang so gaily sweet,</p> -<p class='line0'>When, innocent and blest she came, but now, with flying feet?</p> -<p class='line0'>“It shall be done!” she turns to go, but, ere she gains the door,</p> -<p class='line0'>One look of wordless, deep reproach she backward casts,—no more!</p> -<p class='line0'>But late she sprang the threshold o’er, a light and blooming child,</p> -<p class='line0'>Now, reckless, in her grief she goes a woman stern and wild.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>PART III.</h2> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>With pallid check, dishevelled hair, and wildly gleaming eyes,</p> -<p class='line0'>Once more before the banquetters, a fearful phantom flies!</p> -<p class='line0'>Once more at Herod’s feet it falls, and cold with nameless dread</p> -<p class='line0'>The wondering monarch bends to hear. A voice, as from the dead,</p> -<p class='line0'>From those pale lips, shrieks madly forth,—“Thy promise, king, I claim,</p> -<p class='line0'>And if the grant be foulest guilt,—not mine,—not mine the blame!</p> -<p class='line0'>Quick, quick recall that reckless vow, or strike thy dagger here,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ere yet this voice demand a gift that chills my soul with fear!</p> -<p class='line0'>Heaven’s curse upon the fatal grace that idly charmed thine eyes!</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh! better had I ne’er been born than be the sacrifice!</p> -<p class='line0'>The word I speak will blanch thy cheek, if human heart be thine,</p> -<p class='line0'>It was a fiend in human form that murmured it to mine.</p> -<p class='line0'>To die for <span class='it'>me</span>! a thoughtless child! for <span class='it'>me</span> must blood be shed!</p> -<p class='line0'>Bend low,—lest angels hear me ask!—oh! God!—the Baptist’s head!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk117'/> - -<div><h1><a id='lig'></a>THE LIGHTNING OF THE WATERS.</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 DR. REYNELL COATES.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There are few phenomena observable on the -ocean, more striking than the phosphorescence of -the water, when seen in high perfection. It has -forcibly attracted the attention of poets and philosophers -in all ages, and many and curious have been -the speculations of those who have endeavored to -explain the brilliant apparition. In later times, -however, the progress of natural science has dissipated -the mystery to a considerable extent, destroying -a portion of its romantic interest, without, -thereby, diminishing its exquisite beauty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We are well informed, at present, that all the brilliant -pyrotechny of Neptune is the effect of animal -secretion, not differing essentially in cause from -that which ornaments our groves and meadows, -when the glow-worms of Europe, the fire-flies of -North America, or the fulgoure of the Indies are -lighting their fairy love-lanterns beneath the cool, -green leaves, or filling the air with their mimic -meteors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To those who are not familiar with microscopic -researches, it may seem almost impossible that animal -life can be multiplied to such excess in the -transparent waters, where not a mote is visible by -daylight, as to give rise to the broad and bright illumination -of the sea, so frequently observed within -the lower latitudes; and many, for this reason, have -attributed these night-fires of the deep to the impurity -and occasional fermentation of the ocean,—a -cause which they esteem more nearly commensurate -with the magnificence of the result. Such theorists -regard this phosphorescence as similar to that so -constantly produced by putrifying fish and decaying -wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These ideas, as I have stated, are no longer tenable, -and the real origin of the phenomenon is better -understood. But even now, the few who have witnessed -it in full extent, variety, and grandeur—a -privilege rarely enjoyed, except by those who have -made long voyages, and have become familiar with -many seas—are lost in wonder; and, unless professionally -devoted to the study of natural history, they -find it difficult to credit the assertion, that all these -vast displays are mere results of living action.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It may prove interesting, then, to those who are -fond of such investigations, to offer some remarks on -the multitudinous character of those tribes of simple -and transparent beings, which swarm about the surface -of the ocean, and may be found continually -changing in race and habits, with almost every degree -of latitude we traverse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If you will take the trouble, on some suitable occasion -during the month of November or December, -to descend into a <span class='it'>fashionable oyster cellar</span>, and ask -admission to the pile of freshly opened shells stowed -in the usual receptacle, which is in some dark vault or -closet about the premises, you may chance to witness, -on a diminutive scale, the far-famed phosphorescence -of the sea, without enduring the heavy -<span class='it'>immigration tax</span> levied, with unrelenting severity, -by the old trident-bearer upon all novices, except, -perhaps, a few fortunate favorites.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Take up the shovel that leans against the wall, -order the light removed and the door closed, and -then proceed to disturb the shells. If they have been -taken from the water, where it is purely salt,—and -still more certainly if gathered from the beds of blue -marine mud that are the favorite resort of the finest -oysters—the moment you throw a shovelful upon -the top of the pile, the whole mass, jarred by the -blow, will become spangled with hundreds of brilliant -stars—not in this case pale and silvery, but -of the richest golden-green or blue. None of these -stars may equal in size the head of the finest pin; -but so intense is the light emitted by them, that a -single, and scarcely visible point will sometimes -illuminate an inch of the surrounding surface, even -casting shadows from the little spears of sea-grass -growing in its neighborhood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Choose one of the most conspicuous of these diminutive -tapers, and, without removing it from the -shell, carry it towards the gas-lamp. As you approach, -the brilliancy of the star declines; and when -the full flood of light is thrown upon the shell, it -nearly, or entirely disappears. If you press your -finger rudely upon the spot, you will again perceive -the luminous matter diffused, like a fluid, over the -surrounding surface, and shining, for an instant, -more brightly than ever, even under the immediate -glare of the gas. Then all is over. You have crushed -one of the glow-worms of the deep—an animal, once -probably as vain of his golden flame as you of any -of your brilliant endowments—perhaps some sentinel -there stationed to alarm his sleeping brethren of -the approach of danger—perhaps an animalcular -Hero trimming her solitary lamp to guide her chosen -one, through more than Leander’s dangers, along -the briny path to her rocky bower, beset by all the -microscopic monsters of the corallines! At all -events, despise it as you may, this little being was -possessed of life, susceptible of happiness, and endowed -with power to outshine, with inborn lustre, -the richest gem in Europe’s proudest diadem!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sea is filled in many regions, and at various -seasons, with incalculable multitudes of living creatures, -in structure much resembling this little parasite, -but often vastly more imposing in dimensions. -The smallest tribes that are able to call attention -to their individual existence generally wander, like -erratic stars, beneath the waves. They may be -seen by thousands shooting past the vessel, on evenings -when the moon is absent or obscured, suddenly -lighting their torches when the motion of the bow -produces a few curling swells and breakers on -either hand, and whirling from eddy to eddy, as they -sweep along the side and are lost in the wake. From -time to time the vessel, in her progress, disturbs -some large being of similar powers, who instantly -ejects a trail of luminous fluid which, twining, and -waving about among contending currents, assumes -the semblance of a silver snake. But the most surprising -of all proofs of the infinity of life is furnished -by those inconceivably numerous bands of shining -animalcules, too small for human vision, which in -their aggregate effect perform, perhaps, the grandest -part in beautifying the night scene on the ocean.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The crest of every wave emits a pale and milky -light and every ripple that, urged onward too rapidly -before the breeze, expires in spreading its little patch -of foam upon the water, increases the mysterious -brightness. On a starless evening the novice may -find it very difficult to account for the distinctness -with which even the distant billows may be traced -by their whitened summits, while every other object -is thrown into the deepest shade. The gentle radiation -from within the foam deceives the eye:—it -seems a mere reflection from the surface; and he -turns again and again towards the heavens, with the -constantly renewed impression, that the moon -has found some transient opening in the cloudy -canopy through which descends a thin pencil of rays -to be glinted back from the edges of the waves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Though certain portions of the ocean, generally, -present but slender proofs of phosphorescence,—such -being peculiarly the case within the gloomy -limits of the Gulf Stream, for reasons not to -be appropriately mentioned here—yet no observing -person can have passed a week upon the ocean, or -rowed his skiff by night on any of our principal harbors, -without becoming familiar with most of the -appearances to which allusion has been made. A mere -voyage to Europe frequently presents much grander -examples; but he who would enjoy the view of the -phenomenon in its fullest glory, must “cross earth’s -central line” “and brave the stormy spirit of the -Cape.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Let me transport you for a few moments into the -midst of the Indian Ocean! The sultry sun of February -has been basking all day upon the heated -waters from a brassy sky without a cloud—the vapors -of the upper regions resembling a thin veil of -dust, fiery and glowing, as if recently ejected from -the mouth of some vast furnace! But the tyrant -has gone to his repose, and we enjoy some respite -from his scorching influence. It is not cool, but the -temperature is tolerable, <span class='it'>and this is much</span>! Leave -the observation of the barometer to the captain! -You cannot prevent a hurricane, should it be impending. -Then trust such cares to those in whom is -vested the responsibility, and come on deck with -me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is no moon—but the “sentinel stars” are all -at their post. Observe those broad flashes reflected -upward from beneath the bows, and playing brightly -upon the jib! At every plunge of the vessel, as she -sinks into the trough of the sea, you might read a -volume fluently by that mild radiance; and beautiful -indeed is the view from the fore stay-sail nettings, -looking down upon the curling wreaths on either -side of the cut-water, and the long lines of foam -thrown off by the swell as the vessel gracefully -breasts the coming wave, all glowing like molten -silver intermingled with a thousand diamonds!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I will not lead you thitherward—a noble sight -awaits us in our wake. Step to the stern and lean -with me over the taffrail. What a glorious vision! -For miles abaft, our course presents one long and -wide canal of living light—the clear, blue ocean, -transparent as air, filling it to repletion; while the -darker waters around appear like some dense medium -through which superior spirits have constructed -this magic path-way for us and us alone, so nicely -are its breadth and depth adjusted to the form of our -gallant bark. Has not the galaxy been torn from -heaven, and whelmed beneath the waves to form -that burning road? No! no! Though thousands of -bright orbs are set in that nether firmament to -strengthen the delusion, yet it cannot be. Night’s -stormy cincture never gleamed like this, nor bore -such dazzling gems. There it still glimmers with -its myriad sparks, athwart the dark blue vault, paled -by the radiance of its sea-born rival, while huge -globes of fire roll from beneath the keel, and blaze -along the silvery track like showers of wandering -meteors, but all too gentle in their aspect to be -deemed of evil-augury.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Those stars are literally <span class='it'>living stars</span>,—that ocean -galaxy is formed of living beings only,—and even -those meteors, invisible by day, except when they -approach unusually near to the surface, are active -in pursuit of prey. Observe one closely, and you -perceive its motions. Formed like a great umbrella -of transparent jelly, with fibres, yards in length, -trailing from its margin, and the handle carved into -a beautiful group of leaves, it flaps its way regularly -through the water with a stately march, and wo to -the unfortunate creature that becomes involved in -the meshes of its stinging tendrils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This is no exaggerated picture, for such are the -beautiful phenomena occasionally witnessed in the -Indian and Pacific Oceans. The animals upon whose -agency they are dependent, generally become invisible -by daylight in consequence of their transparency; -but there are certain tribes among them whose peculiar -structure renders them conspicuous: and of these -one of the most remarkable is known to naturalists by -the title of Salpa.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There are many species of the salpæ, but they -bear a closer likeness to each other than do most of -these simple tribes of being. In form they all resemble -diminutive purses, composed of highly transparent -jelly, with wide mouths like the ordinary clasp—and -strengthened by a net-work of ribbons interwoven -with the general texture of the purse. These are -designed to supply the place of muscles. The salpæ -move through the water by contracting the net-work, -so as to render the cavity smaller and expel the water -from it with some force; then, relaxing the fibres, -they allow their natural elasticity to expand them to -their original form; thus drawing in a fresh supply -of fluid with which to renew the effort. In this manner -they are driven onward, always retreating from -the principal orifice of the sac. But I will not detain -you with a detailed description of their singular organization. -It is enough for our present purpose to -state that near the bottom of the purse, within the -thickness of its walls, there is a golden spot, as if a -solitary coin was there deposited. This spot alone -enables us to see the animal distinctly when floating -in the water.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When young, these little creatures adhere together -in strings or cords arranged like the leaflets of a pinnated -leaf, in consecutive pairs, to the number of -twenty or more. At that period, the most common -species in the South Atlantic rarely exceed one half -an inch in length, and the yellow spot hardly equals -in size an ordinary grain of sand; yet, in certain -regions of the ocean these salpæ swarm in such -inconceivable multitudes that the sea assumes the -appearance of a sandy shoal for miles in length and -breadth. To the depth of many fathoms their delicate -bodies are closely huddled together, until the -constant repetition of the diminutive colored spots -renders the water perfectly opaque, and so increases -its consistence that the lighter ripple of the surface -breaks upon the edge of the animated bank, while the -heavier billows roll on smoothly, with the regular and -more majestic motion of the ground swell. In passing -through such tracts the speed of the vessel is sometimes -sensibly checked by the increased resistance of -the medium in which she moves; and when a bucket -full of brine is lifted from the sea, it may contain a -larger portion of living matter than of the fluid in -which it floats.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There can be no reasonable doubt that most of -those false shoals which disfigure the older charts—their -existence proved upon authorities of known -veracity and denied by others no less credible—have -really been laid down by navigators who have met -with beds of salpæ, and were ignorant of their true -nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have never seen these animals emitting light, but -it is well known that many phosphorescent animalcules -shine only in certain stages of the weather or -at certain seasons of the year: and as several distinguished -travellers have spoken of their luminous -properties, it is at least probable that they or their -congeners act an important part in dramas similar to -that which has been just described. At all events, -their history clearly shows the vastness of the scale -of animal existence in the superficial waters of the -ocean. But for the little yellow spot within their -bodies, they would be totally invisible at the distance -of a few feet in their native fluid, and could not -interfere appreciably with the progress of the rays -of light.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If further proof were necessary to show the incalculable -increase of many oceanic tribes, it might be -found in the history of living beings much more familiar -to the mariner. Most persons have met with -notices of the Portuguese man-of-war, called, by naturalists -<span class='it'>physalia</span>, a living air sac of jelly provided -with a sail, armed with a multitude of dependant bottle -shaped stomachs, all capable of seizing prey, and -colored more beautifully than the rainbow. This -splendid creature pursues its way over the waves with -all the skill of an accomplished pilot, and furnishes, -when caught, one of the most astonishing examples of -the adaptation of animal structure to the peculiar -wants, and theatre of action of living beings, one of the -most striking evidences of Omniscient Wisdom which -nature offers to the moralist. The physalia rarely -sails in squadrons, but wanders solitary and self-dependent -over the tropical seas, a terror even to -man, by the power which it possesses of stinging -and inflicting pain upon whatever comes in contact -with its long, trailing cables.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But there is another little sailor called the <span class='it'>velella</span>; -unprovided with offensive weapons, though formed -in most respects upon a model somewhat similar to -that of the physalia, unguarded as the peaceful trader -against the piratical attacks of a thousand enemies, -its very race would soon become extinct, were it -not for its unlimited increase.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Provided with a flat, transparent, oval scale of cartilage, -for the support of a gelatinous body, it floats -by specific levity, alone, for it has no air vessel—and -employs its hundreds of stomachs for ballast. -Another scale arising at right angles with the first -and covered with thin membrane, supplies it with a -sail. This unprotected creature serves as food for -many predatory tribes, and of these, the most voracious -is the barnacle. The flesh devoured, the scales -still float for many days, mere wrecks of these gay -vessels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The velellæ are usually found in fleets, and to -convey some idea of their numbers, I may state that -on one occasion, when sailing before the western -winds, beyond the southern latitude of the Cape of -Good Hope, our ship encountered a group of globular -masses of a pale yellow color swimming upon -the surface and surrounded by fringes of an unknown -substance. Each mass resembled the eggs of some -great sea-bird, reposing on a nest of buoyant feathers. -Taking them with a dip net, from the chains, we -found the yellow masses to be globular cryptogamous -plants, to every one of which adhered a group -of barnacles, far larger than the largest I had ever -seen before.<a id='r1'/><a href='#f1' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[1]</span></sup></a> Many of these last were so intent -upon demolishing their prey, that, even in leaving -their native element, to fall into the hands of tyrants -more dangerous than themselves, it was not always -relinquished. Grasping in their horny arms the unfortunate -velellæ, they continued grinding the soft -jelly from the tougher cartilage, with an avidity and -determination that reminded me strongly of the scene -in Byron’s Siege of Corinth, where Alp, the renegade,</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>“Saw the lean dogs beneath the wall</p> -<p class='line0'>Hold, o’er the dead, their carnival,</p> -<p class='line0'>Gorging and growling o’er carcass and limb;</p> -<p class='line0'>They were too busy to bark at him!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>This drew our attention to the source from which -such plentiful supplies of food were obtained, and on -examination, the ocean was found literally covered -with the scales of the murdered velellæ, faintly distinguishable -by their glistening in the sunshine, and -interspersed with a few living specimens waiting -their turn in the general massacre. We scooped -them up by thousands; and for three long days the -ship swept onward “dead before the wind” with -the steady and scarcely paralleled speed of more than -ten knots an hour, thus accomplishing a change of -more than seven hundred miles in longitude, before -the last remnant of this unhappy fleet was passed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Though it is not pretended that these little sea-boats -possess the phosphorescent quality, their numbers -and the wide extent of their flotilla will suffice -to render far less wonderful the vastness of those -beautiful results of animal secretion which have -furnished the subject of this sketch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But there are other similar and more remarkable -phenomena attendant on these brilliant night scenes, -that can only be explained, either by supposing that -myriads of these aquatic beings are endowed with a -community of instinct, or, that the changes of the -weather influenced them in such a way as to awaken -all their luminous powers upon the instant, without -the intervention of any mechanical disturbing cause, -in the mere frolic mood of nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Those who have visited the Chinese islands, or -either of several other well known regions in the -Pacific, have been occasionally surprised, on a calm -moon-light night, when scarce a swell, and not a -ripple is perceptible, to see the ocean suddenly converted -into one wide pool of milk! As described by -a few observers who have been so fortunate as -to witness this rare and strange appearance, the -color is so equally diffused over the whole field of -view, that all resemblance to the ordinary hue is -lost, and yet no wandering stars,—no scattered -torches can be seen—not even beneath the bows—so -feeble is the intensity of the light emitted, that -several have denied the agency of phosphorescence -in producing this remarkable effect, and were convinced -there was a real change in the nature of the -fluid; but others, less enamored of the supernatural, -have clearly proved that even this phenomenon is -due to the activity of an infinity of animalcules.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The very rarity of such occurrences distinctly -shows that the microscopic beings which produce it -do not emit their light at all times, and there must -exist some cause for this wide-spread and consentaneous -action. To community of instinct it can hardly -be attributed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We may understand the fact, wonderful as it may -be, that an army of emmets should cross a public -road or open space, from field to field, or from forest -to forest, fashioning themselves, as they are sometimes -known to do, into the form of a snake, by -crawling over each other’s backs, by dozens, from -the tail to the head of the figure; thus shortening it -at one extremity, while they lengthen it at the other, -and cause it to advance slowly towards their desired -retreat! We may understand this evidence of untaught -wisdom, for we see its purpose and its usefulness. -Such means enable these defenceless beings -to elude the vigilance of their feathery enemies, -whose beaks, but for the terror of the mimic reptile, -would soon annihilate the weak community.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We may even comprehend that more magnificent -display of providential guidance witnessed in the -habits of the coral animals, where nations of separate -beings, outnumbering a thousand times the -living population of the earth and air, enjoy one -common life, and build up islands, for the use of man, -on models definitely fixed. For here, also, there is -<span class='it'>purpose</span>, and were it not that every individual of the -host performs his proper duty—constructing, <span class='it'>here</span> a -buttress, <span class='it'>there</span> an alcove,—the dash of the billows -and the fury of the storm would soon disintegrate -the growing structure. The reef that lies athwart -the mariner’s path, and strews itself with wrecks, -would never rise above the surface, to gather the -seeds of vegetation, attract the cool, fresh moisture -from the air, and lay foundations for the future happiness -and wealth of man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But how shall we explain an instinct by which -myriads of creatures, totally distinct and unconnected, -are induced, without apparent end or object, -to act in concert over leagues of sea, as it would -seem merely to fright the passing voyager! It may -be that the action of these animalcules, by which -the milky glimmering is occasioned, is involuntary. -It may be the result of atmospheric or electric influence -upon the living frame, to serve some hidden -purpose in their unknown economy; for many things, -even in our own organic history, surpass our powers -of comprehension; we know neither their nature nor -their use. But analogy would lead us to infer the -exercise of <span class='it'>will</span> in all the various phenomena of -phosphorescence, however impenetrable the purpose -of its exercise may be. Like the insect songs of a -summer night, or the love-light of the glow-worm -and the fire-fly, they probably control or guide the -motions of the individual or of whole communities.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This idea receives some countenance from the history -of a more remarkable example of this sub-marine -meteor, witnessed in the southern summer -of 1823-4, near the island of Tristan d’Acunha, -under circumstances never to be forgotten—and with -one short notice of its character I will leave the -reader to his reflections upon these wonders of the -deep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The night was dark and damp—the western breeze -too light to steady the vessel, and she rolled heavily -over the wide swell of the South Atlantic, making it -difficult for a landsman to maintain his footing on the -deck. A fog-bank, which hung around the northern -horizon at sunset, now came sweeping slowly down -upon us in the twilight. The captain ordered the -light sails furled in expectation of a squall, and we -stood leaning together over the bulwarks, watching -the mist, which approached more and more rapidly, -till it resembled, in the increasing darkness, an immense -and toppling wall extending from the water -to the clouds, and seemed threatening to crush us -beneath it. There was something peculiarly awful -in its impenetrable obscurity; and even the crew -relinquished their several occupations to gaze on the -unusual aspect of the fog. It reached us;—but just -at this moment, a flash, like a broad sheet of summer -lightning, spread itself over the ocean as far as the -eye could reach, but deep below the waves. Five -or six times, at intervals, of a few seconds, the flash -was repeated, and then the vessel was enveloped in -the mist. The breeze immediately quickened; the -sailors sprang to their stations, and, for a few minutes, -the bustle of preparation for a change of wind attracted -the exclusive attention of every one. In this -short interval, the narrow belt of vapor had passed -off to leeward, and left us bounding merrily along at -the rate of ten knots an hour, with a spanking -norther full upon our beam, over waves sparkling -and dancing in the clear, bright moon-light. But, <span class='it'>the -lightning of the waters was gone</span>!</p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_1'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f1'><a href='#r1'>[1]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>The Anatifa Vitrea.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk118'/> - -<div><h1><a id='call'></a>CALLORE.</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'>Thou art ever fair to me—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Fairer than the Autumn moon,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or a fountain, in its glee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Singing through the woods of June—</p> -<p class='line0'>Fairer than a streamlet bright</p> -<p class='line0'>Flowing on in shimmered light,</p> -<p class='line0'>Darkling under grassy sedge</p> -<p class='line0'>Fringing all the river’s edge,</p> -<p class='line0'>Rippling by the breezes fann’d,</p> -<p class='line0'>Sliding over silver sand,</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the meadow gayly ranging</p> -<p class='line0'>With an aspect ever changing,</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet with quiet depths below,</p> -<p class='line0'>And an even, constant flow,</p> -<p class='line0'>Pensive, musical and slow—</p> -<p class='line0'>Ever such thou art to me,</p> -<p class='line0'>Laughing, blue-eyed <span class='sc'>Callore</span>!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Oh! the stars have sybil tones!</p> -<p class='line0'>Singing by their golden thrones,</p> -<p class='line0'>Singing as they watching stand</p> -<p class='line0'>In their weird and silent land!</p> -<p class='line0'>But thy voice is sweeter far</p> -<p class='line0'>Than the music of the star!</p> -<p class='line0'>Melting on the air at even,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With a mystic sound</p> -<p class='line0'>  Flowing, flowing all around,</p> -<p class='line0'>’Till the soul is raised to heaven</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh! at moments such as these</p> -<p class='line0'>I could kneel on bended knees,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ever kneel and hear thee sing,</p> -<p class='line0'>Silent, rapt and worshipping.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>As a bark upon the tide</p> -<p class='line0'>  Moving on to symphony,</p> -<p class='line0'>With its dipping oars beside</p> -<p class='line0'>   Keeping time melodiously,</p> -<p class='line0'>So thou movest on thy way,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ever graceful, ever gay.</p> -<p class='line0'>Or, perchance, in sportive band,</p> -<p class='line0'>With thy sisters hand in hand,</p> -<p class='line0'>Swinging all in mystic round—</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou wilt dance with gentle sound,</p> -<p class='line0'>A sound as that of fairy feet,</p> -<p class='line0'>Soft, harmonious and sweet,</p> -<p class='line0'>As woodland waterfalls at night</p> -<p class='line0'>Tinkling in the still starlight.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>How thine eyes with tears o’erflow</p> -<p class='line0'>At the troubled tale of wo—</p> -<p class='line0'>In those eyes I love to look,</p> -<p class='line0'>They to me are as a book.</p> -<p class='line0'>There I read without disguise,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And a joy beyond control,</p> -<p class='line0'>  All that in thine inner soul</p> -<p class='line0'>As upon an altar lies—</p> -<p class='line0'>Gazing thus, I feel as when</p> -<p class='line0'>Buried from the haunts of men,</p> -<p class='line0'>In some quiet shady nook,</p> -<p class='line0'>Looking downwards in the brook—</p> -<p class='line0'>I have heard the forest breeze</p> -<p class='line0'>Wake mysterious melodies,</p> -<p class='line0'>Bringing sounds of childish play</p> -<p class='line0'>From the solitudes away,</p> -<p class='line0'>Singing as a gleesome boy,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ravishing the soul with joy,</p> -<p class='line0'>Lifting it on pinions free—</p> -<p class='line0'>Silver-tonguéd <span class='sc'>Callore</span>!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Ever, ever thou art meek,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With a mirthful soberness;</p> -<p class='line0'>None have ever heard thee speak</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of thy passing loveliness—</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou dost joy to be away</p> -<p class='line0'>From the garish light of day;</p> -<p class='line0'>Brooding o’er each holy feeling</p> -<p class='line0'>Soft across thy bosom stealing;</p> -<p class='line0'>With thine eyelids downward bent,</p> -<p class='line0'>Musing in a meek content,</p> -<p class='line0'>Like a saint upon a shrine</p> -<p class='line0'>Wrapt in dreams of bliss divine!</p> -<p class='line0'>Surely, thou art not of earth—</p> -<p class='line0'>With the angels is thy birth—</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou hast come awhile, to be</p> -<p class='line0'>My guide to heaven, <span class='sc'>Callore</span>!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk119'/> - -<div><h1><a id='sis'></a>THE SISTERS.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>A TALE OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY H. W. HERBERT, AUTHOR OF “RINGWOOD THE ROVER,” “THE BROTHERS,” “CROMWELL,” ETC. ETC.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>PART I.