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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2,
+August, 1862, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2, August, 1862
+       Devoted to Literature and National Policy
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: November 27, 2006 [EBook #19927]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTINENTAL MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Janet Blenkinship and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+CONTINENTAL MONTHLY:
+
+DEVOTED TO
+
+LITERATURE AND NATIONAL POLICY.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VOL. II.--AUGUST, 1862.--No. II.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AMONG THE PINES.
+
+[CONCLUDED.]
+
+'My God! drowned herself and her child!' exclaimed the Colonel, with
+deep emotion.
+
+'Come, my friend, let us go to them at once,' I said, laying my hand on
+his arm, and drawing him unresistingly away.
+
+A pair of mules was speedily harnessed to a large turpentine-wagon, and
+the horses we had ridden the day before were soon at the door. When the
+Colonel, who had been closeted for a few minutes with Madam P--, came
+out of the house, we mounted and rode off with the 'corn-cracker.'
+
+The native's farm was located on the stream which watered my friend's
+plantation, and was about ten miles distant. Taking a by-road which led
+to it through the woods, we rode rapidly on in advance of the wagon.
+
+'Sort o' likely gal, thet, warn't she?' remarked the turpentine-maker,
+after a while.
+
+'Yes, she was,' replied the Colonel, in a half-abstracted manner,
+'_very_ likely.'
+
+'Kill harself 'case har man war shot by thet han'som overseer uv yourn?'
+
+'Not altogether for that, I reckon,' replied my host,' I fear the main
+reason was her being put at field-work, and abused by the driver.'
+
+'Thet comes uv not lookin' arter things yerself, Cunnel. I 'tend ter my
+niggers parsonally, and they keer a durned sight more fur this world
+then fur kingdom-cum. Ye cudn't hire 'em ter kill 'emselves fur no
+price.'
+
+'Well,' replied the Colonel, in a low tone, 'I _did_ look after her. I
+put her at full field-work myself.'
+
+'By--!' cried the native, reining his horse to a dead stop, and speaking
+in an excited manner; 'I doan't b'lieve it, 'taint 't all like ye; yer a
+d--d seceshener--thet comes uv yer bringin'-up; but ye've a soul
+bigger'n a meetin'-house, and ye cudn't hev put thet slim, weakly gal
+inter th' woods, no how!'
+
+The Colonel and I instinctively halted our horses, as the 'corn-cracker'
+stopped his.
+
+'It is true, Barnes,' said my host, in a low voice, 'I _did_ do it!'
+
+'May God Almighty furgive ye, Cunnel,' said the native, starting his
+horse forward, '_I_ wudn't hev dun it fur all yer niggers, by----.'
+
+The Colonel made no reply, and we rode on the rest of the way in
+silence.
+
+The corn-cracker's house--a low, unpainted, wooden building--stood near
+the little stream, and in the centre of a cleared plot of some ten
+acres. This plot was surrounded by a post and rail fence, and in its
+front portion was a garden, which grew a sufficient supply of vegetables
+to serve a family of twenty persons. In the rear, and at the sides of
+the dwelling, were about seven acres, devoted mainly to corn and
+potatoes. In one corner of the lot were three tidy-looking negro-houses,
+and close beside them I noticed a low shed, near which a large quantity
+of the stalks of the tall, white corn, common to that section, was
+stacked in the New-England fashion. Browsing on the corn-stalks were
+three sleek, well-kept milch-cows and a goat.
+
+About four hundred yards from the farmer's house, and on the bank of the
+little run, which there was quite wide and deep, stood a
+turpentine-distillery, and around it were scattered a large number of
+rosin and turpentine barrels, some filled and some empty. A short
+distance higher up, and far enough from the 'still' to be safe in the
+event of a fire, was a long, low, wooden shed, covered with rough,
+unjointed boards, placed upright, and unbattened. This was the
+'spirit-house,' used for the storage of the spirits of turpentine when
+barreled for market, and awaiting shipment. In the creek, and filling
+nearly one-half of the channel in front of the spirit-shed, was a raft
+of pine-timber, on which were laden some two hundred barrels of rosin.
+On such rude conveyances the turpentine-maker sent his produce to
+Conwayboro. There the timber-raft was sold to my wayside friend, Captain
+B--, and its freight shipped on board vessel for New-York.
+
+Two 'prime' negro men, dressed in the usual costume, were 'tending the
+still,' and a negro-woman, as stout and strong as the men, and clad in a
+short, loose, linsey gown, from beneath which peeped out a pair of
+coarse leggins, was adjusting a long wooden trough, which conveyed the
+liquid rosin from the 'still' to a deep excavation in the earth, at a
+short distance. In the pit was a quantity of rosin sufficient to fill a
+thousand barrels.
+
+'Here, Bill,' said Barnes to one of the negro men, as we pulled up at
+the distillery, 'put these critters up, and give 'em some oats, and when
+they've cooled off a bit, water 'em.'
+
+'Yas, yas, massa,' replied the negro, springing nimbly forward, and
+taking the horses by the bridles, 'an' rub 'em down, massa?'
+
+'Yas, rub 'em down right smart,' replied the corn-cracker; then turning
+to me, as we dismounted, he said: 'Stranger, thet's th' sort o' niggers
+fur ye; all uv mine ar' jess like him, smart and lively as kittens.'
+
+'He does seem to go about his work cheerfully,' I replied.
+
+'Cheerfully! d--d ef he doan't--all on 'em du! They like me better'n
+thar own young 'uns, an' it's 'case I use 'em like human bein's;' and he
+looked slyly toward the Colonel, who just then was walking silently
+away, in the direction of the run, as if in search of the drowned
+'chattels.'
+
+'Not thar, Cunnel,' cried the native, 'they're inter th' shed,' and he
+started to lead the way to the 'spirit-house.'
+
+'Not now, Barnes,' I said, putting my hand on his arm, 'leave him alone
+for a little while. He is feeling badly, and we'd better not disturb
+him.'
+
+The native motioned me to a seat on a rosin-barrel, as he replied:
+
+'Wal, he 'pears ter, thet's a fact, and he orter. D--d ef it arn't
+wicked to use niggers like cattle, as he do.'
+
+'I don't think he means to ill-treat them; he's a kind-hearted man.'
+
+'Wal, he ar' sort o' so; but he's left ev'ry thing ter thet d--d
+overseer uv his'n. I wudn't ha' trusted him to feed my hogs.'
+
+'Hogs!' I exclaimed, laughing; 'I supposed you didn't _feed_ hogs in
+these diggings. I supposed you 'let 'em run.''
+
+'_I_ doan't; an' I've got th' tallest porkys 'round har.'
+
+'I've been told that they get a good living in the woods.'
+
+'Wal, p'raps the' du jest make eout ter live thar; but my ole 'oman
+likes 'em ter hum. They clean up a place like, eat up all th' leavin's,
+an' give th' young nigs suthin' ter du.'
+
+'It seems to me,' I said, resuming the previous thread of the
+conversation, 'that overseers are a necessity on a large plantation.'
+
+'Wal, the' ar', an' thet's why thar ortent ter be no big plantations;
+God Almighty didn't make human bein's ter be herded togethar in th'
+woods. No man orter ter hev more'n twenty on 'em--he can't look arter no
+more himself, an' it's agin natur' ter set a feller over 'em what han't
+no int'rest in 'cm, an' no feelin' fur 'em, an' who'll drive 'em round
+like brutes. I never struck one on 'em in my life, an' my ten du more'n
+ony fifteen th' Cunnel's got.'
+
+'I thought they needed occasional correction. How do you manage them
+without whipping?'
+
+'Manage them! why, 'cordin' ter scriptur'--do ter 'em as I'd like ter be
+dun ter, ef I war a nigger. Every one on 'em knows I'd part with my last
+shirt, an' live on taters an' cow-fodder, 'fore I'd sell 'em; an' then I
+give 'em Saturdays for 'emselfs; but thet's cute dealin' in me, (tho'
+th' pore, simple souls doan't see it,) fur ye knows the' work thet day
+fur 'emselfs, an' raise nigh all thar own feed, 'cept th' beef and
+whisky, an' it sort o' makes 'em feel like folks, too, more like as ef
+the' war _free_--the' work th' better fur it all th' week.'
+
+'Then you think the blacks would work better if free?'
+
+'In _course_ I does--it's agin man's natur' to be a slave. Thet lousy
+parson ye herd ter meetin' a Sunday, makes slavery eout a divine
+institooshun, but my wife's a Bible 'oman, and she says 'tan't so; an'
+I'm d--d ef she arn't right.'
+
+'Is your wife a South-Carolina woman?'
+
+'No, she an' me's from th' old North--old Car'tret, nigh on ter
+Newbern--an' we doan't take nat'rally to these fire-eaters.'
+
+'Have you been here long?'
+
+'Wal, nigh on ter six yar. I cum har with nuthin' but a thousan' ter my
+back, slapped thet inter fifteen hun'red acres, paid it down, and then
+hired ten likely North-Car'lina niggers, hired 'em with th' chance uv
+buyin' ef the' liked eout har. Wal, th' nigs all know'd me, and the'
+sprung ter it like blazes; so every yar I've managed ter buy two on 'em,
+and now I've ten grow'd up, and thar young uns, th' still and all th'
+traps paid fur, an' ef this d--d secesh bisness hadn't a come 'long, I'd
+hev hed a right smart chance o' doin' well.'
+
+'I'm satisfied secession will ruin the turpentine business; you'll be
+shut up here, unable to sell your produce, and it will go to waste.'
+
+'Thet's my 'pinion; but I reckon I kin manage now witheout turpentine.
+I've talked it over 'long with my nigs, and we kalkerlate ef these ar
+doin's go eny furder, ter tap no more trees, but cl'ar land an' go ter
+raisin' craps.'
+
+'What! do you talk politics with your negroes?'
+
+'Nary a politic; but I'm d--d ef th' critters doan't larn 'em sumhow.
+The' knows 'bout as much uv what's goin' on as I du; but plantin' arn't
+politics, it's bisness, an' they've more int'rest in it nor I hev,
+'cause they've sixteen mouths ter feed agin my four.'
+
+'I'm glad, my friend, that you treat them like men; but I have supposed
+they were not well enough informed to have intelligent opinions on such
+subjects.'
+
+'Informed! wal, I reckon the' is; all uv mine kin read, an' sum on 'em
+kin write, too. D'ye see that little nig thar?' pointing to a juvenile,
+coal-black darky of about six years, who was standing before the 'still'
+fire; 'thet ar little devil kin read an' speak like a parson. He's got
+hold, sumhow, uv my little gal's book o' pieces, an' larned a dozen on
+'em. I make him cum inter th' house, once in a while uv an evenin', an'
+speechify, an' 'twould do yer soul good ter har him, in his shirt-tail,
+with a old sheet wound round him fur a toger (I've told him th'
+play-actors du it so down ter Charles'on,) an' spoutin' out: 'My name am
+Norval; on de Gruntin' hills my fader feed him hogs!' The little coon
+never seed a sheep, an' my wife's told him a flock's a herd, an' he
+thinks 'hog' _sounds_ better'n 'flock,' so, contra'y ter th' book, he
+puts in 'hogs,' and hogs, you knows, hev ter grunt, so he gits 'em on
+th' Gruntin' hills;' and here the kind-hearted native burst into a fit
+of uproarious laughter, in which, in spite of myself, I had to join.
+
+When the merriment had somewhat subsided, the turpentine-maker called
+out to the little darky:
+
+'Come here, Jim.'
+
+The young chattel ran to him with alacrity, and wedging in between his
+legs, placed his little black hands in a free-and-easy way on his
+master's knees, and looking up trustfully in his face, said:
+
+'Wal, massa?'
+
+'What's yer name?'
+
+'Dandy Jim, massa.'
+
+'Thet arn't all; what's th'rest?'
+
+'Dandy Jim of ole Car'lina.'
+
+'Who made ye?'
+
+'De good God, massa.'
+
+'No, he didn't; God doan't make little nigs. He makes none but white
+folks,' said the master, laughing.
+
+'Yas, he'm do; missus say he'm do; dat he make dis nig jess like he done
+little Totty.'
+
+'Wal, he did, Jim. I'm d--d ef _He_ didn't, fur nobody else cud make
+_ye!_' replied the man, patting the little wooly head with undisguised
+affection.
+
+'Now, Jim, say th' creed fur 'de gem-man.''
+
+The young darky then repeated the Apostles' Creed and the Ten
+Commandments.
+
+'Is thet all ye knows?'
+
+'No, massa, I knows a heap 'sides dat.'
+
+'Wal, say suthin' more; sum on 'em pieces thet jingle.'
+
+The little fellow then repeated with entire correctness, and with
+appropriate gestures and emphasis, though in the genuine darky
+dialect--which seems to be inborn with the pure, Southern black--Mrs.
+Hemans' poem:
+
+  'The boy stood on the burning deck.'
+
+'Mrs. Hemans draped in black!' I exclaimed, laughing heartily; 'How
+would the good lady feel, could she look down from where she is, and
+hear a little darky doing up her poetry in that style?'
+
+'D--d ef I doan't b'lieve'twud make her love th' little nig like I do,'
+replied the corn-cracker, taking him up on his knee as tenderly as he
+would have taken up his own child.
+
+'Tell me, my little man,' I said, 'who taught you all these things?'
+
+'I lamed 'em myseff, sar,' was the prompt reply.
+
+'You learned them yourself! but who taught you to read?'
+
+'I larned 'em myseff, sar!'
+
+'You couldn't have learned _that_ yourself; didn't your 'massa' teach
+you?'
+
+'No, sar.'
+
+'Oh! your 'missus' did?'
+
+'No, sar.'
+
+'No, sar!' I repeated; then suspecting the real state of the case, I
+looked him sternly in the eye, and said: 'My little man, it's wrong to
+tell lies, you must _always_ speak the truth; now, tell me truly, did
+not your 'missus' teach you these things?'
+
+'No, sar, I larned 'em myseff.'
+
+'Ye can't cum it, stranger; ye moight roast him over a slow fire, an'
+not git nary a thing eout on him but thet,' said the corn-cracker,
+leaning forward, and breaking into a boisterous fit of laughter. 'It's
+agin th' law, an' I'm d--d ef _I_ teached him. Reckon he _did_ larn
+himself!'
+
+'I must know your wife, my friend. She's a good woman.'
+
+'Good! ye kin bet high on thet; she's uv th' stuff th' Lord makes angels
+eout on.'
+
+I had no doubt of it, and was about to say so, when the Colonel's
+turpentine-wagon drove up, and I remembered I had left him too long
+alone.
+
+The coachman was driving, and Jim sat on the wagon beside him.
+
+'Massa K--,' said the latter, getting down and coming to me, 'Whar am
+dey?'
+
+'In the spirit-shed.'
+
+He was turning to go there, when I called him back, saying: 'Jim, you
+must not see your master now; you'd better keep out of sight for the
+present.'
+
+'No, massa; de ma'am say de Cunnel take dis bery hard, and dat I orter
+tell him I'se sorry for what I'se done.'
+
+'Well, wait awhile. Let me go in first.'
+
+Accompanied by the corn-cracker, I entered the turpentine-shed. A row of
+spirit-barrels were ranged along each of its sides, and two tiers
+occupied the centre of the building. On these a number of loose planks
+were placed, and on the planks lay the bodies of the metif woman and her
+child. The Colonel was seated on a barrel near them, with his head
+resting on his hands, and his eyes fixed on the ground. He did not seem
+to notice our entrance, and passing him without speaking, I stepped to
+the side of the dead.
+
+The woman's dress, the common linsey gown worn by her class, was still
+wet, and her short, kinky, brown hair fell in matted folds around her
+head. One arm hung loosely by her side; the other was clasped tightly
+around her child, which lay as if asleep on her bosom. One of its small
+hands clung to its mother's breast, and around its little lips played a
+smile. But how shall I describe the pale, sweet beauty of the face of
+the drowned girl, as she lay there, her eyes closed, and her lips
+parted, as in prayer? Never but once have I seen on human features the
+strange radiance that shone upon it, or the mingled expression of hope
+and peace and resignation that rested there, and that was in the
+long-gone time when, standing by her bedside, I watched the passing away
+of one who is now an angel in heaven!
+
+'Come, my dear friend, let us go,' I said, turning and gently taking the
+Colonel by the arm, 'the negroes are here, and will take charge of the
+dead.'
+
+'No, no!' he replied, rising and looking around as if aroused from a
+troubled dream; 'that is for _me_ to do!' Then he added, after a
+moment's pause, 'Will you help me to get them into the wagon?'
+
+'Yes, I will, certainly.'
+
+He made one step toward the body of the dead girl, then sinking down
+again on the barrel, covered his face with his hands, and cried out: 'My
+God! this is terrible! Did you ever see such a look as that? It will
+haunt me forever!'
+
+'Come, my friend, rouse yourself--this is weakness; you are tired with
+the long ride and excitement of the past few days. Come, go home; I will
+look after them.'
+
+'No, no! I must do it. I will be a man again;' and he rose and walked
+steadily to the dead bodies. 'Is there any one here to help?' he asked.
+
+Jim was standing in the doorway, and I motioned to him to come forward.
+The great tears were streaming down his face, as he stepped timidly
+toward his master, and said: 'I'll do dis, massa, don't you trubble
+yerself no more.'
+
+'It's good of you, Jim. You'll forgive me for being so cruel to you,
+won't you?' said the Colonel, taking the black by the hand.
+
+'Forgib ye, massa! _I_ war all ter blame; but ye'll forgib me,
+massa--ye'll forgib me!' cried the black, with strong emotion.
+
+'Yes, yes; but say no more about it. Come, let us get Julie home.'
+
+But the poor girl was already _home_--home where her sufferings and her
+sorrows were over, and all her tears were wiped away forever!
+
+We four bore away the mother and the child. A number of blankets were in
+the bottom of the wagon, and we laid the bodies carefully upon them.
+When all seemed ready, the Colonel, who was still standing by the side
+of the dead, turned to my new friend, and said: 'Barnes, will you loan
+me a pillow? I will send it back to-night.'
+
+'Sartin, Cunnel,' and the farmer soon brought one from the house.
+Lifting tenderly the head of the drowned girl, the Colonel placed it
+beneath her, and smoothing back her tangled hair, he gently covered her
+face with his handkerchief, as if she could still feel his kindness, or
+longer cared for the pity or the love of mortal. Yet, who knows but that
+her parted soul, from the high realm to which it had soared, may not
+then have looked down, have seen that act, and have forgiven him?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the first moments of grief the sympathy of friends and the words of
+consolation bring no relief. How much more harshly do such words grate
+on the ear when the soul is bowed down by remorse and unavailing regret!
+Then the wounded spirit finds peace nowhere but with God.
+
+I saw that the Colonel would be alone, and turning to him, as he
+prepared to follow the strange vehicle which, with its load of death,
+was already jolting its way over the rough forest road, I said:
+
+'Will you pardon me, if I remain with your friend here for a while? I
+will be at the mansion before dark.'
+
+'Oh! certainly, my friend; come when you feel disposed,' he replied, and
+mounting his horse, he was soon out of sight among the trees.
+
+'Now, Barnes,' I said, shaking off the gloomy feelings that had
+oppressed me; 'come, I must see that wife of yours, and get a glimpse of
+how you live.'
+
+'Sartin, stranger; come in. I'll give ye th' tallest dinner my 'oman can
+scare up, an' she's sum pumkins in th' cookin' line;' and he led the way
+to the farm-house.
+
+As I turned to follow, I slipped a half-dollar into the hand of the
+darky who was holding my horse, and asked him to put her again into the
+stable.
+
+'I'll do dat, sar; but I karn't take dis; massa doan't 'low it nohow,'
+he replied, tendering me back the money.
+
+'Barnes, your negroes have strange ways; I never met one before who'd
+refuse money.'
+
+'Wal, stranger,'tan't hosspetality to take money on yer friends, and
+Bill gets all he wants from me.'
+
+I took the silver and gave it to the first darky I met, who happened to
+be an old centenarian belonging to the Colonel. As I tossed it to him,
+he grinned out: 'Ah! massa, I'll git sum 'backer wid dis; 'pears like I
+hadn't nary a chaw in furty yar.' With more than one leg in the grave,
+the old negro had not lost his appetite for the weed: in fact, that and
+whisky are the only 'luxuries' ever known to the plantation black.
+
+As we went nearer, I took a closer survey of the farm-house. It was, as
+I have said, a low, unpainted, wooden building, located in the middle of
+a ten-acre lot. It was approached by a straight walk, paved with a
+mixture of sand and tar, similar to that which the reader may have seen
+in the Champs Elys�es. I do not know whether my backwoods friend or the
+Parisian pavior was the first inventor of this composition; but I am
+satisfied the corn-cracker had not stolen it from the stone-cracker. The
+walk was lined with fruit-bearing shrubs, and directly in front of the
+house were two small flower-beds.
+
+The dwelling itself, though of a dingy-brown wood-color, was neat and
+inviting. It may have been forty feet square on the ground, and was only
+a story and a half high; but a projecting roof and a front dormer-window
+relieved it from the appearance of disproportion. Its gable ends were
+surmounted by two enormous brick chimneys, carried up on the outside, in
+the fashion of the South, and its high, broad windows were ornamented
+with Venetian blinds. Its front door opened directly into the
+'living-room,' and at the threshold we met its mistress. As the image of
+that lady has still a warm place in a pleasant corner of my memory, I
+will describe her. She was about thirty years of age, and had a fresh,
+cheerful face. To say that she was handsome, would not be strictly true;
+though she had that pleasant, gentle, kindly expression that sometimes
+makes even a homely person seem beautiful. But she was not homely. Her
+features were regular, her hair glossy and brown, and her eyes black and
+brilliant, and for their color, the mildest and softest I had ever seen.
+Her figure was tall, and in its outline somewhat sharp and angular; but
+she had an ease and grace about her that made one forget she was not
+molded as softly and roundly as others. She seemed just the woman on
+whose bosom a tired, worn, over-burdened man might lay his weary head,
+and find rest and forgetfulness.
+
+She wore a neat calico dress, fitting closely to the neck, and an apron
+of spotless white muslin. A little lace cap perched cosily on the back
+of her head, hiding a portion of her wavy, dark hair, and on her feet--a
+miracle, reader, in one of her class--were stockings and shoes! Giving
+me her hand--which, at the risk of making her husband jealous, I held
+for a moment--she said, making a gentle courtesy:
+
+'Ye ar welcome, stranger.'
+
+'I sincerely thank you, madam; I _am_ a stranger in these parts.'
+
+She tendered me a chair; while her husband opened a sideboard, and
+brought forth a box of Havanas and a decanter of Scuppernong. As I took
+the proffered seat, he offered me the refreshments. I drank the lady's
+health in the wine, but declined the cigars. Seeing this, she remarked:
+
+'Yer from th' North, sir, arn't ye?'
+
+'Yes, madam, I live in New-York; but I was born in New-England.'
+
+'I reckoned so; I knew ye didn't belong in Car'lina.'
+
+'How did you know that, madam?' I asked, laughing.
+
+'I seed ye doan't smoke 'fore wimmin. But ye mustn't mind me; I sort o'
+likes it; it's a great comfut to John, and may be it ar to ye.'
+
+'Well, I do relish a good cigar; but I never smoke before any lady
+except my wife, and though she's only 'a little lower than the angels,'
+she _does_, once in a while, say it's a shame to make the _house_ smell
+like a tobacco-factory.'
+
+Barnes handed me the box again, and I took one. As I was lighting it, he
+said:
+
+'Ye've got a good 'oman, hev ye?'
+
+'There's none better; at least, I think so.'
+
+'Wal, I'm 'zactly uv thet 'pinion 'bout mine; I wouldn't trade her fur
+all this worle an' th' best half uv t'other.'
+
+'Don't ye talk so, John,' said the lady. Then addressing me, she added:
+'It's a good husband thet makes a good wife, sir.'
+
+'Sometimes, madam, but not always, I've known some of the best of wives
+who had miserable husbands.'
+
+'An' I'm d--d ef _I_ made my wife th' 'oman she ar',' said the
+corn-cracker.
+
+'Hush, John, ye mustn't swar so; ye knows how often ye've said ye
+wouldn't.'
+
+'Wal, I du, an' I won't agin, by--.' But Sukey, whar's th' young uns?'
+
+'Out in the lot, I reckon; but ye mustn't holler'm in--they'r all dirt.'
+
+'No matter for that, madam,' I said, 'dirt is healthy for little ones;
+rolling in the mud makes them grow.'
+
+'Then ourn orter grow right smart, fur they'r in it allers.'
+
+'How many have you, madam?'
+
+'Two; a little boy, four, and a little gal, six.'
+
+'They're of interesting ages.'
+
+'Yas, the' is int'restin'; ev'ry uns own chil'ren is smart; but the'
+does know a heap. John was off ter Charl'ston no great while back, an'
+the little boy used ter pray ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' fur his fader ter
+cum hum. I larned 'em thet jest so soon as the' talked, 'cause thar's no
+tellin' how quick the' moight be tooken 'way. Wal, the little feller
+prayed ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' fur his fader ter cum back, and John
+didn't cum; so finarly he got sort o' provoked with th' Lord, an' he
+said God war aither deaf an' couldn't har or he war naughty an' wouldn't
+tell fader thet little Johnny wanted to seed 'im 'werry mooch,'' and
+here the good lady laughed pleasantly, and I joined in most heartily.
+
+Blessed are the children that have such a mother!
+
+Soon the husband returned with the little girl and boy and four young
+ebonies, all bare-headed and all dressed alike, in thick trowsers and a
+loose linsey shirt. Among them was my new acquaintance, 'Dandy Jim, of
+ole Car'lina.'
+
+The little girl came to me, and soon I had two white children on one
+knee and two black on the other, with Dandy Jim between my legs, playing
+with my watchchain. The family made no distinction between the colors,
+and as the children were all equally clean, I did not see why _I_ should
+do so.
+
+The lady renewed the conversation by remarking: 'P'raps ye reckon it's
+quar, sir, that we 'low ourn to 'sociate 'long with th' black chil'ren;
+but we karn't help it. On big plantations, it works sorry bad, fur th'
+white young uns larn all manner of evil from the black uns; but I've
+laboored ter teach ourn so one won't do no harm ter t'other.'
+
+'I suppose, madam, that is one of the greatest evils of slavery. The low
+black poisons the mind of the white child, and the bad influence lasts
+through life.'
+
+'Yas, it's so, stranger; an' it's the biggest keer I hev. It often
+'pears strange ter me thet our grow'd up men arn't no wuss than the'
+is.'
+
+In those few words, that unlettered woman had said what would--if men
+were but wise enough to hear and heed the great truth which she
+spoke--banish slavery from this continent forever!
+
+After a while, the farmer told the juvenile delineator of Mrs. Hemans
+and the other poets to give us a song; and planting himself in the
+middle of the floor, the little darky sang 'Dixie' and several other
+negro songs, which his master had taught him, but into which he had
+introduced some amusing variations of his own. The other children joined
+in the choruses; and then Jim danced breakdowns, 'walk-along-Joes,' and
+other darky dances, his master accompanying him on a cracked fiddle,
+till my sides were sore with laughter, and the hostess begged them to
+stop. Finally the clock struck twelve, and the farmer, going to the
+door, gave a long, loud blast on a cow's horn. In about five minutes,
+one after another of the field hands came in, till the whole ten had
+seated themselves on the verandah. Each carried a bowl, a tin-cup, or a
+gourd, into which my host--who soon emerged from a back room[1] with a
+pail of whisky in his hand--poured a gill of the beverage. This was the
+day's allowance, and the farmer, in answer to a question of mine, told
+me he thought negroes were healthier and worked better for a small
+quantity of alcohol daily. 'The' work hard, and salt feed doan't set 'em
+up 'nough,' was his remark.
+
+Meanwhile the hostess busied herself with preparations for dinner, and
+it was soon spread on a bright cherry table, covered by a spotless white
+cloth. The little darkies had scattered to the several cabins, and we
+soon sat down to as good a meal as I ever ate at the South.
+
+We were waited on by a tidy negro woman, neatly clad in a calico gown,
+with shoes on her feet, and a flaming red and yellow kerchief on her
+head. This last was worn in the form of a turban, and one end escaping
+from behind and hanging down her back, it looked for all the world like
+a flag hung out from a top turret. Observing it, my host said:
+
+'Aggy--showin' yer colors? Ye'r Union gal--hey?'
+
+'Yas, I is dat, massa; Union ter de back-bone,' responded the negress,
+grinning widely.
+
+'All th' Union _ye_ knows on,' replied the master, winking slyly at me,
+'is th' union yer goin' ter hitch up 'long with black Cale over ter
+Squire Taylor's.'
+
+'No, 'tan't, massa; takes more'n tu ter make de Union.'
+
+'Yas, I knows; it gin'rally takes ten or a dozen: reckon it'll take a
+dozen with ye.'
+
+'John, ye mustn't talk so ter th' sarvents; it spiles 'em,' said his
+wife.
+
+'No it doan't; do it, Aggy?'
+
+'Lor', missus, I doan't keer what massa say; but I doan't leff no oder
+man run on so ter me!'
+
+'No more'n ye doan't, gal! only Cale.'
+
+'Nor him, massa; I makes him stan' 'roun', _I_ reckon.'
+
+'I reckon ye du; ye wudn't be yer massa's gal ef ye didn't.'
+
+When the meal was over, I visited with my host the negro houses. The
+hour allowed for dinner[2] was about expiring, and the darkies were
+preparing to return to the field. Entering one of the cabins, where were
+two stout negro men and a woman, my host said to them, with a perfectly
+serious face:
+
+'Har, boys, I've fetched ye a live Yankee ab'lishener; now, luk at 'im
+all roun'. Did ye ever see sech a critter?'
+
+'Doan't see nuffin' quar in dat gemman, massa,' replied one of the
+blacks. 'Him 'pears like bery nice gemman; doan't 'pear like
+ab'lishener;' and he laughed and scraped his head in the manner peculiar
+to the negro, as he added: 'Kinder reckon he wudn't be har ef he war one
+of _dem_.'
+
+'What der _ye_ knows 'bout th' ab'lisheners? Ye never seed one; what
+d'ye 'spose the' luk like?'
+
+'Dey say dey luk likes de bery ole debil, massa; but reckon 'tan't so.'
+
+'Wal, the' doan't; the' luk wuss then thet; they'm bottled up thunder
+an' lightnin', an' ef the' cum down har, they'll chaw ye all ter hash.'
+
+'I reckon!' replied the darky, manipulating his wool and distending his
+face into a decidedly incredulous grin.
+
+'What do you tell them such things for?' I asked good-humoredly.
+
+'Lor' bless ye, stranger, the' knows th' ab'lisheners ar thar friends,
+jest so well as ye du; and so fur as thet goes, d--d ef the' doan't know
+I'm one on 'em myseff, fur I tells 'em ef the' want to put the' kin put,
+an' I'll throw thar trav'lin 'spenses inter th' bargin. Doan't I tell ye
+thet, Lazarus?'
+
+'Yas, massa; but none ob massa's nigs am gwine ter put--lesswise, not so
+long as you an' de good missus am 'bove groun'.'
+
+The darky's name struck me as peculiar, and I asked him where he got it.
+
+'_'Tan't_ my name, sar; but you see, sar, w'en massa fuss hire me ob ole
+Capt'in ----, up dar ter Newbern-way, I war sort o' sorry like--hadn't
+no bery good cloes--an' massa he den call me Lazarus, 'case he say I war
+all ober rags and holes, an' it hab sort o' stuck ter me eber sense. I
+war a'mighty bad off 'fore dat, but w'en I cum down har I gets inter
+Abr'am's buzzum, I does,' and here the darky actually reeled on his seat
+with laughter.
+
+'Is this woman your wife?' I asked.
+
+'No, sar; my wife 'longs to Cunnel J----; dat am my new wife--my ole
+wife am up dar whar I cum from.'
+
+'What! have you two wives?'
+
+'Yas, massa, I'se two.'
+
+'But that's contrary to Scripture?'
+
+'No, sar; de Cunnel say 'tan't. He say in Scriptur' dey hab a heap ob
+'em, and dat niggers kin hab jess so many as dey likes--a hun'red ef dey
+want ter.'
+
+'Does the Colonel teach that to his negroes?' I asked, turning to the
+native.
+
+'Yas, I reckon he do, an' sits 'em th' 'zample, too,' he replied,
+laughing; 'but th' old sinner knows better'n thet; he kin read.'
+
+'Do you find that in the Bible, Lazarus?'
+
+'Yas, massa, whar I reads it. Dat's whar it tell 'bout David and Sol'mon
+and all em--dey hab a heap ob wives. A pore ole darky karn't hab nuffin'
+'sides dem, an' he _orter_ be 'low'd jess so many as he likes.'
+
+Laughing at the reasoning of the negro, I asked:
+
+'How would _you_ like it, if your wife over at Colonel J----'s had as
+many husbands as _she_ liked?'
+
+'Wal, I couldn't fine no fault, massa; an' I s'pose she do, dough I
+doan't knows it, 'case I'se dar only Sundays.'
+
+'Have you any children?'
+
+'Yas, sar, Ise free 'longin' ter de Cunnel, an' four or five--I doan't
+'zactly know--up ter hum; but _dey'se_ grow'd up.'
+
+'Is your wife up there married again?'
+
+'Yas, massa, she got anoder man jess w'en I cum 'way; har ole massa make
+har do it.'
+
+We then left the cabin, and when out of hearing of the blacks, I said to
+the corn-cracker: 'That _may be_ Scripture doctrine, but _I_ have not
+been taught so.'
+
+'Scriptur' or no Scriptur', stranger, it's d----d heathenism,' replied
+the farmer, who, take him all in all, is a superior specimen of the
+class of small planters at the South; and yet, seeing polygamy practiced
+by his own slaves, he made no effort to prevent it. He told me that if
+he should object to his darky cohabiting with the Colonel's negress, it
+would be regarded as unneighborly, and secure him the enmity of the
+whole district! And still we are told that slavery is a _divine_
+institution!
+
+After this, we strolled off into the woods, where the hands were at
+work.
+
+They were all stout, healthy, and happy-looking, and in answer to my
+comments on their appearance, the native said that the negroes on the
+turpentine-farms are always stronger and longer-lived than those on the
+rice and cotton-fields. Unless carried off by the fevers incident to the
+climate, they generally reach a good old age, while the rice-negro
+seldom lives to be over forty, and the cotton-slave very rarely attains
+sixty. Cotton-growing, however, my host thought, is not, in itself, much
+more unhealthy than turpentine-gathering, though cotton-hands work in
+the sun, while the turpentine-slaves labor altogether in the shade.
+
+'But,' he said, 'the' work 'em harder nor we does, an' doan't feed 'em
+so well. We give ourn meat and whisky ev'ry day, but them articles is
+skarse 'mong th' cotton blacks, an' th' rice niggers never get 'em
+excep' ter Christmas-time, an' thet cums but onst a yar.'
+
+'Do you think the white could labor as well as the black, on the rice
+and cotton-fields?' I asked.
+
+'Yas, an' better--better any whar; but, in coorse, 'tain't natur' fur
+black nor white ter stand long a workin' in th' mud and water up ter
+thar knees; sech work would kill off th' very devil arter a while. But
+th' white kin stand it longer nor the black, and it's 'cordin' ter
+reason that he shud; for, I reckon, stranger, that the spirit and pluck
+uv a man hev a durned sight ter du with work. They'll hole a man up when
+he's clean down, an' how kin we expec' thet th' pore nig, who's nary a
+thing ter work fur, an who's been kept under an' 'bused ever sense Adam
+was a young un'--how kin we expec' he'll work like men thet own
+'emselfs, an' whose faders hev been free ever sense creation? I reckon
+that the parient has a heap ter du with makin' th' chile. He puts the
+sperit inter 'im: doan't we see it in hosses an' critters an' sech like?
+It mayn't crap eout ter onst, but it's shore ter in th' long run, and
+thet's th' way th' black han't no smarter nor he is. He's been a-ground
+down an' kept under fur so long thet it'll take more'n 'un gin'ration
+ter bring him up. 'Tan't his fault thet he's no more sperit, an' p'raps
+'tan't ourn--thet is, them on us as uses 'em right--but it war the fault
+uv yer fader an' mine--yer fader stole 'em, and mine bought 'em, an'
+the' both made cattle uv 'em.'
+
+'But I had supposed the black was better fitted by nature for hard
+labor, in a hot climate, than the white.'
+
+'Wal, he arn't, an' I knows it. Th' d----d parsons an' pol'tishuns say
+thet, but 'tan't so. I kin do half agin more work in a day then th' best
+nig I've got, an' I've dun it, tu, time an' agin, an' it didn't hurt me
+nuther. Ye knows ef a man hev a wife and young 'uns 'pendin' on him, an'
+arn't much 'forehanded, he'll work like th' devil. I've dun it, an' ye
+hev ef ye war ever put ter it; but th' nigs, why, the' han't got no
+wives and young 'uns ter work fur--the law doan't 'low 'em ter have
+any--the' han't nary a thing but thar carcasses, an' them's thar
+masters'.'
+
+'You say a man works better for being free; then you must think 'twould
+be well to free the negroes.'
+
+'In coorse, I does. Jest luk at them nigs o' mine; they're ter all
+'tents an' purposes free, 'case I use 'em like men, an' the' knows the'
+kin go whenever the' d----d please. See how the' work--why, one on 'em
+does half as much agin as ony hard-driv' nigger in creation.'
+
+'What would you do with them, if they were _really_ free?'
+
+'Du with 'em? why, hire 'em, an' make twice as much eout on 'em as I
+does now.'
+
+'But I don't think the two races were meant to live together.'
+
+'No more'n the' warn't. But 'tan't thar fault thet they's har. We han't
+no right to send 'em off. We orter stand by our'n an' our faders'
+doin's. The nig keers more fur his hum, so durned pore as it ar', then
+ye or I does fur our'n. I'd pack sech off ter Libraria or th' devil, as
+wanted ter go, but I'd hev no 'pulsion 'bout it.'
+
+'Why, my good friend, you're half-brother to Garrison. You don't talk to
+your neighbors in this way?'
+
+'Wal, I doan't;' he replied, laughing. 'Ef I dun it, they'd treat me to
+a coat uv tar, and ride me out uv th' deestrict raather sudden, I
+reckon; but yer a Nuthener, an' the' all take nat'rally ter freedum,
+excep' th' d----d doughfaces, an' ye aren't one on 'em, I'll swar.'
+
+'Well, I'm not. Do many of your neighbors think as you do?'
+
+'Reckon not many round har; but up in Cart'ret, whar I cum from, heaps
+on 'em do, though the' darn't say so.'
+
+By this time we had reached the still, and directing his attention to
+the enormous quantity of rosin that had been run into the pit which I
+have spoken of, I asked him why he threw so much valuable material away.
+
+'Wal, 'tan't wuth nothin' har. Thet's th' common, an' it won't bring in
+York, now, more'n a dollar forty-five. It costs a dollar an' two bits
+ter get it thar an' pay fur sellin on it, an' th' barr'l's wuth the
+difference. I doan't ship nuthin wuss no No. 2.'
+
+'What is No. 2?'
+
+He took the head from one of the barrels, and with an adze cut out a
+small piece, then handing me the specimen, replied:
+
+'Now hole thet up ter th' sun. Ye'll see though it's yaller, its clean
+and clar. Thet's good No. 2, what brings now two dollars an' two bits in
+New-York, an' pays me 'bout a dollar a barr'l; it's got eout o' second
+yar dip, an' as it comes eout uv th' still, is run through thet ar
+strainer,' pointing to a coarse wire-sieve that lay near. 'Th' common
+rosum, thet th' still's runnin' on now, is made eout on th' yaller
+dip--thet's th' kine o' turpentine thet runs from th' tree arter two
+yar's tappin'--we call it yallar dip 'case it's allers dark. We doan't
+strain common 'tall, an' it's full uv chips and dirt. It's low now, but
+ef it shud ever git up, I'd tap thet ar' heap, barr'l it up, run a
+little fresh-stilled inter it, an' 'twould be a'most so good as new.'
+
+'Then it is injured by being in the ground.'
+
+'Not much; it's jest as good fur ev'ry thing but makin' ile, puttin' it
+in the 'arth sort o' takes th' sap eout on it, an' th' sap's th' ile.
+Natur' sucks thet eout, I s'pose, ter make th' trees grow--I expec' my
+bones 'ill fodder 'em one on these days.'
+
+'Rosin is put to very many uses.'
+
+'Yes, but common's used mainly for ile and soap; th' Yankees put it
+inter hard yaller soap, 'case it makes it weigh, an' yer folks is up ter
+them doin's, and he looked at me and gave a sly laugh. I could not deny
+the 'hard' impeachment, and said nothing. Taking a specimen of very
+clear light-colored rosin from a shelf in the still-house, I asked him
+what that quality was worth.
+
+'Thet ar brought seven dollars for two hundred an' eighty pounds in
+York, airly this yar. It's th' very best No. 1; an' it's hard ter make,
+'case ef th' still gets overhet it turns it a tinge. Thet sort is run
+through two sieves, the coarse 'un, an' thet ar,' pointing to another
+wire strainer, the meshes of which were as fine as those of the
+flour-sieve used by housewives.
+
+'Do your seven field-hands produce enough 'dip' to keep your still a
+running?'
+
+'No, I buys th' rest uv my naboors who han't no stills; an' th' Cunnel's
+down on me 'case I pay 'em more'n he will; but I go on Franklin's
+princerpel: 'A nimble sixpence's better'n a slow shillin'. A great ole
+feller thet, warn't he? I've got his life.'
+
+'And you practice on his precepts; that's the reason you've got on so
+well.'
+
+'Yas, thet an' hard knocks. The best o' doctrins arn't wuth a d----n ef
+ye doan't work on 'em.'
+
+'That is true.'
+
+We shortly afterward went to the house, and there I passed several hours
+in conversation with my new friend and his excellent wife. The lady,
+after a while, showed me over the building. It was well-built,
+well-arranged, and had many conveniences I did not expect to find in a
+backwoods dwelling. She told me its timbers and covering were of
+well-seasoned yellow pine--which will last for centuries--and that it
+was built by a Yankee carpenter, whom they had ''ported' from
+Charleston, paying his fare, and giving him his living and two dollars
+and a half a day. It had cost as near as she 'cud reckon, 'bout two
+thousan' dollars.'
+
+It was five o'clock, when, shaking them warmly by the hand, I bade my
+pleasant friends 'good-by,' and mounting my horse rode off to the
+Colonel's.
+
+The family were at supper when I returned to the mansion, and, entering
+the room, I took my accustomed place at the table. None present seemed
+disposed to conversation. The little that was said was spoken in a low,
+subdued tone, and no allusion was made to the startling event of the
+day. At last the octoroon woman asked me if I had met Mrs. Barnes at the
+farmer's.
+
+'Yes,' I replied, 'and I was greatly pleased with her. She seems one of
+those rare women who would lend grace to even the lowest station.'
+
+'She _is_ a rare woman; a true, sincere Christian. Every one loves her;
+but few know all her worth; only those do who have gone to her in sorrow
+and trial, as----' and her voice trembled, and her eyes moistened----
+'as I have.'
+
+And so that poor, outcast, despised, dishonored woman, scorned and cast
+off by all the world, had found one sympathizing, pitying friend. Truly,
+'He tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.'
+
+When the meal was over, all but Madam P---- retired to the library.
+Tommy and I fell to reading, but the Colonel shortly rose and continued
+pacing up and down the apartment till the clock sounded eight. The lady
+then entered, and said to him:
+
+'The negroes are ready, David; will _you_ go, Mr. K----?'
+
+'I think not, madam,' I replied; 'at least not now.'
+
+I continued reading, for a time, when, tiring of the book, I laid it
+down, and followed them to the little burial-ground.
+
+The grave of Sam was open, and the plantation blacks were gathered
+around it. In the centre of the group, and at the head of the rude
+coffin, the Colonel was seated, and near him the octoroon woman and her
+son. The old preacher was speaking.
+
+'My chil'ren,' he said, 'she hab gone ter Him, wid har chile--gone up
+dar, whar dey doan't sorrer no more, whar dey doan't weep no more, whar
+all tears am wiped from dar eyes foreber. I knows she lay han's on
+harseff, and dat, my chil'ren, am whot none ob us shud do, 'case we'm de
+Lord's; he put us har, an' he'll take us 'way when we's fru wid our
+work, not afore. We hab no right ter gwo afore. Pore Juley did--but
+p'raps she cudn't help it. P'raps de great sorrer war so big in har
+heart, dat she cudn't fine rest nowhar but in de cole, dark riber.
+P'raps she warn't ter blame--p'raps,' and here his eyes filled--'p'raps
+ole Pomp war all ter blame, fur I tole har, my chil'ren'--he could say
+no more, and sinking down on a rude seat, he covered his face, and
+sobbed audibly. Even the Colonel's strong frame heaved with emotion, and
+not a dry eye was near. After a time the old man rose again, and with
+streaming eyes, and upturned face, continued:
+
+'Dar's One up dar, my chil'ren, dat say: 'Come unter me, all ye dat am
+weary an' a heaby laden, an' I will gib you ress.' He, de good Lord, he
+say dat; an' p'raps Juley hard him say it, an' dat make har gwo.' Again
+his voice failed, and he sank down, weeping and moaning as if his heart
+would break.
+
+A pause followed, when the Colonel rose, and aided by Jim and two other
+blacks, with his own hands nailed down the lid, and lowered the rude
+coffin into the ground. Then the earth was thrown upon it, and then the
+long, low chant which the negroes raise over the dead, mingling now with
+sobs and moans, and breaking into a strange wild wail, went up among the
+pines, and floating off on the still night air, echoed through the dark
+woods, till it sounded like music from the grave. I have been in the
+chamber of the dying; I have seen the young and the beautiful laid away
+in the earth; but I never felt the solemn awfulness of death as I did
+when, in the stillness and darkness of night, I listened to the wild
+grief of that negro group, and saw the bodies of that slave mother and
+her child, lowered to their everlasting rest by the side of Sam.
+
+The morning broke bright and mellow with the rays of the winter sun,
+which in Carolina lends the warmth of October to the chills of January,
+when, with my portmanteau strapped, and my thin overcoat on my arm, I
+gave my last 'God bless you' to the octoroon woman, and turned my face
+toward home.
+
+Jim shouted, 'All ready,' the driver cracked his whip, and we were on
+our way to Georgetown.
+
+The recent rains had hardened the roads, the bridges were repaired, and
+we were whirled rapidly forward, and at one o'clock reached Bucksville.
+There we met a cordial welcome, and remained to dinner. Our host pressed
+us to pass the night at his house, but the Colonel had business with one
+of his secession friends residing down the road--my wayside
+acquaintance, Colonel A----, and desired to stay over night with him. At
+three o'clock, bidding a kindly farewell to Captain B---- and his
+excellent family, we were again on our way.
+
+The sun was just sinking among the western pines, when we turned into a
+broad avenue, lined with stately old trees, and rode up to the doorway
+of the rice-planter. It was a large, square, dingy old house, seated on
+a gentle knoll, a short half-mile from the river, along whose banks
+stretched the rice-fields. We entered, and were soon welcomed by its
+proprietor.
+
+He received my friend warmly, and gave me a courteous greeting,
+remarking, when I mentioned that I was homeward bound, that it was wise
+to go. 'Things are very unsettled; there's no telling what a day may
+bring forth; feeling is running very high, and a Northern man, whatever
+his principles, is not safe here. By the way,' he added, 'did you not
+meet with some little obstruction at Conwayboro, on your way up?'
+
+'Yes, I did; a person there ordered me back, but when things began to
+look serious, Scipio, the negro whom you saw with me, got me out of the
+hobble.'
+
+'Didn't he tell the gentleman that you were a particular friend of mine,
+and had met me by appointment at Captain B----'s?' he asked, smiling.
+
+'I believe he did, sir; but I assure you, _I_ said nothing of the kind,
+and I think the black should not be blamed, under the circumstances.'
+
+'Oh! no; I don't blame him. I think he did a smart thing. He might have
+said you were my grandmother, if it would have served you, for that low
+fellow is as fractious as the devil, and dead sure on the trigger.'
+
+'You are very good, sir,' I replied; 'how did you hear of it?'
+
+'A day or two afterward, B---- passed here on his way to Georgetown. I
+had been riding out, and happened to be at the head of my avenue when
+he was going by. He stopped, and asked if I knew you. Not knowing then
+the circumstances, I said that I had met you casually at Bucksville, but
+had no particular acquaintance with you. He rode on, saying nothing
+further. The next morning I had occasion to go to Georgetown, and at Mr.
+Fraser's office accidentally heard that Scip--who is well known and
+universally liked there--was to have a public whipping that evening.
+Something prompted me to inquire into it, and I was told that he had
+been charged by B---- with shielding a well-known abolitionist at
+Conwayboro--a man who was going through the up-country distributing such
+damnable publications as the New-York _Independent_ and _Tribune_. I
+knew, of course, it referred to you, and that it wasn't true. I went to
+Scip and got the facts, and by stretching the truth a little, finally
+got him off. There was a slight discrepancy between my two accounts of
+you,' (and here he laughed heartily,) 'and B----, when we were before
+the Justice, remarked on it, and came d----d near calling me a liar. It
+was lucky he didn't, for if he had he'd gone to h----l before the place
+was hot enough for him.'
+
+'I can not tell you, my dear sir, how grateful I am to you for this. It
+would have pained me more than I can express, if Scip had suffered for
+doing a disinterested kindness to me.'
+
+Early in the morning we were again on our way, and twelve o'clock found
+us seated at a dinner of bacon, corn-bread, and waffles, in the 'first
+hotel' of Georgetown. The Charleston boat was to leave at three o'clock;
+and, as soon as dinner was over, I sallied out to find Scip. After a
+half-hour's search I found him on 'Shackelford's wharf,' engaged in
+loading a schooner bound for New-York with a cargo of cotton and
+turpentine.
+
+He was delighted to see me, and after I told him I was going home, and
+might never see him again, I took his hand warmly in mine, and said:
+
+'Scip, I have heard of the disgrace that was near being put upon you on
+my account, and I feel deeply the disinterested service you did to me;
+now, I _can not_ go away without doing _something_ for you--showing you
+in _some_ way that I appreciate and _like_ you.'
+
+'I likes _you_, massa,' he replied, the tears coming to his eyes; 'I tuk
+ter you de bery fuss day I seed you, 'case, I s'pose'--and he wrung my
+hand till it ached--'you pitied de pore brack man. But you karnt do
+nuffin fur _me_, massa; I doan't want nuffin; I doan't want ter leab
+har, 'case de Lord dat put me har arn't willin' I shud gwo. But you kin
+do suffin, massa, fur de pore brack man, an' dat'll be doin' it fur
+_me_, 'case my heart am all in dat. You kin tell dem folks up dar, whar
+you lib, massa, dat we'm not like de brutes, as dey tink we is. Dat we's
+got souls, an' 'telligence, an' feelin's, an' am men like demselfs. You
+kin tell 'em, too, massa--'case you's edication, and kin talk--how de
+pore wite man am kep' down har; how he'm ragged, an' starvin', an' ob no
+account, 'case de brack man am a slave. How der chil'ren can't get no
+schulein', how eben de grow'd-up ones doan't know nuffin--not eben so
+much as de pore brack slave, 'case de 'stockracy want dar votes, an
+cudn't get 'em ef dey 'low'd 'em larnin'. Ef your folks know'd all de
+truf--ef dey know'd how boff de brack an' de pore w'ite man, am on de
+groun', an' can't git up, ob demselfs--dey'd do suffin--dey'd break de
+Constertution--dey'd do _suffin_ ter help us. I doan't want no one
+hurted, I doan't want no one wronged; but jess tink ob it, massa, four
+million ob bracks, an' nigh so many pore w'ites, wid de bressed Gospil
+shinin' down on 'em, an' dey not knowin' on it. All dem--ebry one ob
+'em--made in de image ob de great God, an' dey driven roun' an' 'bused
+wuss dan de brutes. You's seed dis, massa, wid your own eyes, an' you
+kin tell 'em on it; an' you _will_ tell 'em on it, massa;' and again he
+took my hand while the tears rolled down his cheeks; 'an' Scip will
+bress you fur it, massa--wid his bery lass breaf he'll bress you; an' de
+good Lord will bress you, too, massa; he will foreber bress you, for
+he'm on de side ob de pore an' de 'flicted; his own book say dat, an' it
+am true, I knows it, fur I feels it _har_;' and he laid his hand on his
+heart, and was silent.
+
+I could not speak for a moment. When I mastered my feelings, I said: 'I
+_will_ do it Scip; as God gives me strength, I _will_.'
+
+Reader, I am keeping my word.
+
+This is not a work of fiction. It is a record of facts, and therefore
+the reader will not expect me to dispose of its various characters on
+artistic principles--that is, lay them away in one of those final
+receptacles for the creations of the romancer--the grave and matrimony.
+Death has been among them, but nearly all are yet doing their work in
+this breathing, busy world.
+
+The characters I have introduced are real. They are not drawn with the
+pencil of fancy, nor, I trust, colored with the tints of prejudice. The
+scenes I have described are true. I have taken some liberties with the
+names of persons and places, and, in a few instances, altered dates; but
+the events themselves occurred under my own observation. No one
+acquainted with the section of country I have described, or familiar
+with the characters I have delineated, will question this statement.
+Lest some one who has not seen the slave and the poor white man of the
+South, as he actually is, should deem my picture overdrawn, I will say
+that 'the half has not been told!' If the whole were related--if the
+Southern system, in all its naked ugliness, were fully exposed--the
+truth would read like fiction, and the baldest relation of fact like the
+wildest dream of romance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The overseer was never taken. A letter which I received from Colonel
+J----, shortly prior to the stoppage of the mails, informed me that Moye
+had succeeded in crossing the mountains into Tennessee, where, in an
+interior town, he disposed of the horse, and then made his way by an
+inland route to the free States. The horse the Colonel had recovered,
+but the overseer he never expected to see. Moye is now, no doubt,
+somewhere in the North, and is probably at this present writing a
+zealous Union man, of somewhat the same 'stripe' as the conductors of
+the New-York _Herald_ and the Boston _Courier_.
+
+I have not heard directly from Scipio, but one day last July, after a
+long search, I found on one of the wharves of South street a coasting
+captain who knew him well, and who had seen him the month previous at
+Georgetown. He was at that time pursuing his usual avocations, and was
+as much respected and trusted as when I met him.
+
+A few days after the tidings of the fall of Sumter were received in
+New-York, and when I had witnessed the spontaneous and universal
+uprising of the North which followed that event, I dispatched letters to
+several of my Southern friends, giving them as near as I could an
+account of the true state of feeling here, and representing the utter
+madness of the course the South was pursuing. One of these letters went
+to my Union acquaintance whom I have called, in the preceding pages,
+'Andy Jones.'
+
+He promptly replied, and a pretty regular correspondence ensued between
+us, which has continued, at intervals, even since the suspension of
+intercourse between the North and the South.
+
+Andy has stood firmly and nobly by the old flag. At the risk of every
+thing, he has boldly expressed his sentiments every where. With his life
+in his hand and--a revolver in each of his breeches-pockets, he walked
+the streets of Wilmington when the secession fever was at its hight,
+openly proclaiming his undying loyalty to the Union, and 'no man dared
+gainsay him.'
+
+But with all his patriotism, Andy keeps a bright eye on the 'main
+chance.' Like his brother, the Northern Yankee, whom he somewhat
+resembles and greatly admires, he never omits an opportunity of 'turning
+an honest penny.' In defiance of custom-house regulations and of our
+strict blockade, he has carried on a more or less regular traffic with
+New-York and Boston (_via_ Halifax and other neutral ports) ever since
+North-Carolina seceded. His turpentine, while it was still his property,
+has been sold in the New-York market, under the very eyes of the
+government officials, and, honest reader, _I_ have known of it.
+
+By various roundabout means, I have recently received letters from him.
+His last, dated in April, and brought to a neutral port by a shipmaster
+whom he implicitly trusts, has reached me since the previous chapters
+were written. It covers six pages of foolscap, and is written in
+defiance of all grammatical and orthographical principles; but as it
+conveys important intelligence in regard to some of the persons
+mentioned in this narrative, I will transcribe a portion of it.
+
+It gave me the melancholy tidings of the death of Colonel J----. He had
+joined the Confederate army, and fell, bravely meeting a charge of the
+Massachusetts troops, at Roanoke.
+
+On receiving the news of his friend's death, Andy rode over to the
+plantation, and found Madam P---- plunged in the deepest grief. While he
+was there, a letter arrived from Charleston, with intelligence of the
+dangerous illness of her son. This second blow crushed her. For several
+days she was delirious and her life despaired of; but throughout the
+whole, the noble corn-cracker, neglecting every thing, remained beside
+her.
+
+When she returned to herself, and had in a measure recovered her
+strength, she learned that the Colonel had left no will; that she was
+still a slave, and soon to be sold, with the rest of the Colonel's
+_personal property_, according to law.
+
+This is what Andy writes about the affair. I give the letter as he wrote
+it, merely correcting the punctuation and enough of the spelling to make
+it intelligible:
+
+'W'en I hard thet th' Cunnel hadent leff no wil, I was hard put what ter
+dew; but arter thinkin' on it over a spell, I knowed shede har on it
+sumhow; so I 'cluded to tell har miseff. She tuk on d----d hard at fust,
+but arter a bit, grew more calm like, and then she sed it war God's wil,
+an' she wudent komplane. Ye knows I've got a wife, but w'en the ma'am
+sed thet, she luk'd so like an angel, thet d----d eff I cud help puttin'
+my arms round har, an' huggin' on har, till she a'moste screeched. Wal,
+I toled har I'd stan' by har, eff evrithing went ter h----l, an' I wil,
+by----.
+
+'I made up mi minde to onst what ter dew. It war darned harde work tur
+bee 'way from hum jess then, but I war in fur it; soe I put ter
+Charleston, ter see th' Cunnel's 'oman. Wal, I seed har, an' I toled har
+how th' ma'am felte, an' how mutch shede dun at makein' th' Cunnel's
+money, (she made nigh th' hul on it, 'case he war alers keerles, an' tuk
+no 'count uv things; eff 't'aden't been fur thet, hede made a wil,) an'
+I axed har ter see thet the ma'am had free papers ter onst. An' whot der
+ye s'poze she sed? Nuthin', by ----, 'cept she dident no nuthin' 'bout
+bisniss, an' leff all uv sech things ter har loryer. Wal, then I went
+ter him--he ar one on them slick, ily, seceshun houn's who'd sell thar
+soles fur a kountterfit dollar--an' he toled me th' 'ministratur hadent
+sot yit, an' he cudent dew nuthin' till he hed. Ses I: 'Ye mean th'
+'oman's got ter gwo ter th' hi'est bider?' 'Yas,' he sed, 'the Cunnel's
+got dets, an' the've got ter bee pade, an' th' persoonal prop'ty muste
+bee sold ter dew it.' Then I sed, 'twud bee sum time 'fore thet war dun,
+an' the 'oman's 'most ded an uv no use now; 'what'll ye _hire_ har tur
+me fur.' He said a hun'red fur sicks months. I planked down the money
+ter onst, an' put off.
+
+'I war bilin' over, but it sumhow cum inter my hed thet the Cunnel's
+'oman cudn't bee _all_ stun; so I gose thar agin, an' I toled har what
+the loryer sed, an' made a reg'lar stump-'peal tew har bettur natur. I
+axed har ef she'd leff the 'oman who'd made har husban's fortun', who
+war the muther uv his chil'ren, who fur twenty yar hed nussed him in
+sickness an' cheered him in healtf, ef shede let _thet 'oman_ bee
+auckyund off ter th' hi'est bider. I axed al thet, an' what der ye think
+she sed? Why, jest this. '_I_ doan't no nuthin' 'bout it, Mister Jones.
+Ye raily must talke ter mi loryer; them matters I leaves 'tirely ter
+him.' Then I sed I s'posed the niggers war ter bee advertist. 'O yas!'
+she sed, (an' ye see she know'd a d----d site 'bout _thet_,) 'all on
+'em muss bee solde, 'case ye knows I never did luv the kuntry; 'sides
+_I_ cuden't karry on the plantashun, no how.' Then sed I: 'The Orleans
+traders 'ill be thar, an' she wun't sell fur but one use, fur she's
+hansum yit; an' ma'am, ye wun't leff a 'oman as white as you is, who fur
+twenty yar hes ben a tru an' fatheful _wife_ tar yer own ded husban', (I
+shudn't hev put thet in, but d----d ef I cud help it,) ye wun't put
+_har_ up on the block, an' hev har struck down ter the hi'est bider, ter
+bee made a d----d ---- on?'
+
+'Wal, I s'pose she haden't forgot thet fur more'n twelve yar the Cunnel
+hed _luv'd_ t'other 'oman an' onely _liked_ har; fur w'en I sed thet,
+har ize snapped like h----l, an' she screetched eout thet she dident
+'low no sech wurds in har hous', an' ordurd me ter leave. Mitey sqeemish
+thet, warn't it? bein' as shede been fur so mony yar the Cunnel's ----,
+an' th' tuther one his raal wife.
+
+'Wal, I _did_ leav'; but I leff a piece of mi mind ahind. I toled har
+I'de buy thet ar 'oman ef she cost all I war wuth and I had ter pawne my
+sole ter git the money; an' I added, jest by way uv sweet'nin' the pill,
+thet I owed all I hed ter har husband, an' dident furget _my_ dets ef
+she did _hern_, an' ef his own wife disgraced him, I'd be d----d ef _I_
+wud.
+
+'Wal, I've got th' ma'am an' har boy ter hum, an' my 'oman hes tuk ter
+har a heep. I doan't no w'en the sale's ter cum off, but ye may bet hi'
+on my bein' thar, an' I'll buy har ef I hev ter go my hull pile on har,
+an' borrer th' money fur ole Pomp. But _he'll_ go cheap, 'case the
+Cunnel's deth nigh dun him up. It clean killed Ante Lucey. She never
+held her hed up arter she heerd 'Masser Davy' war ded, fur she sot har
+vary life on him. Don't ye feel consarned 'bout the ma'am--I knows ye
+sot hi' on har. _I'll buy har_ shore. Thet an' deth ar th' onely things
+thet I knows on, in this world, jess now, that ar SARTIN.'
+
+Such is Andy's letter. Misspelled and profane though it be, I would not
+alter a word or a syllable of it. It deserves to be written in
+characters of gold and hung up in the sky, where it might be read by all
+the world. And it _is_ written in the sky--in the great record book--and
+it will be read when you and I, reader, meet the assembled universe, to
+give account of what _we_ have done and written. God grant that our
+record may show some such deed as that!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: The whisky was kept in a back room, above ground, because
+the dwelling had no cellar. The fluid was kept safely under lock and
+key, and the farmer accounted for that by saying that his negroes would
+steal nothing but whisky. Few country houses at the South have a
+cellar--that apartment deemed so essential by Northern housekeepers. The
+intervening space between the ground and the floor is there left open,
+to allow of a free circulation of air.]
+
+[Footnote 2: No regular dinner-hour is allowed the blacks on most
+turpentine-plantations. Their food is usually either taken with them to
+the woods or carried there by house-servants, at stated times.]
+
+
+
+
+SOUTHERN RIGHTS.
+
+
+  The right to poison bullets,
+  The right to rifle graves,
+  To cut our prisoners' gullets,
+  Or treat them like our slaves;
+  The right to use the savage
+  To aid us in our fight,
+  To freely scalp and ravage,
+  Each is a Southern right.
+  Call not these claims Satanic,
+  They're far beyond your ken:
+  How can a low mechanic
+  Know aught of gentlemen?
+
+
+
+
+MACCARONI AND CANVAS.
+
+VI.
+
+
+ON THE PINCIO.
+
+With that wise foresight, shared by all European rulers, the Roman
+Pincio was undoubtedly wedded to its purpose of keeping the idle ones
+very busy at the very time of day when revolutionary plots find the best
+hearing--before dinner. Whirling around its walks in carriages, or
+gently promenading under trees, among rose-bushes, and by fountains,
+while a large band of musicians play with spirit fine selections from
+the last operas, or favorite airs from old ones; the eye gratified by
+the sight of pleasant faces, or dwelling enraptured on the beautiful
+landscape spread before it--how can the brain disengage itself to think
+of Liberty, won through toil and battle, only to be preserved by
+self-denial and moral strength?
+
+But the traveler who travels only to travel, and has the means and
+spirit to find pleasure wherever he goes, thinking only of what he sees,
+enjoys to its fullest extent the luxurious seat of the hired,
+white-damask-lined carriage, drawn by stalwart, heavy-limbed, coal-black
+horses, with sweeping tails, the white foam flying from the champed
+silver bits, the whole turn-out driven by a handsome, white-gloved,
+black-coated Roman. In solemn state and swiftly, he winds up the zig-zag
+road leading from the piazza Popolo, (so-called from _popolo_, a
+poplar-tree, and not as the English will have it, from _popolo_, the
+people,) and at last reaches the summit of Roman ambition--the top of
+the Pincian hill. He passes other carriages filled with other strangers
+like himself, or with titled and fashionable Romans, and finally, his
+carriage drawn up to one side of the broad drive in front of the
+semi-circle where the band plays, he descends, to walk around and chat
+with the friends he may find there.
+
+Toward sunset the scene is full of animation. The sabres of the cavalry
+soldiers, on guard to prevent infraction of rules, gleam brightly; the
+old infantry soldiers are darting here and there, chasing away sundry
+ownerless dogs, who always make it a point to promenade the Pincio; the
+Italian nurses from Albano, or at least dressed in Albanese costume,
+shine conspicuous in their crimson-bodiced dresses; Englishmen going
+through their constitutional; Frenchmen mourning for the Champs Elys�es;
+artists in broad-brim hats smoking cigars; Americans observing Italy, so
+as to be like Italians; ladies of all nations commanding the attention
+of mankind as they sweep along the hard-rolled gravel-walks; smiles,
+bows, looks of love, indignation, affection, coquetry; faces reflective
+of great deeds and greater dinners ... every face bright in the lambent
+amber light that streams from the sun dipping his head preparatory to
+putting on his night-cap, and bidding Rome _felicissima notte!_ a most
+happy night.
+
+Over the irregular walls of the subdued white and mellow gray houses and
+palaces, beyond the Tiber running red in the dying sunlight, over the
+round-walled castle of San Angelo, the dome of Saint Peter's rises full
+in the midst of the twinkling, hazy, red and golden light. Passing the
+stone-pines crowning Monte Mario, there gleam away to the left the far
+waters of the sea, over which the purple mist of young night tenderly,
+softly falls. Once thoughtfully noted, you will remember this glowing
+scene years after sublimer and wilder views are lost to memory or grown
+so faint that they are to you but as dull colors seen in dreams of old
+age compared to the flashing brightness of those presented to the closed
+eyes of youth.
+
+As the sun sets and those in carriages and on foot slowly leave the
+hights of the Pincio, and descend once more to the old city, you will
+hear, as the evening star shines brighter and brighter, the first
+liquid, thrilling notes of the nightingales; then as you lean over the
+stone parapet, dreamily looking into the dense foliage of trees and
+shrubs beneath you, you will feel the beauty of those lines:
+
+  Seek the nightingale's sequestered tower,
+  Who with her love-lorn melody
+  So bewitched thee in the vernal hour:
+  When she ceased to love, she ceased to be.
+
+It is from the months of May to November, when travelers have left Rome,
+and the city is in the hands of the Romans, that your walks on the
+Pincio will prove something more than a mere repetition of a stroll in
+Baden-Baden, or a revival of ideas common to the Prado or Prater. No
+longer the little prettinesses of the Medicean Venus flirt by you in the
+nervous silks that flutter along these walks, but something nobly
+womanly, of a solid past, slow and stately, moves solemnly, by. We know
+the lives of these copies of the Venus of Milos, we know its most
+commonplace and vulgar attributes, but we know, too, its strength! The
+city of Rome holds in its women the mothers of heroes, when Providence
+shall withdraw the black veil now hung over their rude minds, and let in
+the light of knowledge. We who laugh at their sad ignorance, think what
+we would be without liberty--our minds enslaved, geography tabooed!
+Egypt is a paradise compared to Rome.
+
+The advantages of foreign travel to an intelligent American are to teach
+him ... the disadvantages of living any where save in America. And
+though the artistic eye dwells with such loving repose on the soothing
+colors of Italy, and particularly on the subdued white and gray tones of
+Roman ruins and palaces, walls and houses, yet the owner of that
+artistic eye should restrain his wrath at the fiery red bricks of our
+own cities, for let him reflect that this color goads him on, as it doth
+a bull, to make valorous efforts--to do something!
+
+Looking down from the stone balustrade of the Pincio on the piazza
+Popolo, we note two churches, one on either side of the Corso; their
+architecture is neither more nor less hideous than nine tenths of the
+other three hundred and odd churches of Rome; the same heavy,
+half-cooked look about doors and windows, suggesting cocked-hats of the
+largest size on the heads of dwarfs of no size at all; the same heavy
+scroll-work, reminding one of the work of a playful giant of a
+green-grocer who has made a bouquet of sausages and cabbages, egg-plants
+and legs of mutton, and exhibits it to a thick-headed public as a--work
+of art. O Roman _Plebs!_ lay this nattering unction to your soul--we did
+not do that!
+
+The history of all nations seem to indicate successive ages of grub and
+butterfly-life; certainly Rome has been a grub long enough. Let us hope
+the sun of Victor Emmanuel, the King of Gallant Men, will hasten the
+time when the Romans shall wing their way to the light of Liberty. These
+mockeries of architecture shall then stand as warning fingers to the
+Romans of the sad days that were; the days when mind and body were
+enslaved, and the grinning monkey held the dove tight-clutched in his
+brutal grasp. Through sword and fire public taste must pass before it is
+purified: the mountain-stream, dashing along with bounding steps, is
+clear and sparkling, but in the long stretch of level pastureland or
+prairie it is still and--dirty.
+
+It may be well to descend and wander through those close and narrow
+streets where the waste-water of old Roman aqueducts makes green and
+damp the foundation stories of gloomy houses, and where the
+carefully-nurtured traveler sees sights of smoked interiors, dirt and
+rubbish in the streets, that terrify him; but let him remember that in
+the worst of these kennels the inhabitants have never forgotten that
+they had a Past, and the 'I am a Roman Citizen!' still rings in their
+ears, eats into their hearts, and is at their tongue's end. Monsieur
+About was in Rome when Caper was there; he saw these Romans through
+Napoleonic spectacles: while one foot was trying to stamp on Antonelli
+gently, the other was daintily ascending the shining steps leading to
+the temple of Gallic fame. He is impressed with the idea that the Romans
+are hangers-on of hangers-on to patricians, from which we are to infer,
+if the patricians are ever hung, there will be a heavy weight to their
+feet!
+
+Rocjean, one afternoon, after a walk on the Pincio, was returning to his
+studio, when, as he descended to the Via Babuino, he met a Roman artist
+named Attonito, who cultivated the English.
+
+'Ow arr you toe-day, my dear?' he asked Rocjean.
+
+'Quite well, except a slight attack of bad English, from which I hope to
+recover in a few minutes.'
+
+'Pray tell unto me th-hat weech is bad Englis.'
+
+'Haven't you been on the Pincio?'
+
+'Yas, I tak' consteetutionails up there avery afternoons; it is a
+costume Englis' th-hat I vary moche cotton to.'...
+
+'W-hat! Cotton to? Why, that is a clear Americanism; where did you pick
+it up?'
+
+'Meester Caper of Noo-York, he told unto me it am more elegant as to
+say, I love, or I affection. Bote, 'ave you saw that bu-tee-fool
+creechure with 'air of flags?'...
+
+'What!'
+
+''Air of flags; 'ow you name eet? _Capellatura di lino?_'
+
+'Oh! you mean tow-head?'
+
+'Toe! no, no! I mean _lino_.'
+
+'Ah! yes, flaxen hair.'
+
+'_Benissimo!_ Vary well, flagson 'air and blue eyze. Shhe was in
+carri-adge with Lady Blumpudy. I go avery afternoons to inspect her as
+she takes the airs on the Pincio, Eet would gife me great pleasures to
+ally myself to her in marriage compact, bote I do not know eef she has a
+fortune. Do you know any theengs?'
+
+'Yes, a great many; one of which is that it is my dinner-time, and as I
+turn down the Condotti--good afternoon.'
+
+'Goo-ood by, my dear,' answered Attonito, as he slowly wandered up the
+Piazza di Spagna.
+
+Another example of the beneficial effects of the Pincio on the
+_bourgeoise_, thought Rocjean. When will the alarm-bell in the clock of
+Roman time ring out its awaking peal?
+
+
+ROME BY NIGHT.
+
+If one would realize the romantic side of Rome in all its stately
+grandeur, and receive a solemn and ineffaceable impression of its
+beauty, by all means let him, like Quevedo's hero, sleep 'a-daytime' and
+do his sight-seeing by moonlight or star-light; for, save in some few
+favored quarters, its inspection by gaslight would be difficult.
+Remember, too, that all that is grandly beautiful of Rome, the traveler
+has seen before he reaches the Imperial City--with the eyes of
+understanding, with the eyes of others--in books.
+
+Nothing but a heap of old stones, bricks, and mortar is there here for
+the illiterate tourist--he can have six times as jolly a time in Paris
+for half the money that he pays 'in that old hole where a fellow named
+Culius J�sar used to live.'
+
+As if the night were not sufficiently dark in this city, there are
+always those who stand ready with the paint-brush of fancy to make it
+even of a darker hue; whisperings among the travelers in hotels of
+certain Jim Joneses or Bill Smiths who have been robbed. Yes, sir, early
+in the evening, right there in the Corso: grabbed his watch and chain,
+struck him on the head. You know he was a powerfully built man; but they
+came behind him, and if he hadn't have done so and so, the rascally
+Italians would have killed him, and so forth.
+
+'Re-al-ly; well, you won't catch me out at nights!'
+
+There rises up, as I write, the figure of a slim young man, of the
+day-time negro-minstrel style of beauty, who once dwelt three weeks in
+Rome. I know that he was profound in knowledge of trick and vice, and
+that he had an impediment in his speech--he could never speak the
+truth. He told a fearful tale of a midnight robbery in the Piazza di
+Spagna--himself the victim. It was well told, and I ought to know, for I
+read it years before in a romance, only the scene was, in type, laid in
+Venice. According to this negro-minstrel style of youth, he had been
+seized from behind, held, robbed of watch and elegant gold chain, red
+coral shirt-studs, onyx sleeve-buttons, and a porte-monnaie containing
+fifty scudi, etc., etc. He was the theatrical hero of the hotel for two
+days, and the recipient of many drinks. Time, the cater of things, never
+digested this falsehood, and months after the youth had left, I learned
+that he had lost all his jewelry and money at--twenty-deck poker.
+
+A few nights after Caper was domiciled in the Via Babuino, Rocjean
+called on him, and as he entered his room, carefully extinguished a
+taper, and was putting it in his pocket, when Caper asked him what that
+was for?
+
+'That! it's a _cerina_. Have you been two weeks in Rome, and not found
+out that? Why, how did you get up-stairs at night?'
+
+'There was a lamp in the entry.'
+
+'None there to-night, so I had to light this. It's only a long piece of
+wick, dipped in wax; you see you can roll it up in a ball, and carry it
+in your pocket, so! Without this and a box of matches, you can never
+hope to be a good Roman. You must have seen that where the houses have
+any front-doors, three quarters of them are open all night long; for, as
+on every floor of a house, there live different families, they find it
+saves trouble--trouble is money in Rome--to leave the door unclosed.
+These dark entries, for they are seldom lighted, offer a grand chance
+for intrigues, and when you have lived here as long as I have, you will
+find out that they--improve the chances. A _cerina_, in addition to
+keeping you from breaking your neck, by tumbling down stone stairs,
+gives light to avoid the stray dogs that sleep around loose, and to see
+if there is any enemy around who wants to give you a few inches of cold
+steel. You may laugh at robbers here; but you may cry for mercy in vain
+to a Roman who seeks _vendetta_--revenge, you know. Bad way to use
+foreign words; but we all do it here. Speak an Italianized English after
+a time, the effect of had examples. But come, if you want to see Rome by
+moonlight, it's time we were off.'
+
+As they reached the street, Caper asked Rocjean where he could buy the
+_cerina_.
+
+'At any _dragheria_' said the latter.
+
+'Good, there is a druggist's store up the street--Borioni's.'
+
+'A _dragheria_ means a grocery-store in Rome. If you want molasses,
+however, you must go to the _farmacia_ for it, [that is the Roman for
+druggist's shop,] and you will buy it by the ounce.'
+
+'Live and learn,' said Caper, as they entered the grocery and bought the
+_cerina_-price, one baioccho a yard.
+
+'And now let us walk out to Saint Peter's, and see the church by
+moonlight.'
+
+'The want of sidewalks in this city,' remarked Rocjean, 'compelling the
+Romans to walk over cobble-stones, undoubtedly is the cause of the large
+feet of the women, added to their dislike of being in pain from tight
+shoes or boots. For genuine martyrdom from tight shoes, French, Spanish,
+and Americans--but chiefly Cubans--next to Chinese women, are ahead of
+the world.'
+
+'But apart from the fact that they do walk on the narrow sidewalks in
+the Corso, I have noticed that in the side-streets, even where there is
+a foot-walk, nobody takes advantage of it at night.'
+
+'For a good reason, as we shall probably see,' said Rocjean,' before we
+reach the bridge of San Angelo. But keep close to me in the middle of
+the street.'
+
+The moonlight shone brightly down the narrow street they were then
+walking through, which, but for this, the occasional dim light of an
+oil-lamp hung in front of a shrine, the light from a wine or grocery
+shop, and the ruddy blaze of a charcoal-fire, where chestnuts were
+roasting for sale, would have been dark indeed. The ground-floor of
+very few Roman houses is ever occupied as a dwelling-place; it is given
+up to shops, stables, etc., the families residing, according to their
+wealth, on the lowest up to the highest stories; the light purses going
+up and the heavy ones sinking. They had walked nearly to the end of this
+street, when, happening to look up at the fourth story of a house, he
+saw something white being reversed in the moonlight, and the next
+instant a long stream of water, reminding him of the horse-tail fall in
+Switzerland, came splashing down where a sidewalk should have been.
+
+'What do you think of the middle of the street now?' asked Rocjean.
+
+'Let's stick to it, even if we stick in it. I'm going to buy an
+umbrella, _and spread it too_, when I go out of nights, after this.'
+
+They reached the bridge of San Angelo, and studied for a short time the
+fine effect of the moonlight shining on the turbid, slow-flowing Tiber,
+and lighting up the heavy pile of the castle of San Angelo. Then they
+reached the Piazza of Saint Peter's, and here the scene was imperial.
+Out and in through the semi-circular arcade of massive pillars the
+moonlight stole to sleep upon the soft-toned, gray old pavement, or was
+thrown in dancing, sparkling light from the two noble jets of water
+tossed in the clear night-air by the splashing fountains. In all its
+gigantic proportions rose up, up into the clear blue of the spangled
+sky, the grand thought of Michael Angelo--the dome of Saint Peter's.
+
+Returning from Saint Peter's, Rocjean proposed to walk through the
+Trastevere, the other side of the Tiber, and to cross over the river by
+the ponte R�tto or broken bridge. They found the street along the river
+very quiet; here and there a light showed, as on the other side, a
+wine-shop or coffee-room; but the houses had few lights in them, and
+spite of the moonlight, the streets looked gloomy and desolate.
+
+'They seem to keep dark this side of the river,' said Caper.
+
+'Yes,' answered Rocjean, 'and live light. They go to bed for the most
+part early, and rise early; they economize fifty-one weeks in a year, in
+order to live like lords for the fifty-second--that is Carnival-week.
+Then you shall see these queenly Trasteverine in all their bravery,
+thronging the Corso. But here is a clean-looking wine-shop, let us go in
+and have a foglietta.'
+
+They found the shop full of thirsty Romans--it is safe to say
+that--although the number of small flasks showed they could not indulge
+their taste so deeply as they wished to. The centre of the listening
+group of Romans, was a bright-eyed, black, curly-haired man, who was
+reciting, with loud emphasis:
+
+  THE LIFE AND DEATH
+
+  OF THE PERFIDIOUS ASSASSIN,
+
+  ARRIGO GARBETINGO OF TRENTO,
+
+  Who slew nine hundred and sixty-four grown
+  persons and six children.
+
+He had already got through his birth and wicked childhood, and had
+arrived at that impressive part where he commences his career of brigand
+at large, accompanied by a 'bool-dog':
+
+  'He had a bull-dog of the English breed, oh!
+  More savage than all others that we've seen, oh!
+  Close at his side it always walked, indeed, oh!
+  And never barked! but then his bite was keen, oh!
+  When on some poor man straight he sprung, take heed, oh!
+  His soul from body quickly fled, I ween, oh!
+  Because with cruel, gnashing teeth he tore, oh!
+  Him all to pieces, in a manner sore, oh!'
+
+The reciter here stopped to drink another tumbler of wine, upon which
+Caper and Rocjean, having finished their pint, paid their scot and
+departed.
+
+'Was that an improvisatore?' asked Caper.
+
+'He might pass for such with a stranger of inflammable imagination, who
+didn't know the language,' answered Rocjean. 'He is, in fact, a
+reciter, and you can buy the poh, poh-em he was reciting at any of the
+country fairs, of the man who sells rosaries and crucifixes. It is one
+of the cent-songs of the Papal States, published _con licenza_, with
+license; and a more cruel, disgusting, filthy, and demoralizing tendency
+than it must have on the people can not well be imagined; and there are
+hundreds of worse.'
+
+While Rocjean was talking they had crossed the ponte R�tto, and as he
+finished his sentence they stood in front of the ruined house of--Cola
+di Rienzil, 'Redeemer of dark centuries of shame--the hope of Italy,
+Rienzi, last of Romans!'
+
+'Well,' said Rocjean, as he halted in front of the ruined house, and
+looked carefully at the ornamented stones still left, 'when Saint
+Peter's church shall be a circus, this house shall be a shrine.'
+
+'That being the state of the case,' spoke Caper, 'let us walk up to the
+Trevi fountain and see the effect by moonlight of its flashing waters,
+and inhale the flavor of fried fish from the adjacent stands.'
+
+They stood in front of the wild waters dashing, sparkling over the grand
+mass of tumbled rocks reared behind the wall of a large palace. Neptune,
+car, horses, tritons, all, stone as they were, seemed leaping into life
+in the glittering rays of the moonlight, and the rush and splash of the
+waters in the great basin below the street, contrasted with the silence
+of the city, left a deep impression of largeness and force on the minds
+of the two artists.
+
+'Let us go down and drink the water, for he who drinks of it shall
+return again to Rome!'
+
+'With all my heart,' said Caper; 'for if the legend has one word of
+truth in it, Garibaldi will be back again some _bello giorno_----'
+
+'_Bello giorno_ means fine day; _giorno di bello_ means a day for war: I
+drink to both!' spoke Rocjean, dipping water up in his hand.
+
+They returned to the street, and were walking toward the Piazza di
+Spagna, when they overtook two well-dressed men evidently none the
+better for too much wine. As they passed them, one of the men said to
+the other:
+
+'J-im! I don't see but what we-we-'ll have to r-r-roost out-tall night.
+I don't know 'ny 'talian, _you_ don't know 'ny 'talian, we-we-'re
+nonpl'sh'd, I'm th-think'ng.'
+
+'Ary borry bout�re spikinglish?' said the other one to the two artists,
+as they were walking on.
+
+'Yes,' said Caper, 'four of 'em. If you've lost your way we'll set you
+right. Where's your hotel?'
+
+''Tel? Why, 'Tel Europe p'aza Spanya. Are you English?'
+
+'No, sir! I'm an American born, bred and--buttered,' said Caper.
+
+'B-bullyf'ryou! We'resame spishies--allrite--d-driv'on!'
+
+'Look here,' said the one of the two men who was least tipsy, 'if this
+tother g-gen'leman and I could stick our heads into c-cold water we'd
+come out tall right.'
+
+'It's only a block or two back to the Trevi fountain,' answered Caper,
+'and if your friend will go with you, you'll find water enough there.'
+
+They went back to the fountain, and descending the steps with some
+difficulty, the two men soon had their heads pretty well cooled off, and
+came up with cleared intellects and improved pronunciation. In the
+course of conversation it appeared that the two travelers, for such they
+were, after rather too much wine at dinner in their hotel, had been
+invited to the German Club, where Rhine wine, etc., had finished them
+off: attempting to return to their hotel alone, they had lost their way.
+As the four walked along, it came out that one of them owned a painting
+by Rocjean, and when he discovered that one of his guides was no other
+than that Americanized Frenchman, the whole party at once fraternized,
+and disregarding any more moonlight effects, walked at once to Caper's
+rooms, where over cigars and a bottle of Copalti's wine they signed,
+sealed, and delivered a compact to have a good time generally for the
+week the two travelers intended devoting to Rome. The moral of which is
+... that you make more friends than meet enemies--walking round Rome by
+night.
+
+
+THE MYSTERIOUS IN ART.
+
+They were in the presence of a man with flowing hair, flowing beard, and
+flowing language, in a studio, all light from which was excluded by
+heavy curtains, except enough to display an easel on which was placed a
+painting, a background of dark blue where were many apparently spider
+and crow-tracks.
+
+'Those who in the profundity of their darkness incline to the belief
+that the vitality of art, butterfly-like, has fled from this sunny
+world, have made the biggest kind of a mistake,' said Mr. Artaxerxes
+Phlamm, the Mystic Artist, to Caper. The hit was evidently intended for
+Rocjean, but that descendant of the Gauls, for some reason, did not
+smite back again; he contented himself with the remark:
+
+'Art is long.'
+
+'Yes, sir,' continued Mr. Phlamm, 'not only it has length, but breadth,
+breadth, broadness--it extends from--yes--from--pole to pole.'
+
+'Like a clothes-line,' said Caper.
+
+'Ah!' continued Phlamm, with a pickled smile, 'Fancy, ever Fancy, but it
+is Imagination that, as it were, brings man to a level with his destiny
+and elevates him to the Olympium hights of the True, and all that rises
+much above the meedyochre. But I must not forget that this is your first
+visit to me studeeyoh. The painting on the easel is a view of Venice on
+the Grand Canal.'
+
+'But,' said Rocjean, 'I do not see the canal.'
+
+'When you are gazing at the stars do you see your boots?' asked Phlamm.
+
+'I always do,' spoke Caper quickly, 'always gaze at 'em at night--smoke
+a cigar--put my feet higher than my head--sit in a chair--stars
+reflected in boots--big thing!'
+
+'You are full of life and spirits, Caper,' continued Phlamm, 'full of
+'em; but Rocjean is more serious, more imbued with his nobil calling. My
+illustration, as he understands, would convey the idea that such a thing
+as foreground in a painting is false; it's a sham, it's a delusion, and
+all that. It may do for pre-Raffleites, but for a man who looks Naychure
+in the face, he sees her operating diversely, and he works according. I
+repeat it again, when I was on the Grand Canal in Venice, I didn't see
+the Grand Canal.'
+
+'Neither did I,' spoke Caper, 'we're just alike; I kept my head all the
+time out of the gondola-window looking for pretty girls--and I saw
+them!'
+
+'May I ask why you dead-color your canvas blue, and then make your
+drawing in black outline?' asked Rocjean.
+
+'What is the color of the sky? Is it not blue? Is not blue a cold color;
+is it not the negative to the warmth, the balance to the scales, the one
+thing needed on which to rear the glorious fabric that Naychure reveals
+to the undimmed vision of man? I know your answer, and I refute it. I
+have studied Art from its roots, and now I'm in the branches, and I
+grasp the fruit. My manner is peculiar--I have no patent for it--I ask
+for none. The illimitable passes the legitimate, and the sw-word is
+carried by the hero--for me the bruzh, the paint-bruzh. You see that
+painting before you--it is my child--I lavish on it my intentions--I am
+going to work three years on that picture!'
+
+'I bet you a new hat you sell it, and a dozen more, and send 'em off
+before six months. You're all the rage now since you sold old Goldburg a
+picture,' quoth Caper.
+
+'I don't bet, I am opposed to betting. But look that picture of mine in
+the face, in the face! Here is a finished painting, The Lake of Zurich;
+see those clouds floating mistily away into the far distance--there's
+atmosphere for you--there's air! You can't cut those clouds into slices
+of cheese as you can them of that humbug of a Cloud Lowrain. Cloud
+Lowrain! he's a purty painter! Naychure is my teacher. I go out
+mornings and hear the jackdaws chatter, and see trees and all that;
+sometimes I walk around in a garden for ten minutes and commune with
+Naychure--that's the way to do it. Look at clouds before you paint
+'em--I know it's hard when the sun's in your eyes, but do it--I've spent
+a week at a time out-doors, like Wordsworth and the great, the grand,
+the colossial Ruzking.'
+
+'I like that water,' said Rocjean, alluding to that of the painting.
+
+'Water is my peculiar study; I am now engaged experimenting on it--see
+there!' Here Phlamm pointed to a basin.
+
+'Been washing your hands?' asked Caper.
+
+'Scientifically experimenting, not manually. Water is
+soup-or-fish-all--earth is not soup-or-fish-all.'
+
+'Our dinners are, during Lent,' quoth Caper, 'unless we're heretics.'
+
+'I don't understand your frivolity--what do you mean?'
+
+'Didn't you say, 'Soup or all fish?''
+
+'Pshaw! You will never make an artist--never, never--_you_ are too, too
+superficiall, too much of the earth, dirty.'
+
+'Oh! now I understand,' answered Caper; 'give it to me, I deserve it.'
+
+'I was studying water, its shadows and its superficiality, in that
+basin,' continued Phlamm, 'and I study the ocean there, and have
+devolved great principles from it. What makes my pictures sought for by
+the high and the low, wealthy? What? It's the Truth in 'em, the Mystery,
+the Naychure. The old masters were humbugs, they weren't mysterious,
+they had no inner sight into the workings of Naychure. Who'd buy one of
+their pictures when he might have a Turner for the same price? Nobody.'
+
+'Wouldn't he?' asked Caper. 'Try him with a Raphael, just a small one.'
+
+'Raphael? You mean Raffaele. Ah! he _was_ a painter, he wasn't one of
+the old masters, however, he was a middle-age master. What sweetness,
+what a kind of--sweetness generally; what a blending of the prayerful
+infant with the enthusiastic beauty; the--the polished chastity of his
+Mad-donas; the folds of his drapery, and--the drapery of his folds.
+Truly enchanting, and so very uncommonly gentlemanly in his colors.'
+
+'The Chesterfield of oil-colors?' suggested Rocjean. 'But _� propos_ of
+Nature, you never paint a picture directly from her, do you?'
+
+'Never! Does a great historical painter use the model? No, sir; he draws
+on his imagination for his figures. He scorns to copy from a model. I
+convey the impression of mystery that Naychure gives me; I am no servile
+copyist. And I claim to leave an impression on the minds of the
+beholders of my works. Why, even Caper, I believe, can see what I wish
+to tell, and read my poems on canvas. Tell me, Caper, what idea does
+even that rough sketch of Venice awake in your imaginative faculties,
+and all that?'
+
+Caper's face wore a deeply thoughtful look, as he answered: 'I do see
+it; I do claim to read the lesson you would teach----'
+
+'Speak it out,' interrupted Phlamm, 'I knew you would feel the deep,
+mysterious sentiment as is in it.'
+
+'Spider-tracks and crows' feet on the blue mud of a big marsh,' spoke
+Caper resolutely.
+
+'Pshaw!' exclaimed Phlamm impetuously; 'you have no Faith, and without
+that, all Art is a sealed thing. Goldburg, to whom I lately sold a
+painting, had faith; he saw the grand idea which I explained to him in
+that picture; he knew that the Earl of Bigbarns had purchased a work of
+mine, and he said to me: 'The opinion of such a man is an opinion as
+should be a valuable opinion to a business man, and govern the
+sentiments of those who worship Art.' Other artists see Naychure, but
+_how_ do they see her? I answer, blindly! They don't feel her here!'
+(Phlamm struck his waistcoat in fearful proximity to a pocket in it, and
+altogether too low for his heart.)
+
+'Nay-chure,' said Caper to Rocjean, as they left this studio of the
+mysterious one, 'ruined a good Barnum to make a poor Phlamm, when she
+made him.'
+
+
+A BATH-HUNT.
+
+It is a mournful sight to see a city of one hundred and eighty thousand
+five hundred and thirty-nine inhabitants, including one thousand three
+hundred and thirty-one priests, two thousand four hundred and four
+monks, and eight hundred and fifty-four Jews, Turks, and heretics, as
+the census had it, attacked with hydrophobia. But it is so. A
+preternatural dread of water rages among all the inhabitants of Rome,
+from the untitled down to the titled.
+
+'Madame,' said Rocjean to a distinguished female model, 'I assure you
+that, in the sixth century, [or as Sir Gardiner Wilkinson has it, in the
+five hundred,] there were nine thousand and twenty-five baths in this
+city.'
+
+'Those must have been good times,' replied she, 'for the washerwomen,
+_seguro!_ There are a good many clothes of the _forestieri_ [strangers]
+washed here now; but not so many different places to wash them in.'
+
+'I mean places to bathe one's self all over in.'
+
+'_Mai!_ Never, never!' exclaimed the woman with horror; 'never! 'twould
+give them the fever, kill them dead!'
+
+Mr. Van Brick, of New-York, arriving in Rome early in the morning,
+demanded of the porter at the hotel where he could find a _bagno_, or
+place where he could get a bath. He was directed to go down the Babuino,
+and at such a number he would find the establishment. Forgetting the
+number before he was three steps from the hotel, he inquired of a man
+who was driving a she-jackass to be milked, where the bath was. As he
+spoke very little Italian, he had to make up by signs what he wanted in
+words. The man, probably believing he wanted a church, and that his
+motions signified being sprinkled with water, pointed to the Greek
+church, and Van Brick, thinking it was a solemn-looking old _bagno_,
+strode in, to his astonishment finding out as soon as he entered that he
+was by no means in the right place. As he turned to go out, he saw an
+amiable-looking young man, with a black cocked hat in his hand, and a
+black serge shirt on that came down to his heels, and had a waist-band
+drawing it in over his hips. He asked the young man, as well as he could
+in Italian, where there was a _bagno_.
+
+'The signore is English?' asked the youth in the black shirt.
+
+'I want a bath,' said Van Brick, 'which way?'
+
+'Have patience, signore. There are a great many English in Rome.'
+
+'Farewell!' quoth Van Brick, turning on his heel, reflecting: 'That
+youth talks too much; he does it to conceal his ignorance; he don't know
+what a bath is.' Coming out of the church, he met a good-natured looking
+Roman girl, without any bonnet, as usual, going along with a bottle of
+wine and a loaf of bread.
+
+'Can you tell me where the bath is?'
+
+'_Chi lo sa_, signore.'
+
+This CHI LO SA, or, 'who knows?' of the Romans, is a shaft that would
+kill Paul Pry. It nearly throws an inquisitive man into convulsions. He
+meets it at every turn. The simplest question is knocked to pieces by
+it. So common is it for a Roman of the true _plebs_ breed to give you
+this for an answer to almost every question, that Rocjean once won a hat
+from Caper in this wise: they stood one evening in front of a grocer's
+store, down by the Pantheon; it was brilliantly illuminated with
+hundreds of candles, displaying piles of hams, cheese, butter, eggs,
+etc., etc. Chandeliers constructed of egg-shells, where candles shone
+brightly, particularly struck Caper.
+
+'You see,' said Rocjean, 'as anyone else can see, that those chandeliers
+are made of egg-shells. Now, I will bet you a hat that I will ask four
+men, one after another, who may come to look in this window, what those
+chandeliers are made of, and three at least, if not all four of them,
+will answer, 'Who knows?' (_Chi lo sa._)
+
+'Done!' said Caper.
+
+Rocjean asked four men, one after another. All four answered; 'Who
+knows?'
+
+But to continue the bath-hunt: Van Brick was thrown over by the girl's
+answer, and next asked an old woman, who was standing at the door of a
+house, buying broccoli from a man with a hand-cart.
+
+'Can _you_ tell me where the bath is?'
+
+'The bath?'
+
+'Yes, the bath.'
+
+'Is it where they boil water for the English?'
+
+'That must be the shop,' quoth Brick.
+
+'That's the place,' pointing with her finger to a house on the opposite
+side of the way.
+
+Van Brick crossed over, and after five minutes' hunt over the whole
+house, was coming down disheartened, when he saw a pretty girl, about
+eighteen years old, standing by the doorway.
+
+'Can you tell me where the bath is?'
+
+'_Seguro!_ I attend to them. You can't have a warm bath for two or three
+hours yet, for there is no fire; but you can have a cold one.'
+
+'Well, let me have it as quickly as possible.'
+
+'Yes, sir. We have no soap for sale, but you can get it two doors off.'
+
+Van Brick went out, and after a time returned with a cake of soap.
+
+'Signore,' said the girl, when he went back, 'the water is all running
+out of the hole in the bottom of the tub, and I can't stop it.'
+
+'H'm! Show me the tub; I am a splendid mechanic.'
+
+The hole being stopped, the tub was rapidly filling with water. Van
+Brick, in anticipation, was enjoying his bath; when in rushed the
+attendant.
+
+'Signore, you will have to wait a few minutes--until I wash some
+towels.'
+
+Van Brick was in extremis. Taking a gold scudo, one of those dear little
+one-dollar pieces the Romans call _far-f�lle_ (butterflies) from his
+pocket, he thus addressed her:
+
+'Maiden, rush round the corner and buy me a yard of any thing that will
+dry me; I don't care what it is, except salt fish.'
+
+'Oh! but these English are bursting with money,' thought the girl, and
+thus thinking, she made great haste, only stopping to tell three or four
+friends about the crazy man that was round at her place, who didn't want
+salt fish to make him dry.
+
+'Behold me back again!' said the girl, 'I flew.'
+
+'Yes,' said Van Brick, 'and so did time; and he got ahead of you about
+half an hour. Give me the towels.'
+
+'Si, signore, behold them! See how fine they are! What an elegant fringe
+on them; and only twenty-five baiocchi a piece, fringe and all
+included.'
+
+Van Brick, at last left in peace, plunged into the bath.
+
+When he came out, he found he had half a scudo to pay for the water,
+half a scudo for towels, quarter of a scudo for soap, and another
+quarter scudo for a _buono mano_ to the bath-girl. Total, one dollar and
+a half.
+
+'Now,' soliloquized Van Brick, as he dressed himself, 'I have an
+arithmetical question to solve. If a Roman, by hard scratching, can earn
+twenty cents a day, and it costs him twenty-five cents for board and
+lodging, how long will it be before he saves up a dollar and a half to
+take a bath? But that intelligent maiden will tell me, I know.' He asked
+her.
+
+'Signore, the Romans never bathe.'
+
+'You mean the Catholic Romans, for the Pagan Romans didn't do any thing
+else.'
+
+'They're all burning up in the _inferno, Seguro_!' said the maiden.
+
+'But they had fifteen aqueducts to keep them cool when they were alive,'
+spoke Van Brick.
+
+'_Chi lo sa_. We have three aqueducts, we Romans, and we have more
+water, yes, more water than we can--drink.'
+
+'Yes, while there's wine about. _Adio, bella ninfa!_'
+
+
+
+
+GLANCES FROM THE SENATE-GALLERY.
+
+II.
+
+
+We considered, in the last number of THE CONTINENTAL, some of
+the leading orators and statesmen who, in the last Congress, represented
+the States now in rebellion against the Constitution. It can not be
+denied that, by their secession from the floor of the Senate, that body,
+which undoubtedly exhibits the best specimens of American eloquence, was
+deprived of several of its fairest ornaments; but we believe that a
+consideration of those Senators who remained faithful to the interests
+of their country, will discover the fact that in them was displayed at
+least equally conspicuous merit in oratory and legislation. A distinct
+contrast was discernible between Northern and Southern eloquence; the
+latter being of an impulsive and passionate character, unadorned
+generally by the graces which mental culture lends to that art, (which
+might be inferred from their well-known temperament,) while the former
+appears to be more deliberate and thoughtful, indicating by its elegance
+and harmony the refining and systematizing influence of education, and
+partaking of the natural phlegm peculiar to inhabitants in colder
+regions. While Southern eloquence seemed to endeavor to elicit feeling
+and passion, Northern orators looked for their success rather to the
+conviction of the understanding than to the indulgence of the weaker
+elements of human nature. By pleasing and subtle sophistries, by
+enthusiastic ebullitions of resentment and indignation, or by the more
+amiable contrivances of patriotic and virtuous sentiment, Benjamin and
+Davis sought, if they could not convince legislators, at least to
+attract to their peculiar doctrines the impulsive and credulous masses
+among their own people. On the contrary, it was apparent that Northern
+statesmen, confident in the exercise of intellectual resources, relied
+on the intelligence and reason of their auditors and constituents, and
+seldom resorted to that species of oratory which was employed by their
+adversaries, and which may be called in a manner strategetic, when
+logical accuracy was likely to meet with more satisfactory and more
+permanent success. Before we proceed to notice the eminent Senators from
+the North, we propose to dwell briefly upon several who, though
+representing slave States, were, in the last Congress at least, loyal to
+the Government; several of whom, however, are now engaged in treason,
+while others remain true to their allegiance.
+
+The person who, both from the position he held in the Senate and from
+his imposing personal appearance, first attracted the attention of the
+visitor, was the Vice-President, Breckinridge, of Kentucky. His later
+treachery has made him justly the object of bitter popular odium,
+inasmuch as his delinquency was aggravated by his former professions of
+loyalty. It was hoped by many who had witnessed his early elevation to
+the highest dignities, his undoubted ability both as an orator and as an
+administrative officer, and his apparently manly and ingenuous bearing,
+that talents which promised to be of so great service to his country
+would, in the approaching struggle, be exerted in behalf of its entirety
+and honor. Southern 'chivalry' in him was exhibited in a nobler and more
+amiable light than in his more petulant and less generous colleagues. A
+certain graceful dignity was united with the most attractive felicity of
+manner, and one could not help regarding him, when viewed in private
+society, as a perfect model of a gentleman. His courtesy and delicacy
+were exhibited to all alike, and strangers could not help admiring one
+who had at so early an age been raised to so giddy a hight, and yet who
+had retained such condescension of manner and such continual good-nature
+to every body who approached him. His personal appearance, as we have
+already said, was highly imposing; in which was combined a manliness of
+demeanor and a strikingly handsome countenance and figure. His peculiar
+fitness as a presiding officer made him popular in that capacity.