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>In one of those sweet glens, half pastoral half sylvan, -which may be found in hundreds channelling -the steep sides of the moorland hills, and sending -down the tribute of their pure limestone springs to -the broad rapid rivers which fertilize no less than -they adorn the lovely vales of Western Yorkshire, -there may be seen to this day the ruins of an old -dwelling-house, situate on a spot so picturesque, so -wild, and yet so soft in its romantic features, that they -would well repay the traveller for a brief halt, who, -but too often, hurries onward in search of more remote -yet certainly not greater beauties. The gorge, -within the mouth of which the venerable pile is -seated, opens into the broader valley from the north-eastern -side, enjoying the full light and warmth of the -southern sunshine; and, although very narrow at its -origin, where its small crystal rivulet springs up -from the lonely well-head, fringed by a few low -shrubs of birch and alder, expands here, at its mouth, -into a pretty amphitheatre or basin of a few acres -circuit. A wild and feathery coppice of oak, and -birch, and hazel, with here and there a mountain -ash, showing its bright red berries through the rich -foliage, clothes all the lower part of the surrounding -slopes; while, far above, the seamed and shattered -faces of the gray, slaty limestone rise up like artificial -walls, their summits crowned with the fair purple -heather, and every nook and cranny in their sides -crowded with odorous wild flowers. Within the circuit -of these natural limits, sheltering it from every -wind of heaven, except the gentle south, the turf lies -smooth and even as if it were a cultured lawn; while -a few rare exotic shrubs, now all run out of shape, -and bare, and straggling, indicate even yet the time -when it was a fair shrubbery, tended by gentle hands, -and visited by young and lovely beings, now cold in -their untimely sepulchres. The streamlet, which -comes gushing down the glen with its clear, copious -flow, boiling and murmuring about the large gray -boulders which everywhere obstruct its channels, -making a thousand mimic cataracts, and wakening -ever a wild, mirthful music, sweeps here quite close -to the foot of the eastern cliff, the feathery branches -of the oakwood dipping their foliage in its eddies, and -then, just as it issues forth into the open champaine, -wheels round in a half circle, completely fanning -the little amphitheatre above, except at one point -hard beneath the opposite hill face, where a small -winding horse track, engrossing the whole space between -the streamlet and the limestone rock, gives -access to the lone demesne. A small green hillock, -sloping down gently to the southward, fills the embracing -arms of the bright brook, around the northern -base of which is scattered a little grove of the most -magnificent and noblest sycamores that I have ever -seen; but on the other side, which yet retains its -pristine character of a smooth open lawn, there are -no obstacles to the view over the wide valley, except -three old gnarled thorn bushes, uncommon from their -size and the dense luxuriance of their matted greenery. -It was upon the summit of this little knoll that the old -homestead stood, whose massive ruins of red freestone, -all overgrown with briers, and tall rank grass -and dock leaves, deface the spot which they adorned -of old; and, when it was erect in all its fair proportions, -the scene which it overlooked, and its own -natural attractions, rendered it one of the loveliest -residences in all the north of England—the wide, -rich, gentle valley, all meadow land or pasture, without -one brown ploughed field to mar its velvet green; -the tall, thick hawthorn hedges, with their long lines -of hedgerow timber, oak, ash and elm, waving above -the smooth enclosures; the broad, clear, tranquil river -flashing out like a silver mirror through the green -foliage; the scattered farm-houses, each nestled as it -were among its sheltering orchards; the village spire -shooting up from the clump of giant elms which over-shadow -the old grave-yard; the steep, long slope on -the other side of the vale, or strath, as it would be -called in Scotland, all mapped out to the eye, with -its green fences and wide hanging woods; and, far -beyond, the rounded summits of the huge moorland -hills, ridge above ridge, purple, and grand, and massive, -but less and less distinct as they recede from the -eye, and melt away at last into the far blue distance—such -was the picture which its windows overlooked -of old, and which still laughs as gaily in the sunshine -around its mouldering walls and lonely hearth-stone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But if it is fair now, and lovely, what was it as it -showed in the good old days of King Charles, before -the iron hand of civil war had pressed so heavily on -England? The grove of sycamores stood there, as -they stand now, in the prime and luxuriance of their -sylvan manhood; for they are waxing now aged and -somewhat gray and stag-horned; and the thorn -bushes sheltered, as they do now, whole choirs of -thrushes and blackbirds, but all the turf beneath the -scattered trees and on the sunny slope was shorn, -and rolled, and watered, that it was smooth and -even, and far softer than the most costly carpet that -ever wooed the step of Persian beauty. The Hall -was a square building, not very large, of the old -Elizabethan style, with two irregular additions, -wings, as they might be called, of the same architecture, -though of a later period, and its deep-embayed -oriel windows, with their fantastic mullions of carved -freestone, its tall quaint chimneys, and its low porch, -with overhanging canopy and clustered columns, -rendered it an object singularly picturesque and -striking. The little green within the gorge of the -upper glen, which is so wildly beautiful in its present -situation, left as it is to the unaided hand of nature, -was then a perfect paradise; for an exquisite taste -had superintended its conversion into a sort of untrained -garden; an eye well used to note effects had -marked its natural capabilities, and, adding artificial -beauties, had never trenched upon the character of -the spot by anything incongruous or startling. Rare -plants, rich-flowering shrubs, and scented herbs were -indeed scattered with a lavish hand about its precincts, -but were so scattered that they seemed the -genuine productions of the soil; the Spanish cistus -had been taught to carpet the wild crags in conjunction -with the native thyme and heather; the arbutus -and laurestinus had been brought from afar to vie -with the mountain ash and holly; the clematis and -the sweet scented vine blended their tendrils with the -rich English honeysuckle and the luxuriant ivy; rare -lotuses might be seen floating with their azure -colored cups and broad green leaves upon the glassy -basins, into which the mountain streamlet had been -taught to expand, among the white wild water lilies -and the bright yellow clusters of the marsh marigold; -roses of every hue and scent, from the dark crimson -of Damascus to the pale blush of soft Provence, grew -side by side with the wild wood-brier and the eglantine, -and many a rustic seat, of mossy stone or roots -and unbarked branches, invited the loitering visiter -in every shadowy angle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no spot in all the north of England -whereon the winter frowned so lightly as on those -sheltered precincts—there was no spot whereon -spring smiled so early, and with so bright an aspect—wherein -the summer so long lingered, pouring her -gorgeous flowers, rich with her spicy breath, into the -very lap of autumn. It was, indeed, a sweet spot, -and as happy as it was sweet and beautiful, before -the curse of civil war was poured upon the groaning -land, with its dread train of foul and fiendish ministers; -and yet it was not war, nor any of its direct -consequences, that turned that happy home into a -ruin and a desolation. It was not war—except the -struggles of the human heart—the conflict of the -fierce and turbulent passions—the strife of principles, -of motives, of desires, within the secret soul, maybe -called war, as, indeed, they might, and that with no -figurative tongue, for they are surely the hottest, the -most devastating, the most fatal of all that bear that -ominous and cruel appellation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such was the aspect then of Ingleborough Hall, at -the period when it was perhaps the most beautiful; -and when, as is but too often the case, its beauties -were on the very point of being brought to a close -forever. The family which owned the manor, for the -possessions attached to the old homestead were large, -and the authority attached to them extended over a -large part of Upper Wharfdale, was one of those old -English races which, though not noble in the literal -sense of the word, are yet so ancient, and so indissolubly -connected with the soil, that they may justly -be comprised among the aristocracy of the land. The -name was Saxon, and it was generally believed—and -probably with truth—that the date of the name, and of -its connection with that estate, was at the least coeval -with the conquest. To what circumstances it was -owing that the Hawkwoods, for such was the time-honored -appellation of the race, had retained possession -of their fair demesne when all the land was -allotted out to feudal barons and fat priests, can never -now be ascertained; nor does it indeed signify; yet -that it was to some honorable cause, some service -rendered, or some high exploit, may be fairly presumed -from the fact that the mitred potentate of -Bolton Abbey, who levied his tythes far and near -throughout those fertile valleys, had no claims on the -fruits of Ingleborough. During the ages that had -passed since the advent of the Norman William, the -Hawkwoods had never lacked male representatives -to sustain the dignity of their race; and gallantly had -they sustained it; for in full many a lay and legend, -aye! and in grave, cold history itself, the name of -Hawkwood might be found side by side with the -more sonorous appellations of the Norman feudatories, -the Ardens, and Maulevers, and Vavasours, -which fill the chronicles of border warfare. At the -period of which we write, however, the family had -no male scion—the last male heir, Ralph Hawkwood, -had died some years before, full of years and of domestic -honors—a zealous sportsman, a loyal subject, -a kind landlord, a good friend—his lot had fallen in -quiet times and pleasant places, and he lived happily, -and died in the arms of his family, at peace with all -men. His wife, a calm and placid dame, who had, -in her young days, been the beauty of the shire, survived -him, and spent her whole time, as she devoted -her whole mind and spirit, in educating the two -daughters, joint heiresses of the old manor-houses, -who were left by their father’s death, two bright-eyed -fair-haired prattlers, dependent for protection on the -strong love but frail support of their widowed mother.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Years passed away, and with their flight the two -fair children were matured into two sweet and lovely -women; yet the same fleeting suns which brought to -them complete and perfect youth were fraught to -others with decay, and all the carking cares, and -querulous ailments of old age. The mother, who had -watched with keen solicitude over their budding infancy, -over the promise of their lovely childhood, -lived indeed, but lived not to see or understand the -full accomplishment of that bright promise. Even -before the elder girl had reached the dawn of womanhood, -palsy had shaken the enfeebled limbs, and its -accustomed follower—mental debility—had, in no -small degree, impaired the intellect of her surviving -parent; but long before her sister had reached her -own maturity, the limbs were helplessly immovable, -the mind was wholly clouded and estranged. It was -not now the wandering and uncertain darkness that -flits across the veiled horizon of the mind alternately -with vivid gleams, flashes of memory and intellect, -brighter perhaps than ever visited the spirit until its -partial aberrations had jarred its vital principle—it -was that deep and utter torpor, blanker than sleep -and duller, for no dreams seem to mingle with its -day-long lethargy—that absolute paralysis of all the -faculties of soul and body, which is so beautifully -painted by the great Roman satirist, as the</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>                            “omnii</p> -<p class='line0'>Membrorum damno major dementia, quæ nec</p> -<p class='line0'>Homina servorum, nec vultum agnoscit amici</p> -<p class='line0'>Cum quo præterita cænavit nocti, nec illos</p> -<p class='line0'>Quos genuit, quos eduxit”—</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>that still, sad, patient, silent suffering, which sits from -day to day in the one usual chair, unconscious of itself -and almost so of all around it; easily pleased by trifles, -which it forgets as soon, deriving its sole real and -tangible enjoyment from the doze in the summer sunshine, -or by the sparkling hearth of winter. Such -was the mother now; so utterly, so hopelessly dependent -on the cares and gratitude of those bright -beings whose infancy she had nursed so devotedly—and -well was that devotedness now compensated; -for day and night, winter and summer, did those -sweet girls by turn watch over the frail, querulous -sexagenarian—never both leaving her at once, one -sleeping while the other watched, attentive ever to -her importunate and ceaseless cravings, patient and -mild to meet her angry and uncalled for lamentations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>You would have thought that a seclusion so entire, -from all society of their equals, must have prevented -their acquiring those usual accomplishments, those -necessary arts, which every English gentlewoman -is presumed to possess as things of course—that they -must have grown up mere ignorant, unpolished -country lasses, without a taste or aspiration beyond -the small routine of their dull daily duties—that long -confinement must have broken the higher and more -spiritual parts of their fine natural minds—that they -must have become mere moping household drudges—and -so to think would be so very natural, that it is -by no means easy to conceive how it was brought to -pass, that the very opposite of this should have been -the result. The very opposite it was, however—for -as there were not in the whole West Riding two -girls more beautiful than Annabel and Marian Hawkwood, -so were there surely none so highly educated, -so happy in themselves, so eminently calculated to -render others happy. Accomplished as musicians -both, though Annabel especially excelled in instrumental -music, while her young sister was unrivalled -in voice and execution as a songstress; both skilled -in painting; and if not poetesses in so much as to be -stringers of words and rhymes, certainly such, and -that too of no mean order, in the wider and far higher -acceptation of the word; for their whole souls were -attuned to the very highest key of spiritual sensibility—romantic, -not in the weak and ordinary meaning of -the term, but as admirers of all things high, and pure, -and noble—worshippers of the beautiful, whether it -were embodied in the wild scenery of their native -glens, in the rock, the stream, the forest, the sunshine -that clothed all of them in a rich garb of glory, -or the dread storm that veiled them all in gloom and -terror—or in the master-pieces of the schools of painting -and of sculpture—or in the pages of the great, -the glorious of all ages—or in the deeds of men, -perils encountered hardily, sufferings constantly endured, -sorrows assuaged by charitable generosity. -Such were they in the strain and tenor of their minds; -gentle, moreover, as the gentlest of created things; -humble to their inferiors, but with a proud, and self-respecting, -and considerate humility; open, and free, -and frank toward their equals; but proud, although -not wanting in loyalty and proper reverence for the -great, and almost haughty of demeanor to their superiors, -when they encountered any such, which was, -indeed, of rare and singular occurrence. It was a -strange thing, indeed, that these lone girls should -have possessed such characters, so strongly marked, -so powerful and striking; should have acquired accomplishments, -so many and so various in their nature. -It will appear, perhaps, even stranger to -merely superficial thinkers, that the formation of -those powerful characters had been, for the most part, -brought about by the very circumstances which would -at first have appeared most unpropitious—their solitary -habits namely, and their seclusion, almost absolute -seclusion, from the gay world of fashion and of -folly. The large and opulent county, in which their -patrimony lay, was indeed then, as now, studded -with the estates, the manors, and the parks of the -richest and the noblest of England’s aristocracy, yet -the deep glens and lofty moorlands among which -Ingleborough Hall was situate, are even to this day a -lonely and sequestered region; no great post-road -winds through their devious passes; and, although in -the close vicinity of large and populous towns, they -are, even in the nineteenth century, but little visited, -and are occupied by a population singularly primitive -and pastoral in all its thoughts and feelings. Much -more then in those days, when carriages were seen -but rarely beyond the streets of the metropolis, when -roads were wild and rugged, and intercourse between -the nearest places, unless of more than ordinary magnitude, -difficult and uncertain, was that wild district -to be deemed secluded. So much so, indeed, was -this the case, at the time of which I write, that there -were not within a circle of some twenty miles two -families of equal rank, or filling the same station in -society, with the Hawkwoods. This, had the family -been in such circumstances of domestic health and -happiness as would have permitted the girls to mingle -in the gaieties of the neighborhood, would have been -a serious and severe misfortune; as they must, from -continual intercourse with their inferiors, have contracted, -in a greater or less degree, a grossness both -of mind and manners; and would, most probably, -have fallen into that most destructive habit—destructive -to the mind, I mean, and to all chance of progress -or advancement—the love of queening it in -low society. It was, therefore, under their circumstances, -including the loss of one parent and the entire -bereavement of the other, fortunate in no small -degree that they were compelled to seek their pleasures -and their occupations, no less than their duties, -within the sphere of the domestic circle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mother, who was now so feeble and so helpless, -though never a person of much intellectual -energy, or indeed of much force of any kind, was -yet in the highest sense of the word a lady; she had -seen in her youth something of the great world, apart -from the rural glens which witnessed her decline; -had mingled with the gay and noble even at the court -of England, and, being possessed of more than ordinary -beauty, had been a favorite and in some degree -a belle. From her, then, had her daughters naturally -and unconsciously imbibed that easy, graceful finish -which, more than all beside, is the true stamp of -gentle birth and bearing. Long before children can -be brought to comprehend general principles or rules -of convention, they can and do acquire habits, by -that strange tact of imitation and observance which -certainly commences at a stage so early of their -young, frail existences, that we cannot, by any effort, -mark its first dawning—habits which, thus acquired, -can hardly be effaced at all—which will endure unaltered -and invariable when tastes, and practices, -and modes of thought and action, contracted long, -long afterward, have faded quite away and been forgotten. -Thus was it, then, with these young creatures; -while they were yet mere girls, with all the -pure, right impulses of childhood bursting out fresh -and fair, they had been trained up in the midst of -high, and honorable, and correct associations—naught -low, or mean, or little; naught selfish, or dishonest, -or corrupt had ever come near to them—in -the sight of virtue and in the practice of politeness -they had shot up into maturity; and their maturity, -of consequence, was virtuous and polished. In after -years, devoted as they were to that sick mother, they -had no chance of unlearning anything; and thus, -from day to day, they went on gaining fresh graces, -as it were, by deduction from their foregone teachings, -and from the purity of their young natures—for -purity and nature, when united, must of necessity -be graceful—until the proudest courts of Europe -could have shown nothing, even in their most difficult -circles, that could surpass, even it could vie -with, the easy, artless frankness, the soft and finished -courtesy, the unabashed yet modest grace of those -two mountain maidens.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the period when my sad tale commences—for it -is no less sad than true—the sisters had just reached -the young yet perfect bloom of mature womanhood, -the elder, Annabel, having attained her twentieth -summer, her sister Marian being exactly one year -younger; and certainly two sweeter or more lovely -girls could not be pictured or imagined—not in the -brightest moments of the painter’s or the poet’s inspiration. -They were both tall and beautifully -formed—both had sweet low-toned voices—that excellent -thing in woman!—but here all personal resemblance -ended; for Annabel, the elder, had a complexion -pure and transparent as the snow of the untrodden -glacier before the sun has kissed it into -roseate blushes, and quite as colorless; her features -were of the finest classic outline; the smooth, fair -brow, the perfect Grecian nose, the short curve of -the upper lip, the exquisite arch of the small mouth, -the chiselled lines of the soft rounded chin, might -have served for a model to a sculptor, whereby to -mould a mountain nymph or Naiad; her rich luxuriant -hair was of a light and sunny brown, her eyes -of a clear, lustrous blue, with a soft, languid, and -half melancholy tenderness for their more usual expression, -which united well with the calm, placid air -which was almost habitual to her beautiful features. -To this no contrast more complete could have been -offered than by the widely different style of Marian’s -loveliness. Though younger than her sister, her -figure was more full and rounded—so much so, that -it reached the very point where symmetry is combined -with voluptuousness—yet was there nothing in -the least degree voluptuous in the expression of her -bright artless face. Her forehead, higher than Annabel’s, -and broader, was as smooth and as white as -polished marble; her brows were well-defined and -black as ebony, as were the long, long lashes that -fringed her laughing eyes—eyes of the brightest, -lightest azure that ever glanced with merriment, or -melted into love—her nose was small and delicate, -but turned a little upwards, so as to add, however, -rather than detract from the <span class='it'>tout ensemble</span> of her -arch, roguish beauty—her mouth was not very -small, but exquisitely formed, with lips redder than -anything in nature, to which lips can be well compared, -and filled with teeth, regular, white and beautifully -even—fair as her sister’s, and, like hers, showing -every where the tiny veins of azure meandering -below the milky skin, Marian’s complexion was yet -as bright as morning—faint rosy tints and red, warm -blushes succeeding one another, or vanishing away -and leaving the cheek pearly white, as one emotion -followed and effaced another in her pure, innocent -mind. Her hair, profuse in its luxuriant flow, was of -a deep dark brown, that might have been almost -called black, but for a thousand glancing golden -lights and warm rich shadows that varied its smooth -surface with the varying sunshine, and was worn in -a thick, massive plait low down in the neck behind, -while on either side the brow it was trained off and -taught to cluster in front of either tiny ear in an -abundant maze of interwoven curls, close and mysteriously -enlaced as are the tendrils of the wild vine, -which, fluttering on each warm and blushing cheek, -fell down the swan-like neck in heavy natural ringlets. -But to describe her features is to give no idea, -in the least, of Marian’s real beauty—there was a -radiant, dazzling lustre that leaped out of her every -feature, lightning from her quick, speaking eyes, and -playing in the dimples of her bewitching smile, that -so intoxicated the beholder that he would dwell upon -her face entranced, and know that it was lovely, and -feel that it was far more lovely, far more enthralling -than any he had ever looked upon before; yet, when -without the sphere of that enchantment, he should be -all unable to say wherein consisted its unmatched -attraction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Between the natural disposition and temperaments -of the two sisters there was perhaps even a wider -difference than between the characteristics of their -personal beauty; for Annabel was calm, and mild, -and singularly placid, not in her manners only, but in -the whole tenor of her thoughts, and words, and -actions; there was a sort of gentle melancholy, that -was not altogether melancholy either, pervading her -every tone of voice, her every change of feature. -She was not exactly grave, nor pensive, nor subdued, -for she could smile very joyously at times, could act -upon emergencies with readiness, and quickness, -and decision, and was at all times prompt in the expression -of her confirmed sentiments; but there was -a very remarkable tranquillity in her mode of doing -every thing she did, betokening fully the presence of -a decided principle directing her at every step, so -that she was but rarely agitated, even by accidents -of the most sudden and alarming character, and never -actuated by any rapid impulse. The very opposite -of this was Marian Hawkwood; for, although quite -as upright and pure minded as her sister, and, what is -more, of a temper quite as amiable and sweet, yet -was her mood as changeful as an April day; although -it was more used to mirth and joyous laughter than -to frowns or tears either, yet had she tears as ready -at any tale of sorrow as are the fountains of the -spring shower in the cloud, and eloquent frowns and -eyes that lightened their quick indignation at any -outrage, or oppression, or high-handed violence; her -cheek would crimson with the tell-tale blood, her -flesh would seem to thrill upon her bones, her voice -would choke, and her eyes swim with sympathetic -drops whenever she read, or spoke, or heard of any -noble deed, whether of gallant daring, or of heroic -self-denial. Her tongue was prompt always, as the -sword of the knight errant, to shelter the defenceless, -to shield the innocent, to right the wronged, and -sometimes to avenge the absent. Artless herself, -and innocent in every thought and feeling, she set no -guard on either; but as she felt and thought so she -spoke out and acted, fearless even as she was unconscious -of any wrong, defying misconstruction, and -half inclined to doubt the possibility of evil in the -minds of others, so foreign did it seem, and so impossible -to her own natural and, as it were, instinctive -sense of right.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet although such in all respects as I have striven -to depict them, the one all quick and flashing impulse, -the other all reflective and considerate principle, it -was most wonderful how seldom there was any -clashing of opinion and diversity of judgment as to -what was to be done, what left undone, between the -lovely sisters. Marian would, it is true, often jump -at once to conclusions, and act as rapidly upon them, -at which the more reflective Annabel would arrive -only after some consideration—but it did not occur -more often that the one had reason to repent of her -precipitation than the other of her over caution—neither, -indeed, had much cause for remorse of this -kind at all, for all the impulses of the one, all the -thoughts and principles of the other, were alike pure -and kindly. With words, however, it was not quite -so; for it must be admitted that Marian oftentimes -said things, how unfrequently soever she did aught, -which she would willingly have recalled afterwards; -not, indeed, that she ever said anything unkind or -wrong in itself, and rarely anything that could give -pain to another, unless that pain were richly merited -indeed—but that she gradually came to learn, long -before she learned to restrain her impulses, that it -may be very often unwise to speak what in itself is -wise—and very often, if not wrong, yet certainly -imprudent and of evil consequences to give loud -utterance even to right opinions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such were the persons, such the dispositions of the -fair heiresses of Ingleborough, at the time when -they had attained the ages I have specified, and certainly, -although their sphere of usefulness would -have appeared at first sight circumscribed, and the -range of their enjoyments very narrow, there rarely -have been seen two happier or more useful beings -than Annabel and Marian Hawkwood, in this wide -world of sin and sorrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The care of their bereaved and hapless parent -occupied, it is true, the greater portion of their time, -yet they found many leisure hours to devote to visiting -the poor, aiding the wants of the needy, consoling -the sorrows of those who mourned, and sympathizing -with the pleasures of the happy among their humble -neighbors. To them this might be truly termed a -work of love and pleasure, for it is questionable -whether from any other source the lovely girls derived -a higher or more satisfactory enjoyment, than -from their tours of charity among their village pensioners. -Next in the scale of happiness stood, -doubtless, the society of the old vicar of that pastoral -parish, a man who had been their father’s friend and -counsellor in those young days of college friendship, -when the fresh heart is uppermost in all, and selfishness -a dormant passion; a man old enough almost to -have been their grandsire, but with a heart as young -and cheery as a boy’s—an intellect accomplished in -the deepest lore of the schools, both classical and -scientific, and skilled thoroughly in all the niceties -and graces of French, and Spanish, and Italian literature. -A man who had known courts, and camps -too, for a short space in his youth; who had seen -much, and suffered much, and yet enjoyed not a little, -in his acquaintance with the world; and who, from -sights, and sufferings, and enjoyments, had learned -that if there is much evil, there is yet more of good -even in <span class='it'>this</span> world—had learned, while rigid to his -own, to be most lenient to his neighbor’s failings—had -learned that charity should be the fruit of wisdom!—and -had learned all this only to practise it in -all his daily walks, to inculcate it in all his weekly -lessons. This aged man, and his scarce less aged -wife, living scarcely a stone’s throw from the Hall, -had grown almost to think themselves a portion of -the family; and surely no blood kindred could have -created stronger ties of kindness than had the -familiarity of long acquaintance, the confidence of -old hereditary love. Lower yet in the round of their -enjoyments, but still a constant source of blameless -satisfaction, were their books, their music, their -drawings, the management of their household, the -cultivation of their lovely garden, the ministering to -the wants of their loved birds and flowers. Thus, all -sequestered and secluded from the world, placed in -the midst of onerous duties and solicitudes almost innumerable, -though they had never danced at a ball, -nor blushed at the praises of their own beauty flowing -from eloquent lips, nor listened to a lover’s suit, -queens might have envied the felicity, the calm, pure, -peaceful happiness of Annabel and Marian.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were, indeed, <span class='it'>too</span> happy! I do not mean too -happy to be virtuous, too happy to be mindful of, and -grateful to, the Giver of all joy—but, as the common -phrase runs, too happy for their happiness to be enduring. -That is a strange belief—a wondrous superstition!—and -yet it has been common to all ages. -The Greeks, those wild poetic dreamers, imagined -that their vain gods, made up of mortal attributes, -<span class='it'>envied</span> the bliss of men, fearing that wretched earthlings -should vie in happiness with the possessors of -Olympus. They sang in their dark mystic choruses,</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>“That perfect bliss of men not childless dies,</p> -<p class='line0'>But, ended, leaves a progeny behind</p> -<p class='line0'>Of woes, that spring from fairest fortune blind—”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>and, though their other doctrines of that insuperable -destiny, that absolute necessity, to resist which is -needless labor; and of ancestral guilt, still reproducing -guilt through countless generations, would -seem to militate against it, there was no more established -faith, and no more prevalent opinion, than -that unwonted fortunes were necessarily followed by -most unusual wo—hence, perhaps, the stern self-mortification -of the middle ages—hence, certainly, -the vulgar terror, prevalent more or less among all -classes, and in every time and country, that children -are too beautiful, too prematurely wise, too good, to -be long-lived—that happiness is too great to be lasting—that -mornings are too fine to augur stormless -days! And we—aye! we ourselves—we of a better -and purer dispensation—we half believe all this, and -more than half tremble at it, although in truth there -is no cause for fear in the belief—since, if there be -aught of truth in the mysterious creed, which facts -do in a certain sense seem to bear out, we can but -think, we cannot but perceive, that this is but a varied -form of care and mercy vouchsafed by the Great -All-perfect, towards his frail creatures—that this is -but a merciful provision to hinder us from laying up -for ourselves “treasures upon earth, where moth and -rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through -and steal”—a provision to restrain us from forgetting, -in the small temporary bliss of the present, the boundless -and incomparable beatitude of the future—to -warn us against bartering, like Esau, our birthright -for a mess of pottage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I am not now called to follow out this train of -thought, suggested by the change in the fortunes of -those to whom I am performing the part of historian—by -the change I say in their fortunes—a change -arising, too, from the very circumstances, as is so -frequently the case, which seemed to promise the -most fairly for their improvement and their permanence—oh, -how blind guides are we—even the most -far-sighted of us all—how weak and senseless judges, -even the most sagacious—how false and erring -prophets, even the wisest and the best!