+Seldom, indeed, has a Vice-President occupied the chair with such
+perfect ease and such stately dignity. His oratory was worthy of a
+Senator, elevated, earnest, and partaking less of passion and rancor
+than other Southern speakers; but it rather lacked the substance and
+solidity which a maturer stage of life would undoubtedly have given to
+it. He seemed to be a fair representative of the Kentucky aristocracy,
+possessing a delicate sense of honor, a bold spirit, though hardly
+enthusiasm of soul. Evidently absorbed in a selfish ambition for power,
+this fault is in some degree palliated by the circumstance of the early
+age at which he was promoted to the public counsels. That this passion,
+unduly encouraged, has led him into a deplorable and fatal mistake, is
+now evident; and from what we have recently heard of him, we doubt not
+that a similar conviction has made him wretched and desperate.
+
+The father of the Senate, Mr. Crittenden, so well known during the last
+weeks of his term as the would-be pacificator, by compromise, of the
+impending rupture, was the last of the generation of statesmen of whom
+Webster and Clay were the leading cotemporaries. His long service in the
+national legislature procured him on all occasions a respectful and
+attentive hearing, and were it not for this circumstance, the earnest
+impressiveness of his declamation, at times relieved by sparks of
+old-fashioned wit, would have attracted the notice of his auditors. He
+was singular in his personal appearance, and a peculiarly fierce
+expression of face frequently gave an erroneous idea of his character,
+which was, making allowance for age and a life of turmoil, affable and
+good-natured. He always reminded us of the portraits of Lord Chancellor
+Thurlow, whose bushy eyebrows and stern countenance used to terrify
+young barristers in Westminster eighty years ago. Rather negligent in
+his dress, and far from elegant in manner, he would hardly be noticed at
+first as one of the leading members of the body. As a lawyer, he has
+been acute and learned; as a statesman, generally able, though hardly
+profound; as an orator, not graceful, but forcible and earnest. His
+patriotism was, no doubt, zealous and entirely disinterested; but
+certainly ill-directed, and not adapted in the application it made of
+principles to the exigencies of the times. Representing the most
+respected and most prosperous of slave States, and being considered in a
+manner as the statesman upon whose shoulders had fallen the mantle of
+the illustrious Clay, his influence was considerable, both with
+adherents and antagonists.
+
+With sincere satisfaction, we turn to contemplate the character of a
+true-hearted and undaunted Southern patriot, Andrew Johnson, of
+Tennessee. Coming as he did from a section in which secessionism
+predominates, and representing a mercurial and sensitive people, he
+stood out fearlessly and zealously in behalf of the maintenance of the
+Union at all hazards. He is an admirable example of the self-made man,
+having received no education in his youth, and owing to the application
+of maturer years the historical and political information he now
+possesses. Born and bred among the lower classes of society, and
+engaging in an occupation suited to his humble sphere, by perseverance
+and patience and a very superior natural ability, he has won a deserved
+place in the United States Senate. He is universally considered as one
+of the leading intellects in that body, and by his speeches during the
+last Congress, in which his enthusiasm as a patriot lent brilliancy and
+energy to his naturally forcible declamation, he attracted to himself
+the confidence and affection both of his auditors and of the country.
+His personal appearance is rather ordinary, not at all imposing, and yet
+his countenance indicates a sound judgment and a pure heart. His whole
+manner is open and frank, his bearing that of a gentleman by nature, and
+socially he is universally liked. His oratory is also of an ingenuous
+character, calculated to impress one at once with his thorough honesty
+and humanity. Sometimes he rose to admirable passages of virtuous
+indignation and scathing rebuke, as he warmed with the subject of
+Southern delusion, actuated by unprincipled leaders, and few of the
+Senators who sat on the Democratic side escaped from his truly
+formidable denunciation. Lane, of Oregon, a compound of conceit,
+ridiculous ignorance, and servility to Southern masters, was totally
+annihilated by the sturdy Tennesseean, for his imbecile attempts to
+excuse his pusillanimous submission to his chivalrous dictators. So
+successful was he in conjecturing and exposing the designs of the
+malcontent Senators, that the boldest of them feared to meet him in
+forensic discussion, and recoiled from the honesty and acuteness of one
+who knew them and did not hesitate to hold them up to ignominy. Through
+all the dangers which have beset the neighborhood from which he came, he
+has stood firm in the assertion of patriotic principles; nor to save his
+own household from disaster, has he yielded a jot to the demands of
+traitor tyrants. At present, he is provisional Governor of Tennessee,
+and is doing good service in bringing that once-honored State back to
+the folds of the Union. Of few public men can we say, what may be
+confidently said of him, that he has shown himself ready to sacrifice
+every private interest to subserve the interests of his country, and has
+given us a certain and practical example of a heroism unknown before the
+present crisis to Americans, except in the colored narratives of
+history.
+
+Senator Green, of Missouri, was justly regarded as one of the clearest
+thinkers and speakers in the Upper House. Irregularity of life had
+somewhat blunted what must once have been a very superior mind. His
+statesmanship was of a high order; his oratory ingenuous, generally
+courteous and conciliatory, and always entertaining, from its lucidness
+and keenness. He was decidedly popular in social circles, genial and
+good-natured, and full of animal spirits. His excesses, indeed, rather
+tended to make him the more companionable, though they undoubtedly
+undermined an uncommonly fine intellect; and certainly nothing can be
+more sickening than to see one so highly endowed, and who might command
+the applause of listening senates, gradually sinking below the level of
+manhood by habitual indulgences. In personal appearance, he was rather
+awkward, of an ungainly figure, his countenance not highly intelligent,
+but cheerful and rather pleasing. After the ostracism of the great
+bulwark of Democracy, Douglas, from the councils of his party, Senator
+Green became the leader of that side of the house, assuming the place on
+the Committee on Territories made vacant by the Illinois statesman. As a
+manager of party tactics, and as a bold, shrewd, and energetic leader,
+few could equal and none surpass him. His rise to so high a
+consideration among his political friends was rapid, but proved, in the
+event, well deserved.
+
+We have occupied more space than we had intended, in considering the
+Senators from the slave States, and will now attempt to speak of some of
+the more prominent Northern statesmen, in this paper, and perhaps
+continue their consideration more at length in a future number.
+
+The present Secretary of State was long regarded as the leading
+Free-Soil Senator, and after the present Republican party came into
+existence, he naturally assumed a prominent position among its
+advocates. In caution, in profound foresight, in coolness and affability
+of temper, and in perspicuity and logical shrewdness of oratory, he has
+been without a superior since the death of Webster. He somewhat
+resembles Earl Russell in the prudence and care with which he treats
+political questions, and the vigilance with which he notices every
+symptom of popular tendencies and popular desires. His circumspection is
+constant, and the imperturbability of his character enables him to be
+ever on his guard, and protects him from the enunciation of an unpopular
+idea. Never permitting himself to be annoyed at ever so bitter a taunt,
+perfectly self-possessed, and always mindful of the courtesy due to his
+colleagues, and the respect due to the most dignified body in the
+nation, he has generally succeeded in completely disarming his less
+prudent antagonists. In general debate, his coolness and mental balance
+enabled him to cope with the most formidable opponents, and although at
+times the overwhelming eloquence of Douglas got the better of the more
+philosophic orator, such an occurrence was rare, and a triumph was
+gained over him only by the greatest exertions of the greatest orators.
+His labored speeches, as will be testified to by all who have perused
+them, are rich in profound thought, a clear discernment and
+comprehension of events, causes, and results, and occasionally in
+passages of stately and brilliant eloquence. Graceful rhetoric and
+shrewd logic appear to be ever at his command, as he has occasion, in
+the course of argument, to resort to one or the other, to illustrate or
+to enforce his reasoning. In person, Mr. Seward is of about medium
+hight, rather stooping, with reddish-gray hair, an aquiline nose, and
+dull, sleepy, blue eyes. His countenance is hardly intellectual, and no
+one would suppose, on seeing him for the first time, that he was a man
+of conspicuous ability. He is affable to every one, and enters freely
+into conversation with all who call upon him; nevertheless, he is
+extremely guarded at all times in expressing his opinions, and will
+never betray himself into an unguarded sentiment. His manner of speaking
+is extremely easy, and occasionally dull; and when in the Senate, he
+used to take his position by leaning against the pillar behind his seat,
+twirling in one hand his spectacles, while with the other he enforced,
+by slight gestures, the more striking passages of his speech. His
+delivery was far from animated, and his intonation was rather
+conversational than declamatory. He has a quiet dignity at all times,
+which is yet consistent with a polite and amiable demeanor; and while
+the former inspires the respect, the latter elicits the esteem of all
+who approach him.
+
+The present Vice-President was, during the last Congress, Senator from
+Maine. He was long known as an able Democratic politician, and in 1856
+was elected Governor of Maine by the Republicans, in a hotly-contested
+election. He is remarkable rather for a sound judgment and practical
+good sense than as an orator or in the higher arts of statesmanship. He
+was always listened to with attention, because all looked upon him as
+well informed in the everyday duties of the Senate, and as one whose
+opinion was formed from accurate observation and a clear head. He is in
+no sense an orator, his delivery not being pleasant or his sentiments
+couched in graceful or forcible language. He is of a dark complexion,
+rather tall, with jet-black hair, a little bald, and would not be
+selected as one of the leading men in the Senate from his personal
+appearance. As a presiding officer, he ranks well, being apparently
+posted on parliamentary law and impartial in his decisions, although he
+has not the dignity and grace which lent _�clat_ to Mr. Breckinridge's
+performance of the office.
+
+Senator Fessenden, of Maine, is considered one of the first statesmen
+now prominent before the country; and the ability he has exhibited, not
+only in the practical details of his position but in the wider range of
+comprehensive statesmanship, entitles him to a place superior to most
+and equal to any of his contemporaries. Since the retirement of Senator
+Hunter from the Finance Committee, (which may be considered as the most
+important in the Senate,) Mr. Fessenden has executed the duties of its
+chairmanship with an accuracy and vigilance which has elicited the
+praise of all sides of the house. His superiority as a financier is
+marked; but not more marked than his high capacity for comprehending and
+elucidating the great national issues, which swallow up all minor ones
+in the magnitude of their importance and the intensity of their
+interest. For maturity of judgment, deliberateness of thought and
+manner, fearlessness of speech, a presence of mind never lost, and
+bitterness of invective, no one ranks above him in the Chamber. His
+oratory is of that substantial and yet spirited character which at once
+convinces and interests and engages the attention of the mind, without
+wearying it by unrelieved exertion. Always the master of every topic on
+which he attempts to enlighten, he is neither foiled by the sophistries
+nor embarrassed by the bravadoes of his opponents. His eloquence is not
+demonstrative, but calm, dignified, and earnest, apparently confident in
+the correctness of his views, and yet cautious to avoid giving offense
+to others. He is always listened to with the utmost respect, and his
+opinions are of much weight among his political friends. His appearance
+is dignified and highly intellectual; his forehead being broad and
+indicative of great ability, and his general manner being in harmony
+with the prominence and responsibility of his office. Never resorting,
+in default of argument, to the petty malice of personal abuse, his
+course has been liberal, consistent, and uniformly courteous. In private
+life, he retains the dignity which appears to be natural to him; but is
+yet affable and sociable, attracting one alike by the rich products of
+thought and the courtesy of his manner.
+
+Benjamin F. Wade, Senator from Ohio, is a noble specimen of a self-made
+statesman. He migrated, at a very early age, from New-England to his
+present residence, being entirely without means and devoid of every
+thing except his own invincible spirit, with which to secure a
+livelihood. The qualities which made him successful sooner than his most
+sanguine expectations taught him to hope for, appear in all their
+maturity in the character of the Senator. A perseverance the most
+constant, a firmness approaching to stubbornness, a courage which never
+feared man, and a power of application wonderful in a mind disciplined
+only by rude nature, are the component elements which have promoted him
+to and maintain him with conspicuous honor in the Senate of the United
+States. His honest and intrepid advocacy of principle has won him an
+enviable position in his party, and no one possesses the entire
+confidence of the country to a greater degree than he. He was
+particularly prominent in the last Congress for the bluntness and
+severity with which he handled the Southern Senators, and the little
+hesitation with which he exposed their delinquencies in the strongest
+light. His harangues were full of impulsive, strong, and fearless
+invective, and he never stopped to consider the delicacy of chivalrous
+sensitiveness, when treason and conspiracy were to be exposed. Probably
+no man was more feared by the other side of the Chamber, for he could
+neither be cowed by threats nor restrained within the limits of
+punctilious courtesy. He dealt with them in the plainest language, and
+combined with powerful effect argument, sarcasm, and eloquent
+denunciation. Strong sense is a leading feature of his character, and a
+practical wisdom which renders him eminently capable in the discharge of
+details. In private life, he is genial and always good-natured, ready
+for a joke at all times, and enjoys his leisure hours with a zest which
+is quickened by previous earnest toil. Although as bitter and
+unconciliatory as any of his colleagues in his treatment of the Southern
+statesmen on the floor of the Senate, he always manifested the utmost
+good temper toward them in social intercourse, and was frequently seen,
+after a sharp and irritating episode in debate, laughing and talking
+with Green or Benjamin in the most cheerful manner imaginable.
+
+We hope to present more sketches of Northern Senators in a future
+number.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAST DITCH.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is't where the James goes rolling by
+  Used-up plantations worn and dry,
+  Where planters lash and negroes breed,
+  And folks on oyster memories feed?
+  Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
+  To find it you must further go.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that 'last ditch,' his final stand?
+  Is't where the Mississippi runs
+  His mighty course for many suns,
+  To where New-Orleans fills the flat?
+  [Ben Butler's taken charge of _that_]
+  'Tis ours--to the Gulf of Mexico,
+  So that can't be the ditch, you know.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  _Is_ that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is it about Fort Donelson,
+  Where Floyd 'skedaddled,' _minus_ gun,
+  Packed up his traps and stole away
+  By night--as he had done by day?
+  Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
+  To find it you must further go.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is it at Nashville, Tennessee,
+  Once more a city of the free,
+  Where Isham Harris and his tools
+  Thieved just two millions from the schools?
+  Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
+  To find it you must further go.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is't at Montgomery, where in May
+  Hell's blackest tricks were put in play,
+  Where right and might were overruled,
+  And people into treason fooled?
+  Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
+  To find it you must further go.
+
+  Where in the Southron's fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is it at Charleston? Time shall prove
+  How much that precious nest we love,
+  When, crushed to dust and damned to shame,
+  We give the place another name.
+  Yet 'tis not there, I tell you, no!
+  Much further off its waters flow.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is it at Natchez, high or low,
+  Or Newbern, where the pine-trees grow?
+  Is it where ladies 'dip' and snuff,
+  And white men feed on dirt enough?
+  Not there, not there; far down below
+  And further off its waters flow.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Knowest thou a stream folks call the Styx,
+  Round a plantation of Old Nick's,
+  In which, as Beauregard once swore,
+  His horse should drink when all is o'er?
+  There, there, my Southern friend, you'll find
+  A ditch exactly to your mind.
+
+  Ay, there in truth. God! can it be
+  That falsehood, sin and tyranny,
+  Though eighteen hundred years be past,
+  Still roar and revel wild and fast?
+  Well, let them rave; thou knowest the way--
+  'Tis darkest ere the dawn of day,
+  And well we know, whate'er befall,
+  Where runs the ditch to hide them all!
+
+
+
+
+PATIENCE.
+
+  Patience! why,'tis the soul of peace;
+  Of all the virtues, the nearest kin to heaven.
+  It makes men act like gods. The Best of Men
+  That e'er wore earth about him was a Sufferer,
+  A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit,
+  The first true Gentleman that ever breathed.
+
+
+
+
+REWARDING THE ARMY.
+
+
+It is a brave thing that we can truly say, after more than a year of
+fierce hostilities, the war in which this country is engaged goes on
+with undiminished--nay, with increasing Northern spirit. The enemy has
+been obliged to resort to forced conscription, and to declare every man
+within its limits a soldier, while we have not as yet had recourse to
+drafting; nor, as the late sudden call showed, nearly exhausted our
+volunteers. A thousand, and even fifteen hundred dollars have been
+offered in Virginia newspapers for a substitute, and yet behind this
+there has followed an Executive order for enrolling every man in the
+army whether he have purchased a substitute or not. 'Our flag floats
+over Nashville and Natchez, over Memphis and New-Orleans, over Norfolk
+and Pensacola, over Yorktown and Newbern.' We have girded them in on the
+Mississippi, on the Atlantic, and on the Gulf. We know that they are
+destitute of almost every thing save mere food and arms, and that every
+month sinks them deeper and deeper in destitution and misery. The war is
+on their own soil, and their own armies are a scourge and a curse to
+their own estates. Every where the plantation and the farm are made
+desolate--every where the direst distress is taking the place of
+comfort. And all this they brought on themselves by the most determined
+will. They believed that Northern men were all cowards and
+half-traitors--their allies and friends among us promised them easy
+victories and certain independence--they thought that the greed of money
+was stronger among us than the sense of dignity and honor--and now they
+are reaping their reward.
+
+Yet despite the bitter need into which they have brought themselves, it
+does not seem that those of the South who are in earnest have lost any
+of their desperation, or gained a better opinion of their foes. Their
+journals still trumpet the loudest lies and the mass still believe that
+sooner or later their shattered bark will outride the battle and the
+storm, and float safely into the broad sea of independence. Would that
+they could see the North as it is, in all its comparative prosperity,
+with millions still left to volunteer, and with thousands of foreigners
+eagerly seeking for places in the fray. We have found it necessary to
+instruct our ministers and consuls abroad that we can not accept for the
+present any more of the many military officers of different nations who
+desire to fight for the stars and stripes. We have money in abundance,
+and there is no flinching at taxation--indeed, the great source of
+apprehension at present is an excess of 'flush times' such as is too apt
+to bring on a reaction. When the war broke out we had, indeed, divided
+counsels. The old Southern Democrats whined and yelped, and attempted
+'peace-parties' and the like; but they have vanished, and traitors now
+confine themselves to less offensive measures, while their ranks have
+been woefully thinned. We may have disasters; nay, we can hardly hope to
+escape them. But in the present state of the war we may fairly boast of
+having the upper-hand. And the Northern tenacity which did not yield
+when misfortune lowered around, will not be likely to loose its hold now
+that it has learned to measure its might, man for man, with the arrogant
+enemy.
+
+Under the wise and judicious policy inaugurated by President Lincoln, we
+see Slavery, the great cause of this trouble, in a fair way to disappear
+in a manner which can give offence to no one. His 'remuneration
+message'--the shrewdest document which ever emanated from an American
+Executive--shows itself, as events proceed, to be a master-stroke of
+genius. The longer the cotton States prolong their resistance, the more
+precarious does slave property become, and the more inclined are the
+men of the tobacco States to sell their human chattels. Already in
+Kentucky, Tennessee, Maryland, and Delaware, people are longing to
+'realize' something on what bids fair to become altogether intangible
+amid the turns and tides of skirmishes and battles. Meanwhile with every
+day's delay Emancipation, as a predetermined necessity, gains ground
+among the people, and very rapidly indeed in the army. It was the lowest
+and most tyrannical form of an aristocracy--that of slaveholding
+planterdom--which caused and is still causing all this trouble, and it
+is beginning to work its way into the minds of the multitude that it is
+hardly worth while to risk every thing, and see the real criminals
+re�nstated after all in their privileges and possessions, when the one
+can only serve to continue the old sore, while the other might be better
+employed in free labor. And better employed, we may add, in rewarding
+those noble men whose lives were risked in defense of our liberties.
+
+This consideration brings us to the very important question: How shall
+we reward our army, and what should be its future mission in the
+reconstruction which every freeman will be called to aid?
+
+There is no use in disguising facts, shirking inevitable issues, or
+trying to cheat either destiny or honest labor. We have got this
+question of rewarding our soldiers with the property of rebels, before
+us, and must meet it squarely. The pro-slavery Democratic press may
+oppose it, as they have been doing, with all the malignity which their
+treasonable friendship for the South may inspire; but we have an
+inevitable road before us over which we _must_ travel, and it would be
+well to consider it betimes, that we may tread it fairly and smoothly,
+and not be dragged along shrieking, by a pitiless destiny.
+
+There are two good reasons why we should begin to consider betimes, the
+expediency of rewarding our army with Southern lands. The one is the
+necessity of a future Northern policy; the other the claim of the army
+to such reward.
+
+If when this war is concluded, our Government is to have a policy or a
+principle, it should manifestly be that of re�nstating itself in power,
+in consolidating that power, and in acting as a powerful unity,
+according to the letter and the spirit of the Constitution. The
+CONSTITUTION--bear that word well in mind--the Constitution
+which suffers no State to usurp a single power belonging to the General
+Government, and which was expressly framed for the purpose of making all
+its freemen the citizens of one great nation. Let the reader consult the
+Constitution, study its unmistakable plan of national integrity and of
+state subordination, and then reflect whether, according to its spirit,
+any and every mere state privilege which may be claimed should not yield
+to the paramount claim of _the Union_?
+
+If this war has demonstrated any thing, it has been, firstly, the fact
+that the South SHALL stay in the Union, and secondly, the folly
+of permitting the old Southern system to control us in politics, in
+social life, and in every thing. We have had enough of it. Manufactures,
+free labor, science, schools, the press, learning, new ideas, social
+reforms, the whole _progress_ of the age, inspiring twenty millions, can
+no longer be cuffed and scouted in the Senate and snubbed in the _salon_
+or public meeting by the private interests of half a million of the most
+illiberal and ignorant conservatives in existence. Henceforth the North
+must _rule_. 'Must' is a hard nut, but Southern teeth must crack it,
+whether they will or no. We may shuffle and quibble, but to this it must
+come. Every day of the war renders it more certain. The farm must
+encroach on the plantation, the rural nobility give place to the higher
+nobility of intelligence; social culture based on mudsills must make way
+for the mudsills themselves--for lo! the sills which they buried are not
+dead timber, neither do they sleep or rot--they were fresh saplings,
+and with the reviving breath of spring and at the gleam of the sun of
+freedom, they will shoot up into brave, strong life.
+
+Let them talk, dispute, hem and haw, that will--we can not set aside the
+great fact that in future our Government will be united in its policy,
+great in its strength, and no longer impeded by the selfish arrogance of
+a petty planterdom. Labor and capital are bursting their bonds--the
+Middle Class of North-America which Southerners and Englishmen equally
+revile, is becoming all-powerful and seeks to substitute business
+common-sense for the aristocratic policy which has hitherto guided us.
+It is no longer a question of radicalism, of poor against rich, of
+lazzaroni and royalists, but of a new element--that of labor and of
+intellect combined--the guiding-spirit of the North. And the question
+is, how to best aid this element in its progress?
+
+The army of the United States at the present day contains within itself
+the best part of such free labor and intellect as is needed to reform
+the South. That dashing and daring energy which gladly enters on new
+fields, and loves bold enterprises, has streamed by scores of thousands
+from the farm and factory toward the camp and the battle-field. There it
+is doing brave service for God and for freedom. Every day sees martyrs
+for the holy cause drawn from the ranks of these good and noble
+volunteers. They die noble--ay, holy deaths, and as they die new
+aspirants for honor step forward to fill their places. When the war
+shall be over, it is to the army that we should look to revive the
+wasted South, to farm its exhausted plantations and employ its blacks.
+Is there no significance in the numerous anecdotes which reach us of
+Northern intellect already displaying itself in a thousand forms of
+restless activity? The newspaper before us states that General Shepley,
+in New-Orleans, has threatened that if the bakers of his conquered city
+do not supply bread more cheaply he will remodel their whole business
+and employ bakers from the army. 'Bakers from the army!' Ay, smiths,
+engineers, editors, and every thing else are there, amply capable of
+re�rganizing the whole South--of tilling its fields to greater
+advantage, of developing its neglected resources, of making the old,
+desolate, lazy, dissolute Southland hum with enterprise. Let them do it.
+
+_We_ may as well do it betimes with a good grace, for it is very
+doubtful if those who venture to oppose the settlement of our soldiers
+in the South, will not stir up such a storm of trouble as this country
+never saw. An army of half a million after a year or two years of
+battle-life, will not calmly return to its wonted avocations,
+notwithstanding all that has been said to that effect. A warrant for
+Western lands, which will possibly bring a hundred dollars, will seem
+but a small matter to men who have seen unlimited paths to competence in
+the rich fields of the South. They will not comprehend why the enemy
+should be allowed to retain his possessions while they themselves have
+been thrown out of employment. There is to be some end to this
+protecting the rights and property of rebels. And it is very certain
+that a vast number of those who were non-combatants will perfectly agree
+with them.
+
+It is pleasant to see the process of reconstruction going on so well in
+New-Orleans under the bayonets of our troops. But neither in New-Orleans
+nor elsewhere has it any vitality save under Northern direction, aided
+by Northern industry. The hatred of the South for the old Union is
+insane, terrible, and ineradicable. The real secessionists will never
+come back, they will never be conciliated. They will oppose Union,
+oppose free labor, hinder our every effort to benefit them, and be our
+deadly foes to the last. We might as well abandon now and forever any
+hope of reconstruction to be founded on reformed secessionists. A large
+party there is--and it will, if properly protected, become much
+larger--who will join the Union for the sake of preserving their
+property. _But this party will not be increased a single man by our
+neglecting to punish those who have been active rebels_, while on the
+other hand it will dwindle to nothing if left exposed to temptation and
+enmity. We must proceed with the utmost energy, and our only hope is in
+a complete re�rganization of the South, by infusing into it Northern
+blood, life, ideas, education, and industry. And the only effective
+means of doing this will be to settle our army in the South. The task
+before us is a tremendous one, but so is the war, and we must not flinch
+from it.
+
+We have come to an era of great ideas and great deeds, such as rarely
+overtake nations in history, and which when they do, either crush them
+to the dust or elevate them to the topmost pinnacle of glory. Petty
+expediency, timid measures, small politics, will no longer help this
+country. There is a great cause of evil in America--slavery--which is
+destined to disappear, and which _will_ disappear whether we legislate
+for or against it. It _is_ disappearing now under the influences of the
+war. Beyond it lies the equally great evil of Southern hatred, inertia,
+laziness, ignorance, and depravity. We must learn to live in the great
+ideas of making all this disappear before superior intelligence,
+industry, and humanity. The great principles of free labor, scientific
+reforms and culture, the enlargement of capital, the feeding and
+teaching the poor, should become as a deep-seated religion in our
+hearts, and we should live and labor to promote this great and holy
+faith which is in reality the practical side of Christianity--that great
+shield of the poor. To extend these doctrines over the whole continent
+is a noble mission, and one not to be balked or hindered by foolish
+scruples or weak pity for a pitiless foe.
+
+He who can raise his mind to the contemplation of the government of
+North-America, ruling over a perfectly _free_ continent, may see in the
+future such a picture of national greatness as the world never before
+realized. _Every_ State attracting the eager labor of millions of
+emigrants--for there will be no cause in future for the foreigner to
+carefully shun the slave hive--the native American directing as ever the
+enterprises--one grand government spreading from ocean to ocean--the
+whole growing every year more and more united through the constant
+increase of industrial interests and mutual needs--this is indeed a
+future to look forward to. And it is no idle dream. It will be something
+to be an American when we count one hundred millions of _united_
+freemen.
+
+The first step in this advance lies right before us. It will be in
+'Northing' the South and in completely sweeping away, by means of free
+labor and free schools every trace of the foul old negro-owning
+arrogance. And to do this we must begin by finding or making a way to
+induce a large portion of the army to remain in the South and reform it.
+It is a grand scheme, but we live in the day of great deeds, and should
+not flinch from them.
+
+It is, however, tolerably clear to him who looks to the future, that
+whether we boldly embrace this scheme or not, it will force itself upon
+us or else entail some great disaster. It is more to our interest to
+reward the army with Southern land-grants than it is even for theirs to
+accept them. The longer we bolster up in its possessions an insolent
+enemy, so much the longer shall we have to support an army and pay
+taxes. The sooner we weaken the enemy by introducing industrial rivals
+into his country, the better it will be for us.
+
+If it be difficult to settle our army all over the South, let there be
+at least a vigorous beginning made in Texas, and other States. With
+Texas thoroughly colonized from the North and from Europe, sedition
+would be under constant check, and its boasted cotton supremacy
+completely held in by an unlimited rival supply of free-labor cotton.
+Every Southern port should be held and governed as New-Orleans is now
+being treated. In due time there would spring up a new generation of
+Southrons who would think of us as something else than cowardly,
+vulgar, stingy serfs, and learn that social merit is conferred not by
+being born on this or that piece of 'sacred' dirt, but by full
+development and exercise of the talents with which God has gifted us.
+
+But to do all this there must be _no flinching_. This is not the time to
+prate of the 'unrepresented rights' of traitors, or wince at the
+prospect of reducing to poverty the men who have labored for years to
+reduce us to utter ruin!
+
+
+
+
+JOHN McDONOGH THE MILLIONAIRE.
+
+
+In the year 1850, and for nearly forty years previous, there could be
+seen almost every day in the streets of New-Orleans, a very peculiar and
+remarkable looking old gentleman. Tall and straight as a pillar, with
+stern, determined features, lit up by eyes of uncommon, almost unnatural
+brilliancy, with his hair combed back and gathered in a sort of queue,
+and dressed in the fashion of half a century ago, to wit, an old blue
+coat, with high collar, well-brushed and patched but somewhat 'seedy'
+pantaloons, of like date and texture, hat somewhat more modern, but
+bearing unmistakable proof of long service and exposure to sun and rain;
+old round-toed shoes, the top-leathers of which had survived more soles
+than the wearer had outlived _souls_ of his early friends and
+companions; a scant white vest, ruffled shirt, and voluminous white
+cravat, completed the costume of this singular gentleman, who, with his
+ancient blue silk umbrella under his arm, and his fierce eye fixed on
+some imaginary goal ahead, made his way through the struggling crowds
+which poured along the streets of New-Orleans.
+
+The last time this strange and spectral figure was seen making its
+accustomed rounds was on the twenty-sixth of October, 1850. On that day,
+a very remarkable event occurred, which attracted the notice of
+passers-by and was even snatched up as an item by the ever-vigilant
+reporters of the daily press; this consisted simply in a notable
+variation from the routine and habits of the old gentleman in the
+long-tailed blue. He was seen to stop on Canal street, to hesitate for a
+few moments, and then deliberately enter an omnibus bound for the lower
+part of the city. Such an occurrence created quite a sensation among
+street-corner gossippers. There must really be some new and pressing
+emergency, which could produce this departure from the custom and
+invariable habits of forty years; so said every one who knew the old
+gentleman. The omnibus stopped at the court-house; the subject of these
+observations and his blue umbrella emerged from it, and both soon
+disappeared in the corridor leading to the so-called halls of justice.
+
+That was the last that was ever seen of the strange old gentleman on the
+streets of New-Orleans. The evening journals of the next day contained
+the following obituary:
+
+     'Died this morning, the twenty-seventh of October, 1850, at
+     McDonoghville, opposite the city of New-Orleans, after a short
+     illness, John McDonogh, a native of Baltimore, but for forty years
+     a resident of Louisiana.'
+
+And the strange old man, who could not ride a few squares in the omnibus
+without attracting the attention of every body and exciting public
+curiosity to such a degree, was the millionaire, the Croesus of the
+South, the largest land-owner in the United States. He had reached the
+advanced age of seventy, and his remarkable vigor and health had never
+given way under the pressure of the severest and most incessant labor.
+Generation upon generation had lapsed into the grave under his eye. A
+few, a very few shriveled old men were known to him as cotemporaries.
+Suddenly, while pursuing so eagerly his imaginary goal, he was seized
+with faintness on the street. Other men would have taken a cab, and
+ridden home, or at least to a physician's; but when did John McDonogh
+turn aside from business to relieve any weakness or want? He had an
+important document to file in court. It must be done that day. He is too
+weak to walk. There is the omnibus; the fare is only a dime; but that
+dime is so much taken from the poor, for John McDonogh is only an agent
+for the poor, so appointed and called of God. Such were the reflections
+that passed through his mind before he could be induced to perpetrate
+this serious violation of the settled rules of a life, this single blot
+and stain on a career of unbroken self-abnegation. With a sigh, he took
+his seat in the omnibus.
+
+It was his last ride.
+
+In a cold, desolate, dreary, brick building, constituting almost the
+only visible sign of the existence of the town of McDonoghville, situate
+on the right bank of the Mississippi, opposite to the centre of
+New-Orleans, and in a large room, the furniture of which was
+old-fashioned, worn, and time-stained, there lay on a small hard
+mattress the gaunt figure of the millionaire, tortured with pain and
+fast sinking under the ravages of that terrible disease, the Asiatic
+cholera. The only beings near were negroes; no white persons were ever
+allowed to spend the night under that roof. Those negroes were the rich
+man's slaves in law, but companions and friends in fact. His immense
+business, his vast estates were administered through them. Even his
+documents were copied by them. They were true to him in his moment of
+distress and sickness. All that their limited knowledge of medicine
+could suggest was done for his relief. At last, in disregard of his
+command, a physician was brought from the city, who pronounced his
+condition a very critical one. The doctor's first demand was for brandy.
+
+'Massa, there an't bin no brandy in this house for twenty years,' was
+the reply of an old, gray-headed domestic.
+
+A servant was dispatched to the nearest grocery; but it proved to be too
+late. The dying man perceived his condition, and requested that his
+lawyer should be sent for. In an hour that gentleman arrived. He was
+just in time.
+
+'Roselins,' he said, addressing one of the most eminent of the lawyers
+of the New-Orleans bar, as he held his hand, 'You see I am going; you
+see I am not afraid to die. Take care of the estate; 'tis not mine,'tis
+God's and the poor's.' And thus, without a struggle, the soul of John
+McDonogh passed to its Maker.
+
+His death was truly a desolate one. No devoted relatives or friends
+gathered around his couch to cheer his last moments with those tender
+tokens of love and sorrow which so sweeten the otherwise bitter cup of
+death. No soft hand of woman smoothed his pillow or relieved the agony
+of pain and suffering by the timely opiate or emollient. No weeping
+little ones were there to cheer his heart with the assurance that on
+their dear pledges of affection his name and virtues will live after
+him. His lawyer, physician, and his servants were the only witnesses to
+the mortal agony of one who could have commanded troops of devoted
+friends, and who possessed the qualities which might have adorned the
+domestic and social circle.
+
+So departed this life the rich and eccentric possessor of acres
+sufficient to have made a duchy or a kingdom, and of money adequate to
+the maintenance of the dignity and power of such a position.
+
+But if his death and funeral were attended by so few witnesses, an
+occasion quickly followed which was honored by the presence of a large,
+eager, curious crowd. It was when his will was probated and read in
+court. Intense was the curiosity of the public to know what disposition
+the eccentric old man had made of his enormous property. This feeling
+was soon gratified. The will was produced. It was a curious document,
+written on stout foolscap by the testator himself, in a remarkably neat,
+clear hand, with the lines as close as type, and his autograph signed to
+every page. Being an holographic will, under the law of Louisiana it
+required no witness. Ever since 1838, this will had lain among certain
+old papers of the deceased; and yet, during all this time, it had been
+'the thought by day and dream by night' of the devoted old millionaire.
+In its preparation, he had consulted the most eminent lawyers and
+studied the most approved law-books bearing on his grand scheme. Truly,
+a curious, bold, and gigantic scheme it was. But let us to the will. In
+a slow, solemn and impressive tone, the judge proceeded to read to an
+eager and interested multitude this remarkable testament.
+
+After setting forth, in the usual form, his nativity, his present
+residence, his belief in God and in the uncertainty of life, and that he
+has no heirs living in the ascending or descending line, and directing
+an inventory of his property to be taken immediately after his death, he
+proceeds to bequeath to the children of his sister, a widow lady in
+Baltimore, a ten-acre lot in Baltimore, the usufruct to remain in the
+widow, with six thousand dollars in cash. He then emancipates his old
+servants, ten in number, whom he designates. The rest of his slaves he
+provides shall be sent to Liberia. Certain of them are to be sent after
+serving those who shall succeed to his estate for fifteen years. The
+slaves to be sent to Liberia are to be supplied with plows, hoes,
+spades, axes, clothing, garden-seeds, etc.; also with letters of
+recommendation to the colonists, and with a copy for each of the volume
+of the Holy Gospel of the Old and New Testament, as the most precious of
+all the gifts we have it in our power to give or they to receive. The
+will then proceeds to provide:
+
+     'And for the more general diffusion of knowledge and consequent
+     well-being of mankind, convinced as I am that I can make no
+     disposition of those worldly goods which the Most High has been
+     pleased so bountifully to place under my stewardship, that will be
+     so pleasing to him as that by means of which the poor will be
+     instructed in wisdom and led into the path of virtue and holiness.'
+
+He gives all the residue of his estate to the corporations of
+New-Orleans and Baltimore, in equal proportions of one half to each, for
+the several intents and purposes set forth, and especially for the
+establishment of Free Schools for all classes and castes of color,
+wherein they shall all be instructed in the knowledge of the Lord and in
+reading, writing, arithmetic, history, geography, etc., provided that
+the Bible shall be used as one of the class-books, and singing taught as
+an art.
+
+And now comes the ingenious scheme which had engaged the constant
+thought and study of the testator for forty years, by which the grand
+passion of his soul for accumulation might survive the dissolution of
+his mortal frame and still direct and control the acquisitions of his
+life. Of his real estate, no part is ever to be sold; but it is all to
+be let out on leases, never to exceed twenty-five years, to be improved
+by the tenants or lessees. At the expiration of those leases, the
+property is to revert, free of cost, to his estate, to be thereafter
+rented out by the month or year. All his personal property is to be sold
+and converted into real estate, the aggregate of which is styled his
+general estate, which is 'to constitute' a permanent fund on interest,
+as it were, namely, a real estate, affording rents, no part of which
+fund (of the principal) shall ever be touched, divided, sold, or
+alienated, but shall forever remain together as one 'estate.'
+
+The net amount of rents to be divided equally between the two cities, to
+be applied as follows:
+
+1. An annuity for forty years of one eighth part, or twelve and a half
+per cent of the net yearly revenue of rents of the whole of the estate,
+to the American Colonization Society, provided the sum does not exceed
+twenty-five thousand dollars a year.
+
+2. For an asylum for the poor of both sexes, of all ages and castes of
+color, where they may be sheltered, clothed, fed, and taken care of,
+made useful according to their respective degrees of health, strength,
+and capacity, and mendicity thereby be banished from the streets of the
+cities, he gives one eighth, or twelve and a half per cent of the net
+revenue of rents, until the sum shall reach six hundred thousand
+dollars, when it shall cease. This legacy is to be received by
+commissioners appointed by the corporations, who, as they receive, shall
+invest the amount in bank stocks or other good securities, on landed
+estate on interest, so as to augment the amount thereof by the
+accumulation of interest to the largest possible amount up to the time
+when the last of the annuity shall be received, when the commissioners
+shall proceed to take such part of said sum, not to exceed one third of
+the whole of principal and interest, and invest in the purchase of real
+estate and buildings, furniture, etc., essential for the asylum; the
+residue to be invested in real estate, which is never to be sold, but
+always rented out for the support of the asylum. The locality and
+character of the buildings are particularly described. It is recommended
+that the persons who shall reside in this asylum be employed in the
+cultivation of the mulberry-trees, (this was during the _morus
+multicaulis_ mania.)
+
+3. For the Orphan Boys' Asylum in New-Orleans--an existing
+institution--one eighth, or twelve and a half per cent of the net yearly
+revenue of rents. This annuity is to be set aside and deposited in some
+bank-paying interest, until it reaches four hundred thousand dollars,
+when it shall cease. This fund as it accumulates is to be invested in
+real estate, which is never to be sold, but rented out, and the rents
+devoted to the charity.
+
+4. For a School-Farm in the city of Baltimore, on an extensive scale,
+for the destitute and the poorest of the poor of the city of Baltimore,
+Maryland; secondly, of every town and village of said State; and
+thirdly, of all the great maritime cities of the United States, of all
+classes and castes of color, from four years to sixteen, where they
+shall be sheltered, lodged, clothed, fed, instructed in the Christian
+religion, and a plain education given them, and taught husbandry
+practically, as well as the science of agriculture, providing that the
+Bible shall be read and singing taught, especially 'divine psalmody,'
+one eighth part, or twelve and a half per cent of the whole revenue of
+the general estate, to be paid until it shall amount to three millions
+of dollars, when it shall cease. This sum, too, as it accrues, is to be
+invested in real estate, until the whole amount of three millions is
+received. One sixth of the rents from this investment is to be applied
+to the purchase of the School-Farm, the other five sixths to be invested
+in lots in Baltimore, which shall be leased out and the rents applied to
+the support of the farm.
+
+The modes in which these various institutions are to be governed and
+directed are then set forth in tedious detail, interlarded with many
+rather trite and moralizing reflections on the importance of having the
+young reared up in habits of virtue and industry. A complex system of
+government is arranged, and great care taken that the funds thus
+bequeathed to charitable institutions shall never be controlled by the
+corporations of the two cities. It is also provided, that
+
+     'No compromise shall ever take place between the Mayor, Aldermen,
+     and inhabitants of the city of Baltimore, in Maryland, and the
+     Mayor, Aldermen, and inhabitants of the city of New-Orleans, nor
+     shall any agreements be made between these two cities contrary to
+     the directions of the will. If such compromise or agreement be
+     made, these legacies shall be void, and the States of Maryland and
+     Louisiana shall receive the general estate half and half, for the
+     purpose of educating the poor of said States, and in case of any
+     lapse of the legacies to the cities, the States shall inherit the
+     general estate.'
+
+After these dispositions and directions, the testator proceeds:
+
+     'Now, with the view of setting forth and explaining more fully and
+     particularly (if it is possible) my desires and intentions as
+     expressed in the foregoing dispositions of this my last will and
+     testament, in relation to my general estate, I will add, that the
+     first, principal, and chief object I have at heart, (the object
+     which has actuated and filled my soul from early boyhood with a
+     desire to acquire fortune,) is the education of the poor (without
+     the cost of a cent to them) in the cities of New-Orleans and
+     Baltimore, and their respective suburbs, in such a manner that
+     every poor child and youth of every color in those places may
+     receive a common English education, (_based, however, be it
+     particularly understood, on a moral and religious one_, that is,
+     the pupils shall on particular days he instructed in morality and
+     religion, and school shall be opened and closed daily with prayer.)
+     And in time, when the general estate will yield the necessary
+     funds, (for in time its revenue will be very large,) over and above
+     what will be necessary to the education of the poor of those two
+     cities and their respective suburbs, it is my desire and request
+     that the blessings of education may be extended to the poor
+     throughout every town, village, and hamlet in the respective States
+     of Louisiana and Maryland, and was it possible, through the whole
+     of the United States of America.'
+
+After paying off all the annuities, which the testator thinks will be
+completed in forty years, the net annual revenue of rents of the general
+estate is to be equally divided, one half to each, between the said two
+cities of Baltimore and New-Orleans, for the purpose of educating the
+poor.
+
+The testator then proceeds to inculcate a better feeling between the
+poor, and rich, declaring that the latter are 'reservoirs in which the
+Most High makes to flow the rich streams of his beneficence, to be laid
+up and husbanded for his all-wise and all-seeing purposes, and for
+seasons of distress and affliction to the poor. Instead, then, of
+looking on them as their greatest enemies, they should, on the contrary,
+consider them as they really are, their best friends. This is the
+position of all rich men, whose hearts occupy the right place in their
+bosoms, stand toward the poor.'
+
+Then follows a remarkable and consoling confession of the superior
+happiness of the poor man:
+
+     'Besides, let the poorer classes of the world be consoled, assured
+     that the labor-loving, frugal, industrious, and virtuous among them
+     possess joys and happiness in this life which the rich know not and
+     can not appreciate; so well convinced am I (after a long life and
+     intercourse with my fellow-men of all classes) of the truth 'that
+     the happiness of this life is altogether on the side of the
+     virtuous and industrious poor,' that had I children, (which I have
+     not,)' [how lively and sagacious the apprehension of the old
+     millionaire lest some putative offspring might come forward to
+     disturb his darling bequests!] 'and a fortune to leave behind me at
+     death, I would bequeath, after a virtuous education, (to effect
+     which nothing should be spared,) a very small amount to each,
+     merely sufficient to excite them to habits of industry and
+     frugality, and no more. As the poor man's friend, then, I recommend
+     to him to honor and respect the virtuous rich, and to lay these
+     observations to their heart and to store them up in their mind. And
+     to the rich, I would say, (if they own feelings, and worthy of
+     their regard,) 'Give them an occasional reflection.' Hoping
+     thereby, that the world may advance in happiness, in virtue, and
+     holiness.'
+
+Lastly, the old man grows tender, sentimental, and poetic, He who for
+forty years had never been seen or known to manifest a single emotion of
+gentleness, of tender feeling or sentiment, of love of children, of
+nature, or any domestic affection, in his last will desires to be held
+in loving remembrance by the fresh young souls for whose benefit he
+declares he has led his long career of toil, of self-sacrifice, and
+devotion, to gain. The association of sweet flowers, sprinkled over a
+green grave by the hands of innocent children, with the life and
+character of one of the most intense, hard and severe devotees to Mammon
+that ever lived, is a strange and incongruous one, but it was a picture
+which appears to have been very distinctly sketched on the imagination
+of John McBonogh, as will appear from the following clauses in his will:
+
+     'I request my executors (hereinafter named) to see that my funeral
+     is plain, made without parade, and with the least possible
+     expenses. And (I was near forgetting that) I have still one small
+     request to make, one little favor still to ask, and it shall be
+     the last: It is, that it may be permitted annually to the children
+     of the free schools (situate the nearest to the place of my
+     interment) to plant and water a few flowers around my grave. This
+     little act will have a double tendency: it will open their young
+     and susceptible hearts to gratitude and love to their divine
+     Creator for having raised up (as the humble instrument of his
+     bounty to them) a poor, frail worm of earth like me, and teach them
+     at the same time, what they are, whither they came, and whence they
+     must return.'
+
+Such was John McDonogh's grand theory of philanthropy, which he had
+devoted so many years of sacrifice, study, and labor, to mature and
+prepare.
+
+Accompanying the will, and inclosed in the same box, were certain
+memoranda of instructions to his executors, who were distinguished
+citizens of Baltimore and New-Orleans, including Henry Clay, of
+Kentucky, and K. R. Gurley, of Washington City, These directions to his
+executors are very minute and specific. Certain observations in this
+document are worthy of being copied, as characteristic. His reasons for
+preferring to invest in land are thus stated:
+
+     'For the base of a permanent revenue, (to stand through all time,
+     with, the blessing of the Most High,) I have preferred the earth,
+     'a part of the solid globe.' One thing is certain, it will not take
+     wings and fly away, as silver and gold, government and bank-stocks
+     often do. It is the only thing in this world of ours which
+     approaches to any thing like permanency; or in which at least there
+     is less mutation than in things of man's invention. The little
+     riches of this world, therefore, which the Most High has placed in
+     my hands, and over which he has been pleased to place and make me
+     his steward, I have invested therein, that it may yield (its
+     fruits) an annual revenue to the purpose I have destined it
+     forever.'
+
+He also states his motives, as follows:
+
+     'My soul has all my life burned with an ardent desire to do
+     good--much good, great good--to my fellow-man, as it was chiefly by
+     that means, and through that channel, that I could bend, greatly
+     bend to the honor and glory of my Lord and Master,--which was my
+     soul's first, great, chief object and interest.'
+
+He says, however, he has much to complain of the world, and gives
+instances of its injustice, especially in suits, where his just claims
+were ignored because he was rich:
+
+     'They said of me: 'He is rich, old, without wife or child; let us
+     take from him, then, what he has.' Infatuated men! they knew not
+     that it was an attempt to take from themselves, for I was laboring,
+     and had labored all my life, not for myself, but for them and their
+     children. Their attempts, however, made me not to swerve either to
+     the right hand or to the left, although to see and feel so sorely
+     their injustice and ingratitude made me often lament the frailty,
+     the perversity, and sinfulness of our fallen nature. I persevered
+     in an onward course, determined, as the steward and servant of my
+     Master, to do them good whether they would have it or not. And I
+     have so strove, so labored, to the last. The result is in the hands
+     of Him who fixes and determines all results; he will do therewith
+     as seemeth good unto himself.'
+
+Who was John McDonogh, the maker of the foregoing will, and contriver of
+such a grand scheme of charity? The answer to this inquiry will be the
+most interesting part of this narrative. John McDonogh was born in
+Baltimore, Maryland, in 1779. The only incidents of his youth that are
+known are, that he was a clerk in a mercantile store in an inland town
+of Maryland; that he was noted then for eccentricities, and for an
+excess of imagination, which led to the apprehension that he was not
+entirely of sound mind. Still his energy and intelligence secured him
+employment and the confidence of his employers. About the year 1800 he
+was sent out to New-Orleans by a house in Baltimore, with a letter of
+credit and considerable resources. He engaged largely in business, but
+soon renounced his agency, and starting on his own account, became a
+leading and prosperous merchant. In a few years he accumulated a large
+fortune--say at least three hundred thousand dollars--then a vast amount
+in the colony. He was one of the nabobs of the city. His style of living
+and habits conformed to his position and resources. His mansion was one
+of the most showy and luxurious in the city. He kept his carriages and
+horses, his cellar of costly wines, and entertained on a scale of great
+extravagance and sumptuousness. He was, in fact, the centre of fashion,
+frivolity, sociability, and even of the fashionable dissipations of the
+day. His person, which even in extreme old age was remarkable for
+dignity, erectness, and courtliness, at the period we write of, was
+conspicuous for all the graces of manhood. Indeed, he was styled the
+handsomest man in the colony. That such a young man should attract the
+favorable notice of ambitious Creole beauties who then composed the only
+female society in New-Orleans, of managing mothers, desirous of
+providing for their daughters, or of fathers, who, in addition to the
+latter motive, might also desire to secure a connection which might
+promote their own business prospects, was quite natural. The handsome
+American merchant, with his still handsomer fortune, was, therefore,
+much courted. Though always gay, gallant, and polite, Mr. McDonogh
+proved for some time invulnerable to even the charms of Creole beauty.
+At last there were indications that a young Orleanoise of fortune equal
+to his own, and of personal charms that were the theme of general praise
+and admiration, had captured the obdurate Croesus. This young damsel
+was then emerging into sweet sixteen. She was the toast and heiress of
+the city. Her name and family were among the oldest in the French and
+Spanish colonies. Her father was the venerable Senor Don Pedro
+Almonastre, an old official under the Spanish government, who, by
+prudent investments, accumulated a large property in the very centre of
+New-Orleans. He it was who donated the ground on which the Cathedral of
+St. Louis now stands. It is for the rest of his soul that mass is
+offered up and the bells are tolled every Sunday afternoon in this
+venerable temple.
+
+The daughter and only child of Almonastre--her maiden name we
+forget--was born in the Colony, of a French Creole mother. She had
+attained the age of sixteen about the year 1811. It was then that Mr.
+McDonogh's propositions for an alliance were favorably considered, and
+all the arrangements were made for the betrothal of the parties.
+Suddenly, however, a new actor appeared on the stage, who overturned
+this well-arranged scheme. There resided in the city a grim, austere,
+and wealthy man, who had served in the French and Spanish armies, who
+was noted no less for his ferocity and pride--which had been displayed
+in several sanguinary duels--than for his wealth. He had an only son, a
+handsome, graceful, and fascinating young man, who, at the suggestion of
+his father, and perhaps at the prompting of his own heart, stepped
+forward to lay his claims at the feet of the lovely heiress of
+Almonastre. Fortunately for the cause of humanity, as will appear
+hereafter, though unfortunately for the American merchant, the young
+Frenchman supplanted him in the regard of the fair Creole.
+
+The alliance of two such wealthy families as the Pontalbas and
+Almonastres, was a great event in the city, and it was duly celebrated
+by many brilliant festivities, at the close of which the happy couple
+departed for Paris, accompanied by the father of the young man.
+Purchasing a splendid hotel in the Faubourg St. Germain, the Pontalbas
+gave themselves up to all the fashionable dissipations of that gay city.
+The younger Pontalba was appointed by Napoleon one of his pages, with
+the title of Count. Leaving them to continue their gay life, we return
+to New-Orleans.
+
+The day after the marriage of Miss Almonastre to young Pontalba, there
+stepped into the office of an old auctioneer on St. Louis street, no
+less an individual than the rich and elegant American merchant, John
+McDonogh, Esq.
+
+'Sir,' remarked the merchant to the auctioneer, at the same time handing
+him a voluminous roll of paper, 'there is the inventory of my furniture,
+carriages, horses, liquors, stores, plate, and all that pertains to my
+establishment in Chartres street I desire you to sell them all for cash,
+immediately. Accordingly in three days the extensive establishment of
+Mr. McDonogh was all converted into money, to the great surprise and
+deep regret of his many friends and guests. With the proceeds he
+purchased a small, lonely house, on the opposite bank of the river,
+where, with scarcely furniture enough to satisfy the most ordinary use
+and demands of humble life, he immured himself in perfect seclusion.
+From that period until his death--forty long years--he ceased to have
+any connection or association with the world except in the course of
+business. He would neither dispense hospitality himself nor share that
+of others. Purchasing all the land around him, he placed himself beyond
+the curiosity and annoyance of near neighbors. His negro servants alone
+were permitted to reside in his house, and they were the depositories of
+the secrets of his household, and acted as his clerks and agents in all
+his transactions with the outside world.
+
+Whilst thus socially secluded and morose, Mr. McDonogh continued to
+prosecute his acquisition of property with augmented vigor and ardor. It
+was about this time his passion for accumulating vast acres of waste and
+suburban land began to manifest itself. All his views regarded the
+distant future. The present value and productiveness of land were but
+little regarded by him. His only recreation and pleasure were in
+estimating the value of his swamp and waste land fifty, a hundred, and
+even a thousand years to come. This passion at last gained such an
+ascendency over him that he seemed to court and luxuriate in waste and
+desolation. He would buy cultivated places and allow them to go to ruin.
+He would build on his lots in the city miserable shanties and rookeries,
+which would taint the neighborhood and enable him to buy out his
+neighbors at low rates. One of his favorite plans of operation was to
+purchase the back-lands of plantations on the river, the value of which
+would be increased enormously by the improvements in front of them. So
+he eagerly pounced upon all the lands in the neighborhood of the towns
+and villages in the State. One of the most brilliant of his feats in
+this sphere was the completion of his lines of circumvallation around
+the city of New-Orleans. For many years he pursued this object with the
+greatest ardor and intensity. Commencing at the upper end of the city,
+he stole gradually around through the swamps, purchasing large belts of
+land, until at last, a few years before his death, meeting one of his
+old friends in the street, he slapped him on the shoulder, and with his
+face full of enthusiasm and joy,--exclaimed: 'Congratulate me, my
+friend; I have achieved the greatest victory of my life. I have drawn my
+lines around the city, and now entirely embrace it in my arms--all for
+the glory of God and the good of my race.'
+
+During all this eager pursuit of acres there was never any manifestation
+of selfishness or of the ordinary repulsive characteristics of grasping
+avarice. It is true, he was exacting, punctual, and opinionated. He
+pursued his own course in all matters, but there was no misanthropy or
+harshness in his manner or deportment. He rarely gave for charitable or
+other purposes, for the reason that he would never sell any property he
+acquired, because he said it was not his; that he was only the steward
+or agent of God for certain great designs. His agency, however, did not
+include a power to sell. Hence he could not be induced by any offer or
+consideration to alienate any property he had once acquired. Abstemious
+to a fault, withholding himself from all the enjoyments and associations
+of the world, he devoted his time to the care of his large estate, to
+the suits in which such acquisitions constantly involved him, working
+for seventeen hours out of the twenty-four, the greater part of which
+labor consisted in writing the necessary documents relating to his
+titles, in corresponding with his lawyers and overseers. For the fifty
+years of his residence in New-Orleans, he never left the State, and
+rarely, if ever, passed beyond the limits of the corporation. It was
+well known that he was entirely wrapped up in some grand scheme of
+charity, the nature of which, however, was only known to a few lawyers,
+with whom he consulted in regard to the legality of his proposed
+dispositions, though none of them knew the mode and form in which those
+dispositions were to be made.
+
+McDonogh's scheme was certainly a grand one. In the execution of it, a
+man of his character and mind might well feel and display the
+extraordinary zeal and enthusiasm that gave to his appearance, habits,
+and conduct the characteristics of a monomaniac. Without ever once
+turning aside for pleasure, ambition, curiosity, affection, or enmity,
+he steadily pursued his great design, until death released him from the
+severe servitude to which he had bound himself. But, save in this entire
+self-abnegation and social exclusion, Mr. McDonogh had none of the
+habits of the miser. He was not a usurer, a money-lender, or a
+speculator. He did not extort his riches from the distresses and
+weaknesses of his fellow-men. He acquired by legitimate purchase, by
+entries on public lands. He dealt altogether in land. Stocks,
+merchandise, and other personal securities were eschewed by him. The
+wonder is, how, with a comparatively small revenue, his property not
+being productive, and his favorite policy being to render his lands wild
+and unsuited for cultivation, he was able to go on every year expanding
+the area of his vast possessions. Such enormous accumulations are not
+surprising under the operation of compound interest on sums of money
+loaned; but when effected by purchases of unproductive lands, they
+constitute a puzzle which the most intimate of Mr. McDonogh's friends
+have found it difficult to unravel.
+
+So much for the labor and practice of realities of the life of the
+millionaire. We must not conclude our sketch without rounding off the
+romance of that life which is the starting-point in the strange career
+pursued by him for forty years, with such ascetic severity and
+undeviating fidelity. What became of the betrothed of the gay and
+wealthy young American, from whom he had experienced the shock and
+disappointment that threw so much gloom over and produced such a
+thorough change in his future life? She had left with her gallant young
+husband, in bright hopes of a brilliant future. For some years their
+life in Paris was one of gayety, pleasure, and joyfulness. In the course
+of a few years, the dissipations of Paris began to pall upon the taste
+of the young couple. With unbounded wealth and means of enjoyment, they
+grew _ennuy�ed_, discontented, and finally contentious. Jealousy, like a
+serpent, stole into their household, and involved the mind of the
+husband in her snaky embrace. Rumors reached his ear which nourished
+this passion, until it exploded in a violent and irreconcilable quarrel.
+One of the chief instigators of the young Count, in this quarrel with
+his high-spirited wife, was his own father, who, in the retirement of a
+chateau near Paris, grew daily more morose and misanthropic. He had
+heard that his son had been dishonored, and his rage and bitterness were
+unbounded. The son abandoned his wife's hotel, and repaired to his
+father's chateau, where the two lived in seclusion and gloom. After they
+had been separated for some time, the Countess was either enticed by
+lures thrown out by the elder Pontalba, or of her own accord resorted to
+the chateau, for the purpose of consulting the Count relative to certain
+dispositions of their joint property, or certain arrangements for the
+education of their children, of whom there were three. The son was not
+at home; but the father, receiving her in the hall, invited her into his
+study. In a few moments afterward, the servants in the chateau were
+aroused by the report of a pistol, followed by the scream of a woman,
+and by another report; then all was silent. Rushing toward the study of
+Mr. Pontalba, they forced the door open--it had been locked on the
+inside--and there a terrible spectacle was presented. The Countess lay
+on the floor, bathed in blood, which gushed in torrents from a large
+wound in her breast, whilst her dress was burning from the nearness of
+the shot by which the wound had evidently been inflicted. But a still
+ghastlier object lay near. It was the body of the elder Pontalba, her
+husband's father, who had blown off the top of his skull with a large
+dragoon's pistol, which he still grasped in his hand. Though insensible,
+it was discovered that the Countess was not quite dead. A surgeon was
+soon obtained, and on examination it was discovered that though her
+wound was a terrible one--three buck-shot and one large bullet having
+entered her breast--yet there was some hope for her. After incredible
+suffering and long confinement, she recovered; though to the day of her
+death she will feel the effects of the terrible wound, to which was
+added the mutilation of her hand, which caught the bullet.
+
+The causes and circumstances of that tragedy were never unveiled to the
+world. Nor is there any great desire to penetrate the mystery. The
+Countess got well, and continued her fashionable life, appropriating a
+large portion of her great rental in New-Orleans to the purchase of
+property and the improvement of her elegant hotel in Paris. The
+Revolution of 1830 found the Countess a fierce Bourboniste, and produced
+such apprehension of confiscation, and danger to her life and liberty,
+that she concluded to return to New-Orleans. Here she found that her
+property had greatly augmented in value, and after a short sojourn in
+her native city, discovering that Louis Philippe's dynasty was an
+unproscriptive one, she returned to Paris, where she resided until the
+Revolution of 1848 again filled her with alarm for her large
+possessions. Beside, she was well known to be a conspicuous Legitimiste
+of the party of Henry V. Again she returned to New-Orleans, full of
+horror of Red Republicanism and Socialism, and with disgust for the
+fickleness of the French.
+
+Directing her attention, with characteristic energy and ardor, to the
+improvement of her property which incloses Jackson Square, the principal
+public place in New-Orleans, she built some forty elegant houses, and
+then assuming the government of the municipality, she succeeded in
+inducing the authorities to cut down the old trees on the square, and to
+have it laid off in the parterre style. The 'Woodman spare that tree'
+sentiment strongly opposed this reform; but it was vain to resist the
+Countess. The trees obstructed the view of her fine rows of houses, and
+down they must come, and down they did come, very much to the
+improvement of the city, and to the full justification of the taste and
+good sense of the Countess.
+
+After thus improving her property, and augmenting her resources, the
+Countess thought she might trust herself again in Paris, though a
+parvenu filled the throne which, in her view, was justly the property of
+the elder branch of the Bourbons.
+
+But before she left, an incident occurred which must close this
+desultory sketch. It happened one day, while the Countess was in a
+notary's office, for the purpose of signing some deeds, that a tall,
+grave, and eccentric-looking old gentleman entered, and seeing the
+notary engaged, took his seat to wait his turn. After completing her
+signature of the deeds, the Countess, raising her eyes from the
+parchment, perceived that she was the object of close and keen
+observation of the eccentric old gentleman with the very brilliant and
+piercing eyes. A single glance served to bring that face and form
+distinctly back to her memory. Rushing up to the old gentleman, she
+threw her arms around his neck, in an affectionate embrace, exclaiming:
+
+'Oh! Mr. McDonogh, is it you? I have not forgotten you during our long
+separation.' And after a pause, her emotions checking her utterance, she
+continued: 'We were once betrothed; it would have been better for both
+if we had married. Is it too late to repair that fatal error?'
+
+For the first time for forty years, the old man was deeply affected by a
+tender and human feeling. The ancient love was aroused from the deep
+recess of his heart, where it had kin dormant and forgotten, and for a
+moment triumphed over the passion which had been growing and expanding
+for the half of his lifetime, until it had gained the entire mastery of
+his soul. Greatly moved by this penitence of his once-loved betrothed,
+Mr. McDonogh begged to be permitted to consult his better judgment, and
+tearing himself from the bewitchments of the Countess, he repaired
+instantly to the office of his lawyer. Walking in with the appearance of
+great excitement, he paced the office of the lawyer in an anxious and
+excited manner for some time, to the profound astonishment of his
+ancient counselor. At last the cause of this emotion was explained,
+when, turning to his lawyer, Mr. McDonogh confessed that he was under a
+great excitement, produced by meeting his old love, the Countess. 'And
+what would you think now, R----, if I were to marry her?'
+
+'I should think,' replied the unsentimental counselor, 'that you had
+become crazy.'
+
+'Ah?' replied the millionaire interrogatively, and then pausing
+thoughtfully, he continued: 'And you would think right--you would think
+right; so let us to business.'
+
+
+
+
+HELTER-SKELTER PAPERS.
+
+
+In choosing a caption for the heterogeneous collection of reflections
+that are likely to be the result of the 'present writing,' the
+superscriber makes no apology for his title not being also a topic to
+any further extent than its consideration in this paragraph. The object
+held in view in giving _any_ name to the succeeding lucubrations was
+merely to obtain a starting-point; it being conceded that the
+commencement of a _tas_ of papers need have no greater influence on
+their course than the point of departure of a railroad-train exercises
+on its terminus and intermediate stopping-places. To resort then to my
+heading or its derivations for any indication of my purpose in what may
+follow, would be futile, and I am free to disclaim any premeditate
+purpose of governing my pen by either _hilariter_ or _celeriter_, save
+as accident may determine. This, at least, gives hope of variety in the
+consequences of my present step; but whether spiciness will also ensue,
+will depend entirely on the humor of the writer and the complaisance of
+the reader hereof. So with no further introduction, the following
+children of my moods are presented for the kind consideration of those
+under whose eyes they may fall.
+
+
+--HAS A MAN A RIGHT TO USE AN OLD PUN IN MAKING A NEW JOKE?
+This was a question which arose in the Quidnuncs coterie the other
+evening, after Muggins had sent in the following, for the comic column
+of a weekly paper, the editor of which had returned it gratefully but
+firmly, on the score of superannuation: 'If Truth lie at the bottom of a
+well, why should we be surprised that so many kick the bucket before
+they are able to reach it?'
+
+Slight sympathy was expressed for Muggins, but in my opinion that was
+owing rather to the depravity evinced in the particular attempt than to
+any condemnation of his conduct in making an old joke answer the purpose
+of a new one. I confess that I don't see why a good pun should be
+thrown aside after it has served as the soul of a single sentence. I am
+a supporter of the doctrine of Transmigration of Puns. For a true pun
+always has a humorous idea behind the verbal quip that is its prominent
+characteristic. And though the verbal quip may be 'old as the hills,'
+the joke may present a face fresh as that of a young maiden and bear a
+meaning merry as her eyes. Thus an adept in this art once renovated two
+veritable antiques:
+
+'I tell thee, Binks, that the proposition is incontrovertible; any thing
+that is worth doing is worth being _well done_.'
+
+'Well, then, brother Noggs, what hast thou to say to a beef-steak? Does
+not thy rule fail thee there?'
+
+'Truly it doth, Binks; but thou wilt grant me that thine is a _rare_
+exception?'
+
+'That will I, right readily.' And both laughed heartily, and went their
+ways.
+
+
+--'SIR, YOU ARE TREADING ON MY FAVORITE CORN,' was the mild
+protest of one in a crowd against the act of a neighbor who had
+encroached on his pedal extremities, by attempting to violate the
+philosophical axiom that two bodies can not occupy the same space
+simultaneously. The remark raised a laugh; yet it involved a great
+truth. Each of us has at least one pet infirmity, which we nurse as
+earnestly, with a view to its becoming chronic, (perhaps unwittingly,)
+as we strive earnestly to eradicate other morbid troubles. And the
+position is true regarding moral as well as physical invalids. Who has
+not often been doubly irritated by the removal of his source of
+irritation? Thus Paterfamilias Bloggs, having been 'riled' by the
+overcrowding of the omnibus in which he proceeds homeward, makes up his
+mind that if Materfamilias B. has not provided fish-balls for supper, he
+will 'raise a row.' And he so gloats in expectancy over the imaginary
+denunciation that he will inflict on that long-suffering female, that he
+is quite disappointed, on entering his basement, to discover at a glance
+that a dish of beautifully-browned fish-balls decks the evening table.
+So Bloggs' wrath is smothered, and smoulders for the rest of the
+evening, finding insufficient vent in boxed ears for the children, and
+short, crisp replies to civil questions from the older members of the
+family. Thus you see that removing a cause does not always do away with
+a consequence.
+
+
+
+--WHO EVER GAVE A SATISFACTORY EXCUSE FOR AN INOPPORTUNE LAUGH?
+Certainly, no child transgressing in this particular ever failed to
+receive less than ten-fold its due of punishment therefor, as many grown
+persons will join me in testifying. Especially is this true in instances
+of church cachinnation. I solemnly aver that I have felt a stronger
+tendency to hearty laughter in a church than I ever experienced in a
+theatre, and yet I could not and can not give any satisfactory reason
+for the inclination. I wanted to laugh for the child's reason,
+'Because.'
+
+Not many months since, in a land thousands of miles hence, I was
+stretched upon a bed of sickness. In pursuance of the humane duties of
+his calling, the minister of the Episcopal Church called upon me, and
+after a short conversation, proposed addressing the throne of grace.
+This he did in a few eloquent extemporaneous phrases, closing with the
+Lord's prayer. Now, from the outset, I felt an uncontrollable
+inclination to laugh; but for a time succeeded in restraining it. But
+when, in close succession upon the minister's words, there arose from
+the next room (separated from us by a thin board partition) a sepulchral
+echo in the voice of my room-mate, a grim and swarthy miner, who
+probably had not heard the prayer since he repeated it after his mother
+at her knee, and from the still potent though long dormant force of
+habit, now joined in its utterance, the incongruity of my surroundings
+overcame me, and I electrified the worthy priest by bursting into a
+guffaw. Looking back on the scene, I can see far more pathos than humor
+in it; but at the time, the scene was to me irresistibly ludicrous. And
+oh! the paltry excuse that I raked up. 'Nervousness,' I think. No
+matter, I had 'spoiled the whole party and broke up the ball!' 'Tis
+always the way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+--SOMEBODY HAS SAID THAT TO BE A SUCCESSFUL AUTHOR, IT IS ONLY
+NECESSARY TO FEEL WHAT YOU WRITE. This I deny, for many reasons
+which I might but will not cite, contenting myself with saying that to
+write what one feels, though much more gratifying and in a moral sense
+far more commendable than to conceal or falsify sentiments, is
+dangerous, and has been known to cause a writer to feel not only more
+than he wrote or could write, but more than he had any expectation or
+desire of feeling in such connection. Thus, whenever under an assumed
+but transparent title, I introduce my friend Scroggs into a little
+sketch of my production, I never express in that performance my actual
+estimate of Scroggs, physically or mentally. Nor in my glowing
+description of the incidents of a trip to Catskill Mountain House, do I
+confine myself to the expression of what I felt in viewing the many and
+varied scenes of rural beauty that presented themselves during the
+progress of that undertaking. Do you suppose that I would run the risk
+of conveying to Claribella, who was my only companion in that
+expedition, that I never was more bored in my life, and that my
+conversation was the result of operating with a constantly working
+though invisible pump at the well of common-places and platitudes, which
+a gentleman accumulates for such emergencies in the course of his social
+experience? Heaven preserve my hair, should I venture on such a step.
+
+'But you digress,' some impatient reader suggests.
+
+Digress! That is an impossibility in an article without a topic. But
+even if I plead guilty, my impatient critic; did you ever take a walk in
+the country, and if so, did you choose those broad roads that lead to
+churches and the village stores and the 'Academy,' or did you plunge, by
+some little modest path, into the recesses of a grove, careless whither
+your steps carried you, so content you were to yield to the enchanting
+guidance of accident? And what though, in following your bent, you were
+compelled to climb an occasional fence or cross a chance puddle, the
+satisfaction of coming suddenly upon some pleasant view, or unexpectedly
+entering an apparently previously unexplored nook, more than atoned for
+such trifling annoyances. Without digression in some degree, neither
+spoken nor written language can be made entertaining to the person
+addressed. Who is more discursive than the Autocrat, the Czar of
+table-talkers; and whose productions are more charming or wiser? We do
+not do our everyday thinking in strictly logical or consistent forms. It
+is sufficient to introduce hypotheses, premises, or syllogisms, when
+there are ends to be attained by such a course. Impulse is far more
+attractive than prim consistency in the character of those we love; and
+if this be true as to pet persons, why not in our favorite writings? So
+the most charming women I have met would be styled in Spanish _las
+inconsecuentes_. Therefore, when amusement is the aim of writing, let
+digression have full swing.
+
+
+--I ENVY A GOOD TALKER. There is no class of persons so
+generally underrated and vilified, yet this would be a dull world
+without them. And the faculty is not to be acquired. Really good talkers
+are born, not made. (And some, I hear a skeptic say, are not to be borne
+in certain contingencies.) Talk is like a river; it rushes onward, by
+expression of ideas, _making room for thoughts_ to follow, and the dull
+elf, whose mouth is a mill-dam, finds his fancies and thoughts
+accumulate on his brain, till that organ is dull and sodden as is his
+facial aspect. Why is it that some can only be fluent from the point of
+a pen, while others can only address their fellows effectively by word
+of mouth? Of course there are conversational monsters as well as other
+violations of nature's creative processes. And the more thought that
+talk holds in solution, the more grateful the offering. But I have
+often listened attentively and pleasurably to an hour's flow from the
+lips of a pretty, graceful woman, or an interesting child, just saying
+enough myself to prove that sleep had not seized me. And at the
+subsidence of the tide, I could not for the life of me recall a single
+idea to which verbal embodiment had been given. Perhaps I had been
+carried away by the music of tone, or the charming, ever-changing curves
+of the opening and closing lips, or the dimples in the cheeks, as they
+budded, blossomed, and faded in the light of the now laughing, now
+languishing eyes, that never lost their hold of mine, yet never bore
+mine down by that most intolerable of all social manifestations--a
+stare.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+--I have a friend, who declares that he has LOST A SMILE. Not
+one from his sweetheart, for that would be either recoverable or
+replaceable with another. The smile he mourns is--his own. To speak
+plainly, he has lost, through neuralgia, the control over the risible
+muscles of his face, and they not only refuse to obey him in his desire
+and design to beam upon all peaceful comers, but occasionally put in
+motion another set of facial strings, which give him a depressed and
+lachrymose air when he would fain appear most jubilant. He says he never
+till now knew how much of his facial aspect was artificial. His present
+condition is only relieved when he is under the control of some powerful
+emotion. _Then_ he can laugh as heartily and present the appearance of
+so doing as fully as ever. It is only the conventional smile, the bland,
+self-possessed smile of society, that is utterly gone from him. I
+elicited the confession by entering his room noiselessly one day, and
+detecting him in the act of making the gloomiest grimaces at a small
+boarding-house mirror on the wall. He was much confused, and at first
+denied any such employment; but ultimately admitted that he had been
+practicing facial gymnastics for the purpose of simulating the smile he
+had lost. Perhaps some of our fashionable dentists may be able to aid
+him by a suggestion. They certainly have more smiles at their command
+than any class of men that have come under my observation. How singular
+that the most ferocious quadrupeds and the blandest of men should evince
+their most contrasted characteristics--fierceness and amenity--by
+showing their teeth.
+
+I sometimes think those are blessed who are endowed with a coarse
+organization. Sensitive people are chronic martyrs. Their nerves are so
+many toes, that their neighbors and friends are perpetually treading on.
+Not only are the pangs of such more acute, but the occasions of injury
+are infinitely multiplied by super-susceptibility. Talk of the happy
+hours of childhood! Ask nine persons out of ten, who are of susceptible
+organization, at what period in life their sufferings were most intense
+and unremitting, and if they be gifted with good memories, their reply
+will be, 'before adolescence.'[3] For susceptibility of nerve implies
+also high mental capability, acute intelligence, vivid imagination, all
+of which go to intensify sensation, and thus to aggravate the mischief.
+And our sympathy is due to one who by one of those strange
+contradictions in human nature finds herself, a highly nervous creature,
+the victim of an affection for one of the coarser organizations to which
+I have alluded. I say victim, for such attachments seldom result
+happily. The effect produced, in the first instance, by the magnetism of
+a strong over a weak nature gradually dies away. With it die the
+brilliant colors in which the beloved has been invested by the belover,
+and life is thenceforward only lit up by the lamps that heaven sets in
+the eyes of the little children that sometimes cheer the darkness of
+these ill-assorted unions.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+--'SIR WE ARE TOO POOR TO BE ECONOMICAL.' These were the words
+which I once heard a woman use to a rich relative of her husband, who
+had followed up his refusal of assistance by allusions to many little
+short-comings which he had noted in the domestic details of the family.
+The phrase seems to involve a contradiction; but a little consideration
+will show even the most superficial thinker that it expresses a truth.
+Great is the power of ready money. Ready money can save by wholesale
+purchases. Ready money can save by choice of place of purchase. Ready
+money can save by choice of proper time for purchase. Ready money can
+save by discount obtained under threat of discontinuance of trade; a
+threat futile in the mouths of the poor. Ready money can save in
+furniture and wearing apparel, by being able to provide the best in
+fabric and construction, and therefore the most lasting. But it is
+needless to extend the catalogue of ready money's powers. None know them
+better than those who seldom are able to obtain their aid.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 3: Quevedo has broadly satirized his faith in 'Childhood's
+happy hour'. In his _Visions of Hell_, where Satan, wearied by the
+continual grumbling of the condemned, requests them to leave, go back to
+life, be born again, and live it all over. On due reflection, they
+conclude that rather than suffer the whippings, schoolings, and
+scoldings incident to boy and girlhood, they--would prefer to stay where
+they were.--NOTE BY EDITOR.]
+
+
+
+
+SKETCHES OF THE ORIENT.
+
+
+The world is undergoing a wonderful change. Even within the memory of
+some twenty-five years, what events have occurred to verify the remark.
+Civilization changes all the preconceived perfections of the past, and
+introduces new scenes of life; it reforms without injuring, and leaves
+us undecided as to the value of the progress made. New customs and new
+habits leave man where he was; his nature is still the same, and perhaps
+he has only engrafted on a faulty structure what neither embellishes nor
+improves, and shows how slow is the progress of the human mind toward
+this goal for which it has, since the commencement of time, been bent.
+
+This is peculiarly verified in the 'Orient,' the most ancient of climes
+and lands. Through the mist of so many centuries, so many thousands of
+years, the 'far East' has followed the 'even tenor of its way' through
+revolutions and systems; its usages have been consecrated by time, and
+the parent has handed down to his son the usages which were more nearly
+allied to the natural state of man than those of the more famed and
+progressing 'West.' The animal has had more sway than the intellectual
+part of his nature, and what the curious traveler most admires is the
+still primitive condition of the latter. Violence there reigns superior
+to reason, and if changes be made, the former consults but little the
+latter in the measures which it adopts for the prosecution of its plans.
+There is seldom any appeal made by the reformer to the understandings of
+the people to be reformed; they must blindly adopt the innovations
+offered, and this without the means of contrasting what they are thus
+compelled to receive at the hand of the bestower with what they forsake.
+Tossed in the billows of doubt, they are exposed to the rocks of
+misconception, and are too often wrecked through the total absence of
+any chart to guide them in their new voyage of life. The transitory step
+is always a dangerous one to a people who have not entire confidence in
+their leader, for his plans may inspire neither conviction nor approval,
+and if they fail, leave his followers exposed to all the fury of storms
+without any haven in which to seek a refuge.
+
+Sultan Mahmoud, believing that European civilization was superior to
+that of the East, imagined that he adopted it, when he only assumed its
+exterior, the costume of Frankistan. How little did he know of the
+defects to which this simplest part of it led. Luckily, he adopted only
+the habiliments of the male sex, leaving those of the female unchanged.
+The flowing robes, full of ease and comfort; the turban, soft to the
+head, and giving it protection from the colds of winter and the heats of
+summer; the commodious shoe, which leaves the feet uncrumpled and free
+from the results of the tighter and closer ones of the West, were laid
+aside for the dress of Europe. The only part of the garb which we use,
+that he did not assume and compel his people to accept, was the unseemly
+and uncomfortable hat, and this he would also have taken, had religion
+not interposed to prevent it. Of all parts of the Christian's costume,
+the hat is the most calculated to inspire disgust in the sight of the
+native of the Orient, and if ever he adopts it, it is because it is
+supposed to cover him with protection against the injustice of his own
+rulers, and not from any preference or even choice. It is always an
+object of ridicule, and serves to point many a remark of derision and
+contempt against the wearer. On the other hand, what is more noble and
+dignified than the turban, with its snowy white folds, or its varied
+hues of green or red? Just as the external appearance of the colored
+man, and the knowledge of his total deprivation of civil abilities
+perpetuates the existing prejudice against him, so does the dress of the
+Frank clothe him with all that is distasteful and revolting in the eyes
+of the native of the East, with his prejudices dating back to the
+earlier days of the prophets. To pass over the external appearances of
+the reformed Eastern, let us examine the results of the civilization of
+Europe with which his costume has clothed him. Tight clothes have
+unfitted him for the broad and soft luxury of the sofa, and many persons
+resume the flowing robe and full trowsers within doors, so as to be able
+to enjoy the comforts which they lost with them. For the same reason,
+they must sit at a high table, on a high chair. The sleeve of the tight
+coat scarcely permits of being rolled up, so that the man of the East
+can return to his primitive use of his fingers in place of the fork, and
+for this he rejects the coat for the flowing pelisse, or he goes to his
+meal in his shirt-sleeves. It is amusing to see the _homme de bureau_,
+or the humble clerk, endeavoring to sit on his sofa cross-legged, with
+his writing paraphernalia before him as formerly, or to examine the
+broad chair which he has had to invent, so as to suit himself to his new
+transitory state. It may even be doubted whether he has gained any thing
+by the change, as a _cavalier_, for the full trowsers were far more
+comfortable than the present tight pantaloons, and any one who has seen
+the Bedouin horsemen, with their commodious saddles and flowing robes,
+must have given them his entire approbation in point of contrasted
+beauty.
+
+As yet the Oriental has made no innovation in his domestic life and
+habits, or if any, it is that his ladies wear the slender _botine_ of
+the Christian lady in place of the loose slipper of former years. As yet
+there is no commingling of the sexes, no excursions by land and sea in
+boats or carriages together, in undisturbed and unrestricted familiar
+intercourse. The lady of the house has not yet met her husband's friends
+at the dinner-table, at the social _soir�e_, or in the ball-room. He is
+quite willing to go to these, at the house of his Frank friend, but he
+has not been convinced of the propriety of the change, and his sovereign
+has not carried his reforms into harem life. It will require some years
+yet to fit the Oriental for witnessing the displays of female beauty at
+such places with the calm indifference of the more accustomed native of
+Frankistan. He is willing, however, to commingle with the females of his
+European neighbors' household, even to embrace them in the mysteries of
+the mazy polka or waltz; but he hesitates admitting that such are the
+advantages or benefits of civilization. Indeed, it may be doubted
+whether his own wife and daughters would suffer such, were they told
+that they might do so without fear of reproach; for it is mostly to the
+mothers and wives that the Eastern world owes its tardy progress in the
+civilization of the West. Some time since, during the late Carnival,
+there was a Persian ambassador present at a ball given by the Italian
+minister, attended by the ambassador extraordinary of the Shah of
+Persia, who had never been to Europe or in a 'civilized European'
+society. Being asked by a foreign gentleman how he was, and how he liked
+the ball, he frankly replied, that such an exhibition as that of the
+beautiful ladies assembled there _decoll�_, etc., had taken him quite by
+surprise; that it was more than his nerves could stand, and he felt so
+bad that he thought of leaving the ball and retiring to his own
+quarters. The same gentleman, to induce him to remain, jocosely told him
+that it was the paradise of the Christian, whilst his (that of
+Mussulmans) was in the life to come. At this he smiled, and turning
+toward a bevy of very handsome young ladies, dressed in the hight of the
+fashion, his eyes gloating on the fair scene, answered, that he admired
+the Christian paradise very much, and as the other was somewhat
+uncertain, he thought he could be satisfied with the persons now around
+him. It is quite possible that, except for the loss of dignity which
+would have attended the act, the Shah's ambassador might easily have
+been induced to join in a polka with one of the infidel houris then
+present.
+
+Many of the Mussulmans (Turks) of Stamboul come over the Golden Horn to
+Pera, to witness the merry scenes of the Christian Carnival. They do not
+select the most fashionable places of resort, and consequently fall into
+rather doubtful company. They come sometimes with a companion or two,
+but prefer to have only their own people with them, or at most a _toady_
+or two to keep them in countenance. Such a person finds a conspicuous
+place, where he can see what is going on, throws off his more than half
+European coat, puts on his loose pelisse, calls for his _Tchibook_, or
+pipe, and, it must be added, something very much like hot punch, and
+goes in for the full enjoyment of the evening. In an hour or two, he is
+rather 'pulverized,' and very disregardful of what he says and does. The
+true semi-barbarian then comes to view; he becomes very ostentatious,
+and is disposed to act the fast man; a friend will always find him a
+lady, whom he invites to accompany him over to his _konak_, (private
+dwelling in Stamboul,) which she refuses; he urges her to play _faro_ or
+_rouge et noir_ with _his_ money, which she does, until his purse is
+rather light, and by this time our Turk is so far insensible as to
+require to be conveyed to his carriage by the toadies or private
+attendants above mentioned. This he thinks is all right, and calls it _�
+la Franka_, or conformably with European civilization and fashion.
+
+The Armenian and Greek ladies, too, are adopting the same ideas of
+reform and improvement in social life. One of the former, a fair,
+married lady, of good family, having lately fallen in with a young and
+handsome foreigner attached to one of the legations, allowed his visits
+to become more and more frequent, so that one day her husband, returning
+home rather sooner than expected, caught the couple in _flagrante
+delicto_. This was carrying European civilization somewhat to a delicate
+point; but she shielded herself against the husband's reproaches by the
+assertion that it was _� la Franka_, and the matter was compromised
+without any 'secession movement.'
+
+The late Sultan built a theatre, and had a corps of ballet-girls for
+private amusement. He frequently gave entertainments at the former to
+the foreign legations, and one season even attended a _bal par�_ at the
+British Embassy, and a _bal en ordinaire_ at the French. This rather
+startled some of his subjects; but as such things were considered _� la
+Franka_, it passed over without any serious results. At the former, it
+is said, an amusing incident occurred, which, if not altogether true,
+is _bon troveto_. The late Sultan was extremely sensitive about coming
+in close contact with non-believers in the principles of the blessed
+Prophet. He never could touch the letter accrediting a foreign
+ambassador without hastening to perform ablutions, and as to conforming
+to the custom of shaking hands with an infidel, it was too horrible to
+be thought of for a moment. All animals, except horses, he held in
+abhorrence, and changed his entire costume several times a day, if he
+happened to have occasion to expose himself even to the winds blowing
+from the direction of the infidel hill on which Pera, the residences of
+the Christians, are built. On his arrival at the ball in question, he
+was, as is customary, shown into a private apartment, for a moment's
+repose previous to entering the salon in which hundreds of gay visitors
+were collected. The apartment happened to be that of the lady of the
+Ambassador, in fact, her _boudoir_, in which her poodle-dog, _Bijou_,
+had been accustomed to stay. Scarcely had the Sultan taken a seat,
+before poor Bijou made his appearance, and was at once driven away by
+some of the frightened attendants; but soon after returning unnoticed,
+the spiteful brute approached the Sultan, and offered the greatest
+indignity in his power to the pantaloons of the sensitive monarch.
+Imagine the indignation which occurred, and the designs of the wily
+British Ambassador to civilize the Turkish Sultan would have been wholly
+frustrated had not the chief gardien of the Sultan's wardrobe
+fortunately brought with him a full fresh suit for his master, in case
+of eventualities.
+
+On the same occasion, the British Ambassador, for the same laudable
+purpose of civilizing the various clergy of the Ottoman capital, had
+insisted upon the Armenian, Greek, and Catholic Armenian Bishops and the
+Greek Rabbi of the Jews appearing at his _bal par�_ in their canonicals!
+Against this they strongly remonstrated, but the influence of the
+Ambassador was greater than their own, and they had to make their
+_d�b�t_ at his ball in full dress. But this was, however, soon
+forgotten, as it was all _� la Franka_.
+
+Some years ago, the late Sultan, on the occasion of the circumcision of
+one or two of his sons, gave a series of entertainments to his own
+functionaries, and one to the foreign diplomatic corps, in one of the
+valleys on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus, called Hyder Pacha. With
+the view of properly amusing the foreign legations, _� la Franka_, the
+Sultan got up an extemporary theatre, adjoining the splendid pavilion,
+in which his guests were assembled. The play selected as best calculated
+for the purpose, was the _Milliner's Shop_, the like of which the Sultan
+had noticed while passing through the great street of Pera--the windows
+filled with bonnets, dress-caps, crinolines, etc., and very handsome
+dolls, some quite as 'large as life,' _decoll�_, and thanks to the
+miniature crinolines, often showing very well-made chaussures and
+ankles. The little stage was not much raised above the green sward of
+the valley--a ditch had been dug out for the use of the orchestra, and
+the counter of the milliner separated this from the audience. As the
+whole affair had been got up rather hurriedly, the _entrepreneur_ had
+not been able to procure a sufficient number of blocks on which to
+exhibit the bonnets and caps, and as men were readily obtained for the
+purpose, holes were cut in the counter, through which these thrust their
+heads, and on them rested the articles in question. A man also figured
+against the wall, on whom to hang up a ready-made dress or two, while
+his head also served as a block for a first-rate bonnet with flowers and
+feathers to suit the occasion. Now the weather had threatened a change,
+and much to the regret of the Sultan and his Court, who had it at heart
+to give such an entertainment to the diplomatic corps of Europe as would
+tell largely in the papers, and prove the great progress made by him in
+civilization, just as the play commenced, the rain began to fall in
+torrents. In their pavilion, the foreign ambassadors, etc., were
+somewhat secure, but not so the _dramatis person�_. The ditch soon
+filled with water, and the orchestra had to hold their instruments above
+their heads, while the water rose to their waists, and finally drove
+them to open 'secession.' But the man-blocks which supported the
+millinery were still more to be pitied. Their heads were fast in the
+holes made, and partially closed again in the centre, so that they were
+unable to escape from the rain which deluged the whole affair. The water
+fell in torrents over the gay bonnets, caps, crinolines, etc., until
+they became a mass of tawdry, and the bare pates of those under them
+came ludicrously into view. It required the assistance of a carpenter
+and his aids to get the poor fellows free from their bondage, and enable
+them to seek safety in flight. As to the man fastened against the wall,
+he bore his torture, and the merriment which he occasioned among the
+audience, for some time, but finally was compelled to put an end to his
+part of the entertainment by a timely retreat.
+
+Sultan Mahmoud was the first reformer of the Ottoman Empire, and his
+second son, Sultan Abd-ul-Aziz, the last. The reforms of the late
+Sultan, Abd-ul-Mejid, nearly ruined him, and the consequence is, that
+the present sovereign has wisely concluded to fall back upon some of the
+older fashions of his people. Mahmoud thought to drive away the
+remembrance of the Dervish-Janissaries whose violences seldom allowed a
+Sultan to die of disease, and never of old age. To effect this, he
+disbanded their several corps, and created new ones, in another dress.
+Perhaps this was wise at the time, but the object once reached, he
+might--or his successor, at most--have restored the broken spirit of his
+people, by a return to their national costume. It was only by force and
+fear that he induced his new troops to adopt the dress of the deeply
+detested Ghiaours, and the measure greatly alienated the respect and
+affections of his subjects, especially those of the interior of the
+empire. The higher classes of the capital assumed it with less reserve,
+on account of the economy which it admitted, and because it was _� la
+mode_, but the lower were less disposed to lay that one aside which had
+been worn by their ancestors, and served to designate the true
+Mussulman. The picturesque costume of the natives of Arabia, of Egypt,
+Syria, and Albania, had to be thrown aside for the tight pantaloons and
+coat of the Infidel, and Mahmoud went so far even as to require the
+_Bombardiers_ of his army to wear a head-dress, black, and tall as a
+hat, differing from it by the absence of a rim, and open on the top,
+covered only with a bag of dark silk, drawn together with a cord. This,
+how-ever, disappeared in the reign of his successor.
+
+The present Sultan has adopted a middle course. Without either restoring
+the costumes of the Janissaries, or even assimilating the habiliments of
+his troops to that which they wear in their own country, which would
+have inspired a strong and useful _esprit de corps_, he has accepted the
+uniform of the Zouave and Turcos of the French army. It is sufficiently
+Oriental to meet the object desired, and is very popular in the Sultan's
+army. It leaves to the wearer the free use of his limbs, but as a
+parade-dress will not show so favorably, to European eyes, as the more
+dignified dress of the Guards. The most difficult part of a military
+costume is the head-dress; and the common red cap of the Turks, called
+the _Fez_, is even more objectionable than the unseemly slouched hat
+worn in the regular army of the United States. Around this cap the
+Sultan has had a small turban bound, in one or two folds, which is a
+relief to the eye, and easily kept in order. It is readily taken off, in
+case of need, and may be bound around the waist as a sash, or girdle.
+
+This change in the dress of his army has given to his people the idea
+that their new Sultan is anti-Christian, and will restore the Ottoman
+Empire to its former state and condition. How far this will be verified,
+still rests to be seen. Reforms not entirely needed, and but half
+carried out, leave the recipients in that transitory state which weakens
+and demoralizes without effecting any permanent and real benefit. An
+external change is certainly less efficient than a moral one, but it
+goes far toward influencing the feelings of patriotism and loyalty which
+are so essential to man in his political condition, and it is more than
+probable that the anti-reforms of Sultan Abd-ul-Aziz will effect more
+real good in his capital, and elsewhere, than the boasted reforms of his
+illustrious father.
+
+
+
+
+WITCHES, ELVES, AND GOBLINS.
+
+
+The creative power of man, though so much boasted, is after all but a
+mere phantom--a vapor which rises from the ground and floats with little
+change of form from place to place. The diapason which we thought so
+extensive, appears, on inquiry, to consist of only a few notes, and the
+changes that may be rung upon them, may almost be counted upon the
+fingers. Homer's fables are near of kin to those of Shakspeare; the
+legends of ancient Greece find their details mirrored exactly in the
+traditions of Spain, Scotland, and Scandinavia. Whether in the remoter
+fogs of the past some glimmering traces of light may lead us to discover
+a common origin, a universal fountain, whence proceed pure and limpid
+all the streams that are contaminated by baser contact in their later
+course, is a question which might mightily task the most powerful minds.
+The gods of Greece and Rome are reproduced in Odin and Thor, Freia, and
+Gerda and Tduna. Aphrodite at Athens, Venus on the Seven Hills, Freia in
+the North, differ but in name. Dark hair and coal-black eyes, and a
+warm, sunny beauty may please the ardent inhabitants of Greece and Rome;
+the Swedes and Germans may bow before golden hair and blue eyes, fair
+and blooming cheeks. But transport the Grecian Aphrodite to the
+Dofrefield glaciers, and she will soon grow white as their snow, her
+eyes will fade to the pale cold blue of their skies, and with the winter
+frosts her hair will turn like fall leaves, golden yellow; and under the
+sun of Italy, Freia will tan to the burning, dark-hued, voluptuous Venus
+of the South. The two soils naturally breed the one cold statues, the
+other passionate life, but these two different phases are in themselves
+identical, Thor's hammer, and the various wonderful exploits of the
+Northern gods and goddesses, their dim, ill-defined notions of creation,
+of time and space, and of future worlds, are but natural growths from
+the nature of the North. Their gods, like their men, are all action, and
+to raise their actions above those of the human race, they naturally
+invest them with peculiar supernatural physical endowments, and a
+strange, mysterious mode of action. The powers of magic come to their
+aid; they are not absolutely omnipotent. Dwarfs forge them invincible
+arms in subterranean caverns; earth, air, fire, and water, conspire to
+assist them. The elements rage or are appeased at their command.
+
+In the same way the gods of Greece and Rome are all repose. Their
+actions acquire a superiority over those of man not by supernatural
+agencies or extraordinary developments of physical power; their
+pre�minence lies in the quiet assumption of power, in the immediate
+sequence of action on volition. Their divinity is esoteric, consisting
+in attributes innate and not assumed. Action with them is power; but in
+the North power must be superadded.
+
+Thus we find all the various attributes embodied in the gods of the
+South, likewise deified and modified in the North, Thus Loke is the
+Mercury of the ancients. He is the same sly rogue as Hermes, though he
+has not some of the better qualities of that god. He is essentially the
+god of deceit. His deceptions are more subtle and deep-laid than those
+of the Grecian adept. He combines with the Pagan element something of
+the old Christian Satanic element. Without the horn and hoof of the
+Christian devil, he has all his peculiar mental qualities, and uses them
+to the great prejudice and harm of the other gods. So, likewise, with
+many of the more human [Greek: muthoi]. We find the same ideas to spring
+up in the agora of Athens, the wilds and snows of Norway, and the
+heathers and hills of Scotland. The fable of the Sirens finds an exact
+counterpart in the North. Like Ulysses, Duke Magnus and innumerable
+others escape with difficulty from the charms and enticements of
+sea-nymphs. Sometimes it is their wonderful song which the earth and
+the elements obey as they did Orpheus, that attracts them. Sometimes it
+is by more sensual blandishments, and sometimes by sweet and tender
+persuasion, _suad� medull�_. Mountain elves start from the ground, and
+from unseen caverns, and attempt to entice brave knights to their ruin;
+they dance round them beneath the trees, and endeavor to make them join
+in their dances. The natural fortitude of the stalwart champions is
+rarely able to resist the temptation, and they are always on the point
+of falling, when some unoffending barn-yard fowl sounds the signal for
+retreat, or some Christian word is uttered, or sign made, and the fair
+visions vanish, either naturally or in divers shapes with odors of
+brimstone and sulphur. The differences between the Grecian and the
+Northern conceptions are striking. In the Greek the forms are clear and
+vivid. The sirens are beautiful women, with angelic voices and vulture's
+talons. There are nothing but conceivable realities in their story.
+There is nothing strange or supernatural in their accessories. But in
+the Scandinavian elves the case is different. They vanish and re�ppear
+at different times; they have no actual, permanent existence. The crow
+of a cock or the sign of the cross is enough to drive them back to their
+hiding-places. They shun daylight and fixed, customary spots. They
+generally surprise casual travelers, and upon them in lone, romantic
+spots, practice all their arts of enticement and seduction. There is
+always something of magic, of the supernatural, connected with them. The
+Greek sirens are not like common women; but once conceive of their
+physical existence, and you understand them thoroughly. Their laws of
+action are purely human, and we do not find them one half so unnatural
+as our neighbor that has a splay foot or a hunchback. The Northern
+witches, however, are formed like human females, but obey unknown and
+mysterious powers. The commonest words and associations of men are bans
+to them. Only so long do they have power as nothing human disturbs and
+overthrows their supernatural spells.
+
+Again let us look for a moment at another division of Grecian fiction.
+The grim Cyclops who toils for Vulcan, working like mortal men, and
+forging divine things, it is true, like any Grecian blacksmith, has a
+counterpart of a somewhat different character in the North. The reality
+and vividness of the Greek changes as we approach the Pole. In deep
+caverns distorted, strange little dwarfs work by the aid of supernatural
+powers wondrous weapons, swords of incredible qualities, armor that
+defies mortal blades, bracelets of wondrous and cunning finish and
+singular properties--all here is miraculous, the workman, the process,
+and the work. The vividness with which Homer presents to us the one-eyed
+Polyphemus, with his tree-staff and his ponderous body, is exchanged by
+the Scandinavian for smallness, indistinctness of form and of power. The
+grand in the South is obtained by giving enlarged pictures of man as he
+is; in the North, by investing him with strange, magic, mysterious
+qualities. In mental as well as material nature, a general haziness of
+outline conveys the idea of greatness as strongly, though in another
+manner, as the sharp and perceptible outline of any thing really great.
+
+This peculiarity we shall find running through the literature, the
+character, and the mind of the two nations. The North is misty,
+undefined, illimited; the Greek is clear as crystal, sharp and angular,
+on every side. Its conceptions are never vague, but are tangible, real,
+and human. Thus with the Greek, a vast ocean, like that they know,
+encircles the whole earth, and fixes its bounds and the limits which man
+shall not pass; the Northerns compassed it about with a vast serpent of
+immense size, which bounded infinity and space, time and eternity,
+thereby mirroring, in some degree, as it were, the ancient symbol for
+time and space without end, the snake biting his own tail, the circle
+with no one beginning nor end. The heaven of the Greeks is the summit of
+one of their own mountains, known to every peasant and inhabitant.
+Accessible only to the gods, there they live, as unconcernedly as though
+the earth were not. Thor, and Odin, and Freia live in the 'Shining
+Walhalla,' whither go the souls of brave and good warriors. Their way
+thither is over the heavenly bridge, the many-colored rainbow, thrown
+over between heaven and earth for the passage of the happy souls. And
+there in this dim, ghostly Walhalla they sit like the Grecian gods, and
+drink mead instead of ambrosia and nectar. They do not share in the
+earthly vices of the Southern gods. Thor never begat such a progeny as
+Jupiter.
+
+Repose is also, as hinted at, a characteristic of Southern mythology,
+while action, assisted by supernatural agencies, is the feature of the
+Northern deities. Thus Jupiter sits majestic and silent upon Olympus and
+nods his head, and the whole earth shakes. He is human in his character,
+but of an ideal and superior human nature--man immensely magnified. The
+gods of Norway are also human, but they are, in themselves, _mere_ men.