—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I must not anticipate, nor overrun my scent, -meriting, like a babbling hound, the harsh thong of -the huntsman critic. It was, as I have said already, -somewhere in the summer wherefrom Annabel reckoned -her twentieth, and Marian her nineteenth year—very -late in the last month of summer, an hour or -two before the sunset of as beautiful an evening as -ever smiled upon the face of the green earth; the -sky was nearly cloudless, though a thin gauze-like -haze had floated up from the horizon, and so far -veiled the orb of the great sun, that the eye could -gaze undazzled on his glories; and the whole air -was full of a rich golden light which flooded all the -level meadows with its lustre,—except where they -were checkered by the long cool blue shadows, projected -from the massive clumps of noble forest trees, -which singly or in groups diversified the lovely vale—and -gilded the tall slender steeple of the old village -church, and glanced in living fire from the broad oriel -windows of the Hall. Such was the evening, and so -beautiful the prospect, with every sound and sight in -perfect harmony—the sharp squeak of the rapid -swifts wheeling their airy circles around the distant -spire, the full and liquid melodies of thrush and -blackbird from out the thorn bushes upon the lawn, -the lowing of the cows returning from their pasture -to pay the evening tribute, the very cawing of the -homeward rooks blended by distance into a continuous -and soothing murmur, the rippling music of the -stream, the low sigh of the west wind in the foliage -of the sycamores, the far shout of the children happy -at their release from school, the carol of a solitary -milkmaid, combining to make up music as sweet as -can be heard or dreamed of. That lovely picture -was surveyed, and that delicious melody was listened -to by eyes and ears well fitted to appreciate their -loveliness—for at an open casement of a neat parlor in -the Hall, with furniture all covered with those elegant -appliances of female industry—well-filled drawings, -and books, and instruments of music, and work -baskets, and frames for embroidery—which show so -pleasantly that the apartment is one, not of show, but -of calm home enjoyment, sat Annabel, alone—for -the presence of the frail paralytic being, who dozed -in her arm-chair at the farther end of the room, cannot -be held to constitute society. Marian, for the first -time in her life, was absent from her home on a visit, -which had already endured nearly six weeks, to the -only near relative of the family who was yet living—a -younger sister of her mother—who had married -many years ago a clergyman, whose piety and talents -had raised him to a stall in the cathedral church of -York, where he resided with his wife—a childless -couple. This worthy pair had passed a portion of -the summer at the Hall, and, when returning to the -metropolis of the county, had prevailed on their -younger niece, not altogether without difficulty, to go -with them for a few weeks, and see a little of society -on a scale something more extended than that which -her native vales could offer. It was the first time in -their lives that the sisters ever had been parted for -more than a few days, and now the hours were beginning -to appear very long to Annabel, as weeks -were running into months, and the gorgeous suns of -summer were fast preparing to give place to the cold -dews and frosty winds of autumn. The evening -meal was over, and a solitary thing was that meal -now, which used to be the most delightful of the day, -and hastily did the lonely sister hurry it over, thinking -all the while what might be Marian’s occupation -at the moment, and whether she too was engaged in -thoughts concerning her far friends and the fair home -of her childhood. It was then in a mood half melancholy, -and half listless, that Annabel was gazing -from her window down the broad valley to the eastward, -marvelling at the beauty of the scenery, though -she had noted every changing hue that flitted over -the far purple hills a thousand times before; and -listening to every sweet familiar sound, and yet at -the same time pondering, as if she were quite unconscious -of all that met her senses, about things which, -she fancied, might be happening at York, when on a -sudden her attention was aroused by a dense cloud -of dust rising beyond the river, upon the line of the -highroad, and sweeping up the valley with a progress -so unusually rapid as indicated that the objects, -which it veiled from view, must be in more than -commonly quick motion. For a few moments she -watched this little marvel narrowly, but without any -apprehension or even any solicitude, until, as it drew -nearer, she could perceive at times bright flashes as -if of polished metal gleaming out through the murky -wreaths, and feathers waving in the air. The year -was that in which the hapless Charles, all hopes of -reconciliation with the parliament being decidedly -frustrated, displayed the banner of civil war, and -drew the sword against his subjects. The rumors of -the coming strife had circulated, like the dread sub-terraneous -rumblings which harbinger the earth-quake, -through all the country far and near, sad -omens of approaching evil; and more distinctly were -they bruited throughout Yorkshire, in consequence of -the attempt which had been made by the royal party -to secure Hull with all its magazines and shipping—frustrated -by the energy and spirit of the Hothams—so -that, as soon as she perceived that the dust was, -beyond all doubt, stirred up by a small party of well -appointed horse, Annabel entertained no doubts as -to the meaning, but many serious apprehensions as -to the cause, of the present visitation. The road by -which the cavaliers were proceeding, though well -made and passable at all times, was no considerable -thoroughfare; no large or important towns lay on its -route, nay, no large villages were situated on its -margins; it was a devious, winding way, leading to -many a homely farm-house, many a small sequestered -hamlet, and affording to the good rustics a -means of carrying their wheat, and eggs, and butter, -or driving their fat cattle and black-faced moorland -sheep to market, but it was not the direct line between -any two points or places worthy of even a -passing notice. It is true, that some twelve or fifteen -miles down the valley, there was a house or two -tenanted by gentry—one that might, by a liberal -courtesy, have been designated as a castle—but above -Ingleborough Hall, to the northwestward, there was -no manor-house or dwelling of the aristocracy at all, -until the road left the <span class='it'>ghylls</span>, as those wild glens are -designated, and joined the line of the great northern -turnpike. It was extremely singular then, to say the -least, that a gay troop of riders should appear suddenly -in that wild spot, so far from anything that -would be likely to attract them; and Annabel sat -some time longer by the window, wondering, and at -the same time fearing, although, in truth, she scarce -knew what, until, at about a mile’s distance, she saw -them halt, and, after a few moments’ conversation -with a farming man on the wayside, as if to inquire -their route, turn suddenly down a narrow by-road -leading to the high narrow bridge of many arches -which crossed the noble river, and gave the only -access to the secluded site of Ingleborough. When -she saw this, however, her perturbation became very -great; for she well knew that there lay nothing in -that direction, except one little market-town, far distant, -and a few scattered farm-houses on the verge of -the moors, so that there could be little doubt that -Ingleborough was indeed their destination. The very -moment that she arrived at this conclusion, Annabel -called a serving-man and bade him run quick to the -vicarage, and pray good Doctor Summers to come -up to her instantly, as she was in great strait, and -fain would speak with him; and, at the same time, -with an energy of character that hardly could have -been expected from one so young and delicate, ordered -the men of the household, including in those -days the fowler and the falconer, and half a dozen -sturdy grooms, and many a supernumerary more, -whom we in these degenerate times have long discarded -as incumbrances, to have their arms in readiness—for -every manor-house then had its regular -armory—and to prepare the great bell of the Hall to -summon all the tenants, on the instant such proceeding -might be needful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a few moments the good gray-haired vicar came, -almost breathless from the haste with which he -had crossed the little space between the vicarage -and the manor; and a little while after his wife followed -him, anxious to learn, as soon as possible, -what could have so disturbed the quiet tenor of a -mind so regulated by high principles, and garrisoned -by holy thoughts, as Annabel’s. Their humble dwelling, -though scarce a stone’s throw from the Hall, was -screened by a projecting knoll, feathered with dense -and shadowy coppice, which hid from it entirely the -road by which the horsemen were advancing; so -that the worthy couple had not perceived or suspected -anything to justify the fears of Annabel, until -they were both standing in her presence—then, while -the worthy doctor was proffering his poor assistance, -and his good wife inquiring eagerly what was amiss, -the sight of that gay company of cavaliers, with -feathers waving and scarfs fluttering in the wind, -and gold embroideries glancing to the sun, as, having -left the dusty road, they wheeled through the green -meadows, flashed suddenly upon them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who can they be? What possibly can bring them -hither?” exclaimed Annabel, pointing with evident -trepidation towards the rapidly approaching horsemen; -“I fear, oh, I greatly fear some heavy ill is -coming—but I have ordered all the men to take their -arms, and the great bell will bring us twenty of the -tenants in half as many minutes. What can it be, -good doctor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In truth I know not, Annabel,” replied the good -man, smiling cheerfully as he spoke; “in truth I -know not, nor can at all conjecture; but be quite -sure of this, dear girl, that they will do, to us at least, -no evil—they are King Charles’ men beyond doubt, -churchmen and cavaliers, all of them—any one can -see that; and though I know not that we have much -to fear from either party, from them at least we have -no earthly cause for apprehension. I will go forth, -however, to meet them, and to learn their errand—meantime, -fear nothing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! you mistake me,” she answered at once; -“oh! you mistake me very much, for I did not, even -for a moment, fear personally anything; it was for -my poor mother I was first alarmed, and all our good, -kind neighbors, and, indeed, all the country around, -that shows so beautiful and happy this fair evening—oh! -but this civil war is a dread thing, and dread, I -fear, will be the reckoning of those who wake it—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who wake it <span class='it'>without cause</span>, my daughter! A -dreadful thing it is at all times, but it may be a necessary, -aye! and a holy thing—when freedom or religion -are at stake—but we will speak of this again; -for see, they have already reached the farther gate, -and I must speak with them before they enter here, -let them be who they may;” and with the words, -pressing her hand with fatherly affection, “Farewell,” -he said, “be of good cheer, I purpose to return -forthwith,” then left the room, and hurrying -down the steps of the porch, walked far more rapidly -than seemed to suit his advanced years and sedentary -habits across the park to meet the gallant company.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A gallant company, indeed, it was, and such as -was but rarely seen in that wild region, being the -train of a young gentleman of some eight or nine -and twenty years, splendidly mounted, and dressed -in the magnificent fashion of those days, in a half -military costume, for his buff coat was lined throughout -with rich white satin, and fringed and looped -with silver, a falling collar of rich Flanders lace -flowing down over his steel gorget, and a broad scarf -of blue silk supporting his long silver-hilted rapier—by -his side rode another person, not certainly a menial -servant, and yet clearly not a gentleman of birth -and lineage; and after these a dozen or more of armed -attendants, all wearing the blue scarf and black -feathers of the royalists, all nobly mounted and -accoutred, like regular troopers, with sword and dagger, -pistols and musquetoons, although they wore no -breastplates, nor any sort of defensive armor. A -brace of jet-black greyhounds, without a speck of -white upon their sleek and glistening hides, ran -bounding merrily beside their master’s stirrup, and a -magnificent gosshawk sat hooded on his wrist, with -silver bells and richly decorated jesses. So much -had the ladies observed, even before the old man -reached the party; but when he did so, pausing for a -moment to address the leader, that gentleman at -once leaped down from his horse, giving the rein to -a servant, and accompanied him, engaged apparently -in eager conversation, toward the entrance of the -Hall. This went far on the instant to restore confidence -to Annabel; but when they came so near that -their faces could be seen distinctly from the windows, -and she could mark a well-pleased smile upon the -venerable features of her friend, she was completely -reassured. A single glance, moreover, at the face of -the stranger showed her that the most timid maiden -need hardly feel a moment’s apprehension, even if -he were her country’s or her faction’s foe; for it was -not merely handsome, striking, and distinguished, -but such as indicates, or is supposed to indicate, the -presence of a kindly disposition and good heart. -Annabel had not much time, indeed, for making observations -at that moment, for it was scarce a minute -before they had ascended the short flight of steps, -which led to the stone porch, and entered the door of -the vestibule—a moment longer, and they came into -the parlor, the worthy vicar leading the young man -by the hand, as if he were a friend of ten years’ -standing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Annabel,” he exclaimed, in a joyous voice, as he -crossed the threshold of the room, “this is the young -Lord Vaux, son of your honored father’s warmest -and oldest friend; and in years long gone by, but unforgotten, -my kindest patron. He has come hither, -bearing letters from <span class='it'>his</span> father—knowing not until -now that you, my child, were so long since bereaved—letters -of commendation, praying the hospitality of -Ingleborough, and the best influence of the name of -Hawkwood, to levy men to serve King Charles in -the approaching war. I have already told him—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How glad, how welcome, doubtless, would have -been his coming,” answered Annabel, advancing -easily to meet the youthful nobleman, although a -deep blush covered all her pale features as she performed -her unaccustomed duty, “had my dear father -been alive, or my poor mother”—casting a rapid -glance towards the invalid—“been in health to greet -him. As it is,” she continued, “the Lord Vaux, I -doubt not, in the least, will pardon any imperfections -in our hospitality, believing that if in aught we err, -it will be error, not of friendliness or of feeling, but -of experience only, seeing I am but a young mistress -of a household. You, my kind friend, and Mistress -Summers, will doubtless tarry with us while my -Lord Vaux gives us the favor of his presence.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Loath should I be, indeed, dear lady, thus to intrude -upon your sorrows, could I at all avoid it,” -replied the cavalier; “and charming as it must -needs be to enjoy the hospitalities tendered by such -an one as you, I do assure you, were I myself concerned -alone, I would remount my horse at once, -and ride away, rather than force myself upon your -courtesy. But, when I tell you that my father’s -strong opinion holds it a matter of importance—importance -almost vital to the king, and to the cause of -Church and State in England—that I should levy -some force here of cavaliers, where there be so few -heads of noble houses living, to act in union with -Sir Philip Musgrave, in the north, and with Sir Marmaduke -Langdale, I both trust and believe that you -will overlook the trouble and intrusion, in fair consideration -of the motives which impel me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pray—” said she, smiling gaily—“pray, my Lord -Vaux, let us leave, now, apology and compliment—most -unaffectedly and truly I am glad to receive you, -both as the son of my father’s valued friend, and as a -faithful servant of our most gracious king—we will -do our best, too, to entertain you; and Doctor Summers -will aid you with his counsel and experience in -furthering your military levies. How left you the -good earl, your father? I have heard mine speak of -him many times, and ever in the highest terms of -praise, when I was but a little girl—and my poor -mother much more recently, before this sad calamity -affected her so fearfully.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her answer, as it was intended, had the effect at -once of putting an end to all formality, and setting -the young nobleman completely at his ease; the conversation -took a general tone, and was maintained -on all sides with sufficient spirit, until, when Annabel -retired for a little space to conduct her mother to her -chamber, De Vaux found himself wondering how a -mere country girl, who had lived a life so secluded -and domestic, should have acquired graces both of -mind and manner, such as he never had discovered -in court ladies; while she was struck even in a -greater degree by the frank, unaffected bearing, the -gay wit, and sparkling anecdote, blended with many -a touch of deeper feeling, which characterized the -youthful nobleman. After a little while she reappeared, -and with her was announced the evening meal, -the pleasant sociable old-fashioned supper, and as he -sat beside her, while she presided, full of calm modest -self-possession, at the head of her hospitable -board, with no one to encourage her, or lend her -countenance, except the good old vicar and his -homely helpmate, he could not but draw fresh comparisons, -all in her favor too, betwixt the quiet graceful -confidence of the ingenuous girl before him, and -the <span class='it'>minauderies</span> and meretricious airs of the court -dames, who had been hitherto the objects of his passing -admiration. Cheerfully, then, and pleasantly the -evening passed away; and when upon her little -couch, hard by the invalid’s sick bed, Annabel -thought over the events of the past day, she felt -concerning young De Vaux, rather as if he had been -an old familiar friend, with whom she had renewed -an intercourse long interrupted, than as of a mere -acquaintance whom that day first had introduced, -and whom the next might possibly remove forever. -Something there was, when they met next, at breakfast -on the following morning, of blushing bashfulness -in Annabel which he had not observed, nor she before -experienced; but it passed rapidly away, and left her -self-possessed and tranquil—while surely in the -sparkling eye, the eager haste with which he broke -away from his conversation with Dr. Summers, as -she entered, in his hand half extended, and then half -awkwardly, half timidly, withdrawn, there was much -indication of excited feeling, widely at variance with -the stiff and even formal mannerism inculcated and -practised in the court of the unhappy Charles. It -needs not now, however, to dwell on passing conversations, -to narrate every trifling incident—the -morning meal once finished, De Vaux mounted his -horse, and rode forth in accordance with the directions -of the loyal clergyman, to visit such among the -neighboring farmers as were most likely to be able -to assist him in the levying a horse regiment. A -few hours passed, and he returned full of high spirits -and hot confidence—he had met everywhere -assurances of good will to the royal cause, had succeeded -in enlisting some ten or more of stout and -hardy youths, and had no doubt of finally accomplishing -the object, which he had in view, to the full -height of his aspirations. After dinner, which in -those primitive days was served at noon, he was -engaged for a time in making up despatches for his -father, which having been sent off by a messenger of -his own trusty servants to the castle in Northumberland, -he went out and joined his lovely hostess in the -sheltered garden, which I have described above; and -there they lingered until the sun was sinking in the -west behind the huge and purple headed hills, which -covered the horizon in that direction—the evening -circle and the social meal succeeded, and when they -parted for the night, if Annabel and young De Vaux -could not be said to be enamored, as indeed they -could not yet, they had at least made so much progress -to that end, that each esteemed the other the -most agreeable and charming person it had been -hitherto their fortune to encounter; and, although -this was decidedly the farthest point to which the -thoughts of Annabel extended, when he had laid -down on his bed, with the sweet rays of the harvest -moon flooding his room with quiet lustre, and the -voice of the murmuring rivulet and the low flutter of -the west wind in the giant sycamores blending themselves -into a soft and soothing melody, the young -lord found himself considering how gracefully that -fair pale girl would fill the place, which had been -long left vacant by his mother, in the grand Hall of -Gilsland Castle. Another, and another day succeeded—a -week slipped away—a second and third followed -it, and still the ranks of the royal regiment, though -they were filling rapidly, had many vacancies, and -arms had yet to be provided, and standards, and -musicians—passengers went and came continually -between the castle and the manor; and all was bustle -and confusion in the lone glens of Wharfdale. -Meantime a change was wrought in Annabel’s demeanor, -that all who saw remarked—there was a -brighter glow than ever had been seen before in her -transparent cheeks; her eyes sparkled almost as -brilliantly as Marian’s; her lips were frequently arrayed -in bright and beaming smiles; her step was -light and springy as a young fawn’s upon the -mountain—Annabel was in love, and had discovered -that it was so—Annabel was beloved, and knew it—the -young lord’s declaration and the old earl’s consent -had come together, and the sweet maiden’s heart was -given, and her hand promised, almost before the -asking. Joy! joy! was there not joy in Ingleborough? -The good old vicar’s tranquil air of -satisfaction, the loud and eloquent mirth of his kind-hearted -housewife—the merry gay congratulations of -wild Marian, who wrote from York, half crazy with -excitement and delight—the evident and lovely happiness -of the young promised bride—what pen of -man may even aspire to describe them. All was -decided—all arranged—the marriage was, so far at -least, to be held private, that no festivities nor public -merriment should bruit it to the world, until the civil -strife should be decided, and the king’s power established; -which all men fancied at that day it would -by a single battle—and which, had Rupert wheeled -upon the flank of Essex at Edge-Hill, instead of -chasing the discomfited and flying horse of the -Roundheads miles from the field of battle, would -probably have been the case. The old earl had sent -the wedding gifts to his son’s chosen bride, had -promised to be present at the nuptials, the day of -which was fixed already; but it had been decided, -that when De Vaux should be forced to join the royal -armies, his young wife should continue to reside at -Ingleborough, with her bereaved mother and fond -sister, until the wished-for peace should unite England -once again in bonds of general amity, and the -bridegroom find honorable leisure to lead his wife in -state to his paternal mansions. Days sped away! -how fast they seemed to fly to those young happy -lovers! How was the very hour of their first interview -noted, and marked with the white in the deep -tablets of their minds—how did they, shyly half, -half fondly, recount each to the other the first impressions -of their growing fondness—how did they -bless the cause that brought them thus together—<span class='it'>Proh! -cæca mens mortalium!</span>—oh! the short-sighted -scope of mortal vision!—alas! for one—for both!—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wedding day was fixed, and now was fast -approaching; and hourly was Marian with the good -uncle and his dame expected at the Hall, and wished -for, and discoursed of by the lovers—“and oh!—” -would Annabel say, half sportively and half in earnest—“well -was it for my happiness, De Vaux, that <span class='it'>she</span> -was absent when you first came hither, for had you -seen her first, her far superior beauty, her bright wild -radiant face, her rare arch <span class='it'>naïveté</span>, her flashing wit, -and beautiful enthusiasm, would—<span class='it'>must</span> have captivated -you all at once—and what had then become of -your poor Annabel?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then would the young lord vow—and vow in -all sincerity and truth as he believed, that had he -met her first in the most glorious courts of Europe, -with all the gorgeous beauties of the world to rival -her, she would alone have been the choice of his -soul—his soul first touched by her of women!—And -then he would ask in lowered tones, and with a sly -simplicity of manner, whether if <span class='it'>he</span> had loved another, -she could have still loved him; to which with all the -frank and fearless purity, which was so beautiful a -trait in Annabel—“Oh! yes—” she would reply, and -gaze with calm reliance, as she did so, into her lover’s -eyes—“oh yes, dear Ernest—and then how -miserably wretched must I have been, through my -whole life thereafter. Oh! yes, I loved you—though -then I knew it not, nor indeed thought at all about it -until you spoke to me—I loved you dearly—tenderly!—and -I believe it would have almost killed me, to -look upon you afterward as the wife of another.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wedding day was but a fortnight distant, and -strange to say, it was the very day two months gone, -which had seen their meeting. Wains had arrived -from Gilsland, loaded with arms and uniforms, -standards and ammunition—two of the brothers of De -Vaux, young gallant cavaliers, had come partly -to officer the men, partly to do fit honor to their -brother’s nuptials. The day, although the season -had now advanced far into brown October, was -sunny, mild and beautiful; the regiment had that -day, for the first time, mustered in arms in Ingleborough -park, and a gay show they made with -glittering casques and corslets, fresh from the armorer’s -anvil, and fluttering scarfs and dancing plumes, -and bright emblazoned banners.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sun was in the act of setting—De Vaux and -Annabel were watching his decline from the same -window in the Hall, whence she had first discovered -his unexpected coming; when, as on that all eventful -evening, a little dust was seen arising on the -high road beyond the river, and in a moment a small -mounted party, among which might be readily descried -the fluttering of female garments!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is my sister—” exclaimed Annabel, jumping -up on the instant, and clasping her hands eagerly—“it -is my dear, dear sister—come, Ernest, come; let -us go meet dear Marian.” No time was lost; but -arm in arm they sallied forth, the lovers; and met -the little train just this side the park gates.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marian sprang from her horse, light as a spirit of -the air, and rushed into her sister’s arms and clung -there with a long and lingering embrace, and as she -raised her head a bright tear glittered on either silky -eyelash. De Vaux advanced to greet her, but as he -did so, earnestly perusing the lineaments of his fair -sister, he was most obviously embarrassed, his manner -was confused and even agitated, his words -faltered—and <span class='it'>she</span> whose face had been, a second -before, beaming with the bright crimson of excitement, -whose eye had looked round eagerly and -gladly to mark the chosen of her sister—<span class='it'>she</span> turned -as pale as ashes—brow, cheeks, and lips—pale, -almost livid!—and her eye fell abashed, and did not -rise again till he had finished speaking. None noticed -it, but Annabel; for all the party were engaged -in gay congratulations, and, they recovering themselves -immediately, nothing more passed that could -create surmise—but she did <span class='it'>note</span> it, and her heart -sank for a moment; and all that evening she was -unusually grave and silent; and had not her usual -demeanor been so exceedingly calm and subdued, -her strange dejection must have been seen and -wondered at by her assembled kinsfolk.</p> - -<hr class='tbk120'/> - -<div><h1><a id='dir'></a>A DIRGE.</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 JAMES RUSSELL 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'>Poet! lonely is thy bed,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the turf is overhead—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Cold earth is thy cover;</p> -<p class='line0'>But thy heart hath found release,</p> -<p class='line0'>And it slumbers full of peace</p> -<p class='line0'>’Neath the rustle of green trees</p> -<p class='line0'>And the warm hum of the bees,</p> -<p class='line0'>  ’Mid the drowsy clover;</p> -<p class='line0'>Through thy chamber, still as death,</p> -<p class='line0'>A smooth gurgle wandereth,</p> -<p class='line0'>As the blue stream murmureth</p> -<p class='line0'>  To the blue sky over.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Three paces from the silver strand,</p> -<p class='line0'>Gently in the fine, white sand,</p> -<p class='line0'>With a lily in thy hand,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Pale as snow, they laid thee;</p> -<p class='line0'>In no coarse earth wast thou hid,</p> -<p class='line0'>And no gloomy coffin-lid</p> -<p class='line0'>  Darkly overweighed thee.</p> -<p class='line0'>Silently as snow-flakes drift,</p> -<p class='line0'>The smooth sand did sift and sift</p> -<p class='line0'>  O’er the bed they made thee;</p> -<p class='line0'>All sweet birds did come and sing</p> -<p class='line0'>At thy sunny burying—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Choristers unbidden,</p> -<p class='line0'>And, beloved of sun and dew.</p> -<p class='line0'>Meek forget-me-nots upgrew</p> -<p class='line0'>Where thine eyes so large and blue</p> -<p class='line0'>  ’Neath the turf were hidden.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Where thy stainless clay doth lie,</p> -<p class='line0'>Blue and open is the sky,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the white clouds wander by,</p> -<p class='line0'>Dreams of summer silently</p> -<p class='line0'>  Darkening the river;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou hearest the clear water run,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the ripples every one,</p> -<p class='line0'>Scattering the golden sun,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Through thy silence quiver;</p> -<p class='line0'>Vines trail down upon the stream,</p> -<p class='line0'>Into its smooth and glassy dream</p> -<p class='line0'>  A green stillness spreading,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the shiner, perch and bream</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the shadowed waters gleam</p> -<p class='line0'>  ’Gainst the current heading.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>White as snow, thy winding sheet</p> -<p class='line0'>Shelters thee from head to feet,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Save thy pale face only;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy face is turned toward the skies,</p> -<p class='line0'>The lids lie meekly o’er thine eyes,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the low-voiced pine-tree sighs</p> -<p class='line0'>  O’er thy bed so lonely.</p> -<p class='line0'>All thy life thou lov’dst its shade:</p> -<p class='line0'>Underneath it thou art laid,</p> -<p class='line0'>  In an endless shelter;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou hearest it forever sigh</p> -<p class='line0'>As the wind’s vague longings die</p> -<p class='line0'>In its branches dim and high—</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou hear’st the waters gliding by</p> -<p class='line0'>  Slumberously welter.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thou wast full of love and truth,</p> -<p class='line0'>Of forgivingness and ruth—</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy great heart with hope and youth</p> -<p class='line0'>  Tided to o’erflowing.</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou didst dwell in mysteries,</p> -<p class='line0'>And there lingered on thine eyes</p> -<p class='line0'>Shadows of serener skies,</p> -<p class='line0'>Awfully wild memories,</p> -<p class='line0'>  That were like foreknowing;</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the earth thou would’st have gone,</p> -<p class='line0'>Lighted from within alone,</p> -<p class='line0'>Seeds from flowers in Heaven grown</p> -<p class='line0'>  With a free hand sowing.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thou didst remember well and long</p> -<p class='line0'>Some fragments of thine angel-song,</p> -<p class='line0'>And strive, through want and wo and wrong</p> -<p class='line0'>  To win the world unto it;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy sin it was to see and hear</p> -<p class='line0'>Beyond To-day’s dim hemisphere—</p> -<p class='line0'>Beyond all mists of hope and fear,</p> -<p class='line0'>Into a life more true and clear,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And dearly thou didst rue it;</p> -<p class='line0'>Light of the new world thou hadst won,</p> -<p class='line0'>O’er flooded by a purer sun—</p> -<p class='line0'>Slowly Fate’s ship came drifting on,</p> -<p class='line0'>And through the dark, save thou, not one</p> -<p class='line0'>  Caught of the land a token.</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou stood’st upon the farthest prow,</p> -<p class='line0'>Something within thy soul said “Now!”</p> -<p class='line0'>And leaping forth with eager brow,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thou fell’st on shore heart-broken.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Long time thy brethren stood in fear;</p> -<p class='line0'>Only the breakers far and near,</p> -<p class='line0'>White with their anger, they could hear;</p> -<p class='line0'>The sounds of land, which thy quick ear</p> -<p class='line0'>  Caught long ago, they heard not.</p> -<p class='line0'>And, when at last they reached the strand,</p> -<p class='line0'>They found thee lying on the sand</p> -<p class='line0'>With some wild flowers in thy hand,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But thy cold bosom stirred not;</p> -<p class='line0'>They listened, but they heard no sound</p> -<p class='line0'>Save from the glad life all around</p> -<p class='line0'>  A low, contented murmur.</p> -<p class='line0'>The long grass flowed adown the hill,</p> -<p class='line0'>A hum rose from a hidden rill,</p> -<p class='line0'>But thy glad heart, that knew no ill</p> -<p class='line0'>But too much love, lay dead and still—</p> -<p class='line0'>The only thing that sent a chill</p> -<p class='line0'>  Into the heart of summer.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thou didst not seek the poet’s wreath</p> -<p class='line0'>  But too soon didst win it;</p> -<p class='line0'>Without ’twas green, but underneath</p> -<p class='line0'>Were scorn and loneliness and death,</p> -<p class='line0'>Gnawing the brain with burning teeth,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And making mock within it.</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou, who wast full of nobleness,</p> -<p class='line0'>Whose very life-blood ’twas to bless,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Whose soul’s one law was giving,</p> -<p class='line0'>Must bandy words with wickedness,</p> -<p class='line0'>Haggle with hunger and distress,</p> -<p class='line0'>To win that death which worldliness</p> -<p class='line0'>  Calls bitterly a living.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Thou sow’st no gold, and shall not reap!”</p> -<p class='line0'>Muttered earth, turning in her sleep;</p> -<p class='line0'>“Come home to the Eternal Deep!”</p> -<p class='line0'>Murmured a voice, and a wide sweep</p> -<p class='line0'>Of wings through thy soul’s hush did creep,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As of thy doom o’erflying;</p> -<p class='line0'>It seem’d that thy strong heart would leap</p> -<p class='line0'>Out of thy breast, and thou didst weep,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But not with fear of dying;</p> -<p class='line0'>Men could not fathom thy deep fears,</p> -<p class='line0'>They could not understand thy tears,</p> -<p class='line0'>The hoarded agony of years</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of bitter self-denying.</p> -<p class='line0'>So once, when high above the spheres</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy spirit sought its starry peers,</p> -<p class='line0'>It came not back to face the jeers</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of brothers who denied it;</p> -<p class='line0'>Star-crowned, thou dost possess the deeps</p> -<p class='line0'>Of God, and thy white body sleeps</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the lone pine forever keeps</p> -<p class='line0'>  Patient watch beside it.