+What makes them gods is the magic power which is joined with them, a
+mere adjunct not forming a part of them. They toil and act like
+men--they are never still. Thor bears the hammer, the emblem of physical
+strength, energy, and activity. He can at a draught half drain the sea,
+and cause the tides to rise and ebb; he can lift the serpent that
+surrounds the world; he can wrestle with Death himself, and almost come
+off victorious. The giants are his mortal enemies, and against them he
+wages war and bears deadly hatred, as Jupiter against the Titans. None
+but the warrior, who has fought long and well, enjoys the long dreamt-of
+mead of Walhalla. A death on one's own bed is almost as ignominious as
+that of the coward. The straw-death (_str�dod_) they will endeavor to
+avoid by opening their own veins and bleeding to death, and as the warm
+life-blood pours forth, they sing triumphant death-songs, and see the
+portals gradually open to receive them, and Braga the Scald, seated at
+the gate with his magic-sounding harp, his fingers running through the
+golden strings, and in such ecstasies they give up the ghost. The Greek
+dies in a more quiet, philosophical, and practical manner. He does not
+fear the shame of a warm and soft bed. Achilles, and Ajax, and Diomed,
+are not the only inmates of Elysium. Socrates, and Plato, and Homer,
+Apelles and Zeuxis, are all there too. The poet and the philosopher, the
+painter and the sculptor, rank as high through pen, pencil, and chisel,
+as the warrior by his blade and his bloody exploits. Art, in the North,
+finds no existence, and strikes no sympathizing chord in the bosoms of
+the sturdy Northmen. Art, to be perfect, requires a distinctness of
+conception, and an assimilation to human nature in its subjects,
+entirely at variance with the dim, mysterious character of the
+Scandinavian imagination. Painting is a thing utterly unknown, and
+sculpture, where found, deals in shapeless blocks and huge, massive,
+ill-proportioned forms, analogous to the primitive Egyptian art. In the
+Northern mythology and legendary history, minstrels play an important
+part. They are as indispensable as the Welsh bards, though not invested
+with the same authority as they. At the table of the gods, Braga strikes
+his wonderful harp and chants the triumphal hymns of dead warriors as
+they enter the Walhalla. Round the boards of the rougher Vikings, among
+the muscular, sun-browned champions, hardened to blood and strife, the
+minstrel is ever present, and as the huge cups pass around the long
+line, they sing the triumphs and praises of their hosts. They are like
+the old Grecian minstrels; like Phemius and Demodocus, they chant old
+memories of great sea-kings and champions, legends of magic elves and
+dwarfs, and wondrous and often touchingly beautiful stories of love and
+passion. The vague impressions of music seem to harmonize marvelously
+with the Northern nature. It is wild and weird in its character, for
+much of it, with the innumerable ballads of those days, have reached us
+from father to son, and vividly recall the times whence they date, and
+the men whose characters they mirror. There is often a magic element
+connected with their music. The music of the elves is like that of the
+sirens and of Orpheus, often irresistible. Through many of their ballads
+runs the same legendary undertone. A maiden's song moves the king's
+heart, and one by one he offers in vain every gift in his power, to the
+very half of his kingdom, and ends by placing a crown of gold upon her
+head, and seating her beside him on his throne as his lawful queen. The
+story of the two sisters, one ugly and one beautiful, reappears in the
+North in various forms. The younger and more lovely of the two is
+murdered, and the elder is to wed her bride-groom. Pilgrims who meet
+with the body, make a lyre from the bones, and string it with the golden
+hair of the maiden, and as they play at the bridal, each string tells
+its tale of horror in turn, while the unhappy sister sinks under these
+inanimate accusations.
+
+In the Greek myths we find none of these mysterious elements. The
+supernatural creations we meet with are innumerable, and no less strange
+in themselves. But there is nothing in Polyphemus, in Circe, in the
+Sirens, beyond their physical natures, which can make us look beyond
+ourselves to understand and fully sympathize with them. Once fully grasp
+their superhuman endowments, and you feel they act like men on a large
+scale. Not so with the Northern supernatural beings. In themselves they
+approach nearer to men, and are but little above them in endowments and
+character, but it is their mode of action which makes them superior to
+us; their divinity and power lie not in themselves, but in the agents,
+visible and mysterious, that they employ. They are not like Jupiter,
+omnipotent. They are brought to a stand quite as often as more humble
+mortals. Thor, without his hammer, is no longer Thor himself. His trusty
+Mj�lner is more to him than the thunderbolt of Zeus to the Grecian
+father of the gods. The eagle and thunderbolt of Jove, the �gis of
+Minerva, the girdle of Venus and Mercury's wands, are mere emblems of
+what powers their own natures give them. With the Northern deities their
+whole strength lies in the possession of these. Without them they are
+powerless, and in spite of all their might, they are often obliged to
+call on one another for assistance, and sometimes even stand in need of
+mortal aid. We may, perhaps, consider the Grecian gods as mere
+personifications and idealities, but those of the North are essentially
+real. They are the creations of a powerful but vague imagination, forms
+which resemble a Norwegian mountain, distinct in itself by its
+glittering snows and icy rocks, but which shrouds its head in a
+perpetual mist, except when some adverse wind with its indiscreet
+blowing, displays it in all its nakedness, and plain though grand
+reality.
+
+Analogous to the story of Circe and Ulysses is a myth which forms the
+foundation of some of the most beautiful and pathetic ballads of Sweden,
+Denmark and Norway. The mountain king bears to his cavern in the
+hill-side a fair maiden, and with him
+
+  'For eight long years, I ween, she lived in the mountain there,
+  And sons full seven she bore him, and eke a daughter fair.'
+
+And here the resemblance ceases, and the Northern legend assumes a more
+beautiful tone. The maiden longs for her mother and her old home, and
+goes from the mountain king with the promise not to mention her seven
+sons. She tells her tale, however, and the elf-king straightway appears,
+and strikes her till the life-blood flows. She then says:
+
+  'Farewell, dear father, and farewell, dear mother, too,
+  Farewell, my sister dear, and dear brother, farewell to you.
+  Farewell, thou lofty heaven, and the fresh, green earth, farewell!
+  Now wend I to the mountain where the mountain king doth dwell.'
+
+And so they ride to the mountain, through the long, wild, black wood,
+the mother weeping bitter tears, while the elf-king smiles. Her little
+daughter reaches her a golden chair:
+
+  'Oh! rest thee, my poor mother, so sad and woe-begone.'
+
+She takes the foaming mead in her hand,
+
+  'And scarce from out the mead-glass bright the first draught
+  does she take,
+    (The hour goes heavy by,)
+  Her eyes were sudden closed, and her weary heart it brake,
+    (Ah! well sorrow's burden know I.)'
+
+That the Greeks had similar ballads and legends can not be doubted, but
+to revive them from their present destruction is a task beyond the power
+of science and antiquarianism. Hardly more than a quarter of a century
+has elapsed since the first important steps were taken in the North of
+Europe to preserve these ballads which had thus been orally handed down
+from ages that vanish in the darkness of the past, and which in a few
+years more, with the gradual disappearance of primitive simplicity in
+Sweden and Norway, might have been, for the greater part, lost to us
+forever. Who knows but that in some remote corner of Greece, in spite of
+the revolutions and shocks which have convulsed it, there may still lurk
+an occasional shadow at least of some good old popular song?
+
+The refrains which accompany the Northern ballads, and which are, in
+fact, found among all nations whose ballad poetry has been preserved,
+merit some attention. Sometimes melancholy and sad, sometimes gay and
+joyous, they impart character wonderfully to the piece. There is
+something peculiarly mournful in the recurring of these sad, touching
+thoughts and words, and as the interest of the ballad deepens, their
+touching simplicity grasps more deeply into the soul, and affects us in
+a manner which nothing else could. When they are joyous--a rarer form,
+however--they impart to us also their own buoyancy and gayety. Sometimes
+they convey the moral of the piece, some simple yet profound reflection,
+which marks by itself the feeling that pervades the whole ballad; at
+other times they are merely descriptive of nature, and borrow their
+enlivening or heart-rending character from the assimilation or contrast
+they present with the groundwork of the poetry. The origin of this kind
+of refrain is evidently due to the manner in which the ballads were
+composed. Mainly extemporized, both words and music, by wandering scalds
+or minstrels, the refrain was a pause to enable the singer to compose
+the next line. The utter disregard of rhyme, alliterations the most
+slight and imperceptible, and words of no similarity of sound almost
+always taking their place, rendered this a very easy task. A thorough
+knowledge and mastery of legendary lore, and a little power and
+concentration of thought and imagery, were the only qualities requisite
+for a ballad-monger. Some of them bear the marks of superior minds, both
+by their wonderful vividness of description and by the tone of deep,
+genuine feeling which pervades them throughout.
+
+There is a wonderful affinity between the Scotch and the Norwegians and
+Swedes, especially in their traditionary literature, which marks a
+common origin and common customs at some remote period. We find among
+the genuine Scotch ballads many that are almost literal versions of the
+same Scandinavian legends no less indigenous in their own land. A large
+number of the most beautiful Scotch ballads plainly point to an
+extraneous Northern origin, and their exact counterparts in form, ideas,
+and words, we find circulating as popular songs among the Swedish,
+Danish, and Norwegian peasantry. These may often be traced back
+centuries, at the end of which they seem still to be as old and as
+thoroughly implanted in their native soil as they now seem. They have
+been sung from mouth to mouth, with the same wild old melodies and the
+same quaint language, as they were sung centuries ago among the scenes
+they so faithfully depict.
+
+The characteristics we have so briefly alluded to as marking the two
+classes of nations, namely, mysterious grandeur among the Northmen, and
+among the Greeks ideality, grandness, and vividness of conception, might
+by skillful hands be traced in more modern times under the influence of
+an ever-changing and growing civilization. I will only allude, in
+passing, to a few prominent points.
+
+The literature of Greece, as we know it, had already reached its hight,
+two thousand years before our time. It was already gray with years
+before the North had begun its infancy. Homer is the boundary which is
+insurmountably opposed to our further retrospection, and Homer is
+already the beginning of perfection in Greek letters. Of earlier periods
+we can but conjecture that there must have been such, bearing a
+character analogous to the relics of those nations whose fabulous
+history is better known to us. Northern literature can hardly be said to
+have had an existence till within the last hundred years. Before that
+time we must look for all phases of progress and germs of progress in
+the physical and animal character of the nation, their social and
+political features and relations. The vividness and ideality of the
+ancients find their natural change in the more purely impassioned style
+of more modern Southern poetry. Their creations have naturally lost with
+the fall of paganism, the supernatural endowments they had, and
+retaining in some their ideality, they have hightened and fired the
+human nature they depict by the addition of wilder and more flaming
+passions, of love that consumes, and ambition, revenge, and hatred that
+destroy. Thus we again obtain consistent characters governed by human
+laws, but raised above the ordinary mass of men by different qualities
+from those which ennobled ideal creations among the ancients. Repose
+still constitutes greatness in some instances; but the inner man is made
+all fire, and seething metal, ever-burning and quenchless. Elevation and
+subtlety of ideas naturally follow these causes, they are another
+natural growth of the simple ideality of conception.
+
+The Northern character at the present day has very different qualities.
+Though renowned for philosophical and metaphysical prose, yet their
+poetry they require to deal with realities and not with ideas; it must
+be clear as a fountain, and any opaqueness is an inexcusable flaw. They
+are yet in the infancy of literature, and the imagination is still more
+sensuous than acute and subtle. However much they court abstractions in
+prose, in verse they love only the actual, the real, the tangible.
+Nature, and not metaphysics, are the subjects of their poetry, and they
+still preserve a freshness and simplicity reminding of more ancient and
+ruder days, delightful amidst the hair-splitting of most modern poetry.
+Their infancy is like the infancy of all national literatures,
+peculiarly modified by the advanced state of civilization in which their
+birth was thrown. At first sight there seems something unnatural and
+unaccountable in this apparent contradiction in the character of the
+nation, manifested respectively in their prose and their poetry. But on
+farther examination all becomes clear as a spring day. Their prose was,
+as their whole literature might and should have been, contemporary with
+their civilization through its various phases. Metaphysics is the last
+refinement, or rather, corruption, which national literature undergoes.
+Their prose had naturally arrived at this stage when the true poetic
+feeling woke for the first time. And in spite of the rational tendencies
+of the age, it assumed that character of warm, bodily imagination which
+marks all early literatures. The tendency to the mysterious and the
+superhuman has mostly vanished, and more vivid conceptions of every
+thing have, under their Christian development, taken the place of dim
+magic and weird creations. Northern poets still delight in dealing with
+those wonderful poetical inventions of their own ancient mythology, and
+revel among the elves and dwarfs that surround the bosoms of mountains
+and woods. Lif, with her golden hair, Gerda, with cheeks like auroras,
+the cunning Loke, with his mixture of guile, wickedness and deceit,
+Thor's mighty Mj�lner, and the mead-horns of Walhalla--from among these
+wonderful beings, they have culled with a careless hand, and every sprig
+and flower is radiant with poetic beauty. The taste for old legends and
+traditions has revived within a few years, and scholars and antiquarians
+are now laying open unknown mines of treasure.
+
+
+
+
+A TRUE ROMANCE.
+
+
+Among my friends at Rome, during a few weeks that I spent there, was one
+old resident of the 'Eternal City' whom I had often begged to give me
+some authentic narrative of Catholic experience. He was naturally
+reserved, jealously truthful, a 'know-nothing' upon religious
+controversy, not at all the man to invent an exciting story, not fond of
+legends, Romish or Genevan, not a violent partisan of republicanism in
+church or state, and not familiar enough with American thought to
+suspect the use that might be made in the United States of such an
+incident as I am now to repeat. In fact, as I compare him with other
+sources of intelligence open to travelers, sure as I am that no one
+could question his belief of whatever he told, every weight that
+character, intelligence, years, experience, could confer, rests upon
+the only monkish secret which he professed to know. One night he
+invited me to a subterranean restaurant, famous for its excellent
+creature-comforts, and there over some royal English beer, without any
+graces of style or attempts to exaggerate the incidents, he unfolded
+what I believe to be a true record of unblessed love.
+
+General readers are familiar with the fact that many a nun immures
+herself for life under a sort of moral compulsion, because her high-born
+family has become too indigent to maintain its stately style of living,
+because the lady herself is in danger of contracting some degrading
+alliance, declines peremptorily such connection as her relations
+approve, or has committed some imprudence that clouds over her future
+prospects. The secret influences which entangle men in the Catholic
+orders correspond to this. It would be arrant bigotry to doubt that some
+offer up an unstained heart, in aspirations for usefulness or sighs for
+holiness; but many times a youth is led blindfold to the altar by
+ambitious relatives, like Talleyrand, and discovers too late his perfect
+unfitness for the vow he has assumed. And these last are they whose
+lives become a scandal to their profession, whose levity shocks so many
+Protestant observers, whose consciences have no true peace, who die
+sometimes in open unbelief and, living, are the worst enemies of the
+cause they advocate.
+
+As my story goes, at nearly the same time that a gallant young man of
+high family disappeared from the gay circles of Rome, a lovely girl of
+distinguished parentage had suffered her blonde tresses to be shorn, her
+graceful limbs draped in forlorn russet, her merry meetings with girlish
+spirits like herself exchanged for the tears of the confessional, the
+lengthened prayers of the cloister, the frequent fastings and sometimes
+scourgings of monastic life. The cause of this contemporaneous
+disappearance was known only to the most intimate friends of two
+celebrated but no longer wealthy families, who deemed the sacrifice
+necessary, and so recked not of the wounds it might make, the perjuries
+it might tempt, the life-struggle of duty with feeling it might cause.
+
+Time passed on. Forgotten by society, it was supposed these victims of
+artificial life had forgotten the circles they were wont to charm,
+forgotten almost themselves in a system most ingeniously arranged to
+blot out one's individuality and to make its subject a perfectly ordered
+part of a grand machine. But, unsuspected by their friends, unknown to
+their superiors, these two pledged hearts had met. Love will break
+through even convent-walls, will speak amidst monastic silence, will
+rise unbidden under ascetic discipline. No one can tell, very few can
+imagine how they agreed upon their trysting hour. Through a neglected
+drain, from some underground apartment, where she had been imprisoned
+for negligence, the slender form of the delicate maiden worked its way
+into the free air where her lover awaited her in the eagerness of a
+stolen pleasure; and the hours supposed to be given to prayer or repose
+flew fast in the worship of the 'winged god.' If I recollect rightly,
+there were deeply-shaded groves not far from their place of meeting, in
+which they felt secure from observation during the night season.
+
+But Love has always been blind to its own peril: a prudent lover would
+be indeed a black swan; if such there have been, these were not. And one
+night, when the beautiful nun would return through the friendly passage
+in season, that her absence might not be detected when the sisters were
+summoned to their matin service, the rain, whose torrents she had not
+noticed while her lover's arm sheltered her, had filled up the only
+pathway to her cell, and not even by the hazard of life could she
+recover her room once more. A few hours more, and her absence would
+inevitably come to light, would be fearfully punished, if not by a death
+such as Scott portrays in one of his poetical legends, by a disgrace far
+worse than physical suffering, from which nothing but the grave could
+give her relief. The alternative, flight, where no provision had been
+made, with no possible help from any friend, with the likelihood of
+treachery where they might least expect it, seemed impossible.
+
+In despair rather than hope, the forlorn lady recollected that her
+uncle, who had some spiritual supervision over the Roman convents,
+though he was sure to be more outraged by her misstep than any one else,
+had (besides the motive of shielding a family name from disgrace)
+perhaps some remaining affection for his favorite niece. At any rate, if
+she were to die, she thought it would be a satisfaction to die humanely,
+by the speedy stroke of offended honor than by such cruel penances as
+would slowly wear life away. And, what might she not hope, if there were
+still one humane drop in that aged bosom, one indulgent memory of
+youthful passion beneath that austere cowl, one fond thought of a
+childhood which seemed to herself a dream of paradise, when his hand
+blessed her curling head, and his lips gave a parting kiss, returned so
+heartily by herself.
+
+There was not a moment to lose--they hardly knew how time had sped, but
+they had never found his wings slow when they were together. So, hand in
+hand they hastened to the presence which was to be either deliverance or
+condemnation to them both; and when at last they reached the palace, and
+after some delay were admitted to kneel before his eminence, no words
+can paint the horror with which he exchanged his dreams of the papal
+chair for a sight of the apostate priest and self-doomed nun confessing
+in one breath that they had 'loved not wisely, but too well'--that God
+once brought together those whom cruel relatives tore asunder--that _he_
+was their only escape from double ruin, and infamy worse than death.
+
+The moments seemed hours while he who had approved the punishment of
+other celibates for no greater sins, sought how he might ward off a blow
+that struck so near his own bosom--that was to crush one the grace of
+whose childhood had not been more marked than her affection for
+himself--than the earnestness of the tone with which she was wont to
+declare herself 'his little daughter.' He had not the courage to hazard
+his position by espousing her cause or undertaking her escape. He felt
+that she had been more sinned against than sinning, in having been
+forced into a vow of perpetual virginity when she had already made
+another vow which her loving nature had rejoiced to keep.
+
+And yet, the preservation of his dignity was of infinite moment to his
+peace--nor could he help seeing that a flood of disgrace would sweep
+over the Church were such breaches widened by the public protection of
+the offenders, and, of course, the enemies of monastic institutions
+would seize upon the opening for fiercer assaults.
+
+Suddenly he dismissed the erring brother in too much trouble to bestow
+the admonition which the other was in too great anxiety to heed--threw
+over the trembling girl the cloak and hat of a common citizen--summoned
+his household servants together as quickly as possible, and hastened in
+the twilight of early dawn to the sleeping convent with as large an
+attendance as such hot haste would permit.
+
+For some time no admittance could be obtained; and the rain seemed to
+pour down in sheets, as if all the windows of heaven were open. But his
+orders were peremptory, his authority was ample, his excuse ingenuity
+itself: 'He had just heard that a man was secreted within those
+consecrated walls; he was determined to see for himself, if he had to
+tear one stone from another; under his supervision no such infamy should
+be so much as suspected.' And so, making a virtue of necessity, the
+panic-struck lady abbess yielded her dignity, and the _posse_ of
+pretended inspectors stood within the drowsy walls before one rose-tint
+in the East threatened their secret with exposure.
+
+So responsible an official could not be satisfied with seeing the nuns
+together, or witnessing their earliest chapel-service; he must enter
+every room, survey every cranny, and leave no possibility of deception,
+no corner for concealment. And posting some of his servants--whose
+excessive watchfulness might prove a little inconvenient--at the two
+principal entrances, with his remaining attendants he proceeded orderly
+from room to room, the superior refusing, as was expected, to sanction
+by her presence such an invasion of the sacred privacy of her
+institution. When they reached the cell adjoining that where our tale
+properly ends, the disguised nun was far enough in the rear of the
+feebly-lighted party, and they too busy in the pretended search, for her
+disappearance to be noticed--her uncle had made her see that this was
+the only chance--so, flinging the coat and hat through an open window
+into the yard, she glided with ghost-like tread into her own apartment,
+and when the drowsy servitors opened her door, she was seen upon her
+knees before the crucifix, praying more fervently than ever the jubilant
+prayer of a newly-rescued soul.
+
+The trouble threatened to lead to some farther difficulties. For these
+ladies were of the Roman aristocracy, and their honor had been
+impeached, their sanctuary invaded, their solemn asseverations had been
+disregarded, their protector had become their accuser. It might have
+gone hard with the father who had planned this ingenious device to save
+his name from disgrace and shield his niece from suffering. But, just
+before the party turned from the convent-gate, a keen eye detected the
+fallen mantle; and the trophy was exhibited to the agitated superior, in
+proof that some of the forbidden sex had been lurking around, and had
+stolen away in terror from so formidable a search; she was warned to new
+vigilance, and offered every assistance for the future which the papal
+guards could bestow.
+
+And so ends all that my informant knew of the love-lost girl. Her
+accomplice in guilt, who did not desert her till he saw there was hope
+in her uncle's face, was hurried away as a missionary to South-America;
+and, as the waves of the sea rolled between him and his only object of
+affection, he must have 'rejoiced with trembling' that the crimson waves
+of death had not mingled her and him in a common doom. He wanted the
+independence to detect the injustice of a system which made a pure
+attachment guilt, and its discovery condemnation; so he raised no
+protesting voice against it. Truly, the day of strange stories in Italy
+is not yet over.
+
+
+
+
+HUGUENOTS OF NEW-YORK CITY.
+
+
+Governor Stuyvesant was among the earliest to encourage the emigration
+of the Huguenots to New-York, and whose descendants for generations have
+ranked with our best and most honorable citizens. On the twenty-fourth
+of January, 1664, N. Van Beck, a merchant in New-Amsterdam, received
+letters from Rochelle, stating the wish of some French Protestants to
+settle in New-Netherland, as their religious rights had been invaded and
+their churches burned. The Governor and Council resolved to receive them
+kindly, and grant them lands gratuitously. In a letter of M. de
+Denonville to the French government, dated sixteenth November, 1686, he
+reports that fifty or sixty 'men, Huguenots,' arrived at New-Amsterdam,
+'who are establishing themselves at Manat, (New-Amsterdam,) and its
+environs. I know that some have arrived at Boston, from France.'
+Although the waves of the Atlantic divided the two countries, the French
+King does not seem to have forgiven his banished subjects in America. In
+his instructions to Count De Frontenac, respecting the expedition from
+Canada against New-York, and dated seventh June, 1689, he directs him to
+'send to France the French refugees, whom he will find there,
+_particularly those of the pretended Reformed Religion_,' or Huguenots.
+His royal but remorseless spirit was not gratified, however, as the
+French did not venture to attack New-York, and instead of their
+Protestant brethren being sent back to France, a few years afterward
+they erected a church for their own religious services. This was _Du
+Saint-Esprit_, and built on Pine street, directly opposite to the
+present Custom-House, by the Huguenots and Walloon settlers, the last of
+whom were a part of the French Protestants, although they emigrated to
+America from the river 'Wael.' An earlier French chapel had been erected
+on Marketfield street, then called Petticoat Lane, near the Battery. It
+was an humble edifice, but hither, every Lord's day, the Huguenots from
+the city, Staten Island, the Wallabagh, and New-Rochelle, by wagons, in
+which they lodged, were wont to assemble to worship God, without the
+fear of royal, persecuting edicts, or armed bands. _L'Eglise
+Saint-Esprit_ was founded in the year 1704, with a cemetery adjoining.
+It was a plain, neat, stone building, and nearly square--its bell the
+gift of Sir Henry Ashurst, of London. On its tablet in front was
+inscribed: �DES SACRA GALLOR PROT. REFORM. FONDA. 1704. PENITUS REPAR.
+1741. In our day its sacred walls have been taken down, the dead
+removed, and the venerable spot, like many others in our busy city, is
+now devoted to Mammon. The successors of _Saint-Esprit_ long since
+united with the Episcopalians, and erected the beautiful marble church
+in Leonard street, where the doctrines of the ever-blessed Reformation
+continue to be declared in the same language in which they were so
+eloquently preached two centuries ago, by Claude, Laurin, and other
+Reformed French Ministers.
+
+The Rev. James Laboire was the first pastor of the _Saint-Esprit_, which
+soon numbered a flourishing congregation. Some of its members would walk
+from New-Rochelle, on Saturday night, to worship God in this place, and
+thus spending the holy day, would return home again in the evening,
+joyfully singing Marot's old French hymns to cheer them by the way. The
+Staten-Island Huguenots would make the same pious journey in their light
+skiffs and boats. For some years Mr. Laboire, the pastor, toward his
+support was 'allowed a yearly sallary of twenty pounds per ann. out of
+ye Revenue of this Province.' The religious services were here
+performed in the primitive manner of the French Calvinistic churches;
+but after the sovereignty of the English was established over the Dutch,
+the forms of their church worship were gradually introduced, until at
+length the Huguenot congregation united with the Protestant Episcopal,
+in this diocese.
+
+In the _Documentary History of New-York_, vol iii. p. 427, may be found
+an old curious article, entitled, 'A Full and Just Discovery of the weak
+and slender foundation of a most Pernicious SLANDER, raised
+against the FRENCH PROTESTANT REFUGEES, inhabiting the Province
+of New-York, generally, but more particularly affecting Captain
+BENJAMIN FANUEL, a person of considerable note amongst them.
+Printed and published by license of his Excellency Edward Viscount
+Cornbury, Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of the said Province, in
+favor of Justice.'
+
+It appears that one Morris Newinhuysen, a mate of a vessel, in 1706, was
+taken by the French, and a prisoner of war, at New-York, reported that
+the 'French Protestants' here corresponded with 'the inhabitants of
+France, tending to the taking and destruction of this city, by Her
+Majesty's declared enemies.' The New-York Huguenots considered this
+accusation a 'crime of so high a nature in itself,' and so 'altogether
+false and untrue,' as to petition Governor Burnet to cause 'the said
+Morris Newinhuysen, and all others who may appear concerned, to be
+strictly examined upon the same report, and if found out, be punished
+according to the nature of the crime.' This petition is dated 'February
+10, 1707/8,' and signed by 'Stephen D'Lancey, Elias Nezereau, Abraham
+Jouneau, Thomas Bayeux, Elias Neau, Paul Deoilet, Augustus Jay, Jean
+Cazale, Benjamin Fanuel.' These must have been leading Huguenots at the
+time. To another petition of a similar character, we find the names of
+Daniel Cromelin, John Auboyneau, Francis Vincent, Alexander Allaire. His
+Excellency the Governor, ordered the report to be considered, which was
+done, when his Council reported that there was not 'any ground to
+suspect Captain Faneuil of holding a correspondence with France.' This
+was cheering news to the 'French Refugees' in the Province of New-York,
+as such a slanderous report, to use their own language on the occasion,
+was 'of pernicious consequence to all the French refugees in general,
+and disturbs their peace and quiet, and obstructs that affection and
+familiarity which they had formerly enjoyed with the other inhabitants
+of this Province, to their just grief and resentment.'
+
+The Rev. Louis Rou was also a pastor of the 'Reformed Protestant French
+Church in New-York.' As early as the year 1713, among other names in its
+official records, are found John Barberie, elder, Louis Carr�, ancien,
+Jean Lafont, ancien, Andr� Fuyneau, ancien.' During the year 1724, there
+was great excitement in the French congregation, caused by a party
+question. Stephen De Lancey, a wealthy merchant, and patron of the
+church, with others became dissatisfied with the pastor. He was
+dismissed for want of zeal, and for innovations which they contended he
+had introduced into their church discipline; but the minister, with his
+friends, appealed from this decision to Governor Burnet and his Council,
+when they sustained him. Indignant memorials were published by both
+parties, and things went so far, that when De Lancey was elected to the
+Colonial Assembly, the Governor refused to administer his oath of
+office, alleging that he was not a subject of the British crown. De
+Lancey, the Huguenot, contended that he had left France before the
+revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and had received denization in
+England, under the great seal of James II. He was right, and the
+Assembly sustained his argument and claims against his Excellency the
+'Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of the Provinces of New-York,
+New-Jersies, and Territories thereon depending in America.'
+
+For the curious in old families, among the official friends of the
+French minister, we find James Gou, John Hastier, Elias Pelletreau, Jr.,
+Jean Va Chan, Andrew Foucault, Jacques Bobin, N. Cazalet, Samuel
+Bourdet, David Le Febrer, Francois Bourdet, Peter Morgat. They testify
+to Mr. Rou's 'exemplary piety and instruction for upwards of fourteen
+years,' which 'have rendered him exceedingly estimable to all who knows
+him, which can't but be acknowledged even by those who are now the
+occasion of this trouble.' We find a more general list of French
+families, his friends also, and dated thirty-first December, 1724, and
+they speak well of him, 'with edification, always leading an exemplary
+life:' James Bergerron, Francis Bosset, Daniel Girand, Daniel Gailliard,
+Elias Chardavoine, Paul Pelletreau, James Many, Gamaliel Guyele, Anthony
+Pintard, Jeremie La Touche, Samuel Bourdet, Jean Bachan, Elie Mainburt,
+Andrew Richard, James Belleveau, Peter Quintard, John Bosset, James
+Bobin, Daniel Bossuet, Charles Jardin, Amand Perot, William Huertin,
+John Vezier, Peter Dennys Doctr, John Many, Peter Tillou, Peter Ebrard,
+Henry Collier, John David, Noe Cazalet, Gabriel Le Boyteix, Jr., Elias
+Gros�llier, Andrew Girand, Francis Baumier, James Des Brosses, James
+Renaudet, Lawrence Cornisleau, Daniel Mesnard, John Ganeau, Peter
+Monget, John Hastier, David Le Telier, Jean Le Chevalier, Philip
+Gilliot, Abraham Bertrand, Abraham Butler, Daniel Cromelin, John
+Pintard, Abraham Pontereau, Peter Burton, Stephen Bourdet, Paul Pinaud,
+Peter Fauconnier. As the same old chronicle says: 'Here followeth the
+names of the widow women, and others, members of the same church:'
+Rachel Ebrard, Elizabeth Heurtin, Marie Anne Ablin, Magdalene
+Fauconnier, Anne Bachan, Mary Perot, Susanne Magle Bosset, Mary
+Sergeran, Esther Bouniot, Marquise Boyteul, Martha Brown, Ren�e Mary
+Rou, Judith Morget, Martha Pentereau, Mary Bargeau, Susanne Boutecon,
+Susanne Ford, Mary Oaks, Mary Ellison, Martha Perot, Esther Masse,
+Elizabeth Tillou.
+
+At this period, a Rey. Mr. Moulinars was the assistant minister of Mr.
+Rou, and united with the party who opposed him, and they also have left
+records of their views, in which they claim to have paid Mr. Rou in
+full, and that then the Consistory could dismiss him when they saw fit.
+'We are not indebted unto Mr. Rou one farthing for all the time he hath
+served us,' is their language, and to their official act are the
+signatures of 'I. I. Moulinars, ministre, John Barheweeld, Louis
+Carr�ansien, Abraham Gouneau, ans., Fran. Cazalz, ans., Ren� Het, ans.,
+January twenty-eighth, 1724.' Still the Council decided in favor of Mr.
+Rou, and were 'of opinion that the said congregation be admonished that
+every person in it do all in his power to preserve peace and unanimity
+in their congregation.' That body also advised 'that the ministers of
+the French congregation who shall officiate next Sunday be ordered to
+read publicly the said opinion and admonition, immediately after divine
+service in the forenoon.'
+
+All these efforts did not produce harmony in the French congregation.
+Moulinars evidently had a restless spirit, and was much opposed to the
+Church of England, at that time the established religion of the New-York
+Colony, and respected by many of the Huguenots. Through his efforts, a
+'meeting-house' was erected for the French refugees at New-Rochelle, and
+its members numbered one hundred persons. One old document (May twelfth,
+1725) records 'that the said Mr. Moulinars has declared (as can be
+proved) that he finds our Church (Episcopal) and that of Rome as like
+one another as two fishes can be ... and one of the chiefest reasons of
+this violence against Mr. Rou has no other ground than his constant
+affection to the Church, and the public approbation he has at all times
+given to its ceremonies and doctrines.' The churchmen also complained
+that Moulinars caused 'great prejudice in general to the Church of
+England, and in particular to that of New-Rochelle, where he would come
+quarterly from New-York, and plead among the people.' New-Rochelle was
+then a parish, and its rector, of course, considered the French preacher
+a dissenter. From the parochial account of the former, the town embraced
+two Quaker families, three Dutch ones, four Lutherans, and several of
+the French; and the Huguenots settling among them in the year 1726,
+gathered a congregation of 'about one hundred persons.'
+
+The Rev. Messrs. Daille and Labord appear early to have served the
+French Protestant Church in New-York; but of the latter we have learned
+nothing. The former had been pastor awhile to the French Protestants in
+Boston. About the year 1690, the Dutch Church Consistory employed Mr.
+Daille to preach to the French in their own language, at New-York, and
+also to conduct the religious services of the pulpit during a part of
+the Lord's day.
+
+In 1763, Jean Carll was the pastor of Du Saint-Esprit, for we discover
+his name, together with Peter Vallade and James Desbrosses, the present
+elders, Daniel Bounet and Charles Jardine, the present deacons of the
+French Protestant Church in the city of New-York, to a petition for a
+charter. Their church property, they state, was purchased agreeable to
+an act of the Legislature in 1703; 'a decent edifice for the public
+worship of Almighty God, according to the usage of the French Protestant
+Churches,' erected; 'and the residue they devoted to the use of the
+cemetery or church-yard for the interment of their dead.' 'Ever since,
+they have maintained a succession of ministers there, who have dispensed
+the ordinances of divine worship in the French tongue.' Besides this
+property, they received the rents of a house and parcel of ground in the
+township of Breucklin, on Nassau Island, near the ferry, and the French
+Church now asked from the legislative authorities a proper charter. With
+honest pride they boast, in their petition, of the most inviolable
+fidelity 'to all those indulgent states and powers who protected them
+from the merciless rage of their Popish persecutors. As your petitioners
+in particular are the descendants of a people who suffered the greatest
+hardships and flew from their native country to preserve the purity of
+the Christian faith and worship.' Eloquent and truthful words. The
+Huguenots were a great blessing to every land where they settled. The
+name of their body politic was 'the Ministers, Elders, and Deacons of
+the Protestant French Church of the City of New-York.'
+
+During the Revolutionary War, New-York became literally a city of
+prisons. The pews of the North Dutch Church in William street were used
+for fuel, and eight hundred American prisoners were incarcerated within
+its old walls, without fuel or bedding, and here many died from cold and
+starvation. The 'Brick Meeting,' in Beekman street, was also used at
+first for a prison, and afterward changed into an hospital. The
+Rose-street Friends' Meeting-house and the Wall-street Presbyterian
+church became hospitals also, and Du Saint-Esprit was made a d�p�t for
+military stores. The Middle Dutch, the present Post-Office, stripped of
+its sacred furniture, was the abode of three thousand American
+prisoners. 'Here,' says John Pintard, himself a most respectable member
+of the Protestant French Church near by, and an eye-witness of the
+disgusting sight, 'the prisoners taken on Long Island and at Fort
+Washington--sick, wounded, and well--were all indiscriminately huddled
+together by hundreds and thousands, large numbers of whom died by
+disease, and many were undoubtedly poisoned by their inhuman attendants,
+for the sake of their watches or silver buckles.' The suffering inmates
+were afterward transferred to other places of confinement, and the
+venerable building turned into a riding-school for the British dragoons.
+Its floor was taken up, the ground covered with tan-bark, and the
+window-sashes removed for this sacrilegious purpose. The French Huguenot
+church remained in its original form one hundred and thirty years, until
+1834, when it was taken down, the grounds sold, and its dead disinterred
+and removed to other resting-places. In their native lands, the ashes of
+the Huguenots would sometimes be dug up, burned, and scattered by
+persecuting hands to the winds of the heavens; but in ours--Protestant
+and more favored--their sainted dust, wherever buried, is watched and
+preserved with pious care and affectionate fidelity. It would be a
+pleasant but an impossible duty to trace the histories of thousands of
+our most excellent New-Yorkers, whose pious ancestors worshiped God in
+the old sanctuary of Du Saint-Esprit, and whose ashes reposed, in
+Christian hope, alongside of its humble and venerable walls. But records
+are scarcely to be found. Still we may love their characters and strive
+to imitate their noble and generous virtues. Hallowed be those precious
+memories!
+
+The remains of many Huguenots repose among the innumerable dead of old
+Trinity church-yard, that vast home of the departed; and where can be
+found their memorials of honor, patriotism, and exalted piety. Here lie
+the ashes of the Rev. Elias Neau, near its northern porch. He was a man
+of more than ordinary eminence; his life useful, beneficial, and
+religious. Mr. Neau was the paternal ancestor of Mrs. Commodore Oliver
+H. Perry, of Rhode-Island.
+
+Previous to his escape from France, he suffered confinement for several
+years in the prisons and galleys, and while in his dungeons, learned by
+heart the liturgy, and became attached to the English Church service.
+When the Rev. Mr. Vesey was rector of Trinity, Mr. Neau was appointed
+catechist of that church. For a number of years, he faithfully
+discharged the duties of this important appointment among the Indians
+and the slaves, of whom some fifteen hundred were catechumens in the
+city of New-York. He could only collect them together on Sunday nights,
+after the last public services; and when properly prepared, would
+present them to Mr. Vesey, for baptism. Mr. Neau may be said to have
+founded the Free School of Trinity, an institution so useful and well
+known among the noble charities of New-York. Its former tablet is still
+preserved among the mementoes of the olden time. This excellent Huguenot
+closed his useful life in 1722, resting from his earthly labors
+alongside of God's holy temple, where he had so long worshiped and'
+served him.
+
+The Rev. Elias Neau, his wife Susannah, and daughter Judith, left
+France, for America, with the Huguenots, about 1685. Judith married a
+Rabineau in New-York, and their only child, Marie, married Daniel
+Ayrault; their issue was six sons and five daughters; and the second
+son, Daniel, married Susannah Eargrass, whose children were Daniel and
+Mary Ayrault. Mary married Benjamin Mason, and their children were two
+sons and two daughters. The eldest son, Benjamin Mason, M.D., was
+educated in England, marrying Margaret Champlin, of Newport, R. I., and
+their issue was three sons and one daughter. This daughter, Elizabeth
+Champlin Mason, became the wife of the patriotic and brave Captain
+Oliver Hazard Perry, of the United States Navy. From this last union
+were four sons and one daughter, Elizabeth Mason Perry. This daughter
+married the Rev. Francis Vinton; and their children, seven sons and
+three daughters, make the _eighth_ generation from their venerable,
+pious Huguenot ancestor; Mr. Vinton himself serving in holy things at
+the same sacred altar of old Trinity, where the Rev. Elias Neau
+worshiped, and after a lapse of one hundred and fifty years. How
+enduring is sacred truth! It will abide forever.
+
+Johannes Delamontagnie was another Huguenot refugee, who reached
+New-Amsterdam in 1773. Governor Kieft appointed him a member of his
+council, then the second office in the colonial government. He purchased
+a farm of two hundred acres at Harlaem, for seven hundred and twenty
+dollars, naming it' Vriedendel', (Valley of Peace.) The land was
+situated East of the Eighth Avenue, between Ninety-third street and the
+Harlem river. His grandson, named Vincent, died in May, 1773, at the
+very advanced age of one hundred and sixteen years. Numerous descendants
+are still among us from this early French Protestant emigrant, although
+some abbreviations have been made in the name.
+
+
+
+
+THE BANE OF OUR COUNTRY.
+
+
+While sharing the Provost-Marshal's office, in Portsmouth, Virginia, I
+was struck with the almost utter absence of cultivation of the
+understanding of the people living there or in the surrounding country,
+who entered to obtain passes, or for other purposes. Scarce one of them
+at first appreciated the nature of an oath, which they all shrank from
+taking, or objected to, when proposed as a condition of obtaining either
+the passes or the protection they wished. They were not merely
+illiterate and untaught, but showed also an extremely low grade of
+reasoning power. There was, indeed, in most cases, but little
+development even of those lower grades of intellectual ability which are
+so frequently seen in simply 'illiterate' persons. They hung back from
+committing themselves, in any way, as friendly to us, though they
+evidently did not feel that hatred or ill-feeling characteristic of the
+bolder secessionist. I afterward saw many more of these people, in
+Norfolk, at our office. With our continued occupancy of the city, and in
+the absence of any aggressive action by our Government, they presented
+themselves more frequently. Among them there was occasionally one who
+avowed himself, without reservation, for the Union. These people are, I
+am confident, the only ones in the rebellious States who are other than
+secessionists. Love of the Union--that which the reader identifies with
+patriotism and nationality--they had not, because this can nowhere be
+found in the rebellious States, except in isolated instances. That they
+remained silent and subdued under the progress of the acts of the
+secessionists, and never raised hand or voice in contradiction to them,
+proves in this class an absence of that force of character, or of that
+moral courage or 'energy' which is the distinguishing attribute of our
+Northern people, even the poorest, and this was also evinced when we
+first occupied the town. It was not peacefulness of disposition which I
+remarked, but the lack first, of _decision of character_, and next, of
+_decision of understanding_ respecting the questions at issue. In
+conversation they could express only very simple notions, nor could I
+promptly elicit more from them. Even their feelings lacked the qualities
+of force and intensity. Yet this class is next to the ruling and leading
+part of the population, which is composed of planters, cotton, tobacco,
+and produce factors' families, professional men, and others, who court
+patronage, including shopkeepers, small manufacturers, and
+money-lenders, and who support in political affairs _their_ own
+_client�le_ of supporters. The latter people constitute the determinedly
+rebellious. It is the first class only, that we can regard as the sole
+support to Unionism which there is in the rebellious States; but in them
+we shall find no moral force or power even when the reign of the leading
+class shall have ceased. These facts, I am aware, are in striking
+contrast to the usual estimation of the courage and daring of the people
+of the South. But the usual estimation is true only of the people who
+have a concert of interest in slavery, and who, whatever their petty
+disagreements may be, concur in their politics. Nowhere, therefore, is
+democracy less actual than in the rebellious States; a ruling and a
+subservient class exists precisely as in England or Austria. To increase
+the latter, comprising the people I first described, is by no means to
+increase the power and extend the domination of the other, but the
+contrary; and undoubtedly the diminution of their number by the
+sacrifice of their lives in the rebellion, is considered by the chief
+managers as desirable, in view of the success of their scheme of polity
+and government.
+
+Accordingly, in enforcing their plan of formally identifying the various
+States with secession--the form being the ordinance of secession--the
+suffrages and sense of this ruled class were ruthlessly unheeded, and
+denied validity.
+
+Hence we say that several of the rebel States did not 'secede,' it being
+true that a majority of the people expressed their aversion to
+rebellion--this majority being, for the occasion, the ruling one, in
+virtue of the principle to which _all_ equally deferred. But it is the
+_will_ of the ruling or aristocratic class in all similar cases, and not
+the forms of law or principle, which accomplishes such changes, whether
+according to the forms of law or in disregard of them. _This class are
+never respecters of principle_, but rule in virtue not of what
+principles empower them to do, as a majority, but of the power of might
+and dominant strength. It is obvious that were they to do the former,
+they would be destitute of any other power than pertained to the whole
+community, they in part, and others equally. Accordingly, they having,
+once for all, in their adhesion to the Constitution, and again on its
+eve, consented to an election, and therefore its issue, when a majority
+of the entire nation elected a representative of the Chicago
+declaration, they reverted to their power of might, and rebelled.
+
+It is, therefore, the subversion of an _un_principled (the term is of
+the strictest accuracy) ruling class, or aristocracy, and the
+obliteration of their peculiar power, that we have to accomplish. This
+power consists wholly of certain peculiar interests as masters. To
+deprive them of these, is the only possible terminus of the question at
+issue. So plain and palpable is the whole question, that we need hardly
+say that their whole scheme of government turns upon and clusters about
+this interest. For the preservation of this interest, which they thought
+touched by the advances of freedom, they rushed into war, and for the
+conservation of their power, they base all upon it.
+
+That the general question of property is at all affected by the
+obliteration of this interest, is an egregious error. The property, the
+possession of which is valid and inviolable, is the product of human
+skill, industry, labor, invention, or what not. Nor does it confer
+political dominance on its possessor. The slaveholders are the only
+class in the nation whose property interest does so; and reciprocally,
+the sole object of the maintenance of this interest is the maintenance
+of this dominant power. Whether it be or be not criminal to possess it,
+is not the point upon which the demand for the abrogation of this
+interest turns--at least, there is no legal precedent to so think of
+it--but it turns upon the fact that it is ruinous to a republican
+system. Not the whole force of republicanism can at once maintain itself
+and conserve and cherish _that_; and _if_ it, to a certain extent
+cherish it, it will do no more than continue the basis of the power of a
+class, who will use it in the only way it can be used, namely, in
+contesting whatever interests, principles, or practices are averse to
+it.
+
+Hence, for more than thirty years not a single widely beneficent measure
+of legislation has been allowed to pass and become operative by the
+representatives of this interest. So the South, the seat of this
+interest, has always been, in its own estimation, 'the South,' despite
+what we have said of a national Union; rendering it impossible that the
+republican patriot could _unite_ in one sentiment that which this
+particular interest _divided_ itself from.
+
+That humanity should dictate the freedom of the slave in the interests
+of morality, is but natural. With this we have nothing to do; but that
+the being of an 'aristocracy based on property' should be excluded from
+the bounds of a republic, is of an importance to it and mankind, not
+second to religion itself.
+
+
+
+
+THE MOLLY O'MOLLY PAPERS.
+
+VII.
+
+The Chinese thief, they say, greases himself and sticks knives in his
+queue, so that it is nest to impossible to catch him. Old Time is about
+as slippery a fellow as a Chinese thief. I don't know that he has a
+queue, and have fancied that when queues were worn, and Time was in the
+fashion, some old fogy, too slow to keep up with him, caught him by his
+queue. Time, who never yet was detained by mortal grasp, pressed on and
+left it behind. Since then he has cultivated only that _ungraspable_
+forelock. Fleet of foot as he is, it is thought that Young America, with
+his telegraphs, will, in the long run--that is, in the race round the
+world--come out 'a leetle ahead' of him. Indeed, Young America talks of
+annihilating Time. But, though he may have 'one foot on land and one on
+sea,' he has no commission to 'swear that time shall be no more.'
+
+We are a fast people--no mistake. Perhaps a little too fast. Did we only
+_anticipate_ Time, and pull down only what, with those sure sappers and
+miners of his, the years, he is certain to overthrow, it would be well
+enough. But we wish to destroy what he has left untouched, or would
+remodel it, would modernize it.
+
+The dear old creed of our fathers; _old_ creed, did I say? Ever _new_
+creed; for what Time passes by, never grows old. This we would change to
+suit ourselves, fancying we have outgrown it; or thinking it, like the
+Spartan iron coin, too cumbersome for general circulation, we would
+change it for lighter, and as we think, more precious metal. We deem
+this the age of gold.
+
+There is a great deal said about our progress toward mental and moral
+perfection. Some seem to think that education is all we need to make us
+perfect moral beings. 'Ignorance is the cause of all evil;' all things
+are as they should be; our minds are as the _camera obscura_, a darkened
+chamber which a few rays enter, and every thing only _appears_ upside
+down. All we need is more light, to see to set every thing straight. It
+is true that we see things in an inverted position; but in this
+prison-house, we shall never have light enough to see them as they are.
+There is a lens that corrects these false impressions, and the light
+that enters through it shows us many things upside down that we before
+saw right side up, and _vice versa_.
+
+Intoxicated with conceit, we fancy that we have but to eat of the tree
+of knowledge to become gods. Some go so far as to say that we are even
+now a part of divinity. 'The universe--it is God;' therefore we, as a
+part of the universe, are a part of God. The universe God? If it is a
+part of God, (which it is not,) it is so small a fraction that in all
+mathematical calculations, it would be called nothing. Were all the
+minds in the universe mingled into one, that one would be but as a drop
+to the ocean that girdles Infinity--God.
+
+You will think me too earnest. The O'Mollys were ever an earnest race
+and an orthodox race. With what earnestness did they, in the good old
+times, from those peculiarly Irish goblets, that wouldn't stand, drink
+Irish whisky, till they partook of the nature of the goblets and came to
+the floor with them--the goblets with a crash, but the O'Mollys got up
+as sound as a bell, and next morning were ready to attend mass, into
+which they entered with as much earnestness as into their revelry. No
+people equal the Irish in earnestness in _spiritual_ matters. It is
+perhaps not for a female O'Molly to record these roysterings; but I am
+the last of my race, I only am left to chronicle the glorious doings of
+my ancestors. Then, too, on our escutcheon is one of these same goblets.
+The origin of this escutcheon it has been a family task to trace, with
+but little success, however, till the present generation, I had a cousin
+who inherited all the family pride. He became a martyr to his devotion
+to the 'time-honored custom;' for alas! good old Irish whisky is as
+certainly among the 'things that were,' as are the Irish kings. Some
+have shrewdly thought that it was the only real Irish king. Well, then,
+it is owing to this cousin's loyalty to the usurper, or rather
+pretender, that I am the family chronicler. He was wonderfully
+ingenious; could from the slightest hint guess at the whole story; he
+was equal to those naturalists who from one bone can make out the
+animal. With the remains of an old family tradition for his clue, he
+traced the origin of the escutcheon. It was on this wise. One of the
+Irish kings, traveling incog., stopped at the castle of an O'Molly, who,
+though he knew not the rank of his guest, entertained him with the
+utmost hospitality. Freely the goblet circulated, and as they two only
+drank from it, it was soon broken. The king, next morning, revealed his
+rank to his host, and dubbed him _Knight of the Goblet_; hence the
+goblet on the shield, an emblem of hospitality. And never has there been
+a stain on the escutcheon of the O'Mollys.
+
+I said they were an orthodox race. Perhaps they were too bigoted in
+their adherence to the old customs and the old faith. But there is too
+much latitudinarianism in this nineteenth century. Too many think it
+matters but little what a man's belief is, if he is only sincere in it;
+as if the consequences of any thing could be averted by not believing in
+it. The hands of your clock may be so turned around that they will point
+to the wrong figures; does that change the time? Or, what amounts to the
+same thing, it may be so ill-regulated, the machinery may be so out of
+gear, that you are deceived. But morning, noon, and night do not
+regulate their face by your clock. There is a dial that unerringly marks
+'the stately stoppings' of the sun of suns--let us regulate our belief
+by it.
+
+Truth is not like the clouds that, it is said, take the form of the
+country over which they pass. It does not change to suit your condition
+or mind, and we can not change it, neither can we dilute it. What is
+not truth is falsehood, and this, as the acid dissolved the pearl which
+Cleopatra dropped into it, will dissolve truth and convert it into its
+own nature.
+
+How little we prize truth, even if we do not thus attempt to dissolve
+it. It lies in our heart unheeded. We are almost as unconscious of it as
+the oyster is of the pearl within his shell.