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Poet! underneath the turf,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Soft thou sleepest, free from morrow,</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou hast struggled through the surf</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of wild thoughts and want and sorrow.</p> -<p class='line0'>Now, beneath the moaning pine,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Full of rest, thy body lieth,</p> -<p class='line0'>While far up in clear sunshine,</p> -<p class='line0'>Underneath a sky divine,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Her loosed wings thy spirit trieth;</p> -<p class='line0'>Oft she strove to spread them here,</p> -<p class='line0'>But they were too white and clear</p> -<p class='line0'>For our dingy atmosphere.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thy body findeth ample room</p> -<p class='line0'>In its still and grassy tomb</p> -<p class='line0'>  By the silent river;</p> -<p class='line0'>But thy spirit found the earth</p> -<p class='line0'>Narrow for the mighty birth</p> -<p class='line0'>  Which it dreamed of ever;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou wast guilty of a rhyme</p> -<p class='line0'>Learned in a benigner clime,</p> -<p class='line0'>And of that more grievous crime,</p> -<p class='line0'>An ideal too sublime</p> -<p class='line0'>For the low-hung sky of Time.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The calm spot where thy body lies</p> -<p class='line0'>Gladdens thy soul in Paradise,</p> -<p class='line0'>  It is so still and holy;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy body sleeps serenely there,</p> -<p class='line0'>And well for it thy soul may care,</p> -<p class='line0'>It was so beautiful and fair,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Lily white so wholly.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>From so pure and sweet a frame</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy spirit parted as it came,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Gentle as a maiden;</p> -<p class='line0'>Now it lieth full of rest—</p> -<p class='line0'>Sods are lighter on its breast</p> -<p class='line0'>Than the great, prophetic guest</p> -<p class='line0'>  Wherewith it was laden.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk121'/> - -<div><h1><a id='sonn'></a>SONNET TO MY MOTHER.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY T. HOLLEY CHIVERS, M. D.</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'>Before mine eyes had seen the light of day,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or that my soul had come from Heaven’s great King—</p> -<p class='line0'>A harmless, tiny, helpless little thing—</p> -<p class='line0'>You loved me!—While my tender being lay</p> -<p class='line0'>In the soft rose-leaves of your heart at rest,</p> -<p class='line0'>Like some lone bird within its downy nest,</p> -<p class='line0'>Beneath the concave of its mother’s wing,</p> -<p class='line0'>Unborn—your soul came in my heart to dwell,</p> -<p class='line0'>Like perfume in the flower, each part to bring,</p> -<p class='line0'>As warmth unto the young bird in its shell,</p> -<p class='line0'>And built me up to what I was to be,</p> -<p class='line0'>A semblance of thyself. Thus, being cast</p> -<p class='line0'>In thy heart’s mould, I grew up like to thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>And lost in thee my first friend with my last!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk122'/> - -<div><h1><a id='bos'></a>BOSTON RAMBLINGS.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MISS LESLIE.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>PART THE FIRST.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Perhaps there is no place in America where the -people continued to cling so long, and so fondly, to -the relics and traditions of the olden time, as in Boston—their -first era being that of the early settlers, -their second that of the revolution. At the commencement -of my acquaintance with Boston and -Bostonians, I was particularly struck with the prevalence -of this feeling, having found so little of it in -my native city, Philadelphia. Yet I was sorry to -hear from my eastern friends, that comparatively it -was fast subsiding, and that a fancy for modern improvements -(blended with the powerful incentive of -pecuniary interest) was rapidly superseding that -veneration so long cherished for the places and things -connected with the history of their “ancient and -honorable town,” and the founders of their country’s -freedom. On my second visit to Boston I missed -much that on my first I had found still undesecrated. -On my third, but few vestiges remained of the -poetry, the romance, and the quaintness that, with -regard to external objects, had so interested and -amused me in the year 1832. I looked in vain for -the “old familiar faces” of certain antiquated and, -perhaps, unsightly structures that I had delighted to -contemplate as the time-honored habitations of men -with undying names. They were gone, and new -and more profitable buildings erected on their site. -In many of these instances “I could have better -spared a better house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fortunately the charter of the city specifies that -Faneuil Hall is never to be sold, nor can the ground -on which it stands be appropriated to any other purpose. -Except that the market-place in the lower -story is now occupied by shops, the whole edifice -still remains nearly as it was when the walls of its -chief apartment resounded with the acclamations of -the people who discussed, at their town meetings, -those principles that led to their self-emancipation -from the sway of Britain. Acclamations elicited by -the bold and overpowering eloquence of James Otis, -the enthusiastic outbreakings of the impetuous spirit -of Warren, the pure and self-sacrificing patriotism -of Quincy, and the calm but energetic plain sense -of Samuel Adams, backed by the generous liberality -of that wealthy and noble-minded merchant whose -name, as president of the first Congress, leads on the -glorious array of signatures appended to the Declaration -of Independence. Did no one think of preserving -the pen with which those names were written?—the -sacred quill</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>“That wing’d the arrow, sure as fate,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Which ascertain’d the rights of man.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>The full-length portrait of Peter Faneuil stands at -the upper end of the hall, looking like its guardian -spirit. It is a fine copy of a small original that was -painted in his lifetime. In regarding the likeness of -a person of note (provided always that the painter is -a good artist) you can generally judge of its verisimilitude, -by its representing the features of the mind -in conjunction with those of the face. If a well -painted portrait has no particular expression, you -may safely conclude that the sitter had no particular -character. When, at the first glance of a picture, -you are struck with the conviction that the original -<span class='it'>must</span> have looked exactly so, it is because you at -once perceive his mind in his face. Who that has -ever seen it, while it hung so long in the Pennsylvania -Academy of Fine Arts, does not recollect Berthon’s -admirable and life-like portrait of Buonaparte -in the first year of that consulate. Every beholder -was struck with an irresistible conviction of its perfect -and unimpeachable fidelity of character. There, -in his gold embroidered blue coat, his tri-colored -sash, and his buff-leather gauntlets, was the pale, -thin, almost cadaverous young soldier, just returned -from the unwholesome regions of the Nile; with his -dark, uncared-for hair shading his thoughtful brow, -and his deep-set, intense eyes, that looked as if they -could search into the soul of every man they saw. -So self-evident was the truth of this picture, that it -was unnecessary to be aware of its exact accordance -with all the descriptions given at that time of the -republican general, who had just made himself the -chief magistrate of the French people, and was called -only Buonaparte. A few years afterward, when -“the hero had sunk into the king,” and was termed -Napoleon, and when, in becoming more handsome, -his face lost much of its original expression, this picture -was equally valuable, as showing how he had -looked in the early part of his wondrous career.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another picture which we feel at once to be a -most faithful representation, is Greuze’s portrait of -Franklin. It was painted by that excellent artist -when the venerable printer, philosopher, author, -statesman (what shall we call him) was living in -Paris. The dress is a coat and waistcoat of dark reddish -silk, trimmed with brown fur. The head is very -bald at the top, and he wears his gray locks plain and -unpowdered. He has that noble expanse of forehead -which is almost always found in persons of extraordinary -intellect. His eye is indicative of strong -sense and benevolence, enlivened with a keen relish -for humor. His whole countenance exhibits that -union of genius and common sense, shrewdness and -kindness, which formed his character. My father -had once in his possession (but lost it by lending) a -fine French engraving taken from this very portrait, -and printed in colors. He had known Dr. Franklin -intimately, and he considered it the most admirable -likeness he had ever seen—in fact the very man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To return to Mr. Faneuil—<span class='it'>his</span> portrait also is -highly characteristic. No one can look at this picture -of a tall, dignified gentleman, in a suit of crimson -velvet and gold, a long lace cravat, and a powdered -wig, according to the patrician costume of his -time, and can view his fine open countenance, without -believing the whole to be a correct portraiture of -the opulent and public spirited merchant who, while -he was yet living, gave its first market-place, with a -hall for the accommodation of public meetings, to -the town that had afforded an asylum to his Huguenot -ancestor. The remains of Peter Faneuil, who died -suddenly in 1743, are interred amid the green shades -of the Granary Burying Ground, so called from the -town granary having been in its immediate vicinity. -This cemetery is close to the Tremont Hotel, and in -view of another “ancient place of graves,” belonging -to the King’s Chapel, which was founded in 1688, -and, in early times, numbered among its congregation -the largest portion of the Boston aristocracy; -and many of their descendants still worship there. -It is built of light brown stone, and is frequently -called the Stone Chapel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The length, thickness, and luxuriance of the grass, -(which appears to require perpetual mowing,) and the -closeness of the burial mounds, which seem almost -piled upon each other, make it somewhat difficult to -explore the monumental memorials of the old Boston -families, whose first progenitors are slumbering beneath. -A large number of these tombs are sculptured -with armorial bearings, as an evidence that -their mouldering occupants belonged, in their fatherland, -to “gentle blood.” Of the tomb-stones dated -after the revolution, I saw few that bore any indications -of “the boast of heraldry, the pomp of power.” -The founder of Boston, John Winthrop, is interred -in the northwest corner of this cemetery, with his -daughter, Grace Sears, (from whom the present -Sears family is descended,) and his son, Waitstill -Winthrop. The mansion of Governor Winthrop -was a large two-story frame house, surrounded by a -garden, and shaded with aboriginal trees that had -been left standing for the purpose. Its location was -near the old South Church, just below School street. -Its site is now covered with stores; the block of -buildings being termed South Row. I have seen an -old portrait of this chief of the Boston colonists. It -represents him as a tall, thin, dark-complexioned -man, with an oval face, regular features, and a very -serious countenance. He is habited in “a sad colored -suit,” with a white lawn ruff round his neck, -and a black cap on his head. In this burial ground -Cooper has placed the vault of the Lechmere family, -at the entrance of which the mother of Job Pray was -found dead; and from the gallery of the stone chapel -the half maniac father of Lionel Lincoln interrupted -the marriage of his son with Cecil Dynevor, as they -stood at the altar. Though reason may reject the -interesting associations that emanate from fiction, -feeling and fancy always unconsciously adopt them. -It is this which conducts so many travellers to the -shores of Loch Katrine, and sends them in a boat to -the island of Ellen Douglas, though well aware that -the damsel of the lake never in reality existed. I -knew a gentleman who traversed the wilds of Connaught -to visit the sea-beaten castle of Inismore, because -it had been the fancied abode of Glorvina, the -Wild Irish Girl, another charming creation of genius. -And few will wonder at his doing so, who are -familiar with the work that caused the flood-tide of -Miss Owenson’s fortune, and who have, of course, -read and re-read that beautiful letter in which Horatio -describes his first acquaintance with the castle and -its inmates.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was yet a stranger in Boston, when a few days -after my arrival I accompanied a lady and gentleman -who were residents in that city, (and excellent -<span class='it'>ciceroni</span>) on an exploring walk into what is called -the North End. This is a very old part of the town, -extending northerly from Court street to Lynn street, -and bounded on its eastern side by the waters of the -harbor, and on the west by those of the estuary -denominated Charles River. Its extreme point is -immediately opposite to Bunker Hill. As it did not -modernize as fast as the other sections of Boston, -and as its old buildings were longer in getting demolished -or furbished up, the <span class='it'>habitans</span> of the North End -lay under the imputation of being an old fashioned -people, sadly deficient in the organ of go-a-headness, -and pitifully submitting to creep on all fours, while the -rest of the community were making unto themselves -wings. There was even a scandalous story circulated -of one of their pastors, (a good old gentleman, -whose nasal elocution had not improved by age,) -uttering in his prayer the words, “Have mercy upon -us miserable offenders,” in a manner that sounded -very much like, “Have mercy upon us miserable -North-enders.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To give me an idea of the habitations of the early -Bostonians, I was purposely taken through some of -the oldest and crookedest streets; several of which had -pavements so narrow that we had to break rank and -to proceed Indian file; for when we attempted to -walk abreast and the wall was politely ceded to me, -the other lady took the curb-stone, and the gentleman -the gutter. Be it known, however, that a Boston -gutter is merely a minor ravine, edged with wild -flowers; and not a reservoir of liquid mud or a conduit -for dirty water; all the conduits in that city -being sub-terraneous, and entirely out of sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We saw very old houses, some of time-discolored -brick, and some of wood in many instances unpainted, -and therefore nearly black; in a few, the second -story projected far over the first. Many of the ancient -frame habitations were very large, and must have -been built by people “that were well to do in the -world.” In some, the clap-boards were ornamentally -scolloped; and in many, the window frames -instead of being inserted in the wall, were put on -outside, and looked as if ready to burst forth upon us. -There were primitive porches with seats in them, -sheltered by moss-grown pent-houses, some of which -would have furnished a tolerable crop of that roof-loving -plant the house-leek. There were wooden -balconies, with close heavy balustrades, of the pattern -that looks like a range of innumerable narrow -jugs. In some houses, the balconies were gone, but -the door-windows belonging to them, were still there -all the same; and as they now opened upon nothing, -they looked most dangerous, especially for children -or somnambulists to walk out at. There were street-doors -cut horizontally in half, with steps descending -inside instead of ascending outside. Many of the -houses that stood alone had no front entrance, but -ingress and egress were obtained through a small -unpretending door in the side. This seemed to be a -good plan, when the front was facing the chill blasts -of the northeast. It is very disagreeable to have -your street door blown open by the violence of the -wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In an early stage of “our winding way,” we came -to the junction of Union and Marshall streets, and -there I saw a large square block of dark brown -stone, on one side of which was painted in white letters -the words “Boston Stone.” Supposing it to be -one of the landmarks of the city, and something memorable, -I seated myself for a few moments upon -it. I was told by one of my companions, that this -stone had been an object of great controversy among -certain antiquaries of the city. In newspapers a -century old there were advertisements of shopkeepers -and mechanics, who, in giving their locations, -made assurance doubly sure, by stating that they -lived near the Boston Stone. Houses were announced -for sale or hire in the neighborhood of the -Boston Stone. Street-fights and dreadful accidents -happened not far from the Boston Stone. What -then was the Boston Stone? How came it there, -and for what purpose? There was no mention of it -in history. Patriotic picturesque people thought it -was the foundation-stone of a flag staff or a beacon-mast; -and it is certain that the top or upper surface -of the block exhibited a slight circular cavity, evidently -made on purpose for something: though practical -people contended that the hollow was not deep -enough to hold anything. I cherished for two or -three months the persuasion that the Boston Stone -was either a remarkable relic connected with great -events, or else that it had been placed there when -the peninsula was first laid out for a town, as a mark -to designate where some place left off, and another -place began; or perhaps to denote the very centre -of the settlement. But “the shadows, clouds and -darkness” that rested upon all my conjectures, were -very prosaically dispelled just before my departure -from Boston, by a most unexciting account obtained -through the medium of a grandson of “the oldest -inhabitant” of that neighborhood. The real solution -of the mystery was so very natural, that none but -very commonplace people would believe it. It -simply implied that a certain apothecary of the olden -time being in want of a very large mortar, and unable -to obtain one ready made, procured this block -of stone and set his boys to hollowing it out for the purpose. -They made a beginning, but soon found that -the stone was too hard and the labor too great; -and having taken a spite at the obdurate block, they -shoved it out of doors and left it on the pavement in -front of the shop. From hence no one took the -trouble to remove it, and finding that the neighbors -began to date from its vicinity, the apothecary’s boys -made it more <span class='it'>distingué</span> by inscribing it with the title of -the Boston Stone—How a plain tale will put us down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Shortly after quitting the Boston Stone, we came -to a house at the corner of Union and Hanover -streets, which was shown to me as the one in which -Dr. Franklin was born. It is of two stories, and built -partly of brick and partly of wood. The lower part -was now occupied by a little shop, with a blue bell -as a sign. Adjoining it in Hanover street was a dark -low grocery store into which you descended by a step. -It looked exactly as if it had been the soap and candle -shop of Josiah Franklin. It was easy to imagine -poor Ben. serving customers behind the old counter; -cutting candle-wicks into lengths; and snatching, at -intervals, a few minutes to read a little in hidden -books when nobody saw him. An aged and excellent -woman, who had passed her life in this part of -the town, told me at a subsequent period, that she -well remembered, when a little girl, seeing the -old corner house (the dwelling part of the establishment,) -pulled down, and the present one -erected in its stead. The original corner house had -always been regarded as one of the habitations of -the Franklin family, and the adjoining old one-story -shop (now the grocery) as theirs. It seems to me -highly probable that the elder Franklin <span class='it'>did</span> live in -Milk street (as is generally believed) at the time his -son Benjamin was born, and that the infant <span class='it'>was</span> wrapped -in a blanket and carried over the way to the old -South Church to be christened. His baptism is noted -in the register of the church, and the date is the same -as that of his birth. This speedy performance of the -rite of baptism was in accordance with the custom of -the times. The Milk street house was a small two-story -frame building, and was accidentally burnt in -1810. On the spot has since been erected a three-story -furniture warehouse. It is but a few steps from -the corner of Washington street, opposite to the Old -South. There was an old printing office just back of -it; and it is said that Josiah Franklin relinquished the -Milk street house to his son James the printer, and -removed with his wife and the younger children to -Hanover street, and there carried on the soap and -candle business, in the dark low one-story shop that is -still there: living in the adjoining house at the corner. -That the parents of Franklin were residents of the -North End at the time of their death there can be no -doubt, as they were interred in the North Burying -Ground on Copp’s Hill. Many years ago their remains -were exhumed, and transferred to the Granary -burial place in Tremont street, at the expense -of several gentlemen of Boston. A neat monument -of granite has been erected upon the mound that -covers their ashes; and in the front of the little obelisk -is inserted a slab of slate, a part of the original grave -stone on Copp’s Hill. This humble medallion bears -the names of Josiah Franklin and Abiah his wife, -with the date of their deaths. I regarded this monument -with much interest, as reflecting back upon his -lowly but respectable parents a portion of the honor so -universally accorded to the great man their son.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Having diverged from Hanover street to the North -Square, we soon found ourselves in front of two very -old and remarkable houses; one of which had been the -residence of Governor Hutchinson, and the other of -William Clarke, a wealthy merchant of the early part -of the last century. Both were large old-fashioned -buildings, their sides and chimneys overgrown with -the scarlet-flowering creeper-vine. Above the front-door -of the Hutchinson House, was the wooden balcony -from which “Stingy Tommy,” as he was -disrespectfully called by the populace, sometimes -addressed the restive and stiffnecked people whom it -was his hard lot to govern; and by whom he was so -much disliked, that whether he did well or ill they -were resolved not to be pleased. Perhaps the primary -cause of his unpopularity may be traced to his -parsimonious habits, or at least to the stories circulated -of them. No man that is noted for a mean and -avaricious disposition ever was or ever can be liked, -either in private life or in a public capacity. However -he may attempt to disguise it by an occasional -act of liberality, the sordid spirit that is in him will -be always creeping out, and exciting disgust and -contempt. Yet (as is often the case with such -persons) Governor Hutchinson spent much upon -show and finery. At the time his house was sacked -by the mob (when he narrowly escaped with his life) -from this balcony were thrown the splendid brocade -gowns and petticoats of his wife, with her laced -caps, and numerous ornamental articles of dress and -furniture. A bonfire was made of them in the street -before the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gentleman who piloted us on this walk through -the North End was acquainted with the occupants -of the Clarke House, (much the most curious of the -two,) therefore we stopped in, and were courteously -shown its principal apartments. It was built by Mr. -Clarke, in the time of Queen Anne, and was after -him occupied by Sir Henry Frankland, and called, -for awhile, the Frankland House. It had a large, -wide entrance hall, with a parlor on each side. All -the ceilings were much too low for the taste of the -present times; and a low ceiling always causes a -room to look smaller than it really is. The walls of -the left hand parlor had been covered with rich -tapestry, over which a modern wall-paper was now -pasted. A small portion of the papering being peeled -off, we saw part of the tapestry beneath. But the -other parlor had been evidently the room of state. -The floor required no carpet, for it was <span class='it'>parqueté</span> all -over with small square pieces of American wood, -comprising, as we were told, fifty different sorts or -specimens; the light-colored pieces forming the -ground-work, and the dark ones the figure or pattern. -At the first glance it resembled an oil-cloth, or rather -(to adopt a very homely comparison) it was not unlike -the block-work bed quilts that our grandmothers -took such pains in making. On this floor there was -a border all round: and in the centre the marquetry -represented a large swan with a crown on its head, -and a chain round its breast. This was the cognizance -of the Clarke family. Those conversant with -heraldry know that there is always a reason, either -historical, traditionary, or allegorical, for the introduction -of certain strange symbols into a coat of -arms. We were told that this tesselated floor had -cost fifteen hundred dollars. The walls of the room -were divided into compartments, edged with rich -gilded mouldings; each containing an oil painting, -tolerably good, but very vividly colored. The subjects -were beyond our comprehension. We did not -know whether they were what the drawing-masters -call figure-pieces, or whether they were landscapes -with figures in them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the room over this parlor the chimney-piece was -of marble, decorated with a rich and admirably executed -carving of flowers, fruit, and Indian corn, -beautifully arranged, and descending down the sides -as far as the hearth. Above the mantle-piece was -a very <span class='it'>mediocre</span> picture, in a narrow gilt frame, inserted -in the wall. This painting represented a boy -and girl, evidently brother and sister. The boy is -presenting something that is either a peach or an -apple to the girl, who is dressed in a ruffled night-gown -and sitting on the side of a couch. The young -gentleman is standing upright, habited in a rich suit -of blue and gold, ornamented at the wrist with deep -cuffs of white lace. On his legs are white silk stockings, -ascending above his knees, and buskins laced -with gold cord. Neither of the children are looking -towards each other, but both are staring out of the -picture, and fixing their very large eyes on the spectator.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We were told that Cooper had visited this house -previous to commencing Lionel Lincoln. Changing -its location to Tremont street, he has described it as -the mansion of Mrs. Lechmere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Few of our American cities have retained their old -family domiciles as long as the town of Boston, and -they attest the opulence of many of its early inhabitants. -However, they are fast disappearing; the -large portions of ground that they occupy, surrounded -with their gardens and lofty trees, having become -too valuable to escape being converted to more profitable -purposes. When I first knew Boston, the -spacious domain of Gardiner Green extended along -Pemberton Hill, far back of Somerset street, including -garden, shrubbery, and pasture ground, from -whence I was sometimes disturbed at night by the -tinkling of a cow-bell, which seemed to me strange -in the very heart of a large city. Near it, on Tremont -street, stood, with its pilasters and tall windows, -the mansion of Jonathan Philips, looking like the -residence of an old English nobleman. It had a -smooth green lawn in front, and an elevated terrace, -which was ascended by a lofty flight of stone steps, -bordered with vases of exotics; and among its fine -shade trees was the beautiful mountain ash, with its -clusters of light scarlet berries. It was built, and -originally occupied, by Mr. Faneuil, uncle to the -gentleman who bestowed the town-hall on Boston.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Next to the house of Governor Philips stood the -residence of the talented and unfortunate Sir Harry -Vane, who had come over with the early settlers, -and afterwards been appointed governor of the province -of Massachusetts. He returned to England -during the protectorate of Cromwell; and after the -restoration, was committed to the Tower for the republican -principles he persisted in advocating. -Charles the Second had him tried on a charge of high -treason, and he was beheaded on Tower Hill—behaving -on the scaffold with the utmost composure -and dignity. He attempted to address the people, but -the drums and trumpets were sounded to drown his -voice. This house of Sir Harry Vane was near two -centuries old. It was a large brick building, with a -garden at the side. The antique back casements still -retained the small diamond-shaped panes set in lead; -but, when I saw the house, its front windows looked -as if they had been modernized about a century ago.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On my last visit to Boston, about two years since, -I found that all the above-mentioned old mansions -had been demolished, and their places filled with -rows of modern structures suited to the utilitarian -spirit of the times. The old Coolidge house, in Bowdoin -Square, was still standing in 1840. It also is -a large brick building, the bricks much darkened and -discolored with time and damp. The house is almost -hidden by enormous old trees, which cast their impervious -branches so close to the windows that I -wondered how its inhabitants could possibly see to -do anything, unless they burned lamps or candles all -day long. The dense gloominess of shade that environed -this mansion, reminded me of the commencement -of one of Moore’s earliest poems.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>“The darkness that hung upon Willemberg’s walls</p> -<p class='line0'>  Has long been remember’d with grief and dismay,</p> -<p class='line0'>For years not a sunbeam had play’d in its halls,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And it seem’d as shut out from the regions of day.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk123'/> - -<div><h1><a id='aut'></a>AUTUMN.</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 ALBERT PIKE.</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'>  It is the evening of a pleasant day</p> -<p class='line0'>    In these old woods. The sun profusely flings</p> -<p class='line0'>  His flood of light through every narrow way</p> -<p class='line0'>    That winds around the trees. His spirit clings,</p> -<p class='line0'>    In orange mist, around the snowy wings</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of many a patient cloud, that now, since noon,</p> -<p class='line0'>    Over the western mountains idly swings,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Waiting when night shall come—alas! too soon!</p> -<p class='line0'>To veil the timid blushes of the virgin moon.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>  The trees with crimson robes are garmented:</p> -<p class='line0'>    Clad with frail brilliants by the Autumn frost,</p> -<p class='line0'>  For the young leaves, that Spring with beauty fed,</p> -<p class='line0'>    Their greenness and luxuriance have lost,</p> -<p class='line0'>    Gaining new beauty at too dear a cost:</p> -<p class='line0'>  Unnatural beauty, that precedes decay.</p> -<p class='line0'>    Too soon, upon the harsh winds wildly toss’d,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Leaving the naked trees ghost-like and gray,</p> -<p class='line0'>These leaf-flocks, like vain hopes, will vanish all away.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>  How does your sad, yet calm and cheerful guise,</p> -<p class='line0'>    Ye melancholy Autumn solitudes,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With my own feelings softly harmonize!</p> -<p class='line0'>    For though I love the hoar and solemn woods,</p> -<p class='line0'>    In all their manifold and changing moods—</p> -<p class='line0'>  In gloom and sunshine, storm and quietness,</p> -<p class='line0'>    By day, or when the dim night on them broods;</p> -<p class='line0'>  Their lightsome glades, their darker mysteries—</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet the sad heart loves a still, calm scene like this.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>  Soon will the year like this sweet day have fled,</p> -<p class='line0'>    With swift feet speeding noiselessly and fast,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As a ghost speeds, to join its kindred dead,</p> -<p class='line0'>    In the dark realms of that mysterious vast,</p> -<p class='line0'>    The shadow-peopled and eternal past.</p> -<p class='line0'>  Life’s current deathward flows—a rapid stream,</p> -<p class='line0'>    With clouds and shadows often overcast,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Yet lighted often by a sunny beam</p> -<p class='line0'>Of happiness, like sweet thoughts in a gloomy dream.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>  Like the brown leaves, our lov’d ones drop away,</p> -<p class='line0'>    One after one, into the dark abyss</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of Sleep and Death. The frosts of Trouble lay</p> -<p class='line0'>    Their withering touch upon our happiness,</p> -<p class='line0'>    Even as the hoar frosts of the Autumn kiss</p> -<p class='line0'>  The green lip from the unoffending leaves;</p> -<p class='line0'>    And Love and Hope and Youth’s warm cheerfulness</p> -<p class='line0'>  Flit from the heart—Age lonely sits and grieves,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or sadly smiles, while Youth fondly his day-dream weaves.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>  Day draweth to its close—night cometh on—</p> -<p class='line0'>    Death standeth dimly on Life’s western verge,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Casting his shadow o’er the startled sun—</p> -<p class='line0'>    A deeper gloom, that seemeth to emerge</p> -<p class='line0'>    From gloomy night—and bending forth, to urge</p> -<p class='line0'>  His eyeless steeds, fleet as the tempest’s blast:</p> -<p class='line0'>    And hear we not eternity’s dim surge</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thundering anear? At the dread sound aghast,</p> -<p class='line0'>Time hurries headlong, pale with frantic terror, past.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk124'/> - -<div><h1><a id='bro'></a>THE BROTHER AND SISTER.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. EMMA C. EMBURY.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the days of my early childhood, the little village -of ——, separated by green hills and broad fields -from the busy city, formed one of the pleasantest -summer resorts of the wealthy inhabitants of New -York. Many a stately villa was reared upon the -banks of the Hudson, many a neat country-house -sheltered itself within the winding lanes which traversed -the village, for its vicinity to the great mart -offered irresistible temptations to those whose hands -were chained to the galley of commerce, while their -hearts were still wedded to nature. One of the fairest -pictures in the “chambers of mine imagery” is -that of a large old-fashioned mansion, seated in the -midst of a garden “too trim for nature, and too rude -for art,” where a long avenue of cherry trees threw -a pleasant shade across the lawn, while a rude swing, -suspended between two of these sturdy old denizens -of the soil, afforded a cool and delightful lounge to -the studious and imaginative child. My earliest days -were passed in that pleasant home, and my earliest -lessons of wisdom learned in the school of that -pretty village; therefore it is that my thoughts love -to linger around those scenes, and therefore it is that -I have fancied others might find something of interest -in <span class='it'>one</span> of my reminiscences.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My shortest road to school led through a narrow -green lane, rarely traversed by the gay vehicles -which dashed along the main avenues of the village, -and I was delighted to find such a quiet and shady -path, where the turf was always so soft, and the air -so fragrant with the breath of flowers. But I was -soon induced to take a wide circuit rather than pass -the solitary cottage which stood within that secluded -lane. It was a low one-story building, with a broad -projecting roof, throwing the narrow windows far -into shade; and, as if to add to its sombre appearance, -some former occupant had painted the house a -dull lead color, which, by the frequent washings of -the rain, and powderings of wayside dust, had -assumed the grayish tint that gave to the cottage its -distinctive appellation. Every village has its haunted -house, and an evil name had early fallen on the -“gray cottage.” Behind it, and so near that three -paces from the little porch would lead a person to its -very brink, was a deep and rocky ravine, forming a -basin for the waters of a rapid brook, which, after -flowing in sunshine and music through half the village, -fell with sullen plash into the gloom of this -wild dell. Some dark and half forgotten tale of -guilt had added the horrors of superstition to the -natural melancholy of the place, and few of the -humbler inhabitants of the neighborhood would have -been willing to stand after sunset on the brink of the -Robbers’ Glen. It was said that the house, in former -times, had been the abode of wicked and desperate -men. The earth of the cellar beneath it was heaved -up with hillocks like graves, and supernatural sounds -had been heard to issue from these mysterious -mounds. For many years it had stood untenanted, -and the boys of the village often amused themselves -by pelting it, at a cautious distance, with stones.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But a “haunted house” had great attractions for -the mind of one who revelled in fancies of the wild -and wonderful. I was exceedingly anxious to behold -the interior of the lonely cottage, which had now -become invested with so much dignity in my eyes, -and finding a few companions of like spirit, we determined -to visit it. We accordingly fixed upon a -certain Saturday afternoon, and determined to find -some means of ingress into the barred and bolted -cottage. A gay and light-hearted troop were we, -as we scrambled over rail fences, gathered our -aprons full of wild flowers, or chased the bright butterflies -which mocked our glad pursuit. But as we -entered the lane our merry shouts of laughter ceased, -each looked earnestly in the face of the other, as if, -for the first time, sensible of the mysterious importance -of our undertaking, and, but for shame, several -would have retraced their steps. I believe not one -of us was insensible to the gloom which seemed -suddenly to fall upon us, and as we looked towards -the cottage, standing in the deep shadow of a spreading -elm, while all else within the lane was glistening -in the slant beams of the declining sun, we almost -feared to approach the darkened spot. Cautiously -advancing, however, and peeping through the rusted -keyhole, we found our curiosity entirely baffled by -the total darkness of the interior. It was proposed -that we should climb the fence and attempt an entrance -from the rear of the building, where we -should be less likely to be interrupted or discovered -by wayfarers, and after a brief consultation, held in -hurried whispers, we resolved upon the daring feat. -Silently treading the margin of the Robbers’ Glen, -we reached the back porch of the little cottage, and -beheld one of the window shutters open. We looked -into the apartment but saw nothing save the naked -walls of the dilapidated room, and as one of our party -turned the latch of the door, to our great astonishment, -it yielded to the touch and allowed us free entrance. -Half frightened at our own success, we -stood huddled together in the narrow passage, hesitating -to advance, when suddenly a tall woman, clad -in the deepest black, and displaying a countenance -as white and (as it seemed to our excited fancies) as -ghostly and rigid as a sheeted corpse, stood in the -midst of us. How we ever got out of the house I -cannot tell. I remember our desperate speed, the -wild and headlong haste with which we threw ourselves -over the low fence, and the total exhaustion -we felt when once fairly escaped from that frightful -place. As we lay on the grass, to rest before returning -home, each one told her own story of that terrible -apparition. None had heard a footstep when that -fearful woman came among us; none had seen her -approach, and though the sound of our own buzzing -voices, and the fixed attention with which we were -just then regarding the door of the apartment, which -we wished yet dreaded to enter, might easily account -for both these circumstances, yet we all came to the -conclusion that we had seen a ghost, or, at the least, -a witch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the following Sunday we were scarcely less -alarmed, for, just as the services were commencing, -the same tall figure, arrayed in deep mourning and -veiled to her very feet, slowly proceeded up the aisle -and took her seat on the step of the altar. My blood -ran cold as I looked upon her, and when I afterwards -heard that she had recently become the occupant of -the gray cottage, my dread of her supernatural powers -gave place to a belief that she was in some way or -other mysteriously connected with the guilty deeds -of which that cottage had been the scene. I did not -trouble myself to remember that the events which -had flung such horror around the Robbers’ Glen must -have occurred at least half a century previous, and -therefore could have little to do with a woman yet in -the prime of life. The curiosity which her presence -excited was not confined to the children of the village. -Her tall stature, her sombre garb, her veiled -face, and her singular choice of a place of abode -excited the conjectures of many an older and wiser -head. But whatever interest her appearance had -awakened, it was not destined to be satisfied. Those -who, led by curiosity or real kindness, sought to visit -her, were repulsed from the threshold; no one was -allowed to enter her house; all prying inquiries were -silenced, either by stern reserve or bitter vituperations; -even the village pastor was refused admittance -to her solitude; and, after months and even -years, as little was known of her as on the day she -first appeared. She lived entirely alone; once in -each week she was seen walking towards the city, -and on Sunday she was regularly to be found at the -foot of the pulpit—but beyond this nothing was to be -discovered. Few, very few, had ever distinctly seen -the face whose paleness gleamed out from the folds -of her thick veil, and, after some time, the people -found other objects of interest, while the children -carefully avoided all approach to the haunted cottage, -and could scarcely repress a shudder of horror as -they heard the low rustle of her dusky garments on -each returning Sunday.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Years passed on; circumstances occurred to remove -me from the village, and the various changes -which the heart experiences between the period of -joyous childhood and earnest womanhood, had -almost effaced from my mind all recollection of the -“black witch,” when I was unexpectedly and rather -strangely made acquainted with her true history. It -was a tale of ordinary trials and sorrows, such as -might have befallen many others, and yet there are -peculiarities in the sufferings of every individual as -strongly marked as are the traits of character. -There was no supernatural interest in her story, but -it invested her in my mind with the dignity of unmerited -sorrow, and it enables me to open for your -perusal, gentle reader, another of the many strange -written pages of human nature.</p> - -<hr class='tbk125'/> - -<p class='pindent'>For more than twelve years Madeline Graham had -been an only child, the darling of her invalid mother, -and the pride of her doting father, when the birth of -a brother opened a new channel for the affections of -all the family. During the earliest period of his infancy -the child seemed feebly struggling for existence, -but he gradually acquired strength to resist the -frequent attacks of disease, and though he gave no -promise of robust health, his constitution seemed -sufficiently invigorated to warrant a hope of prolonged -life. The most unwearied exertions, however, -were necessary, and his guidance over the very -threshold of being was a task of more difficulty than -the lifelong care of a hardy and healthy child. Yet -the anxiety which his precarious state awakened, -and the constant attention which he required, seemed -to endear him the more closely to the little family. -He became their idol, the object of their incessant -solicitude, and comfort, happiness, even life itself -was sacrificed to his welfare. Ere he had attained -his third year, Mrs. Graham, who had long been in -declining health, sank beneath the fatigue and anxiety -she had endured, while, with her dying breath, she -enjoined upon Madeline the most devoted attention -to her darling boy. Madeline scarcely needed such -admonition, for, from his very birth, her brother had -been the object of her passionate love; but such a -charge, given at such a solemn moment, sank deep -into the heart of the young and sensitive girl. Falling -on her knees beside her mother, she uttered a -solemn vow that no earthly affection and no other -duty should ever induce her to place her brother’s -interests secondary to her own. A smile of grateful -tenderness lit up the face of the dying woman, and -her last glance thanked Madeline for the self-sacrifice -to which she had thus unconsciously pledged herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From that hour the young Alfred became his sister’s -especial charge. Young as she was, her father -knew that he could trust her latent strength of character, -and when she took her brother, even as a -child, to her bosom, he felt assured that his boy -would never need a mother’s care.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Madeline Graham was no common character. -Though she had scarcely counted her fifteenth -summer, she had grown up tall and stately, with a face -almost severe in its fixed and classical beauty, while -her manners, calm almost to coldness, were scarcely -such as are usually found connected with youthful -feeling and girlish simplicity. Educated solely by -her parents, Madeline had acquired some of the -characteristic traits of both. To her mother’s morbid -sensibility and enthusiasm she united her father’s -reserve and fixedness of purpose. She possessed -strong passions, but an innate power of repressing -them seemed born with them. Her love for truth -was unbounded; even the common courtesies of -society seemed to her but as so many fetters on the -limbs of the goddess of her idolatry, and, therefore, -even in her girlhood, her manners had become -characterized by a sincerity almost amounting to -<span class='it'>brusquerie</span>. Her talents were of the highest order, -and her habits of reflection, which were singularly -developed in one so young, enabled her to reap a -rich harvest of knowledge from her father’s careful -culture. She was one to be admired, and praised, -and wondered at, but she was scarcely calculated to -awaken affection. The spontaneous gush of feeling, -the guileless frankness of a heart that knows no evil -and dreads no danger, the warm sympathy of a -youthful nature, the sweet susceptibility which, -though dangerous to its possessor, is yet so winning -a trait of girlish character—all these attributes, -which seem to belong to the spring-time of life, even -as the buds and blossoms are inseparably connected -with the renewed youth of the visible creation, were -wanting to Madeline.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But it was from the religious opinions of her parents -that the deepest tint of coloring was imparted -to the mind of Madeline. Mrs. Graham, a lineal -descendant of one of the sternest and most intolerant -of the puritans, had early united herself to one of the -strictest of strict sects, and had been accustomed to -practise a system of self-denial as rigid, if not quite -as visible, as the penances of cloistered austerity. -The impulses of innocent gaiety, the promptings of -harmless vanity, the wanderings of youthful fancy -were regarded by her only as evidences of a sinful -nature, which ought to awaken remorse as keen as -that which visits the penitent bosom of deep-dyed -guilt. In the enthusiasm of her early zeal she seemed -lifted above the weaknesses of humanity, and even -the gray-headed members of the Christian community -looked upon her as a chosen servant of the truth. -But her excitement had been too great; the hour of -reaction came, and it was when lukewarmness and -weariness had taken full possession of her feelings -for a season, that she first met with her future husband. -Ever in extremes, an earthly passion now -absorbed the heart which had consumed its energies -in zeal without knowledge, and she married Mr. -Graham without allowing herself to look upon the -broad line of separation which lay between them. -Had she ever made religion a question she would -have learned the fact; for if good taste forbade him -to obtrude his opinions upon others, yet love of truth -prevented him from seeking to conceal them. Mr. -Graham was a skeptic. The great truths of revealed -religion were to him but as fables to amuse the multitude; -and while in the works of creation he recognised -the hand of a Deity, he read not in the hearts -of men the necessity of a Redeemer. Mrs. Graham -was horror-stricken when she discovered that her -husband was not a Christian, and in proportion as -the ardor of youthful passion faded into the tender -light of conjugal affection, the terrible abyss which -yawned between them became more painfully visible -to her sight. The attempt to change his opinions -again awakened her slumbering zeal, and with all -the penitence of one who was conscious of having -fallen from a state of elevated piety, she endeavored to -make amends for her temporary alienation by renewed -devotion. But her system of ascetic severity -was little calculated to make religion attractive to -her husband. The “beauty of holiness” was hidden -beneath the sackcloth and ashes with which her mistaken -judgment endued it, and Mr. Graham learned -to look upon her piety as the <span class='it'>one defect</span>, rather than -the <span class='it'>crowning grace</span>, in his wife’s character. Her -sincere affection, and a desire to preserve domestic -harmony, at length compelled her to give up all -attempts to change her husband’s opinions, and she -was therefore doomed to cherish a secret sorrow -which wasted her very life away. The ascetic devotion -which seemed so unlovely to the husband, produced -a very different effect upon the imagination of -Madeline. Accustomed to regard her mother as the -best of human beings, she early learned to reverence -and imitate her fervent zeal. Her reserve of character -induced her to conceal her impressions even from -the mother who labored to deepen them, and no one -suspected the severe self-discipline which, even in -childhood, she practised in imitation of her parent’s -example. Her father, who, while despising Christianity, -yet paid it the involuntary homage of considering -it a very proper safeguard for women and -children, did not attempt to interfere in her religious -education. He contented himself with cultivating -the field of mind, and left her mother to sow her -moral nature with the tares of prejudice along with -the seed of true piety.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Madeline had scarcely attained her twentieth year -when a sudden and violent illness deprived her of -her father, and left her the sole guardian of her -young brother. Upon looking into Mr. Graham’s -affairs, it was found that his profession had only procured -for him a comfortable subsistence, and, as his -income died with him, the orphans were almost penniless. -The small house which they had long occupied, -together with its furniture and a library of some -value, were all that remained. To convert these -into money was Madeline’s first care, and her next -step was to invest the amount thus obtained in the -name of her brother, as a fund for his education and -future subsistence. For herself she seemed to have -no anxieties, and with a degree of disinterestedness, -as rare as it was praiseworthy, she determined to derive -her own maintenance from the labor of her -hands. With characteristic energy she made all her -arrangements without consulting any one, or asking -the advice of her father’s best friends. The bold -self-reliance which formed her most striking and -least amiable trait was now fully developed, and she -felt no need of other aid than that of her own strong -mind. She had a deep design to work out in future—a -darling scheme to mature—a hope, which in her -stern nature assumed the form of a determination to -compass, and all sacrifices seemed light which could -aid her to a successful issue. Need I add, that her -brother was the object of all her future aspirations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Alfred Graham had already given evidence of -precocious genius which seemed fully to justify -Madeline’s ambition. Nature in his case had displayed -her usual compensating kindness, and since -she had bestowed on him a dwarfed and diminutive -form, a delicate and fragile body, made amends by -giving him a countenance of almost feminine beauty, -and a mind filled with the most exquisite perceptions. -He was born a poet. His fervid feelings, his nervous -temperament, his delicate sense of beauty in the -moral and physical world—even the very fragility -of constitution which shut him out from the rude -conflicts of real life, and confined him within the -limits of the fairyland of reverie—all seemed to -point out his future vocation. Too young to frame -in numbers the fancies of his childish hours, he yet -breathed into his sister’s ear the eloquent words of -pure and passionless enthusiasm, and Madeline’s -heart thrilled with high hopes of his future glory. -But she did not suffer nature to direct his course. -Long ere the child had seriously commenced the -work of education, she had destined him to become -an apostle of Christianity to the benighted world of -paganism. Imaginative, high minded, stern, and -self-sacrificing, Madeline was just such a woman as -in the olden time might have embroidered the cross -upon the mantle of her best beloved one, and sent -him forth to fight the battles of the holy church. -But the missionary of modern days has a far more -difficult and therefore far nobler office to perform. -Amid belted knights and men-at-arms to do battle -with myriads of the Paynim foe is a lighter task -than that which falls upon him, who goes forth alone -and single handed to face the more insidious foes of -ignorance and sin amid the blinded and perverse -heathen. Yet such was the high and holy duty to -which Madeline destined her brother, while her own -ambition was limited to the hope of being the companion -of his toils and his labors. She looked forward -to the time when they should go forth hand in -hand into the howling wilderness of superstition, -with the gospel as a light to their feet and a lamp to -their path, while they scattered the blessings of truth -among the benighted idolaters of distant lands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Alfred advanced in life he learned the full -extent of his sister’s sacrifices for his welfare. He -saw her relinquishing all the intellectual pleasures -she had once enjoyed, and devoting herself day and -night to the humble labors of the needle. He noticed -her attention to his most trifling wishes, and he did -not fail to observe that while his dress was of the -neatest and finest texture, and his food of the delicate -kind which best suited the capricious appetite of an -invalid, Madeline practised the strictest economy in -all that affected only her own individual comfort. -Yet Alfred did not love Madeline with the entire -affection which could alone repay her devotedness. -There was too much awe, too much fear blended -with his feelings towards her. Her strong mind and -stern integrity seemed ever ready to rebuke the -vacillating temper and morbid sensibility of the -youth. Superior to temptations which had no power -over herself, she had little charity for the failings of -another; and the boyish errors, often but the earliest -trial of principles which the world will hereafter put -to a far more severe test—were regarded by her as -heavy sins. Educated in the seclusion of home, she -could not imagine the dangers which beset a boy -from his first entrance into the miniature world of a -large school. Instead of rewarding with her approbation -the first struggles of principle with passion in -the youthful heart, she seemed only shocked and -mortified that any conflict should have been necessary, -and was more keenly sensible to the weakness -which had required defence, than to the strength -which had offered resistance. Such mistaken views -of character soon checked the flow of confidence -between them. Alfred could not open his whole -heart to one who was incapable of comprehending -all his feelings, and though he never needed a -mother’s care, he early learned the want of a mother’s -sympathy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Madeline had seen sufficient proofs of Alfred’s -facile temper and instability of purpose to dread -his introduction into scenes of greater temptation, -and, vainly fancying that he would be safer any -where than in the busy city, she preferred that he -should enter a distant college. At the age of seventeen -he was removed from his sister’s influence to -enter upon his new course of studies, and although -at first truly unhappy at this separation from his only -relative, it was not long before the absence of her -keen eye and stern rebuke became a positive relief -to him. Hitherto his life had passed amid the sombre -shades of domestic life, and with all Madeline’s -noble traits of character, she lacked the tact, so -truly feminine, which enables a woman to throw -sunshine around the humblest home. The cheerful -song, the pleasant jest, the merry voice, the bright -smile, the buoyant step—all the lighter graces without -which a woman’s character, however elevated and -noble, is but as a Corinthian column without its -capital, or as a rose without its perfume—were -wanting to the unbending nature of Madeline. The -world was to her a scene of probation and preparation, -and to waste a thought upon enlivening its -grave duties seemed to her as idle as planting flowers -around a sepulchre. When therefore Alfred -found himself amid a throng of young men from -every part of the country—some ambitious of renown, -some fond of study for its own sake, some -utterly careless of present duties, some slothful and -indifferent to honor, but all equally alive to pleasurable -excitement and equally eager in the pursuit -of amusement, he felt as if he had suddenly been -transported to a world of which he had never dreamed. -His susceptible temper rendered him an easy prey to -the lures of gay society. Intellectual enjoyments -mingled their pure odors with the fumes of the wine -cup, and the refinements of elegant taste served to -veil the native deformity of vice, until, long before -he had learned the danger of his position, he was -bound in the strong toils of sensual indulgence. -Full of intellect, and wonderfully acute in his perceptions, -he soon became distinguished for his -genius, and the heart of his sister was often gladdened -by tidings of his success. But she knew not -that he was drinking from more turbid waters than -those which flow from the fountain of wisdom—she -dreamed not that the offering which she hoped to -bring pure and unpolluted to the altar of Heaven was -already blemished and unworthy to be presented.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Alfred Graham was not designed by nature to be a -votary of evil. Temptation had found him weak to -resist, but conscience was still true to her charge, -and the youth was as free from habitual vice as he -was destitute of unsullied virtue. When the vacations -brought him to his quiet home, the better -feelings of his nature were ever aroused; he respected -the virtue of his sister’s character, and -when surrounded by that pure atmosphere which -envelopes real goodness, he forgot even to harbor a -sinful thought. But day by day the profession to -which he was destined became more repugnant to -his feelings, and after deferring as long as possible -the announcement of his wishes, he at length summoned -courage to reveal the truth to his sister. The -blow fell upon Madeline with almost stunning violence. -He had just left college crowned with honors -and flushed with success, and Madeline was exulting -in the hope of his future usefulness, when he revealed -to her his change of purpose. The first intimation -of his unwillingness to devote himself to the church, -almost drove her to frenzy. All the violence of her -secret nature broke forth in the fearful threats of -temporal and eternal punishment which she predicted -for such apostacy, and Alfred’s feeble temper -was actually crushed beneath the weight of her indignation. -He trembled at the storm which he had -raised, and when, after days of entreaty and expostulation, -Madeline, the stern, proud Madeline, even -knelt at his feet, and implored the child of her affections -to listen to the voice of God, speaking by the -lips of her who had ever been as a mother to his -heart, the weak youth yielded to her prayers and -promised what he well knew he could not conscientiously -perform. His was not the free-will offering -of talents and time and health and strength in the -service of the Redeemer. He entered the sanctuary -as one driven onward by irresistible force, not as -one drawn by the cords of love and piety.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Time passed on and taught Alfred a lesson of -deep hypocrisy. His timid and feeble nature could -neither resist the influence of evil nor brave its consequences, -and therefore it was that the fair face of -the youth became more and more characterized by -sanctity in proportion as his heart became less susceptible -of its influences. Happy is it for mankind -that the eye rarely pierces beneath the veil which -conceals the hideous depravity of the heart. Who -but would have shrunk from the delicate beauty of -Alfred’s gentle countenance—who but would have -shuddered at the contemplation of those clear blue -eyes, that feminine complexion, the delicate rose -tint of his thin cheek, and the exceeding loveliness -of his chiselled and flexible lips, if the dark mass of -evil thoughts which lay beneath that fair seeming, -could have been discerned. Yet Alfred was far -from being happy. Unstable as water, he had no -power over his own impulses, and remorse preyed -upon him, even while he sought to drown his -senses in indulgence. Conscience was his perpetual -tormentor, and yet a constant course of sinning -and repenting left him neither time nor will to struggle -effectually with his errors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But a still darker change came upon his character. -His health, which had several times required a suspension -of his studies, began again to fail, a short -time before the period fixed upon for his ordination, -and he eagerly seized the opportunity of deferring -the dreaded ordeal. The physicians ordered perfect -relaxation from all mental labors, and unfortunately -for his future peace, the listlessness of unwonted -idleness led him to examine a chest of old papers, -the accumulated records of many years, where he accidentally -met with a catalogue of his father’s library. -Alfred was so young at the time of his father’s death -that he retained little recollection of him, and Madeline -had carefully kept him in ignorance of those -skeptical opinions which had so grieved both mother -and daughter. It was with no little surprise, therefore, -that Alfred found the names of so great a number -of infidel works among his father’s books. He -pondered long upon the subject, and at length conjectured -the truth. This excited his interest, and a -vague curiosity, awakened rather by a belief in -his sister’s desire to conceal from him his father’s -opinions, led him secretly to procure the prohibited -volumes. Upon the feeble mind of one who was -“blown about by every wind of doctrine,” and who -yearned after worldly pleasures while he shrunk -with unutterable disgust from religious duties, the -subtleties of the skeptics had a most fatal effect. -He had never been well grounded in the faith, and -the doubts now suggested to his mind were exactly -such things as in his present state of feeling he would -gladly have adopted as truths. These six months of -respite from theological studies were spent in the -careful perusal of all skeptical writings, and when -Alfred resumed his former pursuits the plague spot -of infidelity had already given evidence of the fatal -disease which was spreading over his moral nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If my tale were designed only for the eye of the -student of human nature, I might dwell long upon -the strange incongruity of feeling and action, the -wonderful contrariety between principle and practice, -and all the complicated workings of a wayward -heart, which characterized the deceptive course of -the young student. With his usual timid hypocrisy -he concealed every real feeling, every genuine impulse. -His conduct was apparently irreproachable, -his principles seemed unimpeachable, and he even -schooled himself to come forward and enrol himself -beneath the banner of the cross, when he was but -too conscious that he had already trampled the holy -emblem beneath his feet. Why did he carry his -deceit to such an awful extent? Alas! who can tell -just where the waves of sin may stay their whelming -force? He feared the world’s dread laugh at his -apostacy, he shrunk from the scorn of all good men, -and, above all, his mind absolutely cowered at the -thought of his sister’s bitter wrath. So he buried his -secret within his own bosom, and trusting to some -future chance to rescue him from the irksome duties -of his profession, prepared himself for the ceremony -of ordination. But he was not yet sensible of the -terrible power of Conscience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day came, and, as usual, crowds were assembled -to witness the dedication of the youthful candidates. -The two young men—for Alfred had a -companion, a pious, humble-minded, meek-hearted -youth—stood before the altar to offer their vows. -Madeline, the weeping but happy Madeline—who -had sacrificed her youth and health and beauty, aye -and the hopes ever dearest to a woman’s heart, to -this one darling hope—was there too, and as she -looked on her brother bending before the altar, while -his bright curls just caught one straggling sunbeam -which shed a glory around his youthful brow, she -was heard to murmur “Lo, here am I, Lord, and the -child which thou hast given me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The services commenced—the prayers of the congregation -had arisen to Heaven, the incense of praise -had floated upward on the solemn melody of the -organ, the exhortation to the candidates had been -affectionately uttered by an aged pastor, and the -moment came when the presentation of the two was -made to the Bishop by the officiating clergyman. -The solemn appeal was then uttered—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Brethren, if there be any of you who knoweth -any impediment or any notable crime on either of -these persons for the which he ought not to be admitted -to the holy office, let him come forth in the -name of God and show what the crime or impediment -is.</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At these words a sudden terror seemed to seize -upon Alfred Graham. His frame shook with suppressed -emotion, his countenance became livid, and -his fine features were strangely contorted as if some -sudden pang had convulsed him. The next instant -he uttered a faint cry and fell prostrate to the ground, -while his very life-blood was poured at the foot of -the altar which he had dared to touch with polluted -hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was borne to his home in utter insensibility. -The sting of conscience had finished the work which -disease had long since begun, and the rupture of a -blood-vessel in the lungs had been the consequence -of his unnatural excitement and self-command. All -that medical skill could effect was tried, but without -success, and ere the lapse of another day it was -known that Alfred Graham was sinking into the arms -of death. There was no time for repentance—no -time to combat prejudices and awaken better impulses. -He lay as if in the deep torpor of insensibility, -until aroused by some cordial administered by -his physician, when his strength seemed to rally, and -raising himself on his pillow, he addressed his sister -in words which fell like molten lead upon her heart. -With all the eloquence of passion he poured forth a -wild confession of his errors and his doubts, and then, -in language equally fervid but far more bitter, he reproached -her—<span class='it'>her</span> who had devoted her whole life -to his welfare—as the cause of all his guilt. He accused -her of having crushed his timid spirit by sternness -and unbending rigor—of having taught him -hypocrisy by her fierce contempt for his weaknesses—of -having killed him by forcing him to a profession -which he hated and contemned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not mad, Madeline,” he exclaimed, in a -hoarse voice, broken by his difficult and long-drawn -breath, “I am not mad, but so surely as I am now -stretched upon the bed of death, so surely has your -ambition and your mistaken zeal laid me here to die. -I seek not to excuse myself, and may God forgive me -my many secret sins; but never, never would my soul -have been so deeply stained had it not been for your -unrelenting indignation at my boyish follies, and -your determined will in the choice of my future destiny. -I forgive you, Madeline, but you will not forgive -yourself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The exertion of uttering these terrible words was -too great, and ere the sounds yet died upon the ear -of the horror-stricken sister, the spirit of the misguided -youth had gone to its dread account.