+
+A friend of mine, having a daughter 'to finish,' looked over
+advertisement after advertisement, till finally her eye lighted on the
+circular of Mrs. Smith's Female Seminary, situated in the quiet and
+salubrious village of----, within a few minutes' walk of three or four
+places of worship.... Great care taken of the health, manners, and
+morals of the pupils.... Exercise insisted on.... Those whose parents
+may wish it, allowed the use of a quiet saddle-horse.... The pupils
+under the immediate supervision of the principal.... They have all the
+comforts of Home, etc., etc. All this, in addition to a thorough course
+of instruction in every thing ever heard of, not forgetting the Use of
+the Globes.... Music on the piano and guitar; there are six pianos in
+the institution.... Drawing, Monochromatic, Grecian, Oriental, etc.,
+etc. Painting in oils and water-colors.... Embroidery, ten different
+kinds.... Terms, $--per annum. Then follows an imposing list of
+references, Reverends, Esquires, and Honorables.
+
+My friend, taken with this, decided that her daughter, Bessie, should go
+to Mrs. Smith's seminary. Accordingly, a short time before the
+commencement of the next term, she accompanied her there; was so pleased
+with Mrs. Smith's bland politeness toward herself, and her affectionate,
+almost matronly manner toward her daughter, that she came away relieved
+of all anxiety on Bessie's account.
+
+I hope I am not 'violating the sanctity of private correspondence,' in
+giving the following letter from Bessie:
+
+     'MY DEAR MOLLY: I received yours last evening, and hasten
+     to reply, though, to answer your numerous questions will take me
+     till after prayers. I shall consequently, as I am not the _model_
+     pupil, get an absence-mark. You inquire as to the advancement I am
+     making in my studies. One thing is certain, I shall not come home
+     the _encyclopedia_ mother expects. I'll not say that this
+     'flourishing institution' is a humbug; but will say that facts and
+     the circular do not exactly tally. A few of the facts I will give,
+     and you can judge for yourself.
+
+     'To begin with the supervision of the bland, portly principal. She
+     enters the school-room makes a few criticisms, asks a blessing at
+     the table; occasionally a misdemeanor is reported to her, when the
+     offender is cited to the august presence, and duly reprimanded, not
+     according to the quality of the offense, but, in an inverse
+     proportion, to the _quality_ of the offender. Her teachers do the
+     mental drudgery of the institution. Their life is about as varied
+     and pleasant as that of a churn-dog; that is, if the dog were kept
+     churning all day. The balancing of accounts with them, and the
+     making out of the bills for the patrons, are certainly 'under the
+     immediate supervision of the principal.' These bills, which fond
+     parents suppose amount to $--, have a rat-like appendage (excuse
+     the expression) of 'incidentals,' that wasn't drawn into the
+     _modest_ 'terms' of the circular. I nearly forgot her Friday
+     afternoon lectures, for which she sometimes substitutes _Hannah
+     More_, and the _Young Ladies' Own Book_. These lectures are as
+     commonplace as expatiations on the importance of cultivating the
+     mind and heart, interspersed with 'hence the necessity,' and
+     'highly essential,' can mate them. Last Friday, as she was
+     enlarging on the advantage of having had our birth in an
+     enlightened, Christian land, Jenny Dean wrote on a slip of paper,
+     and poked it over to me,'not _have_ our _berth_ in a Christian
+     land.' Mrs. Smith saw her, confiscated the paper, and gave her a
+     severe reprimand, for evincing such a disposition to trifle with
+     serious things. Jenny was right; if ours is a Christian berth,
+     commend me to heathendom. Mrs. Smith neglected to mention in her
+     circular the instruction in _entomology_ her pupils receive;
+     probably because they are, as 'the Autocrat' says every traveler
+     is, _self-taught_. I wish she would omit a few lessons in the 'Use
+     of the Globes,' and teach the servants the use of hot water,
+     corrosive sublimate, and roach-poison.
+
+     'I begin to understand why it is called a _finishing_ school. Don't
+     tell mother, or she will have me put in quarantine when I return.
+     But, really, I'm getting quite thin; the demand made on my system
+     being greater than the supply of 'plain wholesome food.' Now, I'm
+     not going to complain of this 'plain wholesome,' though the butter
+     is sometimes strong, the lamb (?) ditto, (see circular in regard to
+     home comforts.) But I wish you would suggest to mother the
+     propriety of sending me another box; the last we finished in short
+     metre. You know this is a _finishing_ school. Only one of the girls
+     of our hall is too mean to _treat_, and she gets _lots of things_
+     from home. Yesterday, she brought a beautiful basket of apples to
+     my room, just to show me how nice they _looked_. I suggested that
+     'the proof of the pudding was in the _eating_.' She was too obtuse
+     to take the hint. It is almost sacrilege to talk so about her; she
+     is Mrs. Smith's _model_ pupil, which, as I before informed you,
+     your humble servant is not. Jenny Dean and I are always getting
+     into trouble. Somehow, we've got a bad name, and our _slightest_
+     misdemeanor is noticed, so we think that we 'might as well be
+     killed for a sheep as a lamb:' in other words, if the camel's back
+     must be broken, it may as well be by a hundred-pound weight as a
+     feather.
+
+     'We have an Italian music-teacher, chiefly noticeable for his
+     length of limb, an exiled nobleman, of course. I hinted to Jenny a
+     doubt as to his nobility. She said, if he didn't belong to 'the
+     Brahmin caste,' he did to the _Bramah cast_, and that was the next
+     thing to it. He has become violently attached to the assistant
+     music-teacher, who is very thin. Now, he has been teaching us to
+     screech 'For Bonnie Annie Laurie.' Jenny persists in calling it,
+     For bony Annie Laurie. The gravity with which he each time corrects
+     her is amusing. Signor _executes_ to the admiration of patrons,
+     etc.; though music on those horrid pianos is rather like music on
+     the rack. Of the six inventoried, (see circular,) two are in the
+     garret, superannuated; two more ought to be; as for the remaining
+     two, on one of them your friend Bessie practices, and it is too
+     great a trial to her nerves to speak of them. You say that you have
+     music in your souls that I must learn to express for you; that you
+     can't turn a tune to save your life; that the attempt is like the
+     attempt to make a curve of straight lines, (you see how I remember
+     all you write or say.) If you were here, you would wish all the
+     melody of the institution _voiceless_, and that it wouldn't ooze
+     out at the finger-ends.
+
+     'As for drawing, (see circular,) this department, to save expense,
+     Mrs. Smith's _accomplished_ daughter has. She teaches crayoning and
+     pencilling--a few learn to daub in water-colors--but this she
+     rather discourages, as colored crayoning is much easier and quite
+     as _showy_--this is the word for everything here. Miss Smith also
+     teaches French--_Anglicized_. It is hardly worth while to mention
+     'the solids,' as these are shoved into a corner to give place to
+     the accomplishments.... As for the exercise--we do, two or three
+     times a week, file down the street, then file back again--are thus
+     exhibited to the admiring gaze of the Esquires, Reverends, and
+     Honorables, (see circular.) The 'quiet saddle-horse' (see circular)
+     is a 'poetic fiction,' a 'pious fraud'--as much a myth as Pegasus
+     himself. Though there is a tradition in the school that, a short
+     time after the founding of the establishment, the late lamented
+     husband of Mrs. Smith, who was fond of equestrian exercise, kept a
+     horse--which a parlor-boarder, niece of Mrs. Smith, was allowed to
+     ride--hence the provision in the circular. One part of it is
+     correct--he doubtless is now a _very_ quiet saddle-horse--that is,
+     if he had not the tenacity of life of the _lamb_ that, judging from
+     the savory odor, we are to have for dinner, ('what's in a name?')
+     Perhaps the 'late lamented' was as fond of his nag as was the man
+     who entertained his guests with his horse in the form of soup.
+     Jenny Dean says that is what she calls true _horse-pitality_.
+
+     'There goes the bell. Don't forget the box. Mrs. Smith--unlike many
+     principals--approves of them--the reason you can guess--the _fact_
+     please mention to mother. In haste,
+
+     BESSIE.'
+
+
+It seems hardly consistent with my regard for the 'dear reader,' to add
+any thing by way of remark on this true school-girl letter. But it is so
+suggestive. How many circulars do tally with facts? Even in those of the
+best schools, that need none of this clap-trap, there is a little
+humbug. But this is rather the fault of the patrons; like Bessie's
+mother, they will hardly look at a plain advertisement. The truth is, we
+love to be humbugged. Among the 'wants of the age' may be classed
+_humbug_.
+
+I have read of a painter with disproportionately short legs, who, in all
+his pictures of human figures--from Moses down to the Mayor, done in
+heroic style--substituted his own legs. Your thorough utilitarian,
+deficient in imagination, his idea of mental symmetry being his own
+mental proportions, thinks no mind well balanced that has not a similar
+deficiency. He is a believer in nothing but the real and the useful--all
+else is stuff and nonsense; to him a mountain is a high elevation of
+land; a plain, a level tract; a forest, so much timber in a green
+state; a cloud, a collection of vapor. He sees in every thing just what
+there is in it and nothing more. Why does any one see more? It has been
+a puzzle to me, the undefinable longing I have sometimes felt in looking
+at a beautiful scene; a feeling akin to this, though lower, is that
+awakened by the fragrance of some flowers--it is so unsatisfactory, you
+wish to _taste_ them. These somethings bring up a shadow of 'shadowy
+recollections,' an echo of an echo of a past so indistinct, so dimly
+distant, that it seems to have been a part of another life.
+
+It may be that all earthly things are but types of spiritual things in a
+future spiritual existence--hence the yearning; or they may be
+expressions of spiritual things in a past spiritual existence--hence the
+'shadowy recollections.' One thing is certain: all beauty and grandeur
+are faint expressions of the ideas of the All-Father; therefore, O
+utilitarian! you do wrong to ask of them: 'What use?' Better cultivate a
+taste for them, and with this taste an earnest desire to look into that
+Mind and read there thoughts of which Mont Blanc and the exquisite
+flowers are but feeble utterances.
+
+How the Great Teacher has lavished on us illustrations of his goodness,
+as if he would in some way make it plain to all, '_what use_.' There
+_must_ be a use in every thing he creates. Every dew-drop that the
+meanest weed has wooed and won from the atmosphere, is as tenderly cared
+for by him, as the stream is that supplies your mill-pond; every briny
+tear on the infant's cheek, as the ocean that bears on its bosom your
+merchant-vessels. What use? Have not some things been made useless--in
+your sense of the term--that they might be preserved from destruction?
+The gorgeous-plumed birds, and brightly-enameled fish of the tropics,
+are unfit for food--so, to your mind, of no use. I wonder if this holds
+good in cannibal countries; if so, it would be no protection to poor
+Molly O'Molly if she were there.
+
+I, too, am a believer in the real and the useful; but to me, the sphere
+of both is almost infinite. Are not the feelings awakened on viewing a
+beautiful sunset, as real as your satisfaction after eating roast-beef?
+Though I acknowledge that no one can thoroughly enjoy the one, who feels
+the need of the other; if then weighed in the scale, the sunset would
+'kick the beam.' All things 'by season seasoned are to their right
+praise and true perfection.' It would, for instance, be rather out of
+place to talk of the beauty of the stars to the houseless wanderer, for
+whom there were no 'cheerful lights of home;' to expatiate on the
+loveliness of the moon to him who must spend the chill night with no
+other covering than her 'silver mantle.'... Moonlight and memory are
+associated together in my mind--reflections of a set sun, wrapping in
+their calm, beautiful light, all things, even the graves of those we
+love.... I have thought that the murmur of the brook was the _voice of
+Silence_. Moonlight expresses to the eye--_silence_.... 'All this
+unreal?' I beg your pardon; I claim for my feelings the same reality
+that you claim for yours. Is only what is gross real? Is not the sky as
+real as the mountain that pierces it? Is there more reality in the chink
+of the dollar than in 'the music of the spheres'? This first is, I
+acknowledge, to me a pleasant sound, though only 'heard at rarest
+intervals.'... Yet I am rather inclined to believe in the reality of
+the music of the spheres; it is too ethereal, too spiritual a music for
+the ear to _sense_ it; the food and drink of the gods, ambrosia and
+nectar, even were we to swallow them, could our mortal palates taste
+them? Even thus may we drink in the music of the spheres, and, strange
+as it may seem, the more _ear_ we have, the less likely we will be to
+hear it.
+
+But--_not_ 'in this connection,' in no connection--the utilitarian also
+thoroughly despises cobweb theories, as he terms them. The world owes
+its greatest achievements to theories--cobwebs they may be. In caves
+have been found books of stone, whose nucleus was but cobweb; along
+these webs the calcareous solution ran, and hardened into stone. A
+cobweb theory has been the thread, on which, drop by drop, as it were,
+experiments have run and hardened into a possibility on which might be
+hung a _steam-boat_.
+
+There goes the night-train. Every morning as the engine with its train
+passes, the dark smoke rushing out of the chimney is touched by the rays
+of the rising sun and made glorious. I doubt not my enjoyment in looking
+at it is as real as that of the heaviest stockholder. Here I 'pitch my
+foot against'--as Paley says in his famous watch-argument--_a
+quotation_.
+
+  'Life is transfigured in the soft and tender
+  Light of love, as a volume dense
+  Of rolling smoke becomes a wreathed splendor
+  In the setting sun.'
+
+But this warm subject of love I avoid as the whale avoids the warm water
+of the Gulf Stream. So I will wheel about--first, one more digression:
+This love, like the Gulf Stream, softens many a climate naturally as
+cold as that of Labrador. I just throw out this hint for the sentimental
+reader to enlarge upon.
+
+That quotation from Alexander Smith reminds me of one other thing, for
+which your utilitarian has a sovereign contempt--that is _poetry_. What
+is poetry? Every thing that stirs the soul to its depths, or but crisps
+the surface, is poetry--every truth does this, therefore every truth is
+poetry. Mind, I don't say _conversely_, etc. There--that word
+'conversely,' suggests to you that now you have me; there is
+mathematical truth, you say; you might as well attempt to raise a tree
+from cube-root as to attempt to make poetry sprout from mathematics....
+Is there no poetry in the marked path of the vessel on the trackless
+ocean--no poetry in the magnificent sweep of suns and worlds through
+space--in the eccentric orbit of the faithful comet--faithful, for from
+the most distant errands he passes right by earth, and even Venus,
+lingers not a moment, but hastens back to his lord--is there no poetry
+in the icing over of the brook, (if you think not, read Lowell's _Sir
+Launfel_,) each icy crystal being an exact geometrical figure? When 'God
+geometrizes,' he also poetizes.
+
+Then if we can't say conversely all poetry is truth, yet poetry gives to
+every thing she touches with her magic wand, the charm of reality. Are
+not Ariel, Puck, Oberon, real characters, though but 'beings of the
+mind'? Shylock and Lady Macbeth are to me as real as John Wesley and
+Hannah More, and far more real than the dimly defined heroes of
+Plutarch, except those that Shakspeare has thrilled with his own
+life-blood--his very ghosts have an awful individuality--they are enough
+to make you believe in ghosts. But hark! what was that--pshaw! it is
+only a screech-owl on the maple near my window--Keats' 'owl, for all his
+feathers, was a-cold,' I should think this was, from his shivering
+notes. Listen again! how old is the dead Time, whose age the distant
+town-clock is tolling? I don't care to count--to tell the truth, that
+owl makes me nervous--and if it is 'the witching time of night,' I don't
+care to know it--so good-night.
+
+In haste, MOLLY O'MOLLY.
+
+
+
+
+WOUNDED
+
+  Up the quiet street in the early Sunday morning, came with slow
+    steps and silently, two wounded soldiers:
+  One with shattered arm and a cruel sabre-cut on his forehead;
+  One with amputated leg, hobbled slowly along on crutches.
+
+  In the thunder-storm and sharp crash of terrible battle, 'mid blood,
+    carnage, and death,
+  Comrades in arms, they fell side by side; one of them senseless, the
+    other feeling his life-blood flowing away...
+  Faintness came over him, breathing the sulphurous smoke, with the
+    tornado of battle stunning his brain--
+  Faintness--forgetfulness. A vision of childhood, of the sweet
+    Heaven-time of life, came to him...
+  He hoped it was death, coming as no king of terrors, but as a
+    beautiful flower-crowned child,
+  Bidding a hero welcome to the great halls of the laurel-wreathed
+    dead--those who died for their country.
+
+  From this dream of the Future came sharp awaking to life; rattling
+    away in the ambulance...
+  Crashing pains shooting wildly from leg to brains--the heart now and
+    then grasped with steel fingers and squeezed...
+  The knife and the tourniquet, the rapid surgical operation: the
+    poor, pale fellow maimed for life.
+
+
+  At home in a hospital kindly nursed and tended, hearing for the
+    first time in life the name of God--not taken in vain: seeing the
+    good DEEDS of true woman...
+  Knowing that should he die he would ask no gentler sounds to cheer
+    him on his road to the Hereafter, than the prayer he once heard
+    read by The Lady in Gray to a dying soldier in the same
+    hospital:... thus passed he back again to life.
+  Now convalescent he walks in the fresh morning up the quiet street,
+    under the leafy shadow of lindens... he and his comrade in battle.
+
+
+  In the faces of both you may see that they know how earnest is
+    life...
+  The Angel of Death on the battle-field raised the veil of the
+    Future: transient the glimpse, but they will never forget it...
+  The Angel of Mercy here in the hospital bound up their wounds,
+    cheering their hearts with kind looks and well-spoken words of
+    true sympathy...
+  Solemnly earnest and beautiful is Life to these two wounded soldiers.
+
+  The lame one is weary, and halts by the steps of a handsome house;
+    his comrade with one arm helps him sit down there, on the lowest
+    step, leaning against the white marble balustrade.
+  Through lace and silk curtains, from drawing-room window, looks down the
+    street a beautiful woman, waiting impatiently carriage, coachman, and
+    footman, to carry her grandly to church.
+  Up comes the carriage; wide open the doors of the house: Madame
+    descends...
+  How is this?... She stops by the two wounded soldiers.
+
+  I have two sons in the army, she thought; what if they were weary and
+   wounded like these?
+  Then she speaks to the comrades in battle, and learning where they were
+    going, insisted on their taking her carriage. She will have no refusal:
+    and now John the footman, inwardly groaning, assists the lame man to
+    enter, then the other one takes a seat...
+  Off they whirl to their hospital-home, with a blessing upon the fair lady
+    who dared follow the teachings of ONE whom that morning she worshiped
+    with words ... and with deeds.
+
+  Open your hands--and your hearts--ye who stand afar off from the battle!
+    Lo! the wounded and dying are here at your doors.
+  Slumber no more; but awake, AWAKE TO THEIR CRIES!
+
++-------------------------------------------------------+
+|Because of the length of the lines, the above piece has|
+|been formatted as in the original.                     |
++-------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+ASTOR AND THE CAPITALISTS OF NEW-YORK.
+
+
+The accumulation of wealth has always been a chief proclivity of our
+race. The earliest of all books (Job) mentions it with sharp reproof, as
+though even then it had become a theme with the moralist. In olden time,
+wealth was even more unreliable than at the present day, especially as
+the mere possession of gold was enough to endanger one's life. The
+modern capitalist avoids this by devolving the custody of his cash on
+some bank and holding its stock instead of a hoard of ingots. The
+science of wealth now takes a more philosophic turn, and may be summed
+up in one word, _debt_. To be rich is simply to have brought the
+community in debt to yourself; and the greater it is, the greater, of
+course, your riches. To be poor is simply to reverse this condition, and
+to be in debt to others. The richest of all mankind may not have on
+hand, in specie, at any one time, more than the amount of a single day's
+income, and may be only able to show for his entire capital sundry
+pieces of paper, representing value. This is a vast improvement upon
+antiquity, since then wealth was identified with the holding of bullion,
+for whose protection an especial deity was invented. By a strange
+co�cidence, while Pluto was god of the lower regions, a slight change of
+the name represented his moneyed colleague, and Plutus presided over
+money. This connection is with sober wit hit off by Milton, who sets the
+fallen angels at once to work digging gold.
+
+                 'Soon had his crew
+  Opened into the hills a spacious wound
+  And digged out ribs of gold. Let none admire
+  That riches grow in hell: that soil may best
+  Deserve the precious bane.'
+
+The term 'almighty dollar' is stereotyped in modern slang, and yet the
+idea could not but have existed under other words in the days of those
+flush individuals, Midas and Croesus. The first of these moneyed
+gentlemen found gold too plenty for comfort, while the latter, by his
+unfortunate end, proved that even at that early time riches had learned
+to fly away. Gold entered very largely into the politics of antiquity,
+and by this means Crassus got a partnership in the grand triumvirate of
+which Mark Antony and Octavius formed the more active parties. Poor
+Crassus found, however, that to be a sleeping partner in a concern was
+quite a dangerous position.
+
+The danger in which money involves its possessor, is shown with dramatic
+power by Scott, in his splendid medieval dream, _Ivanhoe_--in the
+torture-scene, where the Jew is racked to obtain his gold. In connection
+with this, it may be noted as a surprising fact that while poverty has
+always been dreaded, it has ever been exempt from one term of peculiar
+wretchedness. With all his privation, who ever heard a poor man
+designated as a _miser_?
+
+Wealth is a matter of comparison. The original term applied by the
+New-England savages to the white was, _knifeman_; the possession of one
+implement making the latter rich in the view of the Indian. What a vast
+investment in wampum would such a weapon be? Carrying out the same
+comparative idea, it is reported as one of John Jacob Astor's sayings:
+'That a man worth fifty thousand dollars is as well off as though he was
+rich.' So strong is this comparative aspect, that the money-hunter finds
+his mark continually receding, and when he has attained his hundred
+thousand, he is appalled by finding himself but a mere beginner compared
+with others. He is but at the foot of the mountain which others have
+climbed, and which towers above him in
+
+  'Many a fiery, many a frozen Alp.'
+
+Hence, there is nothing more clearly proven in the psychology of man
+than that accumulation utterly fails to fulfil the idea attached to
+riches; that is, satiety or even satisfaction, and there is often a
+bitter poverty of soul gnawing the owner of millions. The organic
+thought crops out of great and small alike. It is said that the chief of
+Boston merchants of the olden time, William Gray, when asked what would
+satisfy him, replied, 'A little more;' while the Indian to whom the same
+inquiry was made, replied with aboriginal simplicity: 'All the whisky
+and all the tobacco in the world.' 'Nothing else?' added the inquirer.
+'Yes,' replied the Indian in an anxious tone, 'a little more whisky.'
+The same insatiable craving is shown in poor Isaac K----, the
+half-witted boy, whose droll sayings of a half-century ago are still
+remembered about Boston. 'Father,' he one day exclaimed, 'I wish every
+body was dead but you and me.' 'Why so, my son?' 'Why, then, father, you
+and I would go out and buy all the world.'
+
+The power of gold to inflict pain on its possessor suggests deep
+philosophical inquiry. Even at a superficial view, one can not but be
+struck by the fatal facility which it affords to vice on the one hand,
+while on the other, how many suffer untold distress from the miser's
+self-inflicted poverty? There are multitudes of ruined youth, who, had
+they been bound to labor instead of being reared to a life of affluent
+ease, would have become useful men. Indeed, by merely changing the
+costume of Hogarth's _Rake's Progress_, we may see it enacted by scores
+of young men in any of our leading cities. The writer once knew a
+worn-out debauchee of thirty, who, even at that early age, had got rid
+of an inheritance of a half-million.
+
+The miseries of poverty are severe, and such men as Johnson and De
+Quincey have painted them in colors drawn from their own experience; but
+what scenes vastly more terrible might they not have sketched had they
+held that master-key which unlocks the abodes of pleasure and summons
+the dreadful crew of temptation?
+
+One can not but pity the former of these, as he thinks of his wandering
+the live-long night through the streets of London, unable to buy a
+lodging, and eating each occasional meal, not knowing when he would get
+another. Yet, had as this might have been, how vastly more pitiable
+would his case have been, had he fulfilled the infernal career of some
+of his rich cotemporaries, such as Lord Lyttelton or Lord Euston, whose
+dying horrors Young has so thrillingly described in his _Altamont_.
+Horace, who had so thoroughly studied the philosophy of life, could
+refer to his lowly condition:
+
+  'S�va paupertas et avitus apto
+  Cum lare fundus:'
+
+and then cite the race reared in poverty as those who saved the
+commonwealth, by defeating Hannibal. His deep-toned objurgations at the
+degeneracy of Rome are brought to mind by the increased dissipation and
+licentiousness of American youth.
+
+Who can read lines like these without thinking of our concert-saloons
+and other facilities of vice? (the former happily suppressed.)
+
+  Damnasa quid non immmuit dies.
+
+The history of capitalists would be interesting, if only as showing this
+single feature, namely, that the secret of great success lies in one's
+placing himself in some channel where the stream must soon flow, and
+thus anticipating the future.
+
+Johnson, in the midst of his cheerless poverty, had some golden dreams,
+was sensible of this fact, and illustrates it in one of those Oriental
+apologues which occur in the _Rambler_, where he shows the tiny rivulet
+gradually filling a lake. With the same idea permeating his mind, he
+exclaims, when Thrale's brewery was to be sold: 'Here are the means of
+wealth beyond the dreams of avarice.'
+
+The history of rich men also proves that it is not so much the art of
+getting as that of keeping which insures success. New-York and other of
+our great cities contain thousands of poor men who, but a few years ago,
+were heavy operators, and whose future seemed brilliant with promise.
+Yet here they are, now struggling for mere bread.
+
+Riches are winged creatures, which break cage with strange facility and
+are not to be whistled back again. The array of agents, brokers,
+book-keepers, and decayed gentlemen who but lately were numbered among
+merchants, bankers, and ship-owners, is quite a moving spectacle. Thus
+A. B----, for thirty years connected with trade, during most of which
+period he was a leading member of the great cloth house of----, has been
+worth two hundred thousand dollars, but is now a book-keeper for a
+concern in John street. I. S---- has been forty years in trade, and was
+considered successful beyond all liability to future risk; and for many
+years ranked among the rich men of the street, but has since failed, and
+is now poor. B---- and M----, princes in the dry-goods line, built two
+palatial stores in Broadway, have been immensely rich, but after
+battling honorably with adverse fortune, have failed. J. R----, a
+retired merchant, estimated at five hundred thousand dollars, holding at
+one time fifty thousand dollars in Delaware and Hudson Canal stock,
+subsequently got involved and lost all. Instances like these might be
+multiplied to volumes, but they are sufficient to illustrate the
+transitory nature of earthly possessions.
+
+The great capitalists of New-York are chiefly identified with its real
+estate, and their wealth has generally arisen from its advance in value.
+Few great fortunes have lasted long, when left to 'the caprices of
+trade, and the sons of our merchant-princes generally turn out poor men.
+The great estates of the city are of a very limited number, and are
+mainly included in the names of Whitney, Goellet, Lorrillard,
+Rhinelander, Stuyvesant, Lenox, and Astor. The first of these was so
+long an _habitu�_ of Wall street, Front street, and Coenties Slip, that
+even now, when wandering along those thoroughfares, we almost momently
+expect to meet him. We can not but think that at the next turn we shall
+see that shrunken and diminutive form, that meagre, hungry-looking
+countenance, and that timid, nervous eye, which indicated the fear of
+loss or the dread approach of charity. His office was held for years in
+the second story of a warehouse in Front street, a spot in whose
+vicinity he had passed nearly three-score years. Thither he had come in
+his boyhood, a poor, friendless, New-Jersey lad, had found friends and
+employment, had at last got to be a grocer, and had gradually
+accumulated a large capital, by the closest economy. At this time the
+war of 1812 broke out, and cotton became very low, in consequence of the
+difficulty of shipping it to England. Mr. Whitney had at that time a
+vast amount of outstanding accounts in the Southern States, and his
+debtors were glad to pay him in this depreciated article. We have been
+informed that Jackson's cotton defences of New-Orleans were of his
+property. As neutral ships were permitted to sail between the
+belligerent ports, Mr. Whitney exported large quantities of cotton to
+England, and held the balance of his stock until the close of the war,
+when it advanced enormously. This advance, together with the proceeds of
+his exports, at once made him a millionaire, and the capital thus
+acquired never lost a chance of increase. Giving up the details of
+trade, Mr. Whitney bought large quantities of real estate, on which he
+erected warehouses and obtained a princely rental. In addition to this,
+he dealt more largely in commercial paper than any other man in the city
+and perhaps in the Union. His habits of industry continued, and were a
+theme of remark, as we observed him in his daily walk from his office to
+the great moneyed centre of America, where the price of paper and money
+rates regaled his ears. He was a good judge of paper, and needed no one
+to advise him. He touched nothing but what in commercial parlance is
+termed 'gilt-edged,' and of this he purchased almost daily for thirty
+years. These notes being made payable to the order of the drawers,
+needed no other indorsement, and hence might pass through an hundred
+hands without this fact becoming known. Mr. Whitney's bills receivable
+falling due in Wall street must have been at the rate of thirty thousand
+dollars per day, and his purchases of paper, of course, were at about
+the same rate. Much of this paper brought rates but little better than
+interest, but on others from one to two per cent per month was obtained.
+The secrets of this trade are deep and little understood, and few even
+of the best dealers knew that when their notes had been given for
+invoices of merchandise, they passed almost directly into the hands of a
+few bill-buyers, and that perhaps in Stephen Whitney's portfolio might
+be found almost the whole amount of good paper made in Front or South
+streets. Mr. Kimball's recent work, _Undercurrents_, throws much light
+on this traffic, and exhibits the result of deep study of our mercantile
+system.[4] Mr. Whitney's management of his estate soon brought him up to
+an estimate of ten millions. I used not only to meet him daily at the
+mart, but also attended the same church, (Dr. Alexander's.) He was a
+regular attendant, and a close listener, and I used to marvel how he
+could bear the plain truths that fell upon my ears. Here in the pulpit,
+at least, was one who was no money-worshiper. How well we remember the
+exclamation from that earnest preacher: 'Wealth! in comparison with this
+thing, (religion,) let it not be mentioned!' Whitney was a great admirer
+of plain preaching, though, we believe, he never got into the communion
+of the Church. Both the preacher and his millionaire listener are now
+dead, and the church has been pulled down, and the site is now covered
+by a block of splendid stores. Mr. Whitney's charities were on a very
+limited scale. When the congregation above referred to were building a
+mission-house, he was applied to, to head the subscription, which he
+did with a trifling sum. The gift was refused, and a larger one was
+demanded, as in better keeping with his position. 'Sir,' was his reply,
+'if you go on this way, there will not be a rich man left in the city of
+New-York.' It is also said that on a certain occasion, he was called on
+to aid a political movement with his subscription. 'Sir,' was his reply,
+'I have no money to spare, but I'll come and sit up all night to fold
+ballots for you.'
+
+The Lorrillard estate was chiefly acquired through an immense tobacco
+business which the patriarch of that house started nearly a century ago,
+and which led to the purchase of large landed property. The original
+identity of the name continues, and 'short cut' and 'ladies' twist' are
+still sold under the sign and brand of the Lorrillards. We presume that
+it is the oldest house in America.
+
+The Stuyvesant farm was a vast but unprofitable tract of marshes in the
+eastern part of New-York, but now covered by serried blocks, and among
+the most densely populated portions of the city. Forty years ago, these
+marshes were favorite skating-fields in winter, and here a lad was at
+that time actually drowned by the breaking of the ice. Being out of
+town, the drier portions were converted into an American Tyburn, and
+here the murderer Johnson was hanged. Such were the Stuyvesant meadows,
+whose worthless wastes have been raised to immense value by the growth
+of the city.
+
+Among those of our city capitalists who are more identified with general
+benevolence, the names of Stuart and Lenox are chief. Messrs. Stuart are
+two brothers, who are largely engaged in refining sugars, and who have
+in this business made large sums. The concern originated in a small
+shop, where, some fifty years ago, a Scotchwomen sold candy, with her
+two boys as clerks. Instead of that little candy-shop, there stands on
+the same spot an enormous refinery, whose operations employ hundreds of
+hands, and whose purchases are by cargoes. What would the worthy mother
+say to this transformation of her shop, as by some act of magic? But it
+is the magic of industry and enterprise. The Stuarts use their wealth
+with judicious liberality, and evidently mean that the world shall be
+better for their living in it. Their contributions are large, and their
+opportunities are great, for be it remembered, such men are under
+incessant solicitation. Indeed, there are few things more fatal to one's
+peace than a reputation for liberality, which lays one open to a siege
+of begging faces and an inundation of begging letters, whose demands
+would exhaust all resources. It is our opinion that, avoiding
+ostentation on the one hand and importunity on the other, the Stuarts
+contribute conscientiously to every worthy enterprise, in a proportion
+corresponding to their profits.[5]
+
+The name of Lenox appears among some of the early Scotch emigrants, such
+as the Irvings, Masons, Douglases, Grahams, etc. Robert Lenox became a
+distinguished New-York merchant. His profits were wisely invested in
+land, and this became very valuable. His only son, James, inherited the
+larger portion of this estate, whose increasing value made him a
+millionaire, and in its use, he has exhibited a remarkable benevolence.
+
+We say _exhibited_, for though acting with studied secresy and silence,
+his life has been so full of good works, that they can not be hid. In
+these benefactions, Mr. Lenox exercises close discrimination, and for
+this purpose has for years refused personal applications. This measure,
+indeed, was necessary, in order to escape a perpetual siege, which would
+soon have driven any man distracted. He has been in the habit of
+considering written applications, and of selecting such as seemed worthy
+of his patronage. Mr. Lenox annually disburses an enormous sum in a most
+useful as well as most quiet manner. Indeed, his mansion is one of the
+benevolent institutions of the day, and to all intents and purposes, its
+occupant is but an actuary driven by perpetual duties and working with
+assiduity to fulfil an important trust. He is a thoroughly practical
+man, posted on all the details of business, and, inheriting the peculiar
+abilities and energy of his father, puts them to the best of use.
+
+We may say that the whole purpose of his life is benevolence to all
+classes. Mr. Lenox will pardon us if we allude to his munificent gifts
+toward educational enterprise, and especially to those which enrich the
+institutions of Princeton. He has long been a trustee of Nassau Hall, in
+whose behalf he has expended large sums, and whose gallery is enriched
+with his portrait. The Theological Seminary is also an object of his
+affectionate care. A few years ago, he observed that it needed increased
+accommodation for its growing library. Carrying out a scheme which had
+its inception in this circumstance, he quietly employed an architect to
+draft plans, while at the same time a suitable range grounds was
+obtained, the materials hauled from New-York, and the present noble
+edifice, known as the Lenox Library, erected. That library has been of
+vast assistance to the institution, and not a student visits its
+alcoves, who does not gratefully remember its founder with a sentiment
+like that uttered by Gray in reference to Eton:
+
+  'Where grateful science still adores
+  Her Henry's sacred shade.'
+
+We understand that it has been recently decided to change this structure
+into an oratory, and to build another library, and we presume that in
+this also Mr. Lenox takes the initiative. We have referred to the fact
+that Mr. Lenox only considers written applications, but lest this
+statement should lead to their increase, we would add a word of
+explanation. Their number has already become so large as to create a
+great burden, and the daily task of reading these his begging letters is
+very annoying. Mr. Lenox is greatly overladen, and we advise any one who
+may think of his name as a _dernier resort_, to refrain from adding to
+the labors of an overworked philanthropist. Rest assured, dear reader,
+that Mr. Lenox will do all possible good with his money, and if it fails
+to reach you, it may flow to a more deserving object.
+
+Mr. Lenox is deeply interested in the Free Church of Scotland, and was
+one of its most efficient helpers at the time of its exodus. A
+correspondence between him and De. Chalmers conveyed his benefactions
+through the noblest of instrumentalities, and a portrait of the great
+Scottish theologian graces the mansion of his American friend. It was
+painted by Henry Inman, during his sojourn abroad, and is the finest
+picture of Chalmers we have ever seen. Mr. Lenox is a man of fine taste,
+and finds recreation in gathering rare books, of which he has a valuable
+collection, and he possesses, in addition, a splendid gallery of
+pictures. Among them are two of Turner's landscapes, and we know of no
+others in America.[6] We might say more of this estimable man, but will
+not too soon anticipate the voice of fame. Our statements are made
+mainly to correct some false impressions about one who, with all his
+reticence, is one of the public men of his day, and who fulfills the
+idea of the poet:
+
+  'Do good by stealth and blush to find it fame.'
+
+Such a man was George Douglas, one of the same circle of wealthy
+citizens of Scotch descent, who, though in a pecuniary view, hardly in
+the same rank with Mr. Lenox, was still very rich. Mr. Douglas preserved
+a studied retirement, and passed much of his time on his noble farm, but
+was still active in philanthropy. His estate can not be far from a
+half-million, yet it was used humbly in the service of his race.
+
+  'Though nursed in greatness, and to riches born,
+  Yet in earth's fairest flower he saw the thorn.
+  Beneath the finest linen sackcloth felt,
+  And bound his purple with an iron belt;
+  Lived Heaven's trustee, and lent, and gave away,
+  To God's own heirs who never could repay;
+  And died a rare example to the great,
+  Of lowly virtue in a high estate.'
+
+But among all American capitalists the name of Astor looms up in
+unapproachable solitude, and stands as it has stood for nearly forty
+years.
+
+We may get the better idea of the Astor estate by a comparative view.
+Thus, a man worth one hundred thousand dollars is a rich man; a man
+worth five hundred thousand dollars is a very rich man; a millionaire is
+still more the ideal of wealth. Mr. Astor, then, is, if rightly
+estimated, equal to twenty-five millionaires, or two hundred and fifty
+rich men of the class first mentioned. In the seven hundred thousand
+inhabitants of New-York, there are not more than two hundred men worth
+one hundred thousand dollars; not more than twenty-five of the second;
+not more than ten of the last. Approaching the assessment-roll, we may
+estimate the Astor estate at one thirtieth of the entire city. Thus he
+stands one seven hundred thousandth in the proportion of population, and
+one thirtieth in that of wealth; or in other words, he owns what would
+be a fair proportion for twenty-five thousand of his fellow-citizens.
+The commencement of this estate was, as is well known, by small
+beginnings.
+
+Among the emigrants who landed in New-York about the close of the French
+Revolution, was a rude German, from Baden Baden, whose life in the New
+World was commenced as a laborer. He afterward became a peddler of fancy
+goods, and eventually a dealer in peltries. In 1791 there appeared at
+Number 40 Little Dock street, the unpretending name of John Jacob Astor,
+and here the foundation of his estate was laid. Astor soon took fair
+rank among business men. He was prompt and snug in his dealing, honest
+and straightforward, and beside this, carried great weight of character
+in his countenance. No man could be much with him without being struck
+with his depth of character, and the solidity of his views. At that time
+the fur-trade was brisk along the Mohawk, and the peltries, after
+passing through the hands of frontier dealers, generally found their way
+into Astor's warehouse, in Liberty street. Here they were sorted with
+great care by his own hands, and prepared for foreign markets. An
+octogenarian merchant informed me that, calling once at Mr. Astor's
+store, he found him in an upper loft clad in a long, coarse wrapper, and
+engaged among his furs. 'I shall get for that,' said he, holding up the
+skin of a splendid silver fox, 'forty dollars, in St. Petersburg.' It
+probably cost him less than five dollars. Astor had no sooner gained a
+position as a thrifty trader, than he took a higher step by induction
+into Free-Masonry. We say a higher step, not with a view of glorifying
+this institution, but because at that time it was exceedingly popular
+and aristocratic, and gave tone to citizenship. Among the leading
+Free-Masons of New-York were Peter Irving and his brother William,
+Martin Hoffman, the founder of the great auction business, and father of
+the late L. M. Hoffman. Moving among these magnates, John Jacob Astor
+became Grand Treasurer. Mr. Astor had a brother of the same thrifty
+turn, though not so successful in acquiring wealth. He was a butcher by
+trade, and slaughtered himself into a pittance of one hundred thousand
+dollars, which, as he died early, he bequeathed to William B., his
+nephew. 'To him that hath shall be given.' Mr. Astor's oldest son is
+said to have been a very promising lad, but his brain became injured by
+a fall, and he soon fell into a state of derangement. A private asylum
+was arranged for his use years ago, and this, with its grounds, covers
+an entire block in the western part of the city.
+
+Mr. Astor's profits rolled in upon him at a rate which no one could have
+dreamed of, and he kept their amount a secret until he had so penetrated
+the frontier by his agencies that he controlled the whole trade, when he
+occasionally acknowledged a degree of wealth which astonished those who
+heard. For instance, we may state this fact in illustration: He had
+occasion at a certain time to use a large amount of cash, and what was
+very rare with him, applied to his bank for a heavy discount. The
+unusual circumstance and the sum demanded startled the cashier, who in a
+plain, business way, put the question: 'Mr. Astor, how much do you
+consider yourself worth?' '_Not less than a million_,' was the reply. _A
+million_! the cashier was overwhelmed. He supposed that he knew all his
+customers, and had rated Astor at hardly more than one tenth of that
+sum.
+
+Mr. Astor commenced at an early day to buy real estate, and the habit
+grew upon him until it became a passion. He was for years a leading
+character at sheriff and other land sales, and it was the commonest
+thing at such places to hear the closing words of the auctioneer: 'Last
+call--going, going--gone--to John Jacob Astor.' At that time many large
+estates were broken up, and among others, that of Aaron Burr was put
+into the market, and speedily became the property of Mr. Astor. It
+embraced a small suburban principality, whose mansion, 'Richmond Hill,'
+was Burr's country-seat. The whole property is now in the heart of the
+city and is worth millions, where once it brought thousands. Mr. Astor
+boldly bought those wild lands, including swamps, rocky knolls, and
+barren commons, which lay at waste from Canal street onward to
+Bloomingdale, and while others affected to laugh at his judgment, the
+correctness of that judgment is now quite apparent. A case similar in
+character is that of the late eccentric Jonathan Hunt. This man, who had
+accumulated a vast fortune South, was quite noted, a few years ago, for
+his dashing land purchases in New-York, and his relatives actually
+served on him a warrant _de lunatico inquirendo_, with a view of
+preventing him from wasting his estate. Subsequently, however, it turned
+out that these incessant purchases which had made him a leading man at
+the Merchants' Exchange, and an object of distrust to his family, were
+splendid operations. Poor Hunt's bid was subsequently refused by the
+auctioneers, on the score of insanity, while the lots he bought on
+Madison avenue and elsewhere, were, in fact, as speculations, superior
+to the operations of the most sagacious speculators.
+
+Astor's boldness increased with years. He bought government loans at a
+time when other capitalists shrunk, and the price had run down to the
+lowest mark. He bought claims against old estates--one of which paid an
+enormous profit, and would have been accounted a splendid fortune of
+itself--while the gradual increase of the city brought his waste lands
+into demand; and the opening of the Erie Canal may be said to have at
+one stroke added a million of dollars to the value of his estate.
+Whatever was bought was held with determined grasp, however small the
+prospect of advance. For instance, a friend of ours (now dead)
+purchased, in company with Mr. Astor, two lots on Broadway, of which
+they took separate deeds, and held for an advance. Year after year
+passed by, but no advance appeared, while assessments were continually
+made for city improvement. At the end of this period our friend called
+on Mr. Astor and stated that he was weary of such long delay in getting
+return for his investment, and asked him if he would not take the lot
+and give him its simple cost. Mr. Astor calmly acceded to the proposal.
+Had our friend held the same views as the great land operator, he would
+have realized a fortune from this single lot, since what then cost one
+thousand dollars is now worth fifty thousand dollars.
+
+The Napoleonic character of Mr. Astor's mind is shown by the great
+commercial schemes which shared the claims of real estate. He was
+extending the ramifications of his trade through the North-west
+wilderness and competing with the Hudson Bay Company for the peltry
+taken by the numerous tribes of savages, while at the same time a vast
+export trade was carried on with Europe, and also with China, whence he
+brought teas in exchange for furs. It was this broad ambition which
+prompted the grand scheme of a new station at the mouth of the Columbia.
+And this scheme, though it failed, was not without great national
+results. Its misfortunes were chronicled by the pen of Irving, and in
+his pages the story of the crew murdered, and the ship plundered and
+burned, was recorded among the tragedies of commerce.
+
+Mr. Astor lived to old age, and his life was one of few changes. From
+his humble shop in Little Dock street (now Water street near Coenties
+Slip) he removed his place of business to Liberty street, (Number 71,)
+and subsequently to Broadway. His longest place of abode was Number 223
+Broadway, now a part of the site of the Astor House, whence, after a
+residence in Hoboken, he removed up-town to a block in Broadway near
+Prince street. Here he remained until death, but he lived long enough to
+see the progress of the city covering his lands with dwellings, and
+bequeathed to his son the largest estate in America. Mr. Astor had a
+literary taste, and was fond of book-men. He gave Fitz-Green Halleck a
+snug and profitable clerkship, and on the death of the capitalist,
+William B. Astor presented to the poet the sum of ten thousand dollars.
+Mr. Astor also sought the acquaintance of Washington Irving on the
+return of that distinguished gentleman from Europe, and it was at his
+especial request that the _Astoria_ was written. The friendship between
+these two distinguished men continued until death, when it was found
+that Mr. Irving had been appointed one of the executors of the will. The
+fees connected with this office could not have been less than one
+hundred thousand dollars, and the executors (six in number) at one time
+received ten thousand dollars apiece.
+
+Mr. Astor's project of the library was conceived long before his death,
+and he had Dr. Cogswell for several years engaged in the collection of
+books for this purpose. The full provisions, however, were not known
+until the reading of the will developed the plan and funds. The plan was
+not carried out in detail, but was left to the judgment of the trustees,
+who modified it considerably, making an institution for reference
+instead of a mere circulating library.
+
+To the original bequest Mr. William B. Astor has since added a large
+conveyance of real estate, and the institution is nearly double its
+original size. Speaking of Mr. William B. Astor, we may be led to a few
+references of a personal nature. As the ordinary street-passenger is
+traversing Prince street, he is not likely to be struck by any of its
+surroundings. The street itself is but of third-rate character, and the
+houses are but of a common stamp. Near Broadway, however, one may notice
+a small brick office, neatly built, of one story, with gable to the
+street, but with doors and windows closed, and the whole appearance one
+of security. Near the door may be seen a little sign which reads thus:
+'Entrance next door: office hours from nine to three.' The next door, to
+which we are referred, is a plain three-story brick dwelling, with no
+name on the door, and might be taken for the residence of some
+well-to-do old-fashioned family. Hence one is quite startled to find
+that this is the headquarters of the chief capitalist of America.
+Entering the street-door, one will find himself in a small vestibule,
+neatly floored with checkered oil-cloth, and opening a door on his left,
+he will enter a well-lighted front-room, destitute of any furniture but
+a counting-house desk and a few chairs. At this desk stands an
+accountant (or perhaps two) working at a set of books, and evidently
+enjoying an easy berth. He will answer all ordinary inquiries, will do
+the duty of refusing charitable demands, and will attend to any thing in
+the ordinary run of business; but if one has any thing special on hand,
+he will point to a door opening into a rear office. This apartment is of
+moderate size and of simple furniture. On the table are a few books, and
+on opening one of them, which appears well thumbed, it will be found to
+contain maps of plots of city property, carefully and elegantly
+executed, and embracing the boundaries of an enormous estate. Seated by
+the table may generally be seen a stout-built man with large and
+unattractive features, and upon the whole an ordinary face. He is
+plainly dressed, and has a somewhat care-worn look, and appears to be
+fifty or sixty years of age. One naturally feels (that is, if he be a
+poor man) that it is quite a rare thing to address a capitalist, and
+especially when that capitalist is the representative, say of
+twenty-five millions of dollars. Such, at least, was our experience at
+our first interview with William B. Astor.
+
+Mr. Astor occupies an imposing mansion in Lafayette Place, and
+immediately adjoining is the magnificent library to which we have
+referred, and which should commemorate the name of the son as well as
+that of the father. At this house he spends that small portion of his
+time which is not occupied by his duties in Prince street, where he does
+a full day's work (Sundays excepted) every day in the week. Thus the
+daily routine of the richest man in America is a walk to and from home,
+of a half-mile or so, and close attention to business.
+
+The care of Mr. Astor's estate is a vast burden. His tenements of all
+grades number several hundreds, ranging from the dwelling at three
+hundred dollars per annum to the magnificent warehouse or hotel at
+thirty thousand dollars. To relieve himself from the more vexatious
+features of his business, he has committed his real estate collections
+to an agent who does the work well, and who is, no doubt, largely paid.
+He, with his clerks, collects rents, and makes returns of a rent-roll,
+whose very recital would be wearisome. As a matter of course, such a man
+must employ a small army of painters, carpenters, and other mechanics,
+in order to keep up suitable repairs. As Mr. Astor pays no insurance,
+the work of rebuilding after fires is in itself a large item.
+
+A large part of Mr. Astor's property consists of vacant lots, which are
+in continual demand, and which he generally prefers to hold rather than
+sell; hence he is much employed with architects and master-builders, and
+always has several blocks in course of erection. This is a very heavy
+burden, and were it not for the help derived from his family, would, we
+believe, crush him. However, his son, John Jacob, is quite a business
+man, and bears his share of the load. This young gentleman has shown his
+patriotism by serving in the army for the Union, in which he bears an
+important commission. In addition to this, Mr. Astor has the aid of a
+gentleman of business character and habits, once a member of one of the
+largest shipping houses in the city, who has become connected with the
+family by marriage. The labors of all these parties would not be more
+than adequate to the task of collecting interest on bonds, looking after
+dividends, etc., since that little fire-proof office in Prince street
+contains several millions of Government and State securities.
+
+In order to give something like an estimate of the immense income
+rolling in upon this family, we must commence with the fact that two
+dollars per day is considered fair wages for working men; that the man
+who makes five dollars per day all the year round may be considered very
+fortunate; that ten dollars per day is attained by that few who are more
+favored and gifted, and whose proportion to the mass is about one to a
+thousand. Starting from this estimate, we may be better prepared to rate
+Mr. Astor's position by comparing any of the above sums with six
+thousand dollars, which is said to be his daily income. Bless me! one
+can not but exclaim; here Croesus himself might die with envy. Yet we
+reply, after a moment's pause, let no one envy the man of gold. It is
+said that when John Jacob Astor was once congratulated by a certain
+person for his wealth, he replied by pointing to his pile of bonds, and
+maps of property, at the same time inquiring: 'Would you like to manage
+these matters for your board and clothes?' The man demurred to the idea.
+'Sir,' continued the rich man, '_it is all that I get_!' Hence, thinking
+on these things, we have never envied Mr. Astor, and would not bear the
+burden of his wealth for all its glory. It is not the possession but the
+use of money, which affords enjoyment, and this is a secret which the
+rich seldom learn. Alas! among the annals of moneyed men, how seldom do
+we meet a Stuart or a Lenox--men who have learned what Goldsmith calls
+'the luxury of doing good.'
+
+It is one of the peculiar misfortunes of the rich, to be subject to the
+attentions of parasites and flatterers, and hence they can not possess
+that same certainty of the value of friendship enjoyed by the poor. The
+latter of these classes know that when a kind act is done to them, it
+comes from a pure motive; the other seldom can be sure that it is not
+from selfish ends. To illustrate the idea which wealth suggests, as to
+the motive of friendly visitors, we may state that among Mr. Astor's
+class-mates in Columbia College was a young man who became a preacher.
+The students separated--the one to handle millions, and to touch the
+springs of the money-market, and become the colossus of wealth; the
+other to his flock, as a poor domestic missionary, whose history was
+indeed a 'shady side.' The latter struggled on through thick and thin,
+and never in all his privations thought of sending a begging-letter to
+his old class-mate. But being once upon a time in New-York, he yielded
+to the inclination to make him a visit. Mr. Astor received him
+courteously, and the two conversed on the scenes of their early days. As
+the pastor arose to depart, an idea struck the capitalist's heart, which
+we mention to his credit. '_Can I do any thing for you_?' he inquired.
+He had, in fact, misconceived the object of the visit, and supposed that
+under the guise of a friendly call, lurked an inclination to beg, which
+fear of refusal had suppressed. The poor clergyman at once perceived the
+drift of the question. Nothing could have been farther from his mind,
+and blushing at the thought, he acknowledged the suggestion with an
+expression of gratitude, and retired.
+
+Perhaps a view of the unrest of the human heart appears most terrible
+when contrasted with the almost fabulous heaps of surrounding wealth,
+and one is thus led to the conclusion arrived at by Goldsmith:
+
+  'Vain, very vain, my weary search to find
+  That bliss which only centres in the mind;
+  With secret course which no loud streams annoy,
+  Glides the smooth current of domestic joy;
+  Still to ourselves in every place consigned,
+  Our own felicity we make or find.'
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 4: _Undercurrents_ is not a romance, and although its author
+calls it a 'Romance of business,' it is a life-like presentation of the
+deep things of trade, a series of dramatic scenes, holding the mirror up
+to a terrible reality. The characters are no fictions; they exist, they
+labor, they suffer daily, and will continue to do so, go long as the
+present system obtains, Mr. Kimball boldly lays bare the secret disease,
+like a demonstrator of anatomy. He is the only author who has succeeded
+in this department of literature, and here he shows himself a master.]
+
+[Footnote 5: Since writing the above, we have heard of that masterpiece
+of munificence, the gift of fifty thousand dollars to the Theological
+Seminary of Princeton by the Messrs. Stuart.]
+
+[Footnote 6: Calling on Church lately, we found him finishing his
+Cotopaxi for Mr. Lenox. Price, six thousand dollars.]
+
+
+
+
+THUNDER ALL ROUND!
+
+  'When it once begins to thunder,
+  You will hear it all around!'
+  And we waited--till in wonder
+  Soon we heard the awful sound:
+  Crashing cannon, rifle-rattle,
+  Bowing many a traitor-head:
+  On, McClellan, with the battle!
+  Strike the Typhon-serpent dead!
+
+
+
+
+WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?
+
+    'Do but grasp into the thick of human life! Every one _lives_ it--to
+    not many is it _known;_ and seize it where you will, it is
+    interesting.'--_Goethe_.
+
+    'SUCCESSFUL.--Terminating in accomplishing what is wished
+    or intended.'--_Webster's Dictionary_.
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+SOME ACCOUNT OF JOEL BURNS OF BURNSVILLE
+
+You will find, as you travel through the country, but few very poor
+people in New-England. Rarely are the 'selectmen' called to act either
+on applications for admission as one of the 'town's poor,' or to 'bind
+out' a boy or girl till one-and-twenty.
+
+One evening--it was the close of a cold, raw day in the latter part of
+November--the stage deposited a woman, and a lad perhaps twelve years
+old, at the village tavern in Sudbury. She was intending to ride all
+night; indeed, she had paid her 'fare' through to New-Haven, but, seized
+with sudden illness, she was compelled to stop. Her malady proved to be
+typhus fever. The doctor was summoned, who subjected his patient to the
+terrific treatment then in vogue for that disorder, and in due course
+she died. It turned out on inquiry, that the woman, whose name was
+Burns, was on her way to a married sister's in Pennsylvania; further,
+that she was a widow, the lad her only child, and the sister in
+Pennsylvania the only near relation she had in the world. This sister
+was by no means in affluent circumstances, but she could offer a home to
+'Sarah,' which the latter was glad to accept. After disposing of the
+trifling articles unsuitable to carry with her, she had barely money
+enough to defray the expenses of herself and 'Joel' to their new abode.
+The poor woman's journey was interrupted, as we have explained, at
+Sudbury, and a new direction given to it. She departed for 'the
+undiscovered country,' leaving little Joel to cry himself asleep; for
+the time quite heart-broken, and desolate enough.
+
+There was not time to write to the married sister; so the selectmen,
+after ascertaining what money still remained in the purse of the
+deceased, undertook the burial. They ordered a cheap pine coffin,
+scantily 'stained.' It cost but a quarter of a dollar to dig the grave,
+and old Sally agreed to 'lay the woman out' for the comfortable dress
+she wore on arriving at the inn. Of the three selectmen of Sudbury, two
+were from the east part of the town--thrifty, hard-working farmers; the
+third was a Mr. Bellows, a popular store-keeper of the village. The
+latter had not interfered with the action of his colleagues, because he
+himself was very busy, and they, having very little to do at that
+season, were pleased with the excitement the affair afforded them. But
+passing the inn the morning Mrs. Burns was to be buried, Mr. Bellows
+stepped in a moment at the request of the landlord, who was a
+kind-hearted fellow, and did not feel quite satisfied with the
+arrangements. Ascending to the chamber, he saw a sad but
+handsome-looking boy standing over a rudely constructed coffin, a
+picture of sorrow and despair. The little fellow had witnessed the
+action of the coarse-hearted men who took the direction of the funeral.
+He heard their private discussion as to the 'cost of burying the woman.'
+He was a witness to their haggling with Aunt Sally about laying her out.
+He could hear various propositions as to what was to be done with _him_.
+He saw his mother hurriedly draped for the coffin and placed inside of
+it. He did not sob nor cry; a dreadful reality had so overcome him, that
+he lost the power of doing either. Once or twice, when every body had
+left the room, he had stolen softly up and kissed the face of the
+corpse, and some tears would then roll down his cheeks. It was at such a
+time that Mr. Bellows entered, and his heart smote him that he had not
+sooner looked in. He spoke kindly to Joel, which seemed to loose the
+flood-gates of his grief, and for a time he continued to cry in the most
+piteous manner. Mr. Bellows soon decided what to do. His own family was
+small; he had a wife and one child--a little girl nine years old. He
+took Joel in his lap, told him not to cry--that he should go home with
+him, and be _his_ boy. The tone in which this was uttered had more
+effect to soothe the lad than what was said to him. After a few minutes,
+Joel was persuaded to leave the room and to accompany his new friend to
+the house. Mr. Bellows then called on his minister, and requested him to
+perform the funeral rites at the grave; for so little interest had been
+shown in the fate of the strange woman, that her illness had not even
+been communicated to the clergyman, and the selectmen did not think it
+'worth while to have any funeral'! Mr. Bellows hurried hack to the inn.
+The coffin was placed in a wagon. It was followed by the clergyman and
+Mr. Bellows, the two other selectmen, the landlord of the inn, and his
+wife. The burying-ground was soon reached, a short prayer made, and the
+company dispersed, leaving the man to fill up the grave according to
+contract. Mr. Bellows and his two associates returned to the tavern
+together, in order, as the latter expressed it, to settle up the
+business. Going into the sitting-room, and taking seats around a small
+table, one of them opened the subject in a serious and important tone,
+indicative of the weight of responsibility he felt was resting on his
+shoulders, by asking what was to be done with the boy.
+
+'What do you think best to do with him?' said Mr. Bellows.
+
+'Well, I suppose there is room in the town-house. There is nobody there
+now but Aunt Lois and foolish Tom, and we can probably bind him out next
+spring.'
+
+'I don't think we have a right to charge the town with the expense,'
+said selectman number two. 'We know where the boy came from; the best
+way is to send him back to Granby.'
+
+'He has got an aunt,' said the other; 'hadn't we better write to her?'
+
+'Gentlemen,' said Mr. Bellows, 'I will cut this matter short. I will
+take the lad myself. You shall bind him out to me in the regular way. I
+do not think you need fear any interference from the town of Granby. As
+to his aunt, I propose first to write and get her consent. If she
+prefers to take the boy, why, she will send for him.'
+
+This question disposed of, the spokesman next proposed to go into the
+accounts; which meant his own and his neighbor's charge for time and
+personal expenses twice from East-Sudbury with horse and wagon. They
+thought six dollars about right.
+
+'How do you propose to be paid?' quoth Mr. Bellows.
+
+'Twenty dollars and seventy-two cents was in their possession, taken
+from the pocket of the woman after she died.'
+
+'And how did you dare interfere with property of any kind,' exclaimed
+Mr. Bellows, his smothered indignation bursting forth, 'without
+consulting with me? Don't you know the landlord has the first claim on
+every thing till his bill is paid? Don't you know, too, you are simply
+doing the town business, and if you have any claim, the town must pay
+you for it?'
+
+Well, that is so, I guess,' said the third. 'It _is_ agin the town. I'll
+take my chances, for one--had rather settle it that way, any how.'
+
+The result of the conference was, that the whole business, including the
+twenty dollars and seventy-two cents, was handed over to Mr. Bellows,
+leaving his colleagues to make out and collect their bill at leisure.
+Joel's aunt was written to, and freely gave her consent that the boy
+should go with his new friend. The latter promptly paid the bill at the
+inn, and the doctor for his services, and soon after paid his colleagues
+what they claimed, lest it might in the future be a subject of comment
+when Joel grew up.
+
+He was a good man, this Mr. Bellows; not specially refined in manner,
+but possessing a delicacy of character and a lively sensibility which
+placed him among the ranks of nature's noblemen. He had been fortunate
+in business, and owned the principal store in the place, where he
+exercised a decided influence.
+
+Little Joel gave promise of not disappointing his patron's expectations.
+In fact, he was a child of most engaging manners. His features were not
+regular, nor indeed handsome; but he had bright black eyes, a fine
+complexion, and an open, ingenuous countenance. He was treated by Mr.
+Bellows as considerately as if he were his own son. To be sure, Joel had
+some unpleasant scenes to pass through. As nothing is ever lost sight of
+in a small country village, the story of how he came to be living with
+Mr. Bellows was not forgotten. At school, occasionally, one of the boys
+would, on some slight provocation, point at him and call him 'Bellows's
+nigger,' or make faces and cry 'charity boy,' 'town's poor.' Now,
+fortunately, Joel had a happy, joyous nature--somewhat fiery and
+irascible, but still joyous--else he might have become morbidly
+miserable. As it was, these manifestations only provoked his anger, and
+led him forthwith into a rough-and-tumble fight, in which, whether
+victor or not, he always showed unquestionable pluck. If he came off
+second-best a dozen times, he went confidently into the thirteenth
+trial, brave as Bruce, and equally successful. At length the voice of
+gossip was hushed. Joel became the most popular lad in the village.
+Every body liked him, and what is better, he deserved it.
+
+But the evil days came at last to good Mr. Bellows--came after years of
+happy, moderate, unclouded prosperity. First his wife died. This was
+when Joel was twenty years old, and Ellen Bellows seventeen. The illness
+was short, and the daughter was summoned from boarding-school in time
+only to attend her mother's funeral. Mr. Bellows, after that, as every
+body said, was an altered man. He could not bring his mind to business.
+Some people thought at times he acted strangely, by which they meant he
+was a little out of his head. Still, his affairs could not suffer while
+such a young man as Joel Burns was about. The fact is, in some things
+matters were even better managed than before. But great mistakes were
+made in the purchase of goods, which Mr. Bellows continued to attend to,
+and which Joel had too much respect for his benefactor to criticise. The
+succeeding year, speculation in wool ran high. Mr. Bellows was anxious
+to go into it. Joel took the freedom of begging him not to do so. The
+latter appeared to be persuaded; but he did what was worse than engaging
+actively in purchases, for then he would have had Joel's tact and energy
+to aid him. He lent his name to an acquaintance, for a very large
+amount, who was to go extensively into the scheme with him and divide
+the profits. The result was disastrous. Wool fell rapidly. An attempt
+was made to borrow money on it and hold it over to the next
+season--worse and worse; Mr. Bellows was ruined.
+
+One morning, very early, several attachments were levied on his goods,
+and the store was shut up. One of the officers next proceeded to the
+house and took possession there, so that Mr. Bellows was now tied hand
+and foot.
+
+I suppose few of my readers can appreciate what it is for a man to 'fail
+up' in the country. In our large cities, it is regarded, to be sure, as
+a misfortune, but one to which every merchant is exposed; and the usual
+course is to propose a compromise, obtain a release, and set cheerfully
+to work again, with loss of property, doubtless, but _not_ with any
+damage to reputation. But in the country, failure is regarded as a
+disgrace, and a 'failed man' is looked and pointed at something as a
+felon would be.
+
+When Joel Burns awoke in the morning and found every thing in the hands
+of the sheriff, he was astounded, for Mr. Bellows had not told him a
+word about his last year's operations. He perceived the amounts were
+larger than could ever be realized. He took in the whole situation at a
+glance. He hastened to consult with Mr. Bellows, but he was listened to
+with entire apathy. The merchant would say but little, and that was so
+incoherent and unintelligible, it was evident he was laboring under
+mental aberration. He continued moody through the day, and the next
+morning was found dead in his bed. He had severed an artery.
+
+At this time Joel was in his twenty-second year. Already displaying
+extraordinary capacity in affairs, this event served to call out all his
+resources.
+
+I ought to have mentioned, before this, what every body will guess, that
+Joel was desperately in love with Ellen Bellows, without, however,
+giving her the least reason to believe so, beyond that silent,
+unobtrusive devotion which girls, after all, are not very apt to
+mistake. Joel felt that in his situation he had no right to attempt to
+win Ellen's affection; but he unconsciously took the very best way to
+win it. In his intercourse with her he was reserved, almost formal, and,
+I may say, apparently indifferent. Ellen, when she came home from school
+to spend her vacations, used to feel a good deal piqued that Joel was
+not more demonstrative in his welcome. I can not believe she did not
+comprehend pretty well how Joel really felt; but his manner annoyed her,
+nevertheless. For example, he would frequently step aside and permit
+another to wait on Miss Bellows, when Miss Bellows would much prefer
+Joel had not been so accommodating. In fact, she was vexed with him half
+the time for what she called his stupidity, and half the time tantalized
+by his 'studious reserve.' Meanwhile, Joel pursued his career of
+self-martyrdom, honest and true-hearted.
+
+Now the scene had changed, and Joel was no longer the diffident youth,
+but a man, competent and energetic. He took the direction of every
+thing; nothing was overlooked. Of course the relatives were sent for. It
+was the old story: they had paid great respect to their rich cousin, but
+they did not seem to care much for the memory of the broken-down
+insolvent.
+
+The day of the funeral arrived--a dreary November day. It was just
+eleven years from the day Joel's mother was buried and he himself taken
+to the house of Mr. Bellows. Joel did not forget it, and it gave
+additional strength to carry out what devolved on him. There was a very
+large attendance at the house. The circumstances of the failure and
+subsequent suicide, the situation of the only daughter, and the many
+petty incidents which were now the town talk, excited the curiosity of
+the good people, and there was an opportunity to gratify it by attending
+the funeral. They wanted to see how the corpse would look. They were
+crazy to know how Ellen Bellows would appear, and what Joel Burns would
+do. So the house was thronged. After all, there was not much to satisfy
+their curiosity. The corpse was not exposed; Ellen Bellows, contrary to
+all custom in New-England, remained in her chamber, for which, as you
+may believe, she was pretty thoroughly picked to pieces; and Joel Burns
+sat quietly, with sad but tranquil countenance, among the mourners.
+
+The next day Joel called Ellen aside and asked her whether she was not
+going home with her aunt.
+
+'Am I not to stay here?' she said.
+
+Joel could not explain to her just then the absolute ruin which stared
+her in the face. He simply answered: 'No, Ellen, you must go away for a
+few weeks. There is much to do, and for a time you had better be
+absent.'
+
+'Very well, Joel, if you advise it. I have nobody else to advise me,'
+and she burst into tears.
+
+Joel remained calm. He had previously made up his mind just what to do,
+and he brought all the energy of his nature to sustain him. His composed
+air helped to restore Ellen--she tried to be as calm as he.
+
+'But aunt, since she came, has not invited me return with her,' she
+said.
+
+'Oh! but she will, I am sure,' replied Joel, and he went out rather
+abruptly; for here was an obstacle to his plan which did not occur to
+him before. He proceeded at once to the aunt, and found her preparing to
+leave that afternoon.
+
+'You will take Ellen with you, I suppose?' he said.
+
+'I am sure I had not thought of doing it. You know all the children are
+home, and really we have no room at present.'
+
+Two weeks previous she had written a pressing invitation to Ellen to
+come at this particular time. Joel bluntly reminded her of it.
+
+'Yes, but circumstances alter cases. The fact is, I can't afford to
+maintain the girl, and I don't think I had better begin; and that's the
+English of it, Joel, if you force me to say so. You know very well there
+won't be a cent left.'
+
+'I think I know more about that than you do,' replied Joel, with an air
+which would have done credit to a _diplomat_, 'and, I assure you, Ellen
+will _not_ be left penniless; and if you will insist on her going with
+you for a short time--mind, I say _insist_--I promise before long to
+make certain disclosures which will satisfy you as to my assertion. But
+she must not be here while they are settling up. You understand.'
+
+The old lady did not understand, but Joel carried his point by the aid
+of the mystery with which he surrounded it. It put her on her good
+behavior at once, lest she should lose the promised revelation. She
+spoke even affectionately to Ellen, and declared she should not let her
+remain in the house alone, but she must go home with her.
+
+Before the two left Sudbury, Joel had a very long interview with Ellen.
+What passed at that interview never transpired, but the young girl's
+countenance, though very sad, did not wear the desolate and despairing
+expression which it exhibited before.
+
+The stage now drew up, the ladies got in, and it rolled away, leaving
+Joel and the deputy-sheriffs the sole possessors of the premises.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A few miles to the north-east of Sudbury the country, at the time I
+speak of it, had a wild and forbidding appearance. This was partly owing
+to the immense forest which stretched along a continuous ridge of land
+covering both sides of it and the plain below. On one side of this ridge
+the face of the country was very rough; on the other side, through a
+fine intervale, flowed a stream of respectable size called Pine Creek,
+which took its rise in the mountains at some distance, and was fed by
+innumerable springs and rivulets from the surrounding hills. Nearly a
+thousand acres of these lands were owned by an old merchant in New-York,
+who had taken them for debt many years before, and had become, as he
+said, tired of paying taxes on them.
+
+Joel had had his eye on the property for two or three years. What his
+views were, we shall presently see, for no sooner did Miss Bellows quit
+Sudbury with her aunt, than Joel, after remarking to the sheriff that he
+did not propose to interfere with him in any way, proceeded to pack his
+trunks, which he removed to the inn. Then he hired a horse and wagon for
+a week, and set off no one knew whither. He came back within the time
+limited, and found a committee of creditors awaiting his return. They
+wanted to engage him to sell out the stock of goods and to close up Mr.
+Bellows' affairs. Joel declined the service, although the offers were
+liberal and coupled with the intimation that it would be the means of
+starting him in business as the successor of Mr. Bellows. Joel
+resolutely declined. He knew the estate was hopelessly insolvent, and
+that he could not be of the least service to Ellen by any labors he
+should undertake; and besides, he did not care to even appear to thrive
+out of the broken fortunes of his patron. When still pressed by the now
+perplexed creditors, he turned sharply on them and said: 'Gentlemen,
+don't you think it would have been more judicious, not to say more
+humane, had you waited on Mr. Bellows in his lifetime, and requested
+_him_ to undertake this service instead of pouncing on his property,
+closing his store, and hurrying him into his grave? He was an honest
+man, and would have worked honestly for your benefit, and I would have
+aided him. As it is, I do not feel disposed to lift a finger for you.
+Good morning.'
+
+Joel left the same day for New-York, and did not again return to
+Sudbury. Some weeks afterward, in mid-winter, the report was circulated
+that he was living in the woods on Pine Creek. Then the story went
+abroad that the poor fellow was crazy and had turned hermit. This was
+followed by other rumors still more ridiculous.
+
+I have no desire to alarm the reader on Joel's account. It is time,
+therefore, I should say that he had formed extensive plans for the
+future, which he was proceeding to carry out. During his week's absence
+he went carefully over the entire tract owned by the old merchant in
+New-York. This lay on both sides of the creek, and extended to the
+eastward quite over the 'ridge.' It was well timbered and beautifully
+situated. After making these observations, Joel proceeded to New-York
+and called on the proprietor. He stated his object to be to purchase a
+hundred acres of the tract, for which he would pay five dollars an acre
+cash. He wanted, besides, the refusal of the rest of the property, for a
+certain time, at the same rate. The old merchant was pleased with Joel's
+ingenuous manner as well as with his intelligence. He questioned him
+minutely about the lands, for he had never seen them, and asked him what
+he proposed to do with his purchase. Joel answered promptly and
+truthfully. He put the owner in possession of every material fact.
+
+'And all you will give is five dollars per acre?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'Do you think that is all the lands are really worth?'
+
+'I hope to make them worth much more to me, else I would not seek to
+buy,' responded Joel. 'What they are worth to you, is for you to judge
+after what I have said about them.'
+
+Thereupon the old gentleman told Joel he would do better by him than he
+asked. He would sell him the whole, receive the five hundred dollars,
+and take back a mortgage for the balance. Joel would not accept this
+proposition. He wanted one hundred acres, and he wanted to pay for them,
+and the money was ready at five dollars the acre, and he desired the
+refusal of the balance at the same rate. The bargain was closed in this
+way, and Joel went on to his own property rejoicing. The plot selected
+by him was from that portion nearest to the road, which here was about a
+mile distant, and at a point of the stream most favorable for the
+erection of a _saw-mill_. This hundred acres Joel had had carefully
+surveyed before he went to New-York. It embraced a portion of the
+'ridge,' with a front on the stream. The old village was miserably
+situated, on the ancient principle of putting it in the centre of the
+township, and a new road had been talked of for some time, which would
+shorten the communication between two important points, and leave it to
+one side. This was also known to Joel, and it led him to greater energy
+in trying to secure the property. But he did not omit to mention this
+circumstance in his interview with the proprietor, though, if the truth
+be told, he was tempted to keep silent. Joel Burns had a fine moral
+sense, to violate which, gave him pain. Without going through any
+argument on the subject, he _felt_ that it would amount to a deception
+if he withheld the information.
+
+At the time of Mr. Bellows' death Joel was worth about twelve hundred
+dollars. His benefactor had not only paid him a full salary, but,
+besides this, perceiving that Joel displayed an aptitude for business,
+Mr. Bellows allowed him privileges by which he was able to make some
+money on his own account. The result was, he had accumulated the sum I
+have mentioned, from which had now been disbursed five hundred dollars
+for the land purchase.
+
+Through the winter Joel was very busy. He hired four stout, active
+lumber-men, built a rude log-hut, which was comfortable enough inside,
+and all set to work first to cut a road to the highway. Then they
+commenced clearing. The timber was magnificent first-growth pine. It cut
+up splendidly. The lumber-men now saw what Hiram was driving at. They
+began to respect the young fellow who looked so much like a boy, yet who
+showed such pluck, nerve, and sagacity. After a while, in a pleasant
+position on the ridge could be seen a very neat log-house in progress of
+erection. It contained four rooms--a spacious edifice for the woods--all
+of course on the ground floor, for there was no second story. Great
+attention was paid in a rude way to the interior, and by spring it was
+finished.
+
+During the winter Joel was twice absent from the 'settlement' for two or
+three days. He was making a visit to--- Ellen's aunt. That worthy woman
+had only been half-persuaded when she invited her niece home. Very soon,
+she began to think she had made a mistake in 'harboring' her, especially
+as the news spread abroad that Bellows' estate was a very great deal
+worse than nothing. To be sure Joel's presence re�ssured her, he looked
+so competent, and spoke so confidently yet still so mysteriously. On his
+second visit, however, the lady pretty flatly intimated she was losing
+confidence in his assertions. She did not believe her brother had left
+Ellen a cent in any shape.
+
+'And I tell you what it is, Joel Burns, you need not think we are going
+to support her. She must earn her living like other folks.'
+
+'_I_ will be responsible for Ellen's board,' said Joel indignantly. 'I
+would have said that before, but I should feel mortified to have her
+know I had made the offer, or you had accepted it.'
+
+'You need not mount your high horse with me, Joel,' retorted the other,
+but in a mollified tone. 'You know I am just as kind to Ellen as any
+body would be under the circumstances.'
+
+'As kind as Mr. Bellows would have been to Tilly and Eliza, had they
+been left orphans, I suppose,' interrupted the still indignant Joel.
+
+'Yes, to be sure. You don't imagine I should have expected him to take
+care of my children!'
+
+'But he would have done it though.'
+
+'Well that may or may not be--he is dead and gone, poor man, and I have
+done my best to make it pleasant for Ellen, and she will tell you so. We
+have got along very well; I like her and her cousins like her, and I am
+satisfied after what you have said.'
+
+By the middle of April, the people of Sudbury had made up their minds
+that Joel Burns was neither crazy nor exactly a hermit, nor yet a fool,
+though some candidly admitted they had been fools when they so judged of
+him. For by the middle of April a saw-mill with a double set of saws had
+been put in operation, and was turning out the lumber rapidly. Quickly
+the knowing ones saw into it, (but they did not see into it till Joel
+had made his demonstration,) and now wondered why they had overlooked
+the speculation. One very keen fellow determined to make the most out of
+Joel's beginning. He examined the records at the office of the register
+of deeds and discovered that Joel had title to but a hundred acres.
+Thereupon he went to New-York with the object of purchasing the adjacent
+lands. Imagine his chagrin, when he was told Joel had the refusal of the
+whole tract. With a low cunning he endeavored to make the old merchant
+dissatisfied with the sale, by telling him that he had parted with his
+property for a quarter of its value--in fact, had given it away. He
+would have offered twice the money himself.
+
+'I am glad to hear you say so,' was the only reply the fellow received,
+'for I take a great interest in that young man. So he has got his mill
+a-going, has he? Good.'
+
+'But if I should offer you ten dollars an acre for the next
+hundred-acre-lot, don't you think you could manage to let me have it?'
+
+'No.'
+
+What an excitement there was when our smart man returned and gave an
+account of his trip. Then followed all sorts of rumors. Joel was in
+partnership with a rich old fellow in 'York,' who was going to let him
+have all the money he wanted. There was to be a new village right away,
+situated somewhere--on the ridge--on the stream--across the creek--on
+the plain--under the hill. What wouldn't the speculators give to know
+_just_ where! With the erection of the saw-mill, several little huts
+went up near it for the use of those employed there. These huts were not
+made of logs--there was plenty of lumber now--but cheaply constructed
+and clap-boarded with slabs. Some of the Sudbury wits derisively called
+the place 'Slab City.' The lumber-men seemed to like this name, for they
+at once adopted it, and it has never been known by any other.
+
+But before this, a remarkable event occurred, affording still greater
+food for town-talk and gossip generally. The neat log-house on the ridge
+had been comfortably furnished, and Ellen Bellows--now Ellen
+Burns--installed as its mistress.
+
+On his third visit the mystery was solved in a manner quite satisfactory
+to the aunt. To do that lady justice, we must say she was not half so
+selfish nor so calculating as she might have been. It is true she had
+not generosity enough to run the risk of offering Ellen a home as long
+as she might require one, whatever should happen. But she was tolerably
+kind to her, and when she heard that a wedding was to be speedily
+improvised, she entered into it heart and soul, and made every thing
+pass pleasantly, yes, happily. Furthermore, I am bound to record that
+she refused to take one penny for Ellen's 'board,' although Joel pressed
+her to do so.
+
+'Do you think I am an old hunks, Joel, because I did not feel able to
+undertake Ellen's support? Prudent I try to be, it is my duty. Haven't I
+my own children to look after? but because I _am_ prudent and do my
+duty, can't I show some kindness to my poor brother's only child? Don't
+talk to me about 'board,' and, Joel, don't say any thing to Ellen about
+our previous conversation. You know I have always been perfectly
+satisfied with every thing you told me.'
+
+Joel felt too happy then to question the fact, if indeed, it could be
+questioned. He re�ssured the good woman on that head, and added he
+should in due time expect visits from Tilly and Eliza.
+
+'They will be delighted to go, and what is more Mr. Barron (her husband)
+has been thinking a good deal of leaving here, and I should not be
+surprised if he paid you a visit one of these days to see what chances
+offer, for we have all heard how smart _you_ have been.'
+
+It is essential I should explain to the reader why Joel Burns, who was
+ingenuous and truthful, and by no means fond of mystery or concealment,
+should make use of both in his intercourse with Ellen's aunt. We have
+previously stated how desperately he was in love with Ellen, and further
+how hard he tried to make himself believe his affection could never be
+reciprocated. When, however, the day of trial came suddenly on _her_,
+all the nonsense was scattered from Joel's brain like mist before the
+wind. But the romance in his heart was not dissipated, because romance
+is _not_ nonsense. Genuine romance is a real element in our natures, and
+so long as we preserve it, we are young. When Joel found himself placed
+in the position of Ellen's sole protector, he took prompt and decisive
+steps _for_ her protection. But while he hoped to win her for his wife,
+he could not endure the thought that possibly a part of his success
+might be due to the change in Ellen's fortunes, or that her choice
+should not be free and unrestrained. It was for this reason he mystified
+the aunt and procured for Ellen a cordial invitation to stay with her
+'till the business matters were settled,' thus mystifying Ellen also.
+She, poor girl, continued in happy ignorance of her absolutely
+destitute condition. She loved Joel dearly, and it was one of her
+happiest day-dreams to plan how she could aid him in his projects by
+putting him in possession of all she should have--yes, all.
+
+The evening before the wedding, after Joel had given a full history of
+the progress of the 'settlement' and what he hoped to do in the future,
+Ellen, overcoming the timidity which had before prevented her speaking,
+exclaimed:
+
+'O Joel! how much you have done--all alone, too! When you get what is
+coming to me, won't _that_ help you? and you shall have the whole of it,
+dear Joel, every dollar!'
+
+She stopped and blushed, half-frightened at her boldness. Tears came
+into Joel's eyes, he was so happy. He threw his arms around his beloved
+and pressed her to his heart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+People could now understand where the village was to be. The new road
+had been laid out and was in course of construction. It passed along the
+ridge near the centre. On computing the distances, it was found this
+point would be a convenient one for a stage-house, where passengers
+could pass the night. Joel sold to the stage company what lots they
+required, at a very low price, on condition that they would erect a
+first-rate public house. The water-power at 'Slab City,' three fourths
+of a mile distant, attracted attention. The 'fell' was large, and the
+supply of water abundant. One man started with a turning-machine, which
+was attached to the mill. Another, with more capital, established a
+fulling-mill, and so on. Joel avoided the ordinary errors of
+landholders. He did not attempt to carry on all sorts of business
+himself, neither did he hold his lots at too high prices. To actual
+settlers he sold very cheap; to speculators he would not sell at all.
+The old merchant continued his friend. By his recommendation a man with
+considerable capital visited the place, and being well pleased,
+purchased some of the water-power and built a large button-factory,
+Joel's views proved most judicious. By laying out the village on the
+ridge, he secured a beautiful site, which was relieved from a close
+proximity to shops and mills and factories, while it had really the
+support of all these. Several fine houses were now erected. Two stores
+were started, and a meeting-house built, for which Joel gave nearly all
+the lumber. Next a post-office was established, and the place called
+Burnsville. It was a beautiful spot, and how it grew and flourished! But
+Burnsville would have amounted to little had it not been for Slab City.
+Joel took care not to lose an opportunity for strengthening _it_.
+Water-power could always be had of him cheap. I forgot to say he erected
+a 'grist-mill,' which was much needed. Two other saw-mills beside his
+own were built a little way further up, but on his tract. Mr. Barron and
+family did move to Burnsville, as Mrs. B. intimated they might. He
+brought a good deal of money with him, and turned his enterprise to
+account. The families continued intimate. In ten years Burnsville became
+one of the most prosperous villages in the State. Joel Burns was a rich
+man, as well as _the_ man of the place. These ten years had wrought no
+great changes in Joel's character or habits. To be sure he had become
+more engrossed in plans for future operations. By degrees he had
+narrowed his mind into the channel of _successful effort_. The
+circumference of his existence was probably more limited than when he
+brought his little wife into the pretty log-house on the ridge. (He now
+lived in the handsomest one in the village.) Still, he was more active,
+more perseveringly energetic, more effective than ever before. But the
+romance of which I spoke had faded, or was overshadowed, by the forms of
+active, busy, bustling life. Still Joel Burns was in the main the same
+ingenuous, honest-hearted fellow as ever. A happy man--happy in his
+home--happy because prosperous in his business--but by no means as happy
+as he might have been. Regarding him in this view, it was melancholy to
+see him so utterly engrossed in his pursuits and plans. He did not take
+time to look about him and enjoy. The Sabbath to him was a dull,
+wearisome, restless day. He had too much respect for it to desecrate it
+by even a private attention to his affairs, and he had very little idea
+of any spiritual wants. He was active in erecting a church and securing
+a good preacher, on whose ministrations he attended regularly with his
+family. Yet it was a great relief to him when Sunday was over, and he
+welcomed the succeeding morning with a renewed zest.
+
+Joel Burns became a very popular man; he was universally beloved; he was
+generous and public-spirited. He was unselfish in his ordinary dealings,
+and always ready to lend a helping hand to those about him. His success
+was not owing to a close, hard, grasping nature, but was the result of
+fine business abilities, coupled with extraordinary energy and
+perseverance.
+
+Joel Burns was unjust to no one but himself. He neglected to cultivate
+his moral nature, and left it in danger of being choked by the cares he
+voluntarily assumed. He had one safeguard, however. I have observed that
+he was happy in his family. This consisted of his wife, and one child--a
+daughter named Sarah, after Joel's mother. When with them, Joel _did_
+forget his business life. His love for his wife and child was like a
+gushing fountain of pure water. It preserved his heart from becoming
+arid, and his nature from ossification.
+
+Twelve years passed, and found Burnsville more nourishing than ever, and
+Joel Burns yet without any interruption to his fortunes or his
+happiness.
+
+Late in summer, typhus fever--a dreadful visitor in this part of
+New-England--made its appearance, and became more prevalent than usual,
+and assumed a severer type. Mrs. Burns was among the first attacked, and
+with great severity.
+
+Joel felt the foundations of his soul giving way when the possibility
+presented itself that his wife _might_ die. He called to mind with a
+shudder the scene at the village tavern in Sudbury, when, a child, he
+stood by his mother's bedside and heard, awe-struck, her incoherent
+ravings while the delirium of fever was on her. 'O my God! she will die,
+she will die!' he exclaimed, as he rushed out of the room, unable to
+control his feelings.
+
+The country was scoured for doctors. An eminent medical man from
+New-Haven was sent for. He was unable to come; but the house was filled
+with consulting physicians. Alas I they knew little in those days how to
+treat this terrible malady, or rather how to skillfully let it alone.
+Day after day, Joel paced up and down, now in this room, now in that,
+all over the house. At night he watched by his wife. He insisted on
+doing so; no argument or entreaty could prevail on him to leave her a
+moment. She was delirious nearly all the time. Then her voice would be
+strong, her eyes glassy bright, her cheeks flushed and burning. She
+recognized neither husband nor child.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was in the middle of the night. The 'watcher' who sat up in company
+with Joel, slumbered in his chair. He did not slumber, but sat with eyes
+fixed on his wife, who for some time seemed to be resting easier than
+before. Presently her lips moved. Her husband bent over her.
+
+'Joel.'
+
+'I am here, my darling.'
+
+'Joel.'
+
+'Yes, dearest.'
+
+'We have not lived right'
+
+'No, dear.'
+
+'You do not think we have lived right, do you?'
+
+'No, oh! no.'
+
+'I am going to die, Joel.'
+
+'Do not speak in that way!' and the poor fellow groaned, in spite of
+every effort to control himself.
+
+'I must, Joel, I must. We have not lived right _You_ will live right
+when I am gone. You will teach Sarah to live right, won't you?'
+
+'I don't want to live at all if you do not live!' was the passionate
+answer.
+
+'For our child's sake, Joel.'
+
+No reply.
+
+'What a kind, loving husband you have been to me--been to me always! I
+loved you--loved you before you knew it, Joel.' Here she opened her eyes
+languidly, and essayed to turn them on him. 'But we have not lived
+right.'
+
+There was still no response, save by audible sobs.
+
+'I think I have made my peace with God. Are you glad, Joel?'
+
+'Now I don't care what happens, if you only feel happy!' he cried. 'But
+to have you die in distress of mind! It would drive me crazy.'
+
+'Give God the praise, Joel. I _am_ happy. It is so sweet to trust in
+Him! You won't neglect--neglect--you won't----' She fell into a stupor,
+from which she never fully awoke. Although she lived another day, she
+exhibited no signs of consciousness. Joel fancied that she was aware of
+his presence; but she never spoke again.
+
+The funeral was attended by a large concourse of people--very different
+from that of Joel's mother, whom three selectmen followed to the grave.
+When it was over, Joel and his daughter went back to their desolate
+house, while the village set to work to speculate as to whom the widower
+would marry. '_Such_ a match! _So_ rich, and only one child! Emily Parks
+would make him a good wife; only Emily was rather old--at least
+twenty-seven or eight--and Mr. Burns would marry a young girl, of
+course. Why shouldn't he, with the amount of money he had? He might take
+a fancy to Julia Davis--she had just left school.' 'Why shouldn't he
+marry Lizzie?' said Mrs. Barron to herself. And Lizzie was sent over
+that very day to 'see to things' for Mr. Burns.
+
+His trials were not ended. Sarah, who was now in her twelfth year, was
+taken ill the following week. The fever was no doubt going through the
+family, said the doctors. Joel's faith in medical men was a good deal
+shaken, but he had to call them in, and Sarah grew worse. Three weeks
+she lay, submitting to the old treatment, waiting for the 'crisis.' Joel
+could endure it no longer. He started for New-Haven, changing horses
+every ten miles. He found the doctor he went in quest of at home; but he
+said it was impossible for him to go.
+
+'I have lost my wife, and shall lose my child,' said Joel Burns
+hoarsely.
+
+'My friend,' said the doctor in a mild tone, 'people are dying every
+where. I have my own patients, whom I ought not to neglect.'
+
+'Go with me, I, implore you,' urged the despairing man; 'I have relays
+of horses, and I will drive ten miles an hour.' Joel's importunity
+prevailed. The distance was accomplished in a marvelously brief time.
+
+It was a hot, sultry day, the second week of September, about noon, when
+Joel, accompanied by the doctor, entered the sick-room.
+
+'How is Sarah?'
+
+'No better,' whispered Miss Barron, who had remained in the house. 'The
+doctor left half an hour ago. He says he thinks she will go as her
+mother went.'
+
+'I am awake, father!' (He had approached the bed very carefully, so as
+not to disturb her.) 'It seems a great while since you went away.'
+
+'I have brought a doctor to cure you, my child,' said Joel. He knew the
+value of hope and confidence.
+
+Meanwhile the physician was glancing around the room. As I have said, it
+was a close, sultry day; but the windows were all closed, so that not a
+breath of air could circulate through the apartment. The doctor quietly
+threw up every one of them. Perceiving a cot standing near, he ordered
+it made up with fresh sheets. Going to the bedside of his little
+patient: 'How do you feel, my child?' he asked.
+
+'I don't know.'
+
+'Bring me a bowl of water and a soft napkin.'
+
+'Warm water, I suppose?' said the nurse.
+
+'Cold.' He threw off the heavy blanket from the bed, and unbuttoning the
+night-dress, which came close around her, he bathed the child's face and
+neck with the grateful fluid.
+
+'You feel better now?'
+
+'Yes,' she whispered.
+
+'Don't you want any thing, my dear?'
+
+'I want some water.'
+
+'Give her water, nurse,' said the doctor.
+
+The woman stared in utter amazement. If she had been ordered to cut the
+child's throat, she could not have been more astounded.
+
+'I say, bring a tumbler of water.'
+
+This was done, and the nurse offered the patient a few drops in a
+tea-spoon.
+
+'Give me the glass,' and he took it out of her hand. Tenderly he raised
+the sick child to a comfortable position, and placed it to her lips.
+'Take as much as you like, my dear. Water was made to drink.'
+
+He now directed a complete and speedy change of garments, and then he
+himself took Sarah in his arms and laid her on the other bed. In fifteen
+minutes, she was sleeping, while a gentle perspiration showed the crisis
+had passed. Joel Burns stood still, regarding the doctor as he would a
+being from another world. When he saw him doing just what was invariably
+prohibited, doing it with such an air of decision and self-confidence
+yet with no peculiar ostentation, he felt it would all be right. The
+nurse, at first, was in very bad humor; but nobody noticed her, so she
+concluded it was best to be good-natured and obey orders. The next day,
+the doctor pronounced little Sarah out of danger, provided she was
+properly nursed, and after leaving special directions, which he charged
+Joel to see to personally till he could hear from him, he returned home
+as rapidly as he came. When the man who accompanied him came back, he
+brought the doctor's favorite student, who had directions to devote
+himself to the 'case,' in which the doctor took so strong an interest.
+The good man had another motive. He believed the fever was about to
+attack Joel, and he determined to exert his skill to save him, if
+possible. To have advised him of his fears, would have been injudicious.
+He therefore dispatched a young man in whom he had great confidence,
+after giving him minute instructions. Little Sarah, watched and tended
+with great care, grew rapidly better. But when the excitement produced
+by the scenes through which Joel had passed was at an end, a great
+reaction took place, which left him in a very weak state. In that
+condition, he was seized by the terrible malady, which found a fit
+subject in his weakened frame and broken spirits. For weeks Joel Burns
+lay balancing between life and death. It seemed as if a feather's weight
+on either side would turn the scale. Morning after morning, the question
+was put by the whole village: 'Is Mr. Burns alive?' Twice, on occasions
+which seemed specially urgent, did our worthy doctor come from
+New-Haven, spend a few hours, and return. The medical student kept his
+post manfully. It was something to go counter to the opinions and
+judgments of all the physicians about, far and near. Especially when, if
+the patient should die, the voice of authority would proclaim that a
+murder had been committed. [Now, it would be considered murder to follow
+the old method.] But the doctor was firm, his pupil an enthusiastic
+believer in his master's genius, and the course was persisted in. At
+length, the daily reports were modified. First, Mr. Burns was 'no
+worse.' After that, he was 'a little more comfortable.' Then came the
+announcement that he was 'better.' The medical men round about were
+excessively chagrined; but every body else rejoiced at the good news.
+
+All this time, what of Joel Burns? How did he do? Not what was the
+history of his physical malady. But what was his state morally,
+mentally, religiously before God! Recollect, the man had never had a
+check in his whole career before. The circumstances of his childhood
+served rather to give strength and firmness to his nature. The sudden
+failure and death of his benefactor only threw him the more on his own
+resources, with which he was amply provided. His plans had been
+successful. His friends were many. His hopes for the future were large,
+yet not unreasonable; while on all sides, as we have said, he was
+regarded as _the_ man of the community in which he lived.
+
+Joel had scarcely time for reflection, after the death of his wife,
+before his child was taken ill, and ere she was really out of danger, he
+himself was stricken down. All that long, weary time, during days and
+nights of fever and delirium, of exhaustion and weakness, of
+convalescence and recovery, the whisper of his dying wife was constantly
+heard:
+
+'Joel, we have not lived right! Do you think we have lived right, Joel?'
+
+'_Lived right_!' What did that mean? Was Joel Burns a dishonest man? Was
+he not kind-hearted, generous, loving toward his wife, affectionate to
+his child, charitable and public-spirited?
+
+'_Lived right_.' Joel had answered his wife instantly, not daring then
+and there to soothe her by equivocation, but replying truthfully out of
+his soul: 'No, oh! no.' What did he mean by that? Of what did he stand
+convicted, and wherefore? These were the thoughts which occupied his
+mind, especially after the fever had left him, during the long weeks of
+his recovery. Joel was a man of extraordinary perceptive faculties. The
+situation in which he had been placed, the remarkable health which he
+had enjoyed, (for he had never been ill in his life,) and the success
+which had attended every plan and effort, served to still more develop
+all his practical talents, and were at the same time unfavorable to
+reflection or serious thought. Now he could do nothing else but reflect
+and think. He looked about him. His wife was gone, and his happiness
+wrecked. What was he to do? Should he make haste to push on the schemes
+which his sickness had brought to a stand? The idea was loathsome to
+him. He had seen how completely they were liable to interruption and
+blight. The thought of his daughter was the only comfort left, but she
+might be taken--then _what_?
+
+Ah! Joel Burns! how long and wide you searched to answer that question
+when the answer was so near at hand and so easy to discover. He did
+discover it at last. His wife, with her latest breath, had given him the
+clue. He examined himself more carefully. What are the relations between
+me and my Maker? Do I recognize any?... When Joel Burns rose from his
+sick-bed and could walk abroad, all things wore to him a new and pleased
+aspect. The current of his hopes were changed. He no longer revolved
+around himself as a centre. He was conscious of his error before God,
+and sought and found 'peace in believing.' He now regarded all things in
+the light of His providence and felt submissive to His will.
+
+Joel was no longer indifferent to his affairs. There was so much he
+could do to benefit every body. What a happy feeling to try to be
+working out good for some body all the time! When, however, he was able
+actively to engage in business, there was very little difference between
+his course of action and in what he did and his old course and what he
+used to do. The fact is, Joel _did_ about what was right before. We have
+already related that he was kind, charitable, generous, and
+public-spirited. The difference, however, was, that Joel _himself_ was
+changed. The _springs_ of life and conduct were new: this is why he
+seemed to himself to be living so differently. And he _was_ living
+differently. There was no similitude between the Joel Burns who,
+impelled by an active brain and an energetic purpose, was successfully
+prosecuting certain plans with reference solely _to_ those plans, and
+the Joel Burns who had learned to feel that the chief _object_ of
+existence lay above and beyond, and was centred in the Omnipotent.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sarah recovered rapidly from the fever, and before her father was
+himself convalescent the bloom of health had returned to her cheeks.
+Joel's love for his child was increased ten-fold. She became, as she
+grew up, an inseparable companion. It was evident he had no thoughts of
+marrying. The people of the village decided _that_ at the end of a year.
+The widower gave none of the ordinary tokens that he was seeking a new
+wife, that is, he did not 'brush up' any, and took no special pains with
+his personal appearance, but went about much as usual. It was a great
+pity, every body said, for a man as young as he--hardly
+three-and-thirty--to live without a wife. Sarah required a motherly care
+over her, her father was spoiling her. Yes, it was a great pity Mr.
+Burns did not marry. The fact was, strange as it will seem, Joel could
+not forget his wife, though she was dead. A sweet and solemn link bound
+him to her since the night he stood over her to catch her last words,
+and it would appear his affections were not to be diverted from her
+memory. He did not send Sarah away to school. He could not reconcile
+himself to her absence, but he supplied her abundantly with teachers,
+and personally took great pains with her education.
+
+Two years after the death of Mrs. Burns, Joel and his daughter stood up
+together before the assembled church and congregation, and made a public
+profession of religion. It was a touching sight. And when after the
+services father and child took their way homeward, every eye followed
+them with looks of deepest interest and with feelings of almost
+universal kindness and regard. Joel had delayed presenting himself from
+a desire to test his feelings, having great fear of bringing reproach on
+the church by entering it unworthily. And now he had an increased joy
+that he could bring his darling into the fold with him.
+
+It was very natural, as she was situated, that Sarah should acquire an
+accurate knowledge of her father's affairs. She enjoyed listening to the
+story of his early life, the rise and progress of Burnsville, with
+explanations of his many undertakings. As she grew older, this interest
+took a more practical turn. She would copy letters and arrange
+confidential papers, and perform various services of a like nature.
+
+Two or three years more passed. Things went on as usual, at Burnsville.
+It is true that Joel Burns did not display that sharp faculty of
+acquisition which he formerly did, though he was never more active or
+energetic; but it was noticeable that those in his employ got on better
+than before, while the general prosperity of the village exceeded that
+of any former period.
+
+Sarah was almost a young lady. She was growing up a beautiful girl. She
+had her father's brilliant complexion and her mother's fine form and
+regular features. Of course, with so much youth and beauty, and such
+'brilliant prospects,' (by which, I suppose, was meant her father's
+death and a large fortune to the child,) Sarah already became an object
+of much attention. I will not say that her peculiar position did not
+produce something of an independent manner which some called hauteur,
+and others exclusiveness. Part of this was owing to her education, part
+to the necessity of repelling sometimes the advances of conceited
+coxcombs. But she was really a most interesting girl, with much of her
+father's spirit, resolution, and ability. Her affection for him was only
+exceeded by his for her. True, their lives were centred in each other
+too much. But it was very beautiful to behold.
+
+Such was the condition of Burnsville, and such the situation of Joel
+Burns, when Hiram Meeker sought to remove to that place and enter his
+service.
+
+
+
+
+A MERCHANT'S STORY.
+
+  'All of which I saw, and part of which I was.'
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+It is a dingy old sign. It has hung there in sun and rain till its
+letters are faint and its face is furrowed. It has looked down on a
+generation that has passed away, and seen those who placed it there go
+out of that doorway never to return; still it clings to that dingy old
+warehouse, and still Russell, Rollins & Co. is signed in that dingy old
+counting-room at the head of the stairway. It is known the world over.
+It is heard of on the cotton-fields of Texas, in the cane-brakes of
+Cuba, and amid the rice-swamps of Carolina. The Chinaman speaks of it as
+he sips his tea and handles his chop-sticks in the streets of Canton,
+and the half-naked negro rattles its gold as he gathers palm-oil and the
+copal-gum on the western coast of Africa. Its plain initials, painted in
+black on a white ground, float from tall masts over many seas, and its
+simple 'promise to pay,' scrawled in a bad hand on a narrow strip of
+paper, unlocks the vaults of the best bankers in Europe. And yet, it is
+a dingy old sign! Men look up to it as they pass by, and wonder that a
+cracked, weather-beaten board that would not sell for a dollar, should
+be counted 'good for a million.'
+
+It is a dingy old warehouse, with narrow, dark, cobwebbed windows, and
+wide, rusty iron shutters, which, as the bleak November wind sweeps up
+old Long Wharf, swing slowly on their hinges with a sharp, grating
+creak. I heard them in my boyhood. Perched on a tall stool at that old
+desk, I used to listen, in the long winter-nights, to those strange,
+wild cries, till I fancied they were voices of the uneasy dead, come
+back to take the vacant seats beside me, and to pace again, with ghostly
+tread, the floor of that dark old counting-room. They were ever a
+mystery and a terror to me; but they never creaked so harshly, or cried
+so wildly, as on a bleak November night, not many years ago, when I
+turned my steps, for the last time, up the trembling old stairway.
+
+It was just after nightfall. A single gas-burner threw a dim, uncertain
+light over the old desk, and lit up the figure of a tall, gray-headed
+man, who was bending over it. He had round, stooping shoulders, and
+long, spindling limbs. One of his large feet, encased in a thick,
+square-toed shoe, rested on the round of the desk, the other, which was
+planted squarely on the floor, upheld his spare, gaunt frame. His face
+was thin and long, and two deep, black lines under his eyes contrasted
+strangely with the pallid whiteness of his features. His clothes were of
+the fashion of some years ago, and had, no doubt, served long as his
+'Sunday best,' before being degraded to daily duty. They were of plain
+black, and though not shabby, were worn and threadbare, and of decidedly
+economical appearance. Every thing about him, indeed, wore an economical
+look. His scant coat-tails, narrow pants, and short waistcoat, showed
+that the cost of each inch of material had been counted, while his thin
+hair, brushed carefully over his bald head, had not a lock to spare; and
+even his large, sharp bones were covered with only just enough flesh to
+hold them comfortably together. He had stood there till his eye was dim
+and his step feeble, and though he had, for twenty years--when handing
+in his semi-annual trial-balances to the head of the house--declared
+that each one was his last, every body said he would continue to stand
+there till his own trial-balance was struck, and his earthly accounts
+were closed forever.
+
+As I entered, he turned his mild blue eye upon me, and taking my hand
+warmly in his, exclaimed:
+
+'My dear boy'--I was nearly forty--'I am glad to see you.'
+
+'I am glad to see _you_, David.'
+
+'Why, bless me, Mr. Kirke, is that you?' exclaimed a much younger man,
+springing from his seat near the other, and grasping me by both hands.
+'What has brought you to Boston?'
+
+'Business, Frank. I've just arrived, and go back to-morrow. Come! my
+wife is in the carriage at the door, and wants you to spend the evening
+with us.'
+
+'I can't--I'm very sorry,' and he added, in a lower tone, '_she_ has
+just heard of her father's death, and goes home to-morrow. I have
+engaged to pass the evening with her.'
+
+'Her father dead! how was it?'
+
+'He was thrown from his horse, and died the same day. She knew nothing
+of it till yesterday. I can not neglect her now. I will spend to-morrow
+with mother.'
+
+He always called her _mother_, though he was not her son. He had done it
+when a child, and now that he was a man, hers was the dearest name he
+knew. He loved her as his mother, and she loved him as her son. But any
+woman might have loved him. His straight, closely-knit, sinewy frame,
+dark, deep-set eyes, and broad, open forehead, overhung with thick,
+brown hair, were only the outshadowing of a beautiful mind, of an open,
+upright, manly nature, whose firm and steady integrity nothing could
+shake.
+
+'I'm sorry to hear it,' I replied; 'but go down and see her, while I
+speak to Mr. Hallet.'
+
+Rapping at the door of an inner office, separated from the outer one by
+a ground-glass partition, I was admitted by a tall, dark man, who, with
+a stiff and slightly embarrassed manner, said to me:
+
+'I am glad to see you, Mr. Kirke. Pray, be seated.'
+
+As he pointed to a chair, a shorter and younger gentleman, who was
+writing at another desk, rose, and slapping me familiarly on the back,
+exclaimed:
+
+'My dear fellow, how are you?'
+
+'Very well, Cragin, how are you?'
+
+'Good as new--never better in my life--how goes the world with you?'
+
+The last speaker was not more than thirty-three, but a bald spot on the
+top of his head, and a slight falling-in of his mouth, caused by
+premature decay of the teeth, made him seem several years older. He had
+marked but not regular features, and a restless, dark eye, which opened
+and shut with a peculiar wink that kept time with the motion of his lips
+in speaking. His clothes were cut in a loose, jaunty style, and his
+manner, though brusque and abrupt, betokened, like his face, a free,
+frank, manly character. He was ten or twelve years the junior of the
+other, and as unlike him as one man can be unlike another.
+
+The older gentleman, as I have said, was tall and dark. He had a high,
+bold forehead, and wore heavy gray whiskers, trimmed with the utmost
+nicety, and meeting under a sharp, narrow chin. His face was large and
+full, and his nose pointed and prominent, but his mouth was small, and
+gathered in at the corners like a rat's; and, as if to add to the
+rat-resemblance, its small, white teeth seemed borrowed from the jaws of
+that animal. There was a stately precision in his manner, and a stealthy
+softness in his tread, that would have impressed a stranger unfavorably;
+but _I_ knew him. We had been boys together, and he loved me as he loved
+his own son. How well he loved _him_, the reader will learn, if he
+follows the course of my story.
+
+These two gentlemen--Mr. Hallet and Mr. Cragin--were the senior partners
+in the great house of Russell, Rollins & Co.
+
+Replying satisfactorily to the inquiry of Mr. Cragin, I turned to the
+older partner, and said:
+
+'Well, Mr. Hallet, how does Frank get on?'
+
+'Oh! very well--knows a little too much, like most young men of his age,
+but he does very well.'
+
+''Very well,' Mr. Ballet! d--d if he don't--he's the smartest boy
+living--made a clean forty thousand for us not two months ago--forced it
+on Hallet against his better judgment!' And Mr. Cragin laughed till he
+showed all that was left of two rows of tobacco-stained teeth.
+
+'How was it Cragin?' I asked, greatly pleased.
+
+A short rap came at the office-door, and Frank entered, his hat in his
+hand.
+
+'Mother insists on my taking supper with her--will you go now, sir?' he
+said, addressing me.
+
+Before I could reply, Mr. Hallet, rather sharply, asked:
+
+'Have you finished your letters for the steamer?'
+
+'Yes, sir.'
+
+'What have you said to Maclean, Maris & Co., about the gum-copal?'
+
+'I will show you, sir.'
+
+And going into the other room, Frank returned in a moment with an open
+letter, still wet from the copying-press. Mr. Hallet took it and read it
+over slowly and carefully, then handing it back, he said, in the
+slightly pompous tone which was natural to him:
+
+'That will do--you can go.'
+
+I was rising to bid them 'good-evening,' when the senior said to me:
+
+'Mr. Kirke, I dislike to trespass on your time, but I would like to
+confer with you for a moment, on a private matter.'
+
+'Certainly, sir.' And I added: 'Frank, tell your mother I will meet you
+at the hotel in half an hour.'
+
+'But I must be in Cambridge by eight o'clock,' replied the young man,
+looking a little chop-fallen.
+
+'Well, don't wait for me--I will see you to-morrow.'
+
+Bidding me 'good-night,' he left; and Mr. Cragin, seeing that his
+partner would be alone with me, left shortly afterward. As soon as
+Cragin was gone, Mr. Hallet, opening the door, called:
+
+'David!'
+
+The book-keeper entered, and took a seat beside me.
+
+'Mr. Kirke,' said Mr. Hallet, when the other was seated, 'I want to talk
+with you and David about Frank. He has entangled himself with that
+Southern girl, and, I hear, means to marry her. I strongly object to it.
+I've not a particle of influence with him, and _you_ must prevent it.'
+
+'Why should we prevent it?' I asked, rather sharply. 'What is there
+against the young woman?'
+
+'Nothing against her character, but she'd not be a fit wife for Frank.
+These Southern women are educated with wrong ideas--they make poor wives
+for poor men. He must marry a rich girl, or one brought up with
+New-England habits. This one would bring him nothing, and spend all he
+made.'
+
+'But she is an only child, and her father is rich.'
+
+'Pshaw! that is bosh! Preston always lived high, and I'll guarantee his
+estate is bankrupt. I'm sorry for it, for he owes us.'
+
+'Is that so! Largely?' 'No, not largely; how much is he overdrawn,
+David?'
+
+'Eighty-two hundred and odd.'
+
+'I'm surprised at that,' I said. 'The old house did not allow such
+things.'
+
+'Neither do we; 'twas Cragin's work. He thought 'twould annoy Frank if
+the drafts went back, and'--he hesitated a moment--'he insisted upon
+it.'
+
+'I am opposed to interfering in such matters. I always taught Frank to
+think for himself,' I remarked.
+
+'You taught him to think too much for himself. He is self-willed and
+headstrong to a fault.'
+
+'Perhaps his father might have trained him better, if--he had tried,' I
+replied, with a slight sneer.
+
+'Pardon me, Mr. Kirke, I meant no reflection on your management of him.
+I only feel that this is a most important step, and he ought to be
+advised. He should marry rich, for he has nothing, and can not rely upon
+me.'
+
+'He does not rely upon you; but he is a partner now, and his income
+ought to enable him to support a wife.'
+
+'His income is uncertain; he may not remain long in the concern,'
+replied Mr. Hallet coolly.
+
+David started; his face reddened to the roots of his hair, and he asked
+in a sententious way, showing even in his expenditure of breath the
+close economy that was the rule of his life: 'Who told you that, Mr.
+Hallet?'
+
+'No one,' replied that gentleman, seemingly surprised at the abrupt
+question; 'I am deliberating on it myself. He is sowing dissension
+between Cragin and me. The lowest boy in the office; even you, David,
+pay more heed to him than to _me_.'
+
+'That may be your own fault,' I said, a little sarcastically; 'if you
+should treat him as Cragin and David do, you might have nothing to
+complain of.'
+
+'I treat him well, sir; but I make him _know his place_.' The last words
+were emphasized in a hard, wicked tone.
+
+Certain old recollections had been rushing across my memory during the
+latter part of this conversation, and this last remark brought me to my
+feet, as I said: 'You treat him like a dog, sir! I have seen it. If he
+were not your son, he should not stay with you another day! But I warn
+you, John Hallet--do not go too far. Cast that boy off--harm him to the
+extent of a hair--and, so help me God, I will strip you of the lying
+cloak in which you hide your false, hypocritical soul, and show men
+_what you are!_'
+
+In my excitement, I had crossed the room, and stood then directly before
+him. His face flushed and his eye quailed before my steady gaze, but he
+said nothing.
+
+David remarked, in a mild tone: 'Edmund, that an't the right spirit; it
+an't.'
+
+'You don't know the whole, David; if you did, even _you_ would say he is
+the basest man living.'
+
+Hallet pressed his teeth together; his eyes flashed fire, and he seemed
+about to spring upon me; but mastering his passion, he rose after a
+moment and extended his hand, saying: 'Come, Mr. Kirke, this is not the
+talk of old friends! Let us shake hands and forget it.'
+
+'Never, sir! I took your hand for the last time when I left this
+counting-room, twenty years ago. I never touch it again! I shall tell
+that boy _to-night_ that you are his father.'
+
+'You will not do so imprudent a thing. I will do any thing for him--any
+thing you require. I promise you--on my honor,' and the stately head of
+the great house of Russell, Rollins & Co., sank into a chair and bent
+down his face like a criminal in the dock.
+
+'I can not trust you,' I said, as I paced the room,
+
+'You can, Edmund; he means it. He is sorry for the wrong he's done,'
+said the old book-keeper, in that mild, winning tone which had made me
+so love him in my boyhood.
+
+'Well, let him _prove_ that he means it; let him tell you all; let him
+tell you how much he has had to repent of!'
+
+'I _have_ told him all. I told him years ago.'
+
+'Did you tell him how you cast off that poor girl? how for years on her
+knees she vainly plead for a paltry pittance to keep her child from
+starving and herself from sin? Did you tell him how you forced her on
+the street? how you drove her from you with curses, when she prayed you
+to save her from the pit of infamy into which you had plunged her? Did
+you tell him,' and I hissed the words in his ear, while he writhed on
+his seat in such agony as only the guilty can feel; 'how, at last, after
+all those wretched years, she died of starvation and disease, with all
+that mountain of sin on her soul, and all of it heaped on her by YOU!'
+
+'Oh! no! I did not--could not tell him that! I did not know I had done
+_that!_' groaned the stately gentleman.
+
+'You lie, John Hallet! You know you lie! and may God deal with you as
+you dealt with her,' and I took up my hat and laid my hand on the door.
+
+'Stop, stop, Edmund; don't go with those words. You would not have God
+do to _you_ as you have done to others!' said David, in the same mild
+tone as before.
+
+'True, David. I ought not to wish him harm; but I loathe and detest the
+hypocritical villain. Frank shall leave him to-night, and forever!' and
+again I laid my hand on the door.
+
+Mr. Hallet looked up; his face was pale as marble, and his hands
+clenched tightly the arms of his chair, 'Don't go, Mr. Kirke,' he cried;
+'stay one moment. Can't this be arranged?'
+
+'Yes, sir. Sign a dissolution article at once--_here_--NOW, and give
+Frank your check for twenty thousand dollars.'
+
+'No, no! You don't mean that! It is too much--you can not ask _that_!'
+gasped the great merchant.
+
+'Too much for the son of a man worth a million? Too much to pay for
+starving his mother, and turning him adrift at six years old? It is not
+enough! He must have _thirty_ thousand!'
+
+'You are mad, Mr. Kirke!' And he rose, and looked at me with a pleading
+face. 'I can not pay that amount down. It is impossible.'
+
+'David, how much has he in bank on private account?'
+
+Mr. Hallet cast a beseeching glance at his book-keeper; but without
+moving a muscle, the old man quietly replied: 'Fifty-three thousand.'
+
+'I knew you lied, Hallet. It is natural to you.'
+
+'But I can't let Frank go without Mr. Cragin's consent.'
+
+'I will arrange with Cragin. Sign the check and draw the paper at once,
+or I go.'
+
+'But give me time to think--see me to-morrow.'
+
+'I shall never exchange a word with you after to-night. You can have ten
+minutes--not a second more,' and I took out my watch to count the time.
+
+He seated himself at his desk, and rested his head on his hand for a
+moment; then turning to me, he said: 'You promise that this interview,
+and all that has passed, shall never be mentioned by you?'
+
+'I do--never to your injury.'
+
+'David, please write the check,' said the senior partner, as he
+proceeded himself to draw up the agreement. In a few minutes he handed
+it to me. It was short, and merely recited that the co-partnership which
+had theretofore existed between John Hallet, Augustus Cragin, and Henry
+F. Mandell, under the name and style of Russell, Rollins & Co., was on
+that day dissolved by mutual consent; said Mandell withdrawing, and
+assigning the control of all the assets of said firm to said Hallet and
+Cragin, and releasing to said Hallet any portion of its capital and
+profits to which he might be entitled.
+
+I read the document, and quietly handed it back. 'That will not do, Mr.
+Hallet. Thirty thousand dollars settles with _you_, his father. I have
+not, and _shall_ not make any settlement with the firm. David must pay
+Frank what is his due--no more, no less.'
+
+'But,' began Mr. Hallet.
+
+'I have nothing more to say on the subject, sir.'
+
+He drew a deep sigh. The parting with an only son, and with thirty
+thousand dollars, at one and the same time, affected him deeply. He
+might have borne the loss of the son; but the loss of so much money rent
+his small, black soul into fragments. However, he rewrote the paper, and
+passed it to me. It was all right; and when he had signed and David had
+witnessed it, I placed it in my pocket-book. Then, with a trembling
+hand, he handed me the check. It was drawn to my order; and I remarked,
+as I took it: 'This is not what I require, sir. I want your check,
+indorsed by David.'
+
+'This is most unaccountable, Mr. Kirke. Do you question my check for
+thirty thousand dollars?' he asked, his face flushing with anger.
+
+'Oh! no, sir, not at all; but you might stop its payment. With David's
+indorsement, you would not _dare_ to do it.'
+
+'I will indorse it,' said David; and he quietly proceeded to write
+another.
+
+That cold, hard, soulless man had a wife and children; but that old
+book-keeper was the only being in all this wide world that he loved!
+
+Placing the check with the other paper, I shook David by the hand, and
+bidding him 'good-night', passed down the old stairway.
+
+As Frank is the hero of my history, I will, in another chapter, go back
+some seventeen years, and tell the reader how he came to be under my
+control, and how he rose to be a partner in the great house of Russell,
+Rollins & Co.
+
+
+
+CORN IS KING.
+
+         Up among the Granite mountains,
+           By the Bay State strand,
+         Hark! the paean cry is sounding
+           Through all Yankee land.
+         'Wave the stars and stripes high o'er us,
+           Let every freeman sing,
+         In a loud and joyful chorus:
+           Brave young Corn is King!
+  Join, join, for God and freedom! Sing, Northmen, sing:
+  Old King Cotton's dead and buried: brave young Corn is King.'
+
+         Southward rolls the cry of gladness,
+           On past Washington;
+         Where the bond-slave stoops no longer,
+           But stands up, a Man!
+         O'er battle-fields of 'Ole Virginny,'
+           Floats the black man's song:
+         'Brudders, God is takin' vengeance
+           For de darky's wrong!
+  Shout, shout, for God and Freedom! Sing, darkies, sing!
+  Ole Massa Cotton's dead foreber: Young Massa Corn am King!'
+
+         Through the Mississippi valley,
+           Down the river's tide,
+         Hosts of patriots rush to rally
+           On their Country's side;
+         And across the green savannahs
+           Of the Southern clime,
+         Armies, under Union banners,
+           To this song keep time:
+  'March, march, for God and Freedom! Sing, soldiers, sing!
+  Pallid Cotton's dead and buried: Yellow Corn is King!'
+
+         Let the tidings swell o'er ocean
+           To another shore,
+         Till proud England pales and trembles
+           Where she scoffed before!
+         Ne'er again shall serpent-friendship
+           Rise to hiss and sting!
+         Cotton leagues no more with _Traitors_:
+           Honest Corn is King!
+  _Jubilate_! God and Freedom! Sing, Americans, sing
+  Tyrant Cotton's dead forever! Honest Corn is King!
+
+
+
+
+LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+     AMONG THE PINES. BY EDMUND KIRKE. New-York: J. R. Gilmore,
+     532 Broadway. 1862.
+
+Perhaps it is not altogether in rule to say much of a work which has
+appeared in our pages. But we may at least call attention to what others
+have said. And good authority--plenty of it, such authority as should
+make a reputation for any book--has declared _The Pines_ to be in truth
+a work of the highest merit and of a new order. It is a perfectly
+truthful record of scenes and characters drawn from personal experience
+in the South; combining the accuracy of Olmstead's works with the
+thrilling interest of _Uncle Tom_. It should be fairly stated--as the
+author desires it should be--that every thing did not occur precisely in
+the order in which it is here narrated. But all is _true_--every page
+speaks for itself in this particular. No stronger piece of local
+coloring ever issued from the American press. We seem, in reading it, to
+live in the South--to know the people who come before us. All of them
+are, indeed, life-portraits. In one or two instances, the very names of
+the originals remain unchanged.
+
+In it the author deals fairly and honorably with the South. The renegade
+Yankee, and not the native planter, is made to bear the heaviest blow.
+The principal character, Colonel J----, is one of nature's noblemen,
+struggling through aristocratic education and circumstance with an evil
+whose evil he cannot comprehend. Very valuable indeed are the sketches
+of life among the 'mean whites.' No descriptions of them to be compared
+with these in _The Pines_ have ever yet appeared. They rise clear as
+cameo-reliefs on a dark ground, and we feel that they too are like the
+slave-holder, victims like the slave, of a system, and not with him,
+deliberate wretches. Their squalor, ignorance, pride, and
+dependence--their whole social _status_, inferior to that of the blacks
+whom they despise, appear as set forth, we do not say by a master-hand,
+but _by themselves_.
+
+This work, tolerant and just, yet striking, has appeared at the right
+time. While interesting as a novel, it is full of solid, simple
+facts--it is based on them and built up with them. Without attempting to
+set forth a principle, it shows beyond dispute that slavery does not pay
+in the South as well as free labor would, and that the blacks would
+produce more as free laborers than as slaves. It shows that Emancipation
+for the sake of the White Man is a great truth, and that the white man
+would be benefited by raising the sense of independence in the black,
+and by elevating him in every way in which he is capable of improvement.
+
+It may be said with great truth of _The Pines_, that it would be
+difficult to find a book in which such striking facts and vivid pictures
+are set forth with such perfect simplicity of language. There is no
+effort at fine writing in it, and no consciousness of its absence. The
+author never seems to have realized that a story could be told for
+effect, and the natural result has been the most unintentional yet the
+strongest effect. The practical eye of one familiar with planks and
+turpentine, building and farming, business and furniture, economy and
+comfort, betrays itself continually. He sees how things could be
+bettered not as a mere philanthropist would try to see them, but as one
+who knows how capital ought to be employed, and he appreciates the fact
+that the sufferings of the people of every class in the South are really
+based on the _wastefulness_ of the present system. That this spirit
+should be combined with a keen observation of local humor, and in
+several instances with narratives imbued with deep pathos, is not,
+however, remarkable. The man who can most vividly set forth facts and
+transfer nature to paper, seldom misses variety.
+
+We rejoice that this work has met with such favorable reception from the
+public, and are happy to state that the author will continue his
+contributions to these columns. He has already, by a single effort,
+established a wide-spread reputation, and we know that he has that in
+him which will induce efforts of equal merit and a future which will be
+honorably recorded in histories of the literature of the present day.
+
+     THOMAS HOOD'S WORKS. Volume IV. Aldine Edition. Edited by
+     EPES SARGENT. New-York: G. P. Putnam. Boston: A. K.
+     Loring. 1862.
+
+No better paper, no better type, can be desired than what is lavished
+upon these beautiful editions of Putnam's works. It is a pleasure to
+touch their silky, Baskerville-feeling leaves, and think that one
+possesses in the series one more work _de luxe_, which 'any one' might
+be glad to own. The present consists of The Whims and Oddities, with
+the--originally--two volumes of National Tales: the former piquant and
+variously eccentric; the latter written in a quaint, old-fashioned
+style, which the editor compares justly to that of BOCCACCIO,
+yet which was really, till within some fifty years, so very common a
+form of narration, having so much in common with Spanish and French
+_nouvelettes_, that it is hardly worth while to suppose that
+HOOD followed the great. Italian at all. The whole work is one
+mass of entertainment, none the worse for having acquired somewhat of a
+game-y flavor of age, and for gradually falling a little behind the
+latest styles of humor. 'Mass! 'tis a merry book, and will make them
+merry who read it!'
+
+     THE WORKS OF THOMAS HOOD. Edited by EPES SARGENT.
+     Vol. V. New-York: G. P. Putnam. 1862.
+
+The present volume of Hood's writings is composed of dramatic sketches,
+odes, political satires, and miscellaneous pieces not generally
+contained in former collections of his works. Among these is the long
+and beautiful 'Lamia' in dramatic form; the 'Epping Hunt;' the poems of
+sentiment; the inimitable Odes and Addresses to Great People, and some
+scores of minor poems, mostly humorous, including, however, all of those
+on which his reputation as a true poet of the highest rank is based.
+Among these is the 'Lay of the Laborer,' a standing and bitter reproach
+to England--the England of millions of pounds of capital--the England of
+piety--the England of morality--the England of 'all the rights of man,'
+where there are more paupers and more miseries than in any other land on
+earth, and where there is accordingly the most social tyranny of any
+country.
+
+  'Ay, only give me work,
+    And then you need not fear
+  That I shall snare his worship's hare,
+    Or kill his grace's deer.'
+
+  'Where savage laws begrudge
+    The pauper babe its breath,
+  And doom a wife to a widow's life
+    Before her partner's death.'
+
+When England shall have turned aside the reproach of this poem, it will
+be time for her to abuse America as 'uncivilized.'
+
+     AGNES OF SORRENTO, By Mrs. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
+     Boston: Ticknor and Fields. 1862.
+
+If there be, at the present day, an ungrateful task for an intelligent
+reader or a conscientious reviewer, it is to be obliged to deal with a
+work whose whole compass is merely that of a second-rate romance
+inspired by rococo sentimentalism. We regret to speak thus of a book by
+so eminent a writer as Mrs. Stowe; but when any one at this time
+undertakes to build up a novel out of such material as cloisters, monks,
+and nuns, Beato Angelico and frankincense, cavaliers and Savonarola,
+with the occasional 'purple patch' of a rhyming Latin hymn--in short,
+when we see the long-exhausted melo-dramatic style, which was years ago
+thoroughly quizzed in 'Firmilian,' revived in the year 1862 in a work of
+fiction, we can not refrain from expressing sorrow that a public can
+still be found to welcome such a bouquet of faded and tattered
+artificial flowers. There is something, indeed, almost painfully amusing
+in the liberal use of perfectly exhausted and thoroughly hackneyed
+elements of popular romance which appear in every page of _Agnes of
+Sorrento_. A writer has said of the heroine, that 'she is one of those
+ethereal females, only encountered in romance, who dwell on the brink of
+exaltation, and never eat bread and butter without seeming to fly in the
+face of Divine Providence.' But this feebly expresses the worn-out
+ornamental piety of the work. It would require but very little
+alteration to become one of the most intensely amusing books of the age.
+
+     SEVENTH ANNUAL REPORT OF THE INSURANCE COMMISSIONERS OF THE
+     COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS.
+
+An interesting collection of documents, which will be read or examined
+with great pleasure by all who devote their attention to the rapidly
+maturing science of insurance, a science which perhaps combines in its
+range of material as much of the curious and useful as any other known;
+the whole tending to one great lesson: that every thing should be
+insured and that _no insurance should be taxed by Government_.
+
+     TWENTY-FOURTH ANNUAL REPORT OF THE BOARD OF EDUCATION.
+     Boston: William White. 1862.
+
+Apart from the vastly important testimony which these works bear to the
+efforts annually made in our good State in the cause of education--the
+great source, let us trust, of the politics to be--we seldom fail to
+find in them many useful hints as to the practical business of teaching,
+of which any writer on the subject would be glad to avail himself. Many
+such, at least, we detect in the volume before us, and sincerely trust
+that all will in due time bear their good fruit.
+
+     CONCORD FIGHT. By S. R. BARTLETT. Second edition.
+     Concord: Albert Tracy. Boston: Crosby, Nichols & Co. 1862.
+
+A poem of thirty-two pages, devoted to setting forth the incidents of
+Concord and Lexington fights, in the Revolutionary days, and therefore
+very appropriate to our own time. The 'plan' is excellent; the incidents
+well devised, while many little lyrical touches here and there are truly
+admirable. For instance, 'The White Cockade.'
+
+  'Firm hearts and true, strong bands to do,
+      For liberty;
+  The fierce old strain rings once again:
+      'Come death or victory!'
+
+  'The lips that woke the dawning note
+      Are passed away;
+  But the _echoes_ of the 'White Cockade'
+      Ring round our hills to-day.'
+
+Long may they ring, and long may the descendants of the men of '76 prove
+that they still hear in spirit 'the dawning notes.'
+
+
+
+
+EDITOR'S TABLE
+
+
+The English journals and statesmen, in their excessive anxiety to
+regulate every thing for the world in general and for America in
+particular, quite lose sight of the fact, that before interfering in a
+neighbor's affairs, it is best to know what the state of affairs may
+really be. Of late, we have seen these makers of public opinion making
+mischief through gross ignorance, to a degree well-nigh unparalleled in
+history. On the strength of flying rumors, unfinished events imperfectly
+reported, and through Secession slanders, their great leaders, both
+representative and editorial, have ventured to spread before the masses
+statements which must unavoidably tend to greatly exasperate and
+alienate the people of our respective nations. They are blindly running
+up scores of hatred, which at some day may call for fearful settlement.
+Their influence is very great on the rank-loving multitude in their own
+country--a multitude which, after all, is, in the majority, more
+miserable and nearly as ignorant as that of any realm in Europe, or even
+the East, for there are fewer paupers in Turkey or Syria than in wealthy
+England. Yet, quite unheeding this, they continue to express sympathy
+for the South, declare with Brougham that the bubble of Democracy has at
+length burst, and chuckle over every Northern defeat. All of which shall
+be duly remembered.
+
+The grossest error into which these men have fallen, is that of
+continually regarding our war not as a struggle between two great
+principles, or as an unavoidable necessity, but simply as a strife
+between two factions. Nearly every London editorial which we have seen
+for weeks proves this. 'What will the North gain if it conquers the
+South? What will the South make? What are WE to benefit by a
+victory of either?' It is perfectly natural, however, for a monarchy,
+virtually without 'politics,' devoid of great progressive ideas, and
+smothered by 'loyalty' and faith in an aristocracy, to see, as men did
+in the middle ages, nothing but a dispute of rival forces in every
+battle. It is 'Brown _vs_. Brown' to them, and nothing more. With the
+exception of Bright and his friends, no one in England seems to
+comprehend that our North has in itself the vital, progressive energy
+which _must_ give it victory--the same spirit which enables English
+civilization to gain on the Hindoo or the New-Zealander--the spirit of
+science and intelligence, which conquers ignorance.
+
+The fact that English statesmen can talk so calmly of the possibilities
+of Southern victory, and weigh with such equanimity the claims of the
+combatants, simply proves their ignorance of the real condition of the
+United States. And they _are_ indeed very ignorant of us. Perhaps
+ignorance and thoughtlessness were never more decidedly manifested than
+in Brougham's late rhodomontade on the failure of Democracy in this
+country. For, in fact, there is not difference enough between the
+representative _power_ of England and that of America to make a
+question. Between Commons and our House of Representatives--the most
+influential legislative bodies--there is no such great difference.
+English writers have asserted that our government is actually the
+strongest monarchy of the two, because our President possesses far
+greater power of patronage and personal influence than the Queen. The
+real difference is not between the forms of government, but between the
+innate flunkeyism of the Briton and the independence of the American.
+If we had the British government in every detail, and if John Bull were
+to adopt our system, the countries would stand where they were, and each
+gradually 'reform' itself, according to its ideas of reform, back into
+the old routine. The Englishman, needing 'my Lord' and 'Her Gracious
+Majesty,' and as unable to live without his golden calves of 'superiors'
+as bees are to exist without a queen, would soon create them; while the
+American blood, sprung from the republican Puritan, and developed into
+strength on a continent, would very soon, after a nine days' f�te to his
+new f�tish, kick it over, and instituting caucuses and primary
+ward-meetings, or 'town-meetings,' (a ceremony which no European in
+existence, save the Russian, is capable of properly managing,) would
+soon have all back again in the old road.
+
+Democracy among the 'Yankees' as well as all North-Americans who are
+free from a servile respect for simple rank and money, is something very
+different from that mere form which Brougham, and with him nearly all
+Europe, believe it to be. We are not Frenchmen, or Englishmen, or
+Orientals, to quietly sit down under any kind of government which chance
+may impose, and exclaim: 'It is fate.' Democracy with us is not the mere
+form which they imagine. It is, like the English government, like the
+German, like the Pachalik of the Oriental, something as much a part of
+us as our national physiognomy. A very great proportion of the
+Englishmen who come here, remain flunkeys to the end--an American, other
+than a soul-diseased disciple of Richmond sociology, or some weak
+brother or sister dazed by court ball-tickets--quite as generally remain
+a despiser of men who acknowledge other men as their betters by mere
+birth. A love of freedom is in our blood, in our life, in our habits. We
+are fond, it is true, of temporarily lionizing great people, but we soon
+reduce them to our own level. America has shaken down more eminencies
+into notorieties than any other country in the world--it is a severe and
+terrible ordeal for great foreigners. Our eagerness to behold them is
+simply a keen curiosity and a natural love of amusement which is soon
+appeased. An American would crowd foremost to see Queen Victoria for the
+first time in his life--the second opportunity would be neglected. But
+the London shop-keeper who has seen that lady perhaps hundreds of times,
+still rushes out in wild haste, with eyes wide open, to behold her when
+she drives past. 'They can never get enough of it.' As one of their own
+writers has observed, a London tradesman may have been swindled a
+hundred times by real or sham noblemen, and yet no sooner does some
+flaunting cheat with the _air noble_ enter his shop, than the cockney
+bows low and implores patronage with a cringing zeal only equaled by his
+'uppishness' to humbler customers.
+
+The truth simply is, that English thinkers wrongly judge our people to
+be like their own, and as capable of promptly submitting to acknowledged
+superiors. In the same blindness and ignorance, they see only two
+parties, equal in all respects in this war, and realize nothing of the
+innate vitality and irresistibly accretive power of free-labor, science,
+and progress, when brought into opposition with a conservatism which
+scorns every thing pertaining to the rights of the majority. Misled by
+their associations, they believe that the 'Aristocratic' party must
+triumph in the end, forgetting that even in their own country capital is
+gradually destroying the old land-marks which divided the privileged
+classes from the masses. We who virtually occupy a higher stand-point in
+history, though, perhaps, we are newer dwellers in our domain and not as
+yet as comfortable in it as they in theirs, can, however, afford to
+laugh at their opinions and threats. A nation, whose utmost effort could
+not raise above thirty thousand men for a war in which the point of
+honor between themselves and the French was at stake, is not the one to
+lay down laws to the American North, which could--probably without
+drafting--bring its million into the field. It is worth remembering
+that, had they sent us their Warrior, as they threatened after the Mason
+and Slidell difficulty, she would have met with the Monitor!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three hundred thousand men are wanted--and that right early!
+
+Let there be meetings, speeches, subscriptions--let every thing that is
+vigorous and impulsive and patriotic thrill the people forthwith: Let
+there be no lagging in the good cause. Never since the war begun was
+there a time when a fierce rally was more needed. We have it in our
+power to crush this rebellion to atoms, if the people will but once
+arouse in their might. Even this draft for three hundred thousand, when
+we come to portion it off among those remaining in our counties, becomes
+quite trifling.
+
+'More than shooting goes to making war.' All who are in the North can
+fight to good purpose, if they will, every man and woman of them, _do
+their best_ to raise soldiers, equip them and take care of their
+families.
+
+Men! rise up and go forth. You will acquire a patent of nobility by
+serving in this war, which will be worth more to you and yours in coming
+days than any title on earth. You go to great risks--but not to any
+thing which can outweigh the good you can do for this truly holy cause.
+Have you lived lives 'of no great account'--_now_ is the time to rise to
+a position--to be some body, and make your mark. Have you been a mere
+cipher in the great sum of life--a neglected trifle--now is the time to
+raise yourself to a real value. It can never be said of a man who served
+in this war that he was of no great account.
+
+Has your life been stained--by misfortune or your own faults? Now is the
+time to wipe out the old score and begin afresh. What cautious, timid
+Peace rejects as bad, bold, hearty War grasps at with eagerness and
+makes good and great.
+
+Are you poor, and dragging out a dull, base life, more sluggishly than
+your abilities deserve? Go to the war--in God's name, go to the war! Who
+knows what changes in life you may live through--what new opportunities
+may open before you! In that wide Southland lie a million homes, and
+there will be those left behind who--if you fight bravely--will give the
+matter no rest till you are richly rewarded. There is not a soldier in
+this war at this instant who is not acquiring what may be a fortune.
+_Somebody_ must occupy the lands left vacant in the South!
+
+Are you a lover? Make her proud of you.
+
+Do not fear the risks. That is a poor, wretched life which has never run
+the chances of death.
+
+  'Fast in battle the bullets fly,
+  But many a soldier the bullets pass by.'
+
+Arise all! Up, Guards, and at 'em! Let there be a general up-stirring
+and a hearty good-will in this matter. The enemy have brought every
+white man among them into the field--they are kept alive solely by the
+blacks. One tremendous effort, such as we are capable of making, would
+sweep them from the face of the earth. Another struggle and we reach the
+shore.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Many years ago, the South began to alienate itself from the Union, by
+blindly abusing every thing pertaining to the North as 'Abolition.' They
+wanted a grievance; they would have one, and so yelled 'Wolf! wolf!'
+till the wolf came in roaring earnest. In like manner, the Democratic
+dabblers in mischief are now yelling 'Radical,' abusing emancipation,
+and doing all in their power to hoist themselves into notoriety. They
+are determined to force separate parties into existence, and they will
+end by accomplishing their purpose, by being in a losing reactionary
+minority, which will bear the brand in later days of having been the
+most unprincipled, narrow-minded, and desperately selfish faction which
+this country has ever known.
+
+Gentle reader, accept the following from a friend in the quaint spirit
+in which it is written, and understand not by bad company aught that is
+evil--for if we read the word of the enigma, the 'bad' among her
+'friends of the future' is indeed goodness-that saving salt which is
+often found among many who are too hastily banned as lost in the world.
+So, we pray you, judge it kindly:
+
+
+FRIENDS OF THE FUTURE.
+
+'There is no real amusement except in bad company.'--_Italian Proverb_.
+
+
+Reprehensible but real sentiment of your humble servant, O dearly
+beloved reader! Your lips reprove me, but your heart forgives and
+sympathizes! And that heart rebels with mine against that adverse Past
+which has given to us so little of 'real amusement' from 'bad company,'
+and demands, like mine, reparation from the Future for the sufferings we
+have endured from unexceptionable and perfectly good company!
+
+The representative men and women of that small and select bad company,
+(who have made the desert of our lives to blossom with roses, violets,
+strawberries and cream,) how distinctly they stand out on the horizon of
+memory! I see them--I count them, as easily as those few stately pines
+on yonder hill-top--one, two, three, four, five, six, _seven_. No more?
+What! not a delightful eight? Who has translated the murmur of the
+summer wind among the pines as 'No more?' '_No more?_' Alas! to-day they
+give that answer to me, as I seek for one other in that bad and beloved
+company! 'But he cometh'--_adveniat_--he cometh in the future. O eighth!
+your morning will yet dawn.
+
+Welcome, O Friend of the Future I whatever thy sex. Welcome! whether in
+cashmere and graceful crinolineaments, or in gray-suit and
+_grecio_!--only be 'more of the same sort.' Heaven is _not_ so cruel! to
+give us five hundred dear twin-friends, on whom one has to tie five
+hundred different colored bows (I assure you, Monsieur, the
+ribbon-florists have this season produced _five hundred colors_) in
+order to distinguish one from another! Heaven would not do this cruel
+wrong without offering some apology--some mitigation.
+
+Ah! you sigh. Your heart, then, _does_ forgive me--I knew it would. Give
+me your hand, (such a soft, white hand!) I confess the proverb did
+_sound_ a little naughty, but it's not _really_ so. At all events, it is
+the _truth_--and, you know, we
+
+  'Can not tell a lie!' G. W.
+
+Ah! this hand, though soft and white, is no longer plump and
+unconscious; it has _suffered_! You, too, have been bored--ah! I _must_
+kiss it.
+
+  'I, too, am human.'
+
+I also have been bored! Come, now, you mistrust me no longer-and I--I
+love you! I _love_ you, and, therefore, I want to amuse you; perhaps, by
+Heaven's blessing, I may prove 'bad company' myself!
+
+For I can not but believe that somewhere in the purple Future, or latent
+amid the green leaves of the possible Fairy-dom, (in which some rich
+enchanter of an uncle is to lea-re us all an heritage,) there bide,
+waitingly, certain dear friends--delightful, daring, witty, and wicked
+creatures--like yourself, O reader I--with whom I am destined to be,
+spiritually, 'very much married indeed;' or if the expression sound too
+polygamatical, let me simply say _li�._ [For Heaven's sake, accept that
+as French, warm with an accent, and not as English, cold without one.]
+_Li�_ means 'bound'--anchored, so to speak, to an intimate in an
+amicable manner. And it is in their friendship--in their kind and tender
+words and courteous deeds, and winsome ways, that I most truly _live_.
+
+Where these dearmost ones may bide, I know not. Seven--yes--seven I have
+met, whom I cherish like diamonds of delight in the cotton of memory. It
+is worth noting, my dear, in this connection, that _sev-en_ is one of
+the conjugations in Turkish of the root _sev_, or 'loving,' and 'them
+old Turks,' you know--but I am digressing. Are there not still to come
+seven--yea, seventy times seven, (I have mislaid my Koran, in which the
+number is more accurately stated,) of my Friends of the Future!
+
+But I know what they are like. Oh! the charming, delightful wretches,
+how I enjoy looking at them--in fact, 'I admire to see' them--as they
+sweep along through the golden halls of my Schloss Dream-berg. Such nice
+clothes as they wear--the ducks! Such good things as they
+say--such--such--
+
+It is too warm to-day to attempt superlatives. It were better to
+drink--say, iced lemonade, in which--for you, dear reader--by some
+mistake a _little_ sherry has been cobblered. _Sherrare est humanum_.
+The Rabbis, we are told, forbade the children of Israel to puff the fire
+on the Sabbath with bellows, though they might keep it going by blowing
+through a straw. Wherefore, to this day, certain of the devout 'keep it
+a-going' by means of a straw--only by some strange mistake in
+interpretation, or by some vowel-points getting mislaid, they, instead
+of blowing _from_ them in the straw, suck _toward_ them. And their
+'society' is a large one.
+
+But we were talking of 'good company,' as they say in 'good
+society'--not of 'good society,' as they say in 'good company.' And,
+therefore, although _not_ 'a retired clergyman,' and devoutly hoping
+that my 'sands of life' are not by a very long while 'run out,' (for I
+want to see my future friends,) I would yet (without these advantages)
+offer you 'some slight relief,' and would seek to assuage your
+sufferings resulting from too much good company; and since we have so
+few friends in the past who have amused us, turn we our 'regards' to the
+possible
+
+
+FRIENDS OF THE FUTURE.
+
+First among whom is
+
+BAGNOLE
+
+
+  Face such as would-be Byron youths all crave,
+  Impenetrable, gloomy as the grave;
+  Voice, a 'French-gray,' the promise of the face,
+  You'd swear he thought to _laugh_, a deep disgrace.
+  Behold the mask of a bacchantine soul,
+  Drinking deep draughts from life's enchanting bowl.
+  Whether the bowl be from Cellini's hand.
+  If rude, still crowning it with Fancy's flowers,
+  Laughing at Time, and flirting with her Hours.
+  He is not pious, and to church won't go;
+  He says he _can't_--'tis so extremely slow.'
+  Bagnol�! with the 'goats' you're set apart'
+  And yet, how _can_ we wish a 'change of heart'
+  In one like thee--great-minded, brave, and true!
+  Ah! _what_ a world, if all were such as you!
+  But I forget--he's tender to the weak:
+  To the sad Magdalene he'll kindly speak
+  Words of _pure gold_--not that base metal thing
+  Which falls like lead and gives no friendly ring;
+  Opening the wound, to see if it is deep,
+  Arousing thought, to see if' tis asleep!
+  'Tendir and treue,' us Douglas was of old,
+  How far _they_ see, who call thee 'tame and cold'!
+  Tame! as a tiger: cold! as hot as flame!
+  _Where_ does he board, and what, oh! _what's_ his name?
+
+
+
+L'INCONNUE.
+
+  Dark Passion-flower, with keen mimosa-leaves,
+  Into my life your fate her shuttle weaves.
+  How long those wistful eyes have haunted mine--
+  Brown eyes of earth--they have no light divine.
+  Brown eyes! ye fill my soul with burning love--
+  No Pantheon soul--lighted from above!
+  O sister mine! you'll come to me at last--
+  _That_ shall atone for all our weary past.
+  So pure thou art, with soul so joyous, _free_.
+  The world could not forgive--and hated thee!
+  To be 'unlike the world,' is thy dark sin.
+  You or 'the world'? the 'you' my heart shall win.
+  Within that shrine, so delicately fair,
+  Burns a bright spirit which 'a world' can dare;
+  She mocks 'the world,' but she would _die_ for _me_.
+  Her heart is fathomed by eternity;
+  And yet she's always 'in the fashion' dressed,
+  And 'wants a cashmere,' (she to me confessed.)
+  Oh! you can see her, almost any day,
+  Hat of pale violet, dress of silver-gray.
+  She goes to parties and the 'Music-Hall;'
+  She eats her dinner, and she gives a ball.
+  You nod and smile: '_We know her now--we see_!'
+  Perhaps! Alas! she's _quite_ _un_known to me!
+
+MARIE.
+
+  How can I tell you if her face be fair,
+  While the gay sunshine of her smile is there?
+  How can I tell you of a brilliant mind,
+  When every word she speaks is angel-kind?
+  Need I describe her voice, so melting sweet?
+  Or the small mouth, which is its passage meet!
+  I only know, while for her voice I wait,
+  I see fair pearls behind that rosy gate.
+  But when she speaks, her diamond-wit's so bright,
+  All other beauties vanish from our sight.
+  No need for _her_ to fear 'the world's rebuff!
+  Too much of Marie's always just enough I
+  She is 'bad company,' yet e'en 'the good'
+  Can find no flaw in her fair maidenhood.
+  The saints don't doubt that she is in _their_ fold--
+  It makes me laugh to think how they are 'sold.'
+  _Nice_, _naughty_ folks are _sure_, she's of _their_ creed,
+  Yet she's no hypocrite, in word or deed.
+  What _is_ she, then--this gem without a flaw?
+  She is--she is--a maid-en made of 'straw'!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Reader, have you in your house a _vivarium_ or _aquarium_, or any other
+variety of animal curiosity-shop, under care of the younger members? If
+so, the subjoined sketch may awaken in your mind more than one vivid
+souvenir, We know, at all events, that some of its 'features' were
+founded on facts; that is, if a 'feature' can be 'founded.' However, we
+take the phrase from--but no, we are sufficiently abused by the
+Democratic editors, as it is.
+
+EDITOR OF THE CONTINENTAL: Among the lesser joys of maternity,
+that of having your children interested in a vivarium is one of the
+least--in fact, it is an elephantine sorrow.
+
+James, my eldest son, is a genius; before he was twelve years old, he
+invented a rat-trap, which not only caught rats, but cut off their tails
+and--let them go. At thirteen, he spoke Italian so fluently that he
+caused a hand-organ grinder to throw a brick at him. At fourteen, he
+came home one day with six large panes of glass, some tin and putty, and
+made a vivarium, a thing full of mud, water, leeches, dirty weeds, and
+other improvements.
+
+When James had finished his glass case, he placed it in the front
+drawing-room window, so that the public might behold that exquisite
+process of nature, tadpoles turning into spring water-chickens, as they
+call frogs on hotel bill of fares. Unfortunately, the gold fish he put
+in with them killed the tadpoles while they still wiggled, and a
+pickerel that he had bought of a fellow-school-boy for half-price, its
+tail being ragged, ate up the gold-fish.
+
+If at any time vegetables bought for the table were missing, we all knew
+where they went to; in fact, that vivarium, from the time green peas
+came until cabbages were ripe, resembled a _soupe � la Jardini�re_, and
+in summer-time a second course of boiled fish might easily have been
+found there.
+
+One evening, when I had a little company, and while Fanny Schell was
+singing an aria, he caused her to conclude with an unusually high
+scream, by announcing at the top of his voice, while he pointed to the
+vivarium:
+
+  'Ma, the leeches have all crawled out!'
+
+Imagine the feelings my little company had the rest of the evening.
+
+I shall never forget the fright James gave me one hot night in July; it
+was Saturday, I remember well, for that was one of my son's holidays,
+and he returned home toward night unusually covered with mud, from a
+long walk in the country, evidently having been taking practical lessons
+in ditching. He was so very quiet after he returned, that I might have
+known he was in mischief. However, when his bed-time came, he kissed me
+good-night, and said:
+
+'O ma! I have such a surprise for you in the morning.'
+
+Unfortunately, I had the surprise that night. Business called my husband
+away from the city that morning, and I was alone. Waking up from a sound
+sleep about midnight, I distinctly heard somebody working on an anvil,
+like a blacksmith, 'ching-a-ling! ching-a-ling!' It evidently came from
+the drawing-room, and my fears at once told me it was a thief trying to
+break into the house. Next I heard some one whistle, like a man calling
+a dog, 'wheh! wheh! wheh!' Finally a dog barking, 'woo, woo, wooh!'
+Thoroughly alarmed, I sprang to the front-window, and called: 'Police!
+thieves!' until I managed to arouse the neighbors. I had the key of the
+front-door in my chamber; this I threw down to a police-officer, and in
+company with two others he boldly entered the house, lit the gas, and
+found--that vivarium full of bull-frogs!
+
+My son banished the frogs and introduced cat-fish, (or, as they call
+them in Boston, 'horn-pouts.') One night, my great Angora cat, a cat
+born in the Rue de Seine, educated in the best French _�cole des
+chattes_, and brought to this country by my husband, fell a victim to
+_la gourmandise_, by falling into the vivarium while fishing for
+cat--horn-pout--fish. James found her there in the morning, drowned,
+and partially eaten up by those she had hoped to eat. She went into the
+_boudoir_ to Pout, and 'had done it.'
+
+That finished the vivarium. I sincerely hope these trials to mothers
+will never again become the rage, and that something dry will next tempt
+our children's mania for home amusements. CORNELIA.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'The Kansas John Brown Song,' which lately appeared in these columns,
+and which we credited to the Kansas _Herald_--following the lead of the
+newspaper where we found it--was written by the Rev. William W. Patton,
+of Chicago, for the _Tribune_ of that city.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Though so often trampled down by the heel of patriotism, the old serpent
+of treason and disunion still keeps lifting his head and hissing
+venomously. In New-York, Fernando Wood--that incarnation of Northern
+secession--the man who dared to issue a proclamation recommending the
+inhabitants of the city of which he was mayor to go off with the South,
+is plotting and planning (unpunished, of course) with spirits of kindred
+baseness, to build up the old order and reestablish the rule of
+corruption. At Washington, all the timid, time-serving, and place-hoping
+members of Congress have been holding 'Conservative' meetings, at which
+the most insolent or timid propositions have been put forth; some of the
+traitors manifesting clear as day their undisguised sympathy for the
+rebels, others speaking only to preserve their tattered characters as
+Unionists. The upshot of all was given in a resolution that Congress has
+no power to deprive a person of his property, unless that person has
+been duly convicted by a trial by jury.
+
+We are not through the war as yet. Possibly, ere the end come, the
+country may have something to say as to the propriety of our
+representatives holding meetings to protect and favor rebels in their
+'rights.'
+
+WHAT'S in a name? There was a great puzzle once in _one_ name,
+as appeareth from the following:
+
+     DEAR SIR: In a certain village not unknown to you,
+     dwelleth one Alwright.
+
+     It is a good thing to have a good name. His, you observe, is
+     'petter as goot.'
+
+     Not long ago, A. went to an auction and bought things.
+
+     'What name, sir?' inquired the man with the hammer.
+
+     'Alwright.'
+
+     'What NAME, I say?' was the irritated reply.
+
+     'ALWRIGHT, I say.'
+
+     'All wrong, you mean. 'Spect you'll make it all right in the
+     morning, hey?'
+
+     'AL-WRIGHT!' cried the purchaser.
+
+     'Yes, all right!' cried the crowd, taking the joke. 'All right-go
+     ahead, old knock 'em down.'
+
+     The auctioneer began to be profane.
+
+     'A-L, Al,' began Alwright.
+
+     'Hold your tongue! Go----' continued the auctioneer.
+
+     'A-L Al, W-R-I-G-H-T wright,' continued the
+     buyer.
+
+     'O--h, thunder!' exclaimed Hammer, on whom the laughter of the mob
+     began to operate. 'That's it, is it! Beg pardon. James, put this
+     gentleman's name down. All right, sir. Go ahead. Gentlemen, allow
+     me to call your attention to this fine lot of leather. Did I hear
+     twenty-five?--five--five--five--an' an' a ha'f, an' a ha'f, an' a
+     ha'f--gone!'
+
+     Yours truly,
+
+     CONSTANT READER.
+
+There is often some fun at auctions. One of the queerest ever reported
+to us was held in a French-Spanish be-Germanized village on the
+frontier, where business was transacted in something of a polyglott
+manner, as follows:
+
+     'Gentlemen-Messieurs-Senores y meine Herrne, I've got here for
+     sale--a vender--a vendre zum verkaufen eine Sch�ne