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From that hour Madeline was utterly and entirely -changed. Whatever were her feelings she shared -them with none, but shrunk alike from question and -sympathy. Those dying reproaches, unjust as she -felt them to be, were yet engraven in ineffacable -characters upon her heart, and with a feeling akin to -the mistaken austerity which punishes the body for -the sins of the soul, she resolved to make her future -life a penance for her involuntary error. Lonely and -desolate, she took up her abode in a place well -suited to her embittered and almost misanthropic -feelings. For more than ten years the gray cottage -was her abode, and the labors of the seamstress furnished -her scanty subsistence. During all that period -not a creature was ever admitted beyond the threshold -of her door, and all curiosity about her had quite -subsided long before the termination of her lonely -career. At length she was missed from her usual -lowly seat in church. A second Sabbath came, and -still the black and veiled form of the recluse was not -seen. Common humanity demanded some inquiry -into her fate, and after several vain attempts to procure -admission into the cottage, the door was forced. -Upon a truss of straw, in one corner of the desolate -chamber, lay the emaciated form of the unfortunate -Madeline, stiff, and cold, and ghastly, as if days had -passed since the spirit had escaped from its clay tenement. -She died as she had lived, lonely, and unknown, -for it was not until years had elapsed that I -heard the story of the brother and the sister from the -lips of one who had known them in early days; -while other incidental circumstances enabled me to -identify Madeline Graham with the tall “<span class='it'>weird -woman</span>” who had so terrified my childish fancy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The erring brother sleeps beneath the shadow of -the sanctuary, in ground still consecrated by holy -usage, but all trace of the hapless sister has vanished -from the earth. The village graveyard is now a -populous highway, bordered by tall houses and traversed -by busy feet, while the green hillock which -once marked the burial place of Madeline Graham -has long since been crushed beneath the weight of -pavements, echoing to the noisy tread of many a -thoughtless wayfarer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Alas, for human love! and, alas, for human error! -How dreary and desolate would seem many a scene -of unmerited suffering did we not know that there is -a brighter world, where all tears shall be wiped from -all eyes, and where there shall be no sorrow nor -sighing through an eternity of happiness!</p> - -<hr class='tbk126'/> - -<div><h1><a id='toan'></a>TO AN INFANT IN THE CRADLE.</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 REV. GEORGE B. CHEEVER.</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'>Thou lovely miniature of Nature’s painting!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy beauty mingles care with my delight.</p> -<p class='line0'>These colors are to grow: not like the fainting,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Soft, dying hues, that mark the eve’s twilight—</p> -<p class='line0'>But evermore renewed, as if the dawn,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With its deep rosy tinge, instead of fading,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ran hand in hand with the bright dewy morn,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The sky by sunlight with all colors shading.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>These colors are to grow, from where, an infant,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thou sleepest cradled by thy mother’s side,</p> -<p class='line0'>On through thy childhood’s beauty, every instant,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To maiden loveliness—thy mother’s pride.</p> -<p class='line0'>And she will guide the pencil, hers the art</p> -<p class='line0'>  To deepen Nature’s lineaments, or alter:</p> -<p class='line0'>To image Heaven or Earth upon the heart—</p> -<p class='line0'>  What if her love should err, her pencil falter!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>O! ’tis a sacred, sweet and fearful duty</p> -<p class='line0'>  To train these earth-born spirits for the skies!</p> -<p class='line0'>To keep this household flower green in its beauty,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Till it in Paradise transplanted rise.</p> -<p class='line0'>May He, who took the nurslings in his arms,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Keep thee and thine, his richest grace revealing,</p> -<p class='line0'>Hid, as his Pilgrims, from the world’s alarms,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Where quiet brooks in pastures green are stealing!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk127'/> - -<div><h1><a id='wil'></a>WILL NOBODY MARRY ME?</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>A COMIC 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'>Heigh-ho! for a husband!—heigh-ho!</p> -<p class='line0'>  There’s danger in longer delay!—</p> -<p class='line0'>Shall I never again have a beau?</p> -<p class='line0'>  Will nobody marry me, pray?</p> -<p class='line0'>I begin to feel strange, I declare!</p> -<p class='line0'>  With beauty my prospects will fade!—</p> -<p class='line0'>I’d give myself up to despair</p> -<p class='line0'>  If I thought I should die an old maid!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I once cut the beaux in a huff!—</p> -<p class='line0'>  I thought it a sin and a shame</p> -<p class='line0'>That no one had spirit enough</p> -<p class='line0'>  To ask me to alter my name!</p> -<p class='line0'>So I turned up my nose at the short,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And rolled up my eyes at the tall;</p> -<p class='line0'>But then I just did it in sport,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And now I’ve no lover at all!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>These men are the plague of my life!—</p> -<p class='line0'>  ’Tis hard from so many to choose!—</p> -<p class='line0'>Should one of them wish for a wife,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Could I have the heart to refuse?</p> -<p class='line0'>I don’t know—for none have proposed!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Oh, dear me!—I’m frightened, I vow!</p> -<p class='line0'>Good gracious!—whoever supposed</p> -<p class='line0'>  That I should be single till now?</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk128'/> - -<div><h1><a id='tro'></a>TROPICAL 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 PARK BENJAMIN.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beautiful are the Birds of the Tropics. Bright, -clear, sparkling, brilliant is their plumage. It is -steeped in “all the hues that gild the rainbow.” I -seek in vain for epithets by which to convey a -thought of their surpassing beauty. Had I, dear -reader, the pencil of Audubon, I might show you -what they are in repose; but repose does not display -their loveliness in its perfection. They are -most charming to behold when in motion—when -their many vivid colors contrast with the deep green -of the forests, in which they live and hold their -jocund revels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Not many years ago, I passed a winter—or, I -might better say, the first months of the year—in the -Northern part of South America, where these birds -abound. There, was I often delighted by these -“exquisite, gay creatures of the element.” They -seemed to me like so many winged jewels, as they -glanced about in the rays of a dazzling sun. But let -me not indulge too much in fanciful allusions, lest -I should reluctantly enter upon the real purpose I -have in view in preparing this article: which is to -offer some account of Tropical Birds, so that the -reader may be attracted to the study of their Natural -History. It appears to me that our American -periodicals have too much of the <span class='it'>dulce</span> and too little -of the <span class='it'>utile</span>. It is well, sometimes, to mingle the -useful with the agreeable even in works of taste: I -may fail in my attempt to do so in this place, but -I shall at least deserve the credit of having made the -attempt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Doubtless many of my readers have in their possession -certain glass cases in which specimens of -birds with variegated plumage, having undergone -the art of the taxidermist, are arranged on artificial -trees or bushes as ornaments for the drawing room. -There are many persons in Guiana, who make it -their business to kill and prepare these birds, so that -they may adorn the halls of Natural History Societies -or private cabinets. Some birds, which fly about -the houses or plantations, are easily obtained; but -those, upon which most value is set, live in distant -wilds and woods, and are procured with great difficulty -and only by individuals long practised in the -art. Great caution must be observed in approaching, -and greater skill in shooting them; for they -must be slain so skilfully that their feathers shall not -be torn nor their color spoiled by an effusion of -blood from the wound. When one, who is unskilful, -tears or disfigures his birds, he makes up one specimen -out of two or more individuals of the same -species. Thus, upon a close examination, you may -often detect the wings of one bird joined to the body -of another, or, perhaps, an old head upon young -shoulders. But the worst piece of trickery, and one -which renders the specimen wholly valueless to an -ornithologist, is the altering of the natural color of -the bird by fire. I have seen many a brilliant specimen -exceedingly admired, which obtained a false -lustre in this manner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There seems to be no limit to the wonderful varieties -of these birds. Every day brings to view some -new species, which outvies its compeers in the -grace of its form and the brilliancy of its plumage. -The adventurous bird-seeker will penetrate deeper -and deeper into the solitudes of those vast forests, -which, in primitive grandeur, lift up their leafy -columns and form umbrageous temples in the heart -of the Southern continent. Those lovely and still -unexplored domains are the probable haunts of thousands -and thousands of birds of dazzling beauty. -The clear beams of the sun, glinting through the -leaves of mighty trees, play among colors, as various -and as shifting as those of gems. No human -eye, save that of some Indian hunter who may -have lost his homeward way, has gazed upon these -strange, bright creatures; and the most fantastic -imagination may vainly endeavor to paint those tribes -of the air which have lived in their safe retreats, undisturbed -save by one another and the war of the -elements, since light first dawned upon creation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the various little birds, black, yellow and -red, which may be observed in the midst of the -sugar canes and in the many trees of orange, mango -and lemon, there is a tribe, called <span class='sc'>Tyrants</span>, which -is very extensive. Great numbers are constantly -seen. They are about the size of our robin. One -species is called “the butcher bird,” and most -appropriately, since it pounces upon and slaughters -its prey with tyrannical cruelty. It is said to be of -service to the planter in destroying grubs and insects, -upon which it seizes in the manner of a hawk. It -first strikes its prey with its <span class='it'>bill</span> (like a dun) and -then grasps it in its claws so instantaneously afterward, -that the most acute observation alone can -enable one to decide on the priority of the action. -Its bill is of moderate length (unlike a tailor’s) compressed -and sharp. Its head is black and all its body -is white, save the outer feathers of the wings and -tail, which are black. This family of “Tyrants,” -of which the butcher bird is an influential member, -has very extensive connections; but as they are distinguished -neither for beauty nor behavior (“handsome -is that handsome does”) and can be very easily -“got round,” no great consequence is attached to -their possession.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next most numerous tribe is one whose -habits and characteristics are widely dissimilar—the -<span class='sc'>Parrots</span>. These exhibit plumage of the most diversified -hues; but the predominating is bright green. This -is often set off and contrasted by black, lilac, pink, -orange, violet and blue. It is impossible to tell how -many species have been discovered; for our traveller -refers the specimen which he has obtained to some -former description, and then points out the differences. -“This,” says one, “is the <span class='it'>blue</span> parrot; our -specimens, however, are bright <span class='it'>lilac</span>, with <span class='it'>red</span> spots -on the back, between the wings”—a remark which, -were it made by a native of the Emerald Isle, would -be called a bull; but the fact, nevertheless, may be -as true as the somewhat notorious one that “black-berries -are red when they are green.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The parrots are of all sizes from the macaw or -ava, down to the smallest paroket. The common -green parrot, which is known in the United States, -and taught to speak, is of the medium size. The best -and clearest whistle is uttered by the homely brown -parrot, which is brought from Africa. It is likewise -the most docile. These birds resemble humanity in -other respects besides the faculty of speech; some -are hopelessly stupid, while others take to learning -very kindly. Curious stories are told of their powers -of articulation. The smallest kind, which cannot -live in our climate, are sometimes very successfully -educated. The manager of a plantation, which I -visited, owned a little parrot, which used to reside -in a cage at the door of his house. As I rode up, I -was agreeably astonished by hearing the polite bird -very considerately sing out, “Boy, take the gentleman’s -horse—boy, why the deuse don’t you take the -horse!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The largest kind is the macaw. It is a huge, -clumsy <span class='it'>thing</span>, with a head out of all proportion to its -body, (“great head, little wit;”) its plumage is for -the most part red, interspersed with green and blue. -The noise which it makes is most horribly discordant; -and its loudest yell is very like an Indian war-whoop, -(one of Mr. Cooper’s;) yet is this monster a great -favorite in the West Indies, and, as you pass the -residences of the inhabitants, you often see three or -four of these ugly wretches clambering awkwardly -up the piazzas, and uttering their hoarse, scolding -cries, ten times more grating to the ear than the objurgations -of a Xantippe, heard above the shrieks of -her castigated offspring. The hardihood of these -birds is surprising. There was one of them on board -of a small vessel, in which it was my ill fortune to -voyage from the mainland to the island of Barbadoes. -Mr. Macaw, like a militia major in red and blue -uniform, would strut about on the lower rigging, and, -as soon as he could get near enough to the ear of a -sailor, would utter one of his shrillest and most appalling -yells. Jack Tar, in his summary method of -dealing vengeance, would fetch him a blow with a -handspike, that would send him flapping to the -quarter-deck; perhaps, with an utter disregard of -decorum and discipline, into the very face and eyes -of the surly old captain, who, in his rage, would beat -him soundly; yet would the valiant and stalwart -feathered marine regard those lusty strokes no more -than would a pet goldfinch the taps of his lady’s fan.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some species of parrots exist in almost every region; -the smallest and most beautiful, however, are -found only in tropical countries. They are seldom -seen near thickly populated places, but can be procured -with facility in the woods adjacent, where -they live in tolerable fellowship with their mischievous -neighbors, the monkeys.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another numerous tribe of tropical birds is known -by the name of <span class='sc'>Chatterers</span>. I do not know what -they are called by the ornithologists; but thus are -they designated by the inhabitants, from the peculiar -sounds which they utter, (being not unlike those of a -congress of spinsters, sitting in committee of the -whole on some grand question of scandal.) They -are distinguished by the epithets—red-breasted, purple-throated, -firebirds, pumpadore, red-headed, gold-headed, -white-throated, white-capped, purple-shouldered, -and Mahometan. The first five migrate; the -last five stay at home. Of the former, the firebird is -so named from the fact that, in stuffed specimens, -the color is sometimes changed by the application of -fire. Its natural hue is a dark crimson, but it is susceptible -of being changed, by the application of heat, -into a rich vermilion. Of the latter, the purple-shouldered -is the most rare and the most beautiful. -The upper parts of its wings or shoulders are the -deepest purple; the remainder of the wings is interspersed -with blue, and they end in black. Its back -is blue mingled with black; its breast is a delicate -blue, and the lower part of its neck is a dark crimson. -I describe the male bird only; for (unlike -bipeds <span class='it'>without</span> feathers) it monopolises the beauty of -the species. The female is very plain, though there -seems to be a certain winning modesty about her, -for all her homely looks. The sumptuously attired -male, (“Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed -like one of these,”) if his choice of a partner were -left to himself—which I doubt—must have been -guided by a taste as unsophisticated as that of the -praiseworthy Cock-Robin, when he courted Jenny -Wren, who</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Always wore her old brown gown,</p> -<p class='line0'>And never dressed so fine!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>While on the subject of homeliness, I may as well -conclude it by alluding to a bird, which, on account -of its hideousness, the negroes call “Old Witch.” -What a very mortifying circumstance it must be to -be so ugly, when every body else is so bewitchingly -fair! Don’t you think so, Miss Smith? (I do not -mean the Miss Smith, who is reading this article, -but another.)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before passing to an account of the third and last -family, which I shall try to describe—being by far -the most numerous, the strangest, and the most -charming of all the tropical birds—I will detain the -reader for a moment with an account of two rare -species of water birds. They are in general so -classed, because, like rails, they frequent reedy -ponds and marshes and the borders of streams. I -select these two species, because the one is very -curious and the other is of a kind with which classical -associations are connected, and because they -admirably serve to show how wide and fertile a field -of interesting investigation lies before the student in -this particular realm of Natural History.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The curious species is the Jacana. It is doubtful -whether it should be classed with land or water -birds; it resembles the latter in its nature, its habits, -the form of its body, the shape of its bill, and the -diminutiveness of its head; it differs essentially, however, -from all others of the class, in the curious spurs -which protrude from its wings; its claws are very -long and slender, and its nails very pointed and -sharp—hence has been derived its name, “The Surgeon.” -It is exceedingly wild and can be caught -only by stratagem. These birds are of various colors: -some dark, tinged with violet; some green; -some black; some dusky red. Their flight is very -rapid, and their cry sharp and shrill. They travel -in pairs, frequenting the borders of rivers and -deep marshes. That which is particularly singular -about the Jacana is the manner in which it is armed; -when it strikes with its wings, it must do considerable -execution; it does not seem to be happily called -the Surgeon, for its instruments are rather intended -to kill than cure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The classical species is called by moderns, “the -Sultana Hen.” It is the smallest of that genus, which -was named by the ancients Porphyry—in Greek, -Πορφυριωι—in Latin, <span class='it'>Porphyrio</span>. Aristotle describes -it as a fissiped bird, with long feet, a blue plumage, -with a very strongly set, purple-colored bill, and of -about the size of a domestic cock. Some old writers, -in describing this bird, have said that one of its feet -was furnished with membranes, and made to swim -like a water-bird’s, and that the other was fissiped, -so that it might run like a land-bird. This is not -only untrue, but contrary to nature, and signifies no -more than that the porphyry or pelican is a bird of -the shore, living on the confines of land and water. -It was easily tamed, and was very pleasing on account -of its noble carriage, its fine form, its plumage -brilliant and rich in colors of mingled blue and purple -and aquamarine, its docile nature, and its happy facility -of agreeing with any companions among whom -its lot might be cast. It was held in the highest -esteem by both Greeks and Romans; they never -suffered it to be eaten; they sent to Lybia for it; -always treated it with kindness, and placed it in their -palaces and temples, as worthy to dwell there on -account of the nobleness of its port, the sweetness -of its temper, and the beauty of its plumage. The -largest of the species, now known as “the sultana -hen,” is precisely the same as the ancient porphyrio. -The smallest is called “the little sultana hen.” Her -<span class='it'>petite</span> majesty is very queenly, but is, no doubt, as -well satisfied with the modern name by which she is -dignified, as she would be with that which the Greeks -gave to the tall highnesses of her very old and royal -family. Her robe of state is a brilliant changeable -blue and green; and it has never gone out of fashion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Having thus given an unsystemized and rather imperfect -account of a few species of tropical birds, I -pass on to treat of the most marvellous and most -beautiful tribe of plumed creatures that float in the -invisible atmosphere. There have been more than -a hundred species already discovered, and every naturalist, -who visits the equatorial regions of this -Western World, adds a new name to the splendid -schedule of <span style='font-size:smaller'>HUMMING-BIRDS</span>.<a id='r2'/><a href='#f2' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[2]</span></sup></a> From their delicate -structure, these tiny birds cannot endure the rigors -of our climate, where there are very few of those -gorgeous plants, upon which they banquet in tropical -latitudes. There, when the warm sun calls into life -myriads of flowers, vast numbers of humming-birds -visit the fields and gardens every morning, and mingle -their golden-green tints in gleaming contrast with -the white and rose-colored blossoms, that cluster on -the vines above the traveller’s head, or spring luxuriantly -at his feet. They seem, as they dart rapidly -around, humming their faintly heard tunes, to be the -very Pucks and Ariels of the light, and each night -take up the burden of the fairy song, sung at the -feast of Titania,</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Over hill, over dale,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Through bush, through brier,</p> -<p class='line0'>Over park, over pale,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Through flood, through fire,</p> -<p class='line0'>I do wander every where,</p> -<p class='line0'>Swifter than the moon’s sphere.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>For, at one moment, you behold “the fine apparition” -before the cup of a flower, and at the next he is gone</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“To drink the air before him and return</p> -<p class='line0'>Or ere your pulse twice beat.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>The bright little beings must own the very best -secret of the fairies; for none, so well as they,</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where oxslips and the nodding violet grows,</p> -<p class='line0'>Quite over canopied with luscious woodbine,</p> -<p class='line0'>With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>But alas! however elfin-like and ethereal their forms -appear, they share the fate of mortals. They are -easily caught by nets thrown over them, or killed by -very fine shot or sand. I have seen some very -splendid collections. I remember one, comprising -seventy-two species—from the king of the humming-birds, -as he is called, with his topaz and emerald -crown, to one so small that, when on the wing, it -could scarcely be visible. When the glass case, in -which they were arranged in too studied an order, -was held in the sunshine, their myriad colors would -gleam and flash with a brilliancy as perfect as that of -the many gems, after which they are prettily named. -An enumeration of some of their names will convey -an idea of their appearance—sapphire-throated, -ruby-throated, sapphire and emerald, amethystine, -topaz-throated; then there are the purple, tri-colored, -violet-tufted, violet-crowned, blue-fronted, the superb, -the magnificent, the sabre-winged. And there -is one which must have been bestowed by some -ornithological phrenologist, who had great skill in -interpreting “the natural language” of birds—the -supercilious humming-bird. The largest species yet -discovered is that which is called the gigantic, and -the smallest, as I believe, is one that Sir William -Jardine describes as Gould’s humming-bird.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gigantic is in remarkable contrast to the rest -of his tribe, both in size and in the color of his plumage. -He is not only the largest but the homeliest, -while the smallest is the most beautiful. The gigantic -(the monster!) is nearly eight inches in length; -the crown, the back, the under and lesser wing-coverts, -brownish green, with reflections of green -tint; the under parts, light reddish mingled with a -deeper tint and shaded off with green; the feathers -are generally darker at the base, and the paler tips -give a slightly waved appearance to the breast. On -the throat, the feathers, though without lustre, retain -the scaly form and texture of the more brilliant species. -The wings slightly exceed the tail in length, -bend up at the tips, and exhibit the form of the most -correctly framed organ of flight; they are of a uniform -brownish violet. The tail is composed of ten -feathers, of a brownish color, and with golden-green -reflections; they gradually decrease in length. This -is a very rare species.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gould’s is the smallest species and of the most -dazzling beauty. It is scarcely over two inches in -length; its forehead, throat and upper part of its -breast are of a most brilliant green—the feathers of a -scaly form. From the crown springs a crest of bright, -chestnut feathers, of a lengthened form and capable -of being raised at pleasure. The back is a golden-green, -crossed with a whitish band; the wings and -tail are brownish purple, the latter having the centre -feathers tinged with green; the lower parts are dark -brownish green. The neck tufts are of the most -splendid kind, and have a chaste but brilliant effect; -they are composed of narrow feathers of a snowy -whiteness—the tips of each having a round, serrated -spot of bright emerald green, surrounded with a dark -border; the largest are at the upper part of the tuft, -and they decrease in length, assuming the shape of a -butterfly’s wing; shorter feathers again spring from -the base, and their green tips are relieved on the -white of the longer ones behind them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The most common species, and that which abounds -in all parts of the West Indies, is the ruby-crested. -Though seen every day about the gardens, near the -honeysuckle and other flowering vines, it presents -some of the most splendid coloring of the family. -(Those which I have mentioned are of that sub-genus, -which Linnæus calls trochilus.) The upper -parts of the head and throat are clothed entirely with -those scaly formed feathers, which always produce -the parts producing the changeable hues. On the -hind head, the feathers are elongated and form a -short, rounded crest. In one position this part appears -of a deep, sombre, reddish brown; when -viewed transversely it assumes a bright, coppery -lustre, and when looked upon directly with a side -stream of light, it becomes of the richest and most -brilliant ruby. The scaly part of the throat and -breast again, when wanting the lustre, is of an -equally sombre, greenish brown; and, when turned -to diverse lights, changes from a clear golden-green -to the most brilliant topaz. It is impossible to convey -by words—especially as it is necessary to repeat -the same again and again—an idea of these tints. -The most that can be done is to name those substances, -which they most nearly resemble, then -rely upon the imagination of the reader.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The birds, thus attempted to be described, are a -few of that multitudinous tribe which excites the -liveliest wonder, and fills the mind with admiration -of that creative power, which clothes the eagle with -strength to resist the fury of the mountain storm, and -so fashions the delicate plumage of the humming-bird -that the softest air from heaven seems to visit it -too roughly. The vine-clad forests and rose-covered -gardens of Guiana literally <span class='it'>swarm</span> with these fairy-birds. -The Indian word, by which they are distinguished, -signifies <span class='it'>beams</span> or <span class='it'>locks of the sun</span>; that -such a designation is not less appropriate than poetical, -may be concluded by all who have seen them -darting with the rapidity as well as the splendor of -light from flower to flower. Compared to the humming-bird, -the bee is a mere loiterer. He poises -himself on wing, while he thrusts his long, slender -tube into the flower-cups in search of food. But he -subsists not simply on honey-dew and the nectar that -dwells in the lips of roses. He may often be observed -darting at the minute insects that float in -the air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Audubon thus beautifully describes the humming-bird -in quest of food: “carefully visiting every -opening flower-cup, and, like a curious florist, removing -from each those injurious insects, that otherwise -would ere long cause their beauteous petals to -droop and decay. Poised in the air, it is observed -peeping cautiously and with sparkling eye into their -innermost recesses, whilst the ethereal motions of its -pinions, so rapid and so light, appear to fan and cool -the flower, without injuring its fragile texture, and -produce a delightful, murmuring sound, well adapted -for lulling the insects to repose. Then is the moment -for the humming-bird to secure them. Its long delicate -bill enters the cup of a flower, and the protruded, -double-tubed tongue, delicately sensible, and -imbued with a glutinous saliva, touches each insect -in succession, and draws it from its lurking place to -be instantly swallowed. All this is done in a moment, -and the bird, as it leaves the flower, sips so -small a portion of its liquid honey, that the theft, we -may suppose, is looked upon with a grateful feeling -by the flower which is thus kindly relieved from the -attacks of her destroyers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their favorite places of resort were those woods, -in which the superb bignonia abounds, and when the -huge trees are garlanded with parasites; but since -the cultivation of the country they frequent gardens -and seem to delight in society, becoming familiar -and destitute of fear, hovering over one side of a -shrub while the fruit or flower is plucked from that -opposite. They do not alight on the ground, but -easily settle on twigs and branches, when they move -sidewise in prettily measured steps, frequently opening -and closing their wings, shaking and arranging -the whole of their apparel with neatness and activity. -They are particularly fond of spreading one wing -at a time, and passing each of their quill-feathers -through their bills in its whole length, when, if the -sun is shining, the wing thus plumed is very transparent -and light. The humming noise proceeds -entirely from the surprising velocity with which -they perform that motion by which they will keep -their bodies in the air, apparently motionless, for -hours together. When flying to any long distance, -the manner of their flight is very different from that -shown in speeding among flowers, for they sweep -gracefully through the air in long undulations, raise -themselves for some distance and then fall in a curve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Strange as it may seem, one of the chief characteristics -of this tiny creature, is its bravery. It -will unhesitatingly attack the mocking-bird, or the -king-bird, or any other by whom it imagines its territories -invaded; it directs its sharp, needle-like bill, -immediately at the eyes of its enemy, and when so -employed this must be a truly formidable weapon. -These birds are also extremely pugnacious among -themselves—two males seldom meeting, without a -battle. The combatants ascend in the air, chirping, -darting and circling round each other till the eye is -no longer able to follow them. They are particularly -susceptible of jealousy, and, under the influence -of this failing, they run tilts at each other till the less -doughty champion falls exhausted to the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The nests of these little creatures are very curious; -they are built with great delicacy, but at the same time -with much compactness and warmth. Wilson says -that the nest of the ruby-throated humming-bird is generally -fixed on the upper side of a horizontal branch, -<span class='it'>not</span> among the twigs. It is sometimes, however, -attached to an old moss-grown trunk, and sometimes -fastened on a strong stalk or weed in the garden. It -seldom builds more than ten feet from the ground. -The nest is about an inch in diameter and as much in -depth. The outward coat is formed of small pieces -of a species of bluish-gray lichen, that vegetates on -old trees and fences, thickly glued with the saliva of -the bird, giving firmness and consistency to the whole -as well as keeping out moisture. Within this are -thick, matted layers of the fine wings of certain flying -seeds, closely laid together; and, lastly, the downy -substance from the great mullein, and from the stalks -of the common fern, lines the whole. The base of -the nest is continued round the stem of the branch to -which it closely adheres, and, when viewed from -below, appears a mere mossy knot or accidental protuberance. -The nest of one species in Guiana is -principally composed of a spongy cellular substance, -apparently similar to that of a fungus, of which some -kinds of wasps build large habitations, suspended -from the branches of trees, and an account is given -of a nest of another species composed entirely of the -down of some thistle; the seed is attached and is -placed outwards, giving a jagged and prickly appearance -to the outside. Latham describes the nest -of the black humming-bird as made of cotton, entwined -around the thorns and twigs of the citron-tree, -and of so firm a texture as not to be easily -broken by winds. The nest of the topaz-crested -is about seven eighths of an inch in diameter, also -made of cotton, stuck over with lichens on the outside -and firmly fixed in the hanging cleft of some -strong creeper by threads of a cottony substance, -and very slender roots or tendrils, the whole lower -part as if cemented by a thin coat of glue. It is -probable that the greater number build their nests -nearly in the same manner. Descriptions, however, -are given of those built in different forms—one is -suspended with the entrance downwards; another is -of a lengthened form, composed of dry grass and -slender roots and moss, and is not made so compactly. -A person, who saw a bird building her nest, -describes her manner of construction as very ingenious. -“Bringing a pile of small grass, she commenced -upon a little twig about a quarter of an inch -in diameter, immediately below a large leaf, which -entirely covered and concealed the nest from above, -the height from the ground being about three feet. -After the nest had received two or three of these -grasses, she set herself in the centre, and putting her -long slender beak over the outer edge, seemed to use -it and her throat much in the same way as a mason -does his trowel, for the purpose of smoothing, rubbing -it to and fro and sweeping quite around. Each -visit to the nest seemed to occupy only a couple of -seconds, and her absence from it not more than as -many minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The extraordinary beauty of these strange beings -has induced many attempts to tame and keep them -in cages, but they have not been successful. When -placed in cages and fed daintily on honey and water, -and supplied every morning with fresh cups of flowers, -they have been known to live for a long time in -their native country, and in warm weather; but no -artificial warmth has as yet kept them alive for -many weeks, when transported to a less genial -climate. It is conjectured, however, that with very -great care and a strict regard to diet, as the doctors -say, they will, by and by, be kept alive and happy -in our conservatories. There was once a nest of -them successfully carried to England from Jamaica. -It was presented to a lady, from whose lips the little -loves would deign to accept honey. One died, probably -from excess of happiness; but the other, being -more hardy, survived for two months. Could a lady -succeed in so taming one of these winged jewels so -perfectly that it would accompany her to a ball, -curiously perched upon her bouquet, or hovering -around the flowers which composed it, at her gentle -bidding, so original an ornament would doubtless be -more highly prized than</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whole necklaces and stomachers of gems.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>The ancient Mexicans are said to have woven their -plumage into gorgeous robes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If the extraordinary beauty of these birds, their -mode of existence, their nature, then habits, excite -our admiration, how must we also wonder at their -structure!—the perfect adaptation of their forms to -that life which it is theirs to enjoy, and to the variations -of that glowing climate where they abound. -“On presenting a humming-bird to a common observer,” -says an eminent naturalist, “the first exclamation -generally is, ‘what a beautiful little creature!’—the -second, ‘but what large wings he has!’ -Such, indeed, is the case, and, in most instances, the -size of the wings and strength of the quills are entirely -out of proportion to our ideas of symmetry in -a creature clothed with feathers; but, upon comparing -them with its necessities and the other parts -of its frame, their utility and design become obvious.” -The principal reason for their possessing organs of -such power is, doubtless, to enable them to pass in -safety through the migrations and the long flights -which are necessary for their preservation, and, -during which, they have to withstand passing gales -and showers. The delicious climes which they inhabit -are at seasons subject to tremendous rains, -which drench and almost inundate their abodes, or -to hurricanes that, in a few minutes, leave but a -wreck of all that was before so splendid and luxuriant. -By means of these organs, before the dangerous -season comes, which the unerring instinct of -nature warns them to avoid, they fly to districts of -country where the reparation of some previous -wreck is proceeding with all the rapidity of tropical -vegetation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I cannot more pleasingly conclude these notices of -the most wonderful tribe of birds, than by quoting -the melodious verses of a poet, who is a native of -that glowing clime which they so exquisitely adorn.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Still sparkles here the glory of the West,</p> -<p class='line0'>Shows his crowned head and bares his jewell’d breast,</p> -<p class='line0'>In whose bright plumes the richest colors live,</p> -<p class='line0'>whose dazzling lines no mimic art can give.</p> -<p class='line0'>The purple amethyst, the emerald’s green</p> -<p class='line0'>Contrasted, mingle with the ruby’s sheen,</p> -<p class='line0'>While over all a tissue is put on,</p> -<p class='line0'>Of golden gauze by fairy fingers spun.</p> -<p class='line0'>Small as a beetle, as an eagle brave,</p> -<p class='line0'>In purest ether he delights to lave;</p> -<p class='line0'>The sweetest flowers alone descends to woo,</p> -<p class='line0'>Rifles their sweets and lives on honey-dew,</p> -<p class='line0'>So light his kisses not a leaf is stirred</p> -<p class='line0'>By the bold, happy, amorous humming-bird.</p> -<p class='line0'>No disarray, no petal rudely moved,</p> -<p class='line0'>Betrays the flower the callibree has loved.”<a id='r3'/><a href='#f3' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[3]</span></sup></a></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>I have thus given partial descriptions of four of -the principal tribes of Tropical Birds. I hope the -reader has not been so wearied that he will not -kindly suffer me to draw this article to a close by a -brief notice of those two birds most remarkable for -their peculiar notes. The one pours forth a stream -of rich melody, which surpasses the far-famed song -of the nightingale, and is, likewise, celebrated for -its peculiar power of imitating the tones of almost -every fellow-songster. The other utters only one -sound, but so strange and solemn as to inspire the -mind of the hearer with a religious awe. The natural -music of the one is as gay, cheerful and enlivening -as that of the other is mournful and soul-subduing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first to which I allude is the Matthews of the -woods, <span style='font-size:smaller'>THE MOCKING-BIRD</span>. This species abound in -all parts of the Western Indies; they are found in -great numbers near the sea-shore. From the trees -which grow on the beaches float their rich songs, -more melodious than strains of flute, or bugle, or -any “cunningly devised instrument;” and, in mellowness, -in modulation and gradation, in extent of -compass and rapidity and brilliancy of execution, -outrivalling the most magnificent bravuras of a Sontag -or a Malibran. When confined in cages and -brought to our cold climate, for the amusement of -man, the bird loses, in the loneliness of its captivity, -half the richness of its voice. Though it delights to -mimic other plumed minstrels, this astonishing faculty -is feeble, in its most miraculous exhibition, when -compared with its own delicious song; but he who -would listen to it in its perfection, must go to those -regions where the great magnolia shoots up its majestic -trunk, covered with evergreen leaves, and decorated -with a thousand flowers, where the forests -and fields are buried in blossoms of every hue, and -where the golden orange decorates the gardens and -the groves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The bird whose note is so melancholy is called by -the Indians campanero; by the Spaniards arapongo -or guirapongo, and by the English the bell-bird. It is -extremely rare. I was so fortunate as to see a single -specimen. It is of about the size of a Barbary dove, -but more gracefully shaped, with a larger head. It -is of a snowy whiteness. From the forehead there -rises a spiral tube of about a bodkin’s length. This -tube, it is said, is raised and depressed at pleasure; -it is black, dotted with white feathers, and, as it is -hollow, and communicates with the palate, it is -probably elevated when filled with air, and becomes -pendulous when empty. That strange sound, for -which it is remarkable, is probably produced by the -raising and depressing of this tube. It resembles -the tolling of a bell, and is very loud and distinct. -It is heard morning and evening in the woods, and -one might fancy its toll to proceed from some hidden -convent, calling to matins and vespers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The bell-bird is seldom found in forests inhabited -by other birds; it selects lonely and desolate haunts. -A recent traveller, in describing his journey through -a South American forest, writes—“Nothing can be -more still and solitary than everything around; the -silence is appalling and the desolation is awful; -neither are disturbed by the sight or voice of living -thing, save one—which only adds to the impression. -It is like the clinking of metals, as if two lumps of -brass were struck together; and it sometimes resembles -the distant and solemn tolling of a church-bell, -struck at long intervals. This extraordinary sound -proceeds from a bird called arapongo or guirapongo. -It is about the size of a small pigeon, white, with a -circle of red round the eyes. It sits on the tops of -the highest trees, and in the deepest forests, and, -though constantly heard in the most desert places, is -very rarely seen. It is impossible to conceive any -thing of a more solitary character than the profound -silence of the woods, broken only by the metallic -and almost preternatural sounds of this invisible bird, -coming from the air, and seeming to follow you -wherever you go. I have watched with greet perseverance, -when the sound seemed quite close to me, -and never but once caught a glance of the cause. It -passed suddenly over the top of a very high tree, like a -large flake of snow, and immediately disappeared.”</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'>In the United States two species only have been made -known, the Ruby-throated, charmingly described both by -Wilson and Audubon, and the Northern. I am told, however, -that Audubon has recently discovered still another.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_3'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f3'><a href='#r3'>[3]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>From a poem entitled “Barbadoes,” by Dr. Chapman, -a man of a fine genius, who may be known to my readers -as the author of some very fine translations of the Greek -Anthology, which have appeared in Blackwood’s Magazine. -<span class='it'>Callibree</span> is the Indian name of the bird.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk129'/> - -<div><h1><a id='gird'></a>THE GIRDLE OF FIRE.</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 PERCIE H. SELTON.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lower counties of New Jersey are proverbially -barren, being covered with immense forests of -pine, interspersed with cedar swamps. During the -dry summer months these latter become parched to -an extent that is incredible, and the accidental contagion -of a fire-brand often wraps immense tracts of -country in flames. The rapidity with which the -conflagration, when once kindled, spreads through -these swamps can scarcely be credited except by -those who know how thoroughly the moss and twigs -are dried up by the heat of an August sun. Indeed -scarcely a spot can be pointed out in West Jersey, -which has not, at one time or another, been ravaged -by conflagration. It was but a few years since that -an immense tract of these pine barrens was on fire, -and the citizens of Philadelphia can recollect the -lurid appearance of the sky at night, seen at the distance -of thirty or even forty miles from the scene of -the conflagration. The legendary history of these -wild counties is full of daring deeds and hair-breadth -escapes which have been witnessed during such -times of peril. One of these traditionary stories it is -our purpose to relate. The period of our tale dates -far back into the early history of the sister state, -when the country was even more thinly settled than -at present.</p> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a sunny morning in midsummer, when a -gay party was assembled at the door of a neat house -in one of the lower counties of New Jersey. Foremost -in the group stood a tall manly youth, whose -frank countenance at once attracted the eye. By his -side was a bright young creature, apparently about -eighteen years of age, whose golden tresses were a -fit type of the sunny beauty of her countenance. But -now her soft blue eyes were dim with tears, and -she leaned on the shoulder of her mother, who was -apparently equally affected. The dress of the daughter, -and her attitude of leave-taking, told that she was a -bride, going forth from the home of her childhood, -to enter on a new and untried sphere of life. The -other members of the group were composed of her -father, her brothers and sisters, and the bridemen -and bridemaids.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God bless you, my daughter, and have you in his -holy keeping,” said the father as he gave her his last -embrace, “and now farewell!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The last kiss was given, the last parting word was -said, the last long look had been taken, and now the -bridal party was being whirled through the forest -on one of the sweetest mornings of the sweet month -of July.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was indeed a lovely day. Their way lay through -an old road which was so rarely travelled that it -had became overgrown with grass, among which the -thick dew-drops, glittering in the morning sun, were -scattered like jewels on a monarch’s mantle. The -birds sang merrily in the trees, or skipped gaily from -branch to branch, while the gentle sighing of the -wind, and the occasional murmur of a brook crossing -the road, added to the exhilirating influences of -the hour. The travellers were all young and happy, -and so they gradually forgot the sadness of the parting -hour, and ere they had traversed many miles the -green arcades of that lovely old forest were ringing -with merry laughter. Suddenly, however, the bride -paused in her innocent mirth, and while a shade of -paleness overspread her cheek, called the attention -of her husband to a dark black cloud, far off on the -horizon, and yet gloomier and denser than the darkest -thunder cloud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The forest is on fire!” was his instant ejaculation, -“think you not so, Charnley?” and he turned -to his groomsman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes! but the wind is not towards us, and the fire -must be miles from our course. There is no need -for alarm, Ellen,” said he, turning to the bride, his -sister.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But our road lies altogether through the forest,” -she timidly rejoined, “and you know there isn’t a -house or cleared space for miles.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes! but my dear sis, so long as the fire keeps -its distance, it matters not whether our road is -through the forest or the fields. We will drive on -briskly and before noon you will laugh at your fears. -Your parting from home has weakened your nerves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No more was said, and for some time the carriage -proceeded in silence. Meantime the conflagration -was evidently spreading with great rapidity. The -dark, dense clouds of smoke, which had at first been -seen hanging only in one spot, had now extended in -a line along the horizon, gradually edging around so -as to head off the travellers. But this was done so imperceptibly -that, for a long time, the travellers were not -aware of it, and they had journeyed at least half -an hour before they saw their danger. At length the -bride spoke again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Surely, dear Edward,” she said, addressing her -husband, “the fire is sweeping around ahead of us: -I have been watching it by yonder blasted pine, and -can see it slowly creeping across the trunk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Every eye was instantly turned in the direction in -which she pointed, and her brother, who was driving, -involuntarily checked the horses. A look of dismay -was on each countenance as they saw the words of -the bride verified. There could be no doubt that the -fire had materially changed its bearing since they -last spoke, and now threatened to cut off their escape -altogether.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish, Ellen, we had listened to your fears and -turned back half an hour ago:” said the brother, -“we had better do it at once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God help us—that is impossible,” said the husband, -looking backwards, “the fire has cut off our -retreat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was as he said. The flames, which at first had -started at a point several miles distant and at right -angles to the road the party was travelling, had -spread out in every direction, and finding the swamp -in the rear of the travellers parched almost to tinder -by the draught, had extended with inconceivable -velocity in that quarter, so that a dense cloud of -smoke, beneath which a dark lurid veil of fire -surged and rolled, completely cut off any retrograde -movement on the part of the travellers. This volume -of flame, moreover, was evidently moving -rapidly in pursuit. The cheeks, even of the male -members of the bridal party, turned ashy pale at the -sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is nothing to do but to push on,” said the -brother, “we will yet clear the road before the fire -reaches it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And if I remember,” said the husband, “there is -a road branching off to the right, scarce half a mile -ahead: we can gain that easily, when we shall be -safe. Cheer up, Ellen, there is no danger. This is -our wedding morn, let me not see you sad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The horses were now urged forward at a brisk -pace, and in a few minutes the bridal party reached -the cross road. Their progress was now directly from -the fire; all peril seemed at an end; and the spirits -of the group rose in proportion to their late depression. -Once more the merry laugh was heard, and -the song rose up gaily on the morning air. The conflagration -still raged behind, but at a distance that -placed all fear at defiance, while in front the fire, -although edging down towards them, approached at -a pace so slow that they knew it would not reach the -road until perhaps hours after they had attained their -journey’s end. At length the party subsided again -into silence, occupying themselves in gazing on the -magnificent spectacle presented by the lurid flames, -as, rolling their huge volumes of smoke above them, -they roared down towards the travellers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The forest is as dry as powder,” said the husband, -“I never saw a conflagration travel so rapidly. -The fire cannot have been kindled many hours, and -it has already spread for miles. Little did you think, -Ellen,” he said, turning fondly to his bride, “when -we started this morning, that you should so narrowly -escape such a peril.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And, as I live, the peril is not yet over,” suddenly -exclaimed the brother, “see—see—a fire has -broke out on our right, and is coming down on to us -like a whirlwind. God have mercy on us!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke with an energy that would have startled -his hearers without the fearful words he uttered. -But when they followed the direction of his quivering -finger, a shriek burst from the two females, -while the usually collected husband turned ashy -pale, not for himself, but for her who was dearer to -him than his own life. A fire, during the last few -minutes, had started to life in the forest to their right, -and, as the wind was from that quarter, the flames -were seen ahead shooting down towards the road -which the bridal party was traversing, roaring, hissing, -and thundering as they drew near.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Drive faster—for heaven’s sake—on the gallop!” -exclaimed the husband, as he comprehended the -imminency of their danger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The brother made no answer, for he well knew -their fearful situation, but whipped the horses into -a run. The chaise flew along the narrow forest -road with a rapidity that neither of the party had -ever before witnessed; for even the animals themselves -seemed aware of their peril, and strained -every sinew to escape from the fiery death which -threatened them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their situation was indeed terrible, and momentarily -becoming more precarious. The fire, when -first seen, was, at least, a mile off, but nearly equidistant -from a point in the road the bridal party was -traversing; and, as the conflagration swept down -towards the road with a velocity equal to that of the -travellers, it soon became evident that they would -have barely time to pass the fire ere it swept across -the road, thus cutting off all escape. Each saw -this; but the females were now paralized with fear. -Only the husband spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Faster, for God’s sake, faster,” he hoarsely cried, -“see you not that the fire is making for yonder tall -pine—we shall not be able to reach the tree first -unless we go faster.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will do my best,” said the brother, lashing still -more furiously the foaming horses. “Oh! God, that I -had turned back when Ellen wished me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On came the roaring fire—on in one mass of flame—on -with a velocity that seemed only equalled by -that of the flying hurricane. Now the flames caught -the lower limbs of a tall tree and in an instant had -hissed to its top—now they shot out their forky -tongues from one huge pine to another far across -the intermediate space—and now the whirling fire, -whistled along the dry grass and moss of the swamp -with a rapidity which the eye could scarcely follow. -Already the fierce heat of the conflagration began to -be felt by the travellers, while the horses, feeling the -increase of warmth, grew restive and terrified. -The peril momentarily increased. Hope grew fainter. -Behind and on either side the conflagration roared in -pursuit, while the advancing flame in front was cutting -off their only avenue of escape. <span class='it'>They were -girdled by fire.</span> Faster and quicker roared the -flames towards the devoted party, until at length -despair seized on the hearts of the travellers. Pale, -paralized, silent, inanimate as statues, sat the females; -while the husband and brother, leaning -forward in the carriage and urging the horses to -their utmost speed, gazed speechlessly on the approaching -flames. Already the fire was within a -hundred yards of the road ahead, and it seemed -beyond human probability that the travellers could -pass it in time. The husband gave one last agonizing -glance at his inanimate wife. When again he -looked at the approaching flames, he saw that during -that momentary glimpse they had lessened their -distance one half. He could already feel the hot -breath of the fire on his cheek. The wind, too, suddenly -whirled down with fiercer fury, and in an -instant the forky tongues of the advancing conflagration -had shot across the road, and entwined themselves -around the tall pine which had been the goal -of the travellers’ hopes. He sank back with a groan. -But the brother’s eye gleamed wildly at the sight, -and gathering the reins tighter around his hand, he -made one last desperate effort to force the horses -onward; and with one mad leap, they lifted the carriage -from the ground as if it had been a plaything, -plunged into the fiery furnace, and the next instant -had shot through the pass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Charnley gave one look backwards, as if to assure -himself that they had indeed escaped—he saw the -lurid mass of fire roaring and whirling across the -spot through which they had darted but a moment -before; and overcome with mingled gratitude and -awe, he lowered his head on his breast and poured -out an overflowing soul in thanksgivings to the Power -which had saved them from the most dreadful of -deaths. And long afterwards, men, who travelled -through that charred and blackened forest, pointed to -the memorable scene where these events occurred, -and rehearsed the thrilling feelings of those who had -been encompassed by <span class='sc'>the Girdle of Fire</span>.</p> - -<hr class='tbk130'/> - -<div><h1><a id='towho'></a>TO ——.</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 GEORGE LUNT.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I call upon the waves and they reply,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But not the voice I fain would hear replied,</p> -<p class='line0'>Vainly I seek it in the wind’s deep sigh,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Earth, air, the sky’s blue depths and ocean’s tide.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>These have their various voices, soft or stern,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Moulding our feelings to the varied hour,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the wrung heart will hear them and return</p> -<p class='line0'> To claim on Nature’s breast a mother’s power.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The dewy freshness of earth’s vernal prime,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Her budding promise lapp’d in fragrant showers,</p> -<p class='line0'>The sacred sweetness of her summer time,</p> -<p class='line0'> And her bright bosom cover’d o’er with flowers;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The viewless music of the breathing air,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The rushing wind that sweeps across the plain,</p> -<p class='line0'>The breeze that dallies with the brow of care</p> -<p class='line0'>  And stirs the languid pulse to life again;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Heaven’s glorious arch, when morning through the skies</p> -<p class='line0'>  Skirts all its blue with gold, or sweeter far</p> -<p class='line0'>At the dim twilight, or when softly rise</p> -<p class='line0'>  The new-born moon and glittering star on star;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And the dark-rolling voiceful sea, whose moan,</p> -<p class='line0'>  On the wide waste or by the storm-beat shore,</p> -<p class='line0'>Asks the soul’s answer like a spirit tone,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And the deep soul speaks inly to its roar;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>These have their language, mirthful, sad, or wild,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like changing passion in the human breast;</p> -<p class='line0'>We call them to us, as a wilder’d child</p> -<p class='line0'>  His home’s companions, and they give us rest;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Yet though they speak, I cannot hear—no more</p> -<p class='line0'>  Comes the sweet music of the one loved tone,</p> -<p class='line0'>And standing lonely by the lone sea-shore</p> -<p class='line0'>  Sad as my heart falls its perpetual moan.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk131'/> - -<div><h1><a id='sta'></a>THE STAGE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY WILLIAM WALLACE.</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'>Oh! I could weep when I perceive the cloud</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of dark impurities around our Stage,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where those creations, gay, or sad, or proud—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Hamlet’s strange wo, or wronged Othello’s rage</p> -<p class='line0'>  Hallowed fair Albion’s selectest age:</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet would I not, like certain ones, behold</p> -<p class='line0'>  Theatric pomp proscribed in liberal land,</p> -<p class='line0'>While pale Contempt (as once in ages old)</p> -<p class='line0'> Kills with a single look the buskin band.</p> -<p class='line0'>A beauty sparkles yet around the Place—</p> -<p class='line0'>A mystic charm—a fairy-beaming grace—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Appealing loudly to the coldest heart:</p> -<p class='line0'>These boards once held the glory of our race,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And still they reverence a Shakspeare’s Art.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk132'/> - -<div><h1><a id='win'></a>“TO WIN THE LOVE OF THEE.”</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>BALLAD.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:0.9em;'>DEDICATED TO MISS LEO M. CASSIN, OF GEORGETOWN, D. C.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'>BY J. G. E.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;'><span class='sc'>John F. Nunns</span>, <span class='it'>184 Chesnut Street: Philadelphia</span>.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i130.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0003' style='width:75%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i131.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0004' style='width:75%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>To win the love of thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I would the wealth of worlds resign,</p> -<p class='line0'>For life has nought for me,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But one sole wish to call thee mine.</p> -<p class='line0'>All other joys of life no more,</p> -<p class='line0'>  For me a thought shall claim,</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou art the Idol I adore,</p> -<p class='line0'>  My happiness and fame.</p> -<p class='line0'>To win the love of thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I would the wealth of worlds resign,</p> -<p class='line0'>For life has nought for me,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But one sole wish to call thee mine.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Strive not with ornament to hide</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy beauty’s op’ning flower;</p> -<p class='line0'>Simplicity should be thy bride.</p> -<p class='line0'>  For therein lies thy power.</p> -<p class='line0'>Of Constancy the model I</p> -<p class='line0'>  To wand’ring eyes should prove,</p> -<p class='line0'>For I should only wish to die</p> -<p class='line0'>  If e’er I lose thy love.</p> -<p class='line0'>                  To win the love of thee, &c.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk133'/> - -<div><h1><a id='rev'></a>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</h1></div> - -<hr class='tbk134'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Notes of a Tour through Turkey, Greece, Egypt, Arabia -Petræa, to the Holy Land; including a Visit to Athens, -Sparta, Delhi, Cairo, Thebes, Mount Sinai, Petræa, &c. -By E. Joy Morris. Two vols. 12 mo. pp. 550. Philadelphia, -Carey & Hart: 1842.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Were we disposed to be hypercritical, we should begin -by finding some fault with the title of these volumes. It is -quite too long, besides being tautological. Why speak of -a tour through Egypt, and a visit to Thebes! Or of a tour -through Greece and a visit to Athens? It would be as -proper to announce a journey through England, including -a visit to London. He who travels over a country of -course visits its capital. If he supposes the readers of his -journal do not know what city enjoys that distinction, it is -even then better to let them acquire this geographical information -by degrees. Too great and sudden developments -may defeat his object; a man’s vision is sometimes obscured -by excess of light.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of the improbabilities which are scattered throughout the -work we have space only to notice one or two. Mr. Morris -informs us that the <span class='it'>harem</span> of the Governor of Smyrna, -which he encountered on board a steamer, “consisted of -some half-dozen ladies, (wives,) and, with attendants, -amounted to near thirty persons.” Rather too many wives -for the simple Aga of Smyrna, and more than the Koran -allows. The holy book of the Mahommedan permits no -one, save the Grand Sultan—the representative of the prophet—to -have more than two; and that highest of dignitaries, -and hereditary favorite of the immortals, has but four. -The Governor of Smyrna, we are assured by a competent -authority, has but <span class='it'>one</span> wife, and she is of Turkish descent, -and not, as our author avers, a Circassian. Had she been -of Circassia she would have been a concubine, not a wife, -or, as the author blunderingly calls her, a <span class='it'>Sultana</span>. That -title belongs only to the favorite wife of the <span class='it'>Sultan</span>. Our -traveller tells us that he offered to this lady some sweet-meats, -although her husband and the keeper of his harem -were both present! An averment which we would be as -chary of believing as if it were that the “light” of the -Grand Seigneur’s palace had accepted an invitation to -swim with him in the Bosphorus!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Morris tells us that he found in the slave market of -Constantinople two beautiful Georgian girls, “destined for -the harems of the rich,” in <span class='it'>cages</span>, but that he was “only -indulged with a glance at them through the <span class='it'>bars</span>!” Now -a cage, or such a place as he intended to describe by that -word, even for the ugliest Numidian, would not be tolerated -in Constantinople for an hour; nor has there been -for many years a Georgian girl publicly exhibited in the -markets of that city. When a writer, sensible of the dulness -of his performance, seeks to impart to it some interest -by weaving into its chapters romantic fictions, he should -be careful to give them an air of probability. We have -not time nor inclination to point out other “attractions” in -these volumes of a similar description.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While writing of Athens and Constantinople, Mr. Morris -doubtless had by his side Mr. Colton’s “Visit” to those -places; and in his notices of Arabia Petræa and Egypt he -has availed himself of the information acquired by Mr. -Stevens and Professor Robinson. He has made what, in -the language of the <span class='it'>trade</span>, is called a readable book; -but it possesses neither originality, vigor, nor freshness; -and his delineations, besides lacking these qualities, are -often tediously long and needlessly particular. He does -not pretend to give any new topographical information, and -his work contains none. It was probably written out from -slight notes taken during his tour, and the more elaborate -descriptions of other travellers. It evinces some taste and -judgment in the selection of themes, and is now and then -graced by a classical allusion or quotation, gleaned, perhaps, -from the guide-books, which make authorship so -easy to the tourist.</p> - -<hr class='tbk135'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Punishment by Death: Its Authority and Expediency. By -Rev. George B. Chester. One vol. 12mo. pp. 156. New -York: M. W. Dodd.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Several able sermons on this important subject have -issued from the press. This is a more extended and elaborate -effort. It displays learning, research, and philosophical -acumen, and is worthy of general and serious attention. -We know of no treatise in our language, on this subject, so -well calculated for circulation among the people at large. -It is brief, clear, comprehensive, written in an interesting -style, and often rising to a strain of vivid and stirring eloquence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About half the volume is devoted to the argument from -Scripture; in which the original Noahic ordinance is -taken as the ground-work, commented upon in the Mosaic -statutes, and confirmed in the New Testament. The writings -and experience of Paul are examined, and the course -of the Divine Providence is shown to be consentaneous -with this argument. The state of legislation and society -in the antediluvian world, as well as afterwards, are investigated, -with the origin of government, and the nature -of its sanction in the Scriptures.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The remainder of the book is taken up with the argument -from Expediency. The question is examined, What constitutes -the perfection of criminal jurisprudence! The -efficacy of punishment by death in restraining crime is -argued, and also that the abrogation of this punishment -would prove a premium on the crime of murder, through -the desire of concealing other crimes. The law of nature -is examined, with the powerful convictions of conscience -on this subject, as sustaining the Divine legislation, and -demanding support also in human law. Various objections -are considered and answered, with the occasion of the prejudice -against Capital Punishment. The book concludes -with a chapter on the power and solemnity of the argument -from analogy, in reference to the sanctions of the Divine -Government.</p> - -<hr class='tbk136'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>A Popular Treatise on Agricultural Chemistry: intended -for the use of the Practical Farmer. By Chas. Squarey, -Chemist. One vol. Lea & Blanchard: Philadelphia.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>An excellent work, in which most of what is really -valuable in the treatises of Liebig, Davy, Johnson and -Daubeny, has been condensed for the practical reader.</p> - -<hr class='tbk137'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Tecumseh, or the West Thirty Years Since: A Poem: By -George H. Colton. 12mo. pp. 412. New York: Wiley & -Putnam, 1842.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>We alluded to this work very briefly in a former number, -and now recur to it mainly for the purpose of presenting -some specimens of the author’s versification, by which the -reader may be enabled to judge of its general execution. -“Tecumseh” is a narrative, founded on the history of that -great chief whose name is chosen for its title, and whose -efforts to unite the various divisions of the red race into -one grand confederacy, to regain their lost inheritance, -though unsuccessful, should secure to him a fame as lasting -as is awarded to the most celebrated heroes and patriots of -the world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The measure of the main part of the poem—extending to -nine long cantos—is octo-syllabic. It is free, and generally -correct, though in some cases marred by inexcusable carelessness, -and phraseology more tame and meaningless than, -had he kept his manuscript for a few years, the author -would have permitted to go before the critics. The hero, -with the wily prophet, Els-kwa-ta-wa, who was his evil -genius through life, is introduced in the second canto. -Distinguished</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>“By his broad brow of care and thought,</p> -<p class='line0'>  By his most regal mien and tread,</p> -<p class='line0'>By robes with richest wampum wrought,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And eagle’s plume upon his head,”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>he emerges with his companion from a forest;</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>“Nor e’er did eye a form behold</p> -<p class='line0'>At once more finished, firm and bold.</p> -<p class='line0'>Of larger mould and loftier mien</p> -<p class='line0'>Than oft in hall or bower is seen,</p> -<p class='line0'>And with a browner hue than seems</p> -<p class='line0'>To pale maid fair, or lights her dreams,</p> -<p class='line0'>He yet revealed a symmetry</p> -<p class='line0'>Had charmed the Grecian sculptor’s eye,</p> -<p class='line0'>A massive brow, a kindled face,</p> -<p class='line0'>Limbs chiselled to a faultless grace,</p> -<p class='line0'>Beauty and strength in every feature,</p> -<p class='line0'>  While in his eyes there lived the light</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of a great soul’s transcendant might—</p> -<p class='line0'>Hereditary lord by nature!</p> -<p class='line0'>As stood he there, the stern, unmoved,</p> -<p class='line0'>Except his eagle glance that roved,</p> -<p class='line0'>And darkly limned against the sky</p> -<p class='line0'>Upon that mound so lone and high,</p> -<p class='line0'>He looked the sculptured God of Wars,</p> -<p class='line0'>Great Odin, or Egyptian Mars,</p> -<p class='line0'>By crafty hand, from dusky stone,</p> -<p class='line0'>Immortal wrought in ages gone,</p> -<p class='line0'>And on some silent desert cast,</p> -<p class='line0'>Memorial of the mighty Past!</p> -<p class='line0'>And yet, though firm, though proud his glance,</p> -<p class='line0'>There was upon his countenance</p> -<p class='line0'>That settled shade, which oft in life</p> -<p class='line0'>Mounts upward from the spirit’s strife</p> -<p class='line0'>As if upon his soul there lay</p> -<p class='line0'>Some grief which would not pass away.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“The other’s lineaments and air</p> -<p class='line0'>  Revealed him plainly brother born</p> -<p class='line0'>Of him, who on that summit bare</p> -<p class='line0'>  So sad, yet proudly met the morn:</p> -<p class='line0'>But, lighter built, his slender frame</p> -<p class='line0'>Far less of grace, as strength, could claim;</p> -<p class='line0'>And, with an eye that, sharp and fierce,</p> -<p class='line0'>Would seem the gazer’s breast to pierce,</p> -<p class='line0'>And low’ring visage, aye the while</p> -<p class='line0'>Inwrought of subtlety and guile,</p> -<p class='line0'>Whose every glance, that darkly stole,</p> -<p class='line0'>Bespoke the crafty, cruel soul.</p> -<p class='line0'>There was from all his presence shed</p> -<p class='line0'>A power, a chill mysterious dread,</p> -<p class='line0'>Which made him of those beings seem,</p> -<p class='line0'>That shake us in the midnight dream.</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet were his features, too, o’ercast</p> -<p class='line0'>With mournfulness, as if the past</p> -<p class='line0'>Had been one vigil, painful, deep and long</p> -<p class='line0'>Of hushed Revenge still brooding over wrong.</p> -<p class='line0'>No word was said: but long they stood,</p> -<p class='line0'>And side by side, in thoughtful mood,</p> -<p class='line0'>Watched the great curtains of the mist</p> -<p class='line0'>  Up from the mighty landscape move;</p> -<p class='line0'>’Twas surely spirit-hands, they wist,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Did lift them from above.</p> -<p class='line0'>And when, unveiled, to them alone</p> -<p class='line0'>The solitary world was shown,</p> -<p class='line0'>And dew from all the mound’s green sod</p> -<p class='line0'>Rose, like an incense, up to God,</p> -<p class='line0'>Reclined, yet silent still, they bent</p> -<p class='line0'>Their eyes on Heaven’s deep firmament—</p> -<p class='line0'>As if were open to their view</p> -<p class='line0'>The stars’ sun-flooded homes of blue—</p> -<p class='line0'>Or gazed, with mournful sternness, o’er</p> -<p class='line0'>The rolling prairie stretched before;</p> -<p class='line0'>While round them, fluttering on the breeze,</p> -<p class='line0'>The sere leaves fell from faded trees.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>At the close of a conference which ensues, Tecumseh -expresses his determination to</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>                          “go forth</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the great waters of the North,</p> -<p class='line0'>Round the far South, and o’er the West</p> -<p class='line0'>By the lone streams, nor ever rest,</p> -<p class='line0'>Till all the tribes united stand</p> -<p class='line0'>In battle for their native land.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>There are scattered through the poem many passages of -minute and skilful description of external nature, and interwoven -with the main history is a story of love, resulting, -in the end, like most tales of the kind, in the perfect felicity -of the parties. Some episodes, by which the narrative is -broken, are well-wrought, and the entire poem possesses a -deep and sustained interest. The rapid action of the narrative -is illustrated by the following passive, descriptive -of the last conflict, in which Tecumseh fell:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>“Forth at the peal each charger sped,</p> -<p class='line0'>The hard earth shook beneath their tread,</p> -<p class='line0'>The dim woods, all around them spread,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Shone with their armor’s light:</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet in those stern, still lines assailed</p> -<p class='line0'>No eye-ball shrunk, no bosom quailed,</p> -<p class='line0'>  No foot was turned for flight;</p> -<p class='line0'>But, thundering as their foemen came,</p> -<p class='line0'>Each rifle flashed its deadly flame.</p> -<p class='line0'>A moment, then recoil and rout,</p> -<p class='line0'>With reeling horse and struggling shout,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Confused that onset fair;</p> -<p class='line0'>But, rallying each dark steed once more,</p> -<p class='line0'>Like billows borne the low reefs o’er</p> -<p class='line0'>  With foamy crest in air,</p> -<p class='line0'>Right on and over them they bore,</p> -<p class='line0'>With gun and bayonet thrust before,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And swift swords brandish’d bare.</p> -<p class='line0'>Then madly was the conflict waged,</p> -<p class='line0'>Then terribly red Slaughter raged!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“How still is yet yon dense morass</p> -<p class='line0'>  The bloody sun below!</p> -<p class='line0'>Where’er yon chosen horsemen pass,</p> -<p class='line0'>There stirs no bough nor blade of grass,</p> -<p class='line0'>  There moves no secret foe!</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet on, quick eye and cautious tread,</p> -<p class='line0'>His bold ranks Johnson darkling led.</p> -<p class='line0'>Sudden from tree and thicket green,</p> -<p class='line0'>From trunk, and mound, and bushy screen,</p> -<p class='line0'>Sharp lightning flashed with instant sheen,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A thousand death-bolts sung!</p> -<p class='line0'>Like ripened fruit before the blast,</p> -<p class='line0'>Rider and horse to earth were cast,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Its miry roots among;</p> -<p class='line0'>Then wild, as if that earth were riven,</p> -<p class='line0'>And, pour’d beneath the cope of heaven,</p> -<p class='line0'>All hell to upper air were given,</p> -<p class='line0'>  One fearful whoop was rung,</p> -<p class='line0'>And, bounding each from covert forth,</p> -<p class='line0'>Burst on their front the demon birth.</p> -<p class='line0'>‘Off! off! each horseman to the ground!</p> -<p class='line0'>  On foot we’ll quell the foe!’</p> -<p class='line0'>And instant, with impetuous bound,</p> -<p class='line0'>  They hurl’d them down below.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Then loud the crash of arms arose,</p> -<p class='line0'>As when two forest whirlwinds close;</p> -<p class='line0'>Then filled all heaven their shout and yell,</p> -<p class='line0'>As if the forests on them fell!</p> -<p class='line0'>I see, where swells the thickest fight,</p> -<p class='line0'>With sword and hatchet brandish’d bright</p> -<p class='line0'>And rifles flashing sulphurous light</p> -<p class='line0'>  Through green leaves gleaming red—</p> -<p class='line0'>I see a plume, now near, now far,</p> -<p class='line0'>Now high, now low, like falling star,</p> -<p class='line0'>Wide waving o’er the tide of war,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Where’er the onslaught’s led;</p> -<p class='line0'>I see, beneath, a bare arm swing,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As tempest whirls the oak,</p> -<p class='line0'>Bosom and high crest shivering</p> -<p class='line0'>  The war-club’s deadly stroke;</p> -<p class='line0'>The eager infantry rush in,</p> -<p class='line0'>Before their ranks, with wilder din,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The wav’ring strife is driven—</p> -<p class='line0'>Above the struggling storm I hear</p> -<p class='line0'>A lofty voice the war bands cheer,</p> -<p class='line0'>Still, as they quail with doubt or fear,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Yet loud and louder given;</p> -<p class='line0'>And, rallying to the clarion cry,</p> -<p class='line0'>With club and red axe raging high,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And sharp knives sheathing low,</p> -<p class='line0'>Fast back again confusedly</p> -<p class='line0'>  They drive the staggering foe.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>We conclude our extracts with a graphic description of -a forest scene, from the last canto.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>“Within a wood extending wide</p> -<p class='line0'>By Thames’s steeply winding side,</p> -<p class='line0'>There sat upon a fallen tree,</p> -<p class='line0'>Grown green through ages silently,</p> -<p class='line0'>An Indian girl. The gradual change</p> -<p class='line0'>Making all things most sweetly strange,</p> -<p class='line0'>Had come again. The autumn sun,</p> -<p class='line0'>Half up his morning journey, shone</p> -<p class='line0'>With conscious lustre, calm and still;</p> -<p class='line0'>By dell, and plain, and sloping hill</p> -<p class='line0'>Stood mute the faded trees, in grief,</p> -<p class='line0'>As various as their clouded leaf.</p> -<p class='line0'>With all the hues of sunset skies</p> -<p class='line0'>Were stamp’d the maple’s mourning dies;</p> -<p class='line0'>In meeker sorrow in the vale</p> -<p class='line0'>The gentle ash was drooping pale;</p> -<p class='line0'>Brown-seared the walnut raised its head,</p> -<p class='line0'>The oak displayed a lifeless red;</p> -<p class='line0'>And grouping bass and white-wood hoar</p> -<p class='line0'>Sadly their yellow honors bore;</p> -<p class='line0'>And silvered birch and poplar rose</p> -<p class='line0'>With foliage gray and weeping boughs;</p> -<p class='line0'>But elm and stubborn beech retained</p> -<p class='line0'>Some verdant lines, though crossed and stained,</p> -<p class='line0'>And by the river’s side were seen</p> -<p class='line0'>Hazel and willow palely green,</p> -<p class='line0'>While in the woods, by bank and stream</p> -<p class='line0'>And hollows shut from daylight gleam,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where tall trees wept their freshening dews,</p> -<p class='line0'>Each shrub preserved its summer hues.</p> -<p class='line0'>Nor this alone. From branch and trunk</p> -<p class='line0'>The withered wild-vines coldly shrunk,</p> -<p class='line0'>The woodland fruits hung ripe or dry,</p> -<p class='line0'>The leaf-strown brook flowed voiceless by;</p> -<p class='line0'>And all throughout, nor dim nor bright.</p> -<p class='line0'>There lived a rare and wondrous light</p> -<p class='line0'>Wherein the colored leaves around</p> -<p class='line0'>Fell noiselessly; nor any sound,</p> -<p class='line0'>Save chattering squirrels on the trees,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or dropping nuts, when stirred the breeze,</p> -<p class='line0'>Might there be heard; and, floating high,</p> -<p class='line0'>Were light clouds borne along the sky.</p> -<p class='line0'>And, scarcely seen, in heaven’s deep blue</p> -<p class='line0'>One solitary eagle flew.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>From these passages the general character of the work -may be inferred. It is too long: it would be unwise to -extend a poem on any theme to nine cantos, of near fourteen -thousand lines; and besides its diffuseness, in parts, -it has other faults, to which we have already alluded. It -is the first production, however, of an author just freed -from the University; not yet, apparently, twenty-two -years old; and, so regarded, the severest critic must deem -it remarkably free from errors in design and execution.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some half dozen elaborate metrical tales, founded on -Indian histories or traditions, have before appeared in this -country, of which but one—the “Yamoyden” of Sands -and Eastburn—is comparable to this; and that is inferior -to it in unity, and, indeed, in almost all its essential features. -The admirable proem to “Yamoyden,” in which -Sands laments in such touching strains the early death of -his associate and friend, is not rightly considered a part of -the poem to which it is prefixed. To this Mr. Colton has -produced nothing equal; nor is he worthy <span class='it'>yet</span> to be ranked -with Sands as a poet. But “Tecumseh,” until some nobler -work is written, must be considered the best poem of its -class written by an American.</p> - -<hr class='tbk138'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Memoir of India and Avghanistoun, with Observations on -The Present State and Future Prospects of those Countries. -By J. Harlan, late Counsellor of State, Aid-de-Camp, -and General of the Staff, to Dost Mahomed, -Ameer of Cabul. One vol. 12mo. Philadelphia: J. -Dobson, 1842.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>General Harlan resided in India and Avghanistoun -eighteen years, and his official stations during that period -were such as he would have chosen had his principal -object been to form a correct judgment in regard to the -social and political conditions of those countries. The facts -and opinions contained in this work must therefore command -regard, especially since the recent military operations -in that quarter have drawn so much attention to the -British East Indian Empire. The volume comprises remarks -on the late massacre of the British Army in Cabul, and the -British policy in India; a reply to the Count Björstjerna’s -work on that country; the Russian influence in central -Asia; the foreign relations of the Indo-British government; -the moral, religious and political character and -condition of the Indians and Avghans; and the results of -missionary exertions and prospects of Christianity among -them; together with an interesting sketch of the history -and personal character of Dost Mahomed, one of the most -remarkable individuals that have appeared in the oriental -nations during this century. In an appendix, the author -indulges in some speculations on a passage in the Book of -Daniel, which he supposes has reference to the present -condition of the Mahommedan countries, and indicates the -speedy extinction of the Ottoman empire. The book is -illustrated with maps and a portrait of the Ex-Ameer of -Cabul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We shall look with some anxiety for General Harlan’s -“Personal Narrative of Eighteen Years’ Residence in -Asia,” which we believe is now in press.</p> - -<hr class='tbk139'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>History of the Expedition under the command of Captains -Lewis and Clarke, to the sources of the Missouri, thence -across the Rocky Mountains, and down the river Columbia -to the Pacific Ocean: Performed during the years -1804, 1805, 1806, by order of the Government of the United -States. Two vols. Harper & Brothers: New York.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The expedition of Lewis and Clarke was the first ever -made through the Oregon Territory to the Columbia River. -An account of their tour was published soon after their return; -but as that work has since gone out of print, and as -the Oregon Territory is now a subject of much interest, the -Messrs. Harpers have issued the present volumes, in which -unimportant details in the former edition have been omitted, -and explanatory notes have been added, by Archibald -M’Vickar, Esq. The volumes form Nos. 154 and 155 of -the Family Library. <span class='it'>Perkins & Purvis: Philadelphia.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk140'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Life of Wilbur Fisk, S. T. D. first President of the -Wesleyan University. By Joseph Holdich. One vol. 8vo. -Pp. 455. New York: Harper & Brothers.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Wilbur Fisk was one of the purest and most useful men -of our time. With a temperament remarkably sanguine -and ardent, all his qualities were so subdued and harmonized -by religion, as to form one of the finest models of -elevated Christian character that has been presented to the -world. He was a native of Brattleborough, Vermont, -where he was born in 1792. In his early years he enjoyed -no advantages that are not within the reach of almost -every young man of New England. When about twenty-two -years of age he began to study the law, but soon after -turned his attention to the ministry, and in the spring of -1818 was licensed to preach by a Conference of the Methodist -Episcopal Church. In 1823 he was made a ruling -elder, and in 1825, principal of the Methodist Seminary of -Wilbraham. In 1829, he received the degree of Doctor in -Divinity, from Augusta College, and from Brown University, -and the following year was elected to the presidency -of the Wesleyan University at Middletown. In the -autumn of 1835, he visited Europe, and passed about a -year on the continent and in Great Britain. The record of -his travels, published soon after his return, has been one of -the most popular works of its kind written by an American. -He died at Middletown, after a long and painful illness, -borne with singular fortitude and resignation, on the -twenty-second of February, 1840. The Memoirs before -us, by his friend Professor Holdich, are written with ability -and candor; but the most interesting portions of the work -are Dr. Fisk’s admirable private letters, distinguished -alike for a beauty of style, simplicity, earnestness, and affection, -that indicates, better than any labored delineation by -another hand, his high character and endowments. <span class='it'>Philadelphia: -H. Perkins.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk141'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>A Narrative of Voyages and Commercial Enterprises. By -Richard J. Cleveland. Two vols. 12mo. Cambridge: -John Owen, 1842.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is one of the many narratives of adventures at sea -given to the public in consequence of the success of Mr. -Dana’s “Two Years before the Mast.” The author, who -retired from the merchant service more than twenty years -ago, presents some interesting reminiscences of voyages to -India, South America, and other parts of the world, written -in a style of simple elegance rather unusual for a veteran -sailor. The industry and enterprise of the New Englanders -is in nothing more conspicuous than in their mercantile -marine, and we infer from his pleasant work, that Mr. -Cleveland has done his part to gain for them their enviable -reputation.</p> - -<hr class='tbk142'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Athanasion, and other Poems. By the Author of “Christian -Ballads.” New York: Wiley & Putnam.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The author of “Christian Ballads” is the Rev. Arthur -Cleveland Coxe, Rector of St. Anna’s Chapel, Morrisania, -near New York: a young poet who has won an enviable -reputation by numerous contributions to the periodical literature -of the day, and by some more elaborate writings. -“Athanasion” is, perhaps, his best metrical composition. -It has, with many excellencies, some defects, which we -lack space and inclination to point out in this number of -our Magazine. The volume before us is printed in a style -equal to that of the best English impressions.</p> - -<hr class='tbk143'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Fathers and Sons: a Novel. By Theodore E. Hook, Esq. -Two vols. 12mo. Philadelphia: Lea & Blanchard, 1842.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Theodore Edward Hook was one of the most popular of -the authors who died in the last year. His table wit, it is -said, in freshness and exuberance, was never equalled in -England; and the humor that pervades his writings will -keep them in favor probably for centuries. The novel -before us was his last. It appeared originally by separate -chapters in the New Monthly Magazine, of which he -was editor; and he was engaged in its revision when -seized by the disease which terminated his career. His -first work—excepting some plays written in his boyhood—was -“Sayings and Doings,” published in 1824. It was -followed by a second and third series of the same work; -by “Maxwell,” “The Parson’s Daughter,” “Jack Brag,” -“Births, Deaths, and Marriages,” “Gilbert Gurney,” -“Gurney Married,” “Precepts and Practice,” several -volumes of biography, and “Fathers and Sons.” He died -on the twenty-second day of September, 1841, in the fifty-third -year of his age.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His last work has all his peculiarities; the most felicitous -humor; graphic delineations of character; and incidents -interesting and ingeniously diversified. We have -not space for an analysis of its plot; and one is the less -necessary, as, notwithstanding the “hardness of the -times,” very few will permit the last legacy of Theodore -Hook to go unread.</p> - -<hr class='tbk144'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Sermons and Sketches of Sermons, by the Rev John Summerfield, -M. A. With an Introduction, by the Rev. -Thomas E. Bond, M. D. One vol. 8vo. Pp. 437. -Harper & Brothers: New York.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>John Summerfield was one of those remarkable men who -have appeared from time to time to electrify the religious -world, by eloquence the most persuasive, and lives which -served as samples by which those who would might guide -their course to heaven. He began to preach in Ireland, -when but twenty years of age, and soon after came to -the United States, where he continued to labor as an -evangelist until his death, which occurred sixteen years -ago. Most of the sermons and sketches of sermons included -in the volume before us were written down after -their public delivery. They possess a deep interest, especially -to those who remember the sainted author, more -worthy of canonization than were ninety-nine hundredths of -those whose names are included in the calendar. <span class='it'>Henry -Perkins: Philadelphia.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk145'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Practical Geology and Mineralogy; with Instructions for -the qualitative analysis of Minerals. By Joshua Trimmer, -F. G. S.—Itum est in viscera terræ. One vol. Lea -& Blanchard: Philadelphia.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A valuable elementary treatise on Geology. For the -convenience of those who have not access to cabinets of -minerals, the author has collected various chemical and -mineralogical details, to enable any person easily to -recognise the different minerals when discovered in the -fields. In the purely geological part of the work, Mr. -Trimmer has confined himself to facts and classifications -and a few universally admitted inferences, avoiding all -questions affecting the higher generalizations, since they -are still and must long continue to be matters of controversy. -The work is illustrated with wood-cuts. We commend it -to students in geology.</p> - -<hr class='tbk146'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Italy and the Italian Islands, from the earliest ages to the -present time. By William Spalding, Esq. With engravings -and illustrative maps and plans. Three vols. -Harper & Brothers: New York.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is an able and comprehensive work, and may be -consulted with confidence by persons who wish to inquire -concerning the history, scenery, antiquities, topography, -and present condition of Italy. The author is, perhaps, -less profound than he would have been if he had -contemplated a more voluminous treatise. For all purposes, -however, of general reference, or as a guide to -more detailed inquiries, his volumes may be consulted with -advantage. The account of the social, religious and political -revolutions of the ancient and modern Italians, and the -history of the rise and progress of the arts and literature in -Italy, constitute two of its most valuable divisions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These volumes form Nos. 151, 152 and 153 of the Family -Library, and are published in the usual style of that -excellent series. <span class='it'>Carey & Hart: Philadelphia.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk147'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>A Discourse on Matters pertaining to Religion; by Theodore -Parker, Minister of the Second Church in Roxburgh, -Massachusetts. Pp. 505, 8vo. Boston: Charles C. -Little and James Brown. 1842.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is a bold and eloquent attack on the doctrines of the -Bible, by one who avows himself to be a Christian minister, -and is ordained and settled over a religious congregation. -Some of the readers of Mr. Parker’s “Discourse” -who are unacquainted with the writings of the German -rationalists, may fancy that he is a man of deep research -and profound scholarship; but there is little danger that an -intelligent student in theology will be so deceived. The -work embraces the substance of five lectures, delivered in -Boston during the last autumn. The author denies the inspiration -of the Holy Scriptures, the divinity of Jesus Christ, -and most of the other ideas of what he terms the “popular -theology.” We leave him and his labors to the critics of -the Christian churches.</p> - -<hr class='tbk148'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Masterman Ready, or, the Wreck of the Pacific. Written -for Young People. By Captain Marryat, R. N. Second -Series. One vol., 18mo. New York: D. Appleton & Co.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is a sequel to the entertaining volume published -under the same title last year. Though “Masterman -Ready” is an entertaining story, it is far from being equal -in any respect, save its freedom from the coarser kind of -jests, to “Peter Simple,” “Jacob Faithful,” or the other -early works of the author.</p> - -<hr class='tbk149'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Means and Ends, or Self-training. By the author of -Redwood, Hope Leslie, Home, Poor Rich Man, &c., &c. -Second edition. One vol. Harper & Brothers: New -York.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>One of the best of Miss Sedgwick’s smaller works. It -is written in a light, rambling style, enforcing truths by -anecdotes or short stories. It has been deservedly popular, -and we predict that it will pass to a third and even -fourth and fifth edition.</p> - -<hr class='tbk150'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>What’s to be Done? or, the Will and the Way. By the -author of “Wealth and Worth,” &c. One vol. 12mo. -Pp. 232. New York: Harper & Brothers.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The pleasant little volume entitled “Wealth and Worth,” -which we commended to our readers a month or two since, -has been succeeded by another work from the same pen, -which we think even superior to its predecessor. It is a -story of American life, conveying, as its piquant title -indicates, a useful and impressive moral. The style is -animated and pure, and the sketches of character are -graphic, forcible, and various; while the plot preserves a -deep and natural interest. “Wealth and Worth” has -gone through five large editions in the course of as many -months—a remarkable instance of rapidly attained popularity. -A success equally decided must attend the spirited -little tale of “What’s to be Done?”</p> - -<hr class='tbk151'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Divine Rule of Faith and Practice, or a Defence of the -Catholic Doctrine, that Holy Scripture has been since the -Times of the Apostles the Sole Divine Rule of Faith and -Practice to the Church, against the dangerous Errors of -the Authors of the Tracts for the Times and the Romanists, -as, particularly, that the Rule of Faith is “made up -of Scripture and Tradition together,” &c: In which also -the Doctrines of the Apostolical Succession, the Eucharistic -Sacrifice, &c., are fully discussed. By William -Goode, M. A., of Trinity College, Cambridge. Two vols. -8vo. Philadelphia: Herman Hooker.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is probably the most learned and able theological -work that has been published in England or America during -the year. Those who have read the “Tracts for the -Times,” and all who feel any interest in the religious controversies -of the age, will thank us for directing to it their -attention.</p> - -<hr class='tbk152'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Diary and Letters of Madame D’Arblay: Edited by her -Niece. Parts I. and II. Philadelphia, Carey & Hart.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Burney, afterward Madame D’Arblay, is best -known to the literary world as the authoress of “Evelina,” -one of the most admirable and popular novels in the English -language. She died early in the year 1841, at the advanced -age of ninety, and two volumes of her autobiographical -remains have since been published in London, -both of which are included in these “parts” of the American -edition. She was intimately acquainted with Johnson, -Sheridan, Burke, Boswell, and other eminent persons of -their time; and her diary, including a great number of -interesting anecdotes and reminiscences of her early career, -is one of the most entertaining works of the day.</p> - -<hr class='tbk153'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Rufus Winter Griswold</span>, a gentleman of fine -taste and well known literary abilities, has become associated -with us as one of the editors of this Magazine. The -extensive literary knowledge of Mr. G. renders him a most -valuable coadjutor.</p> - -<hr class='tbk154'/> - -<p class='pindent'>The connection of <span class='sc'>E. A. Poe</span>, Esq., with this work -ceased with the <span class='it'>May Number</span>. Mr. P. bears with him our -warmest wishes for success in whatever he may undertake.</p> - -<hr class='tbk155'/> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='fash'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i142.jpg' alt='three ladies and a gentleman dressed in latest fashion' id='iid-0005' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='it'>Fashion’s Latest Style for Graham’s Magazine</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk156'/> - -<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. XXI, No. 1, July 1842</span>, George R. Graham, Editor]</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, VOL. XXI, NO. 1, JULY 1842 ***</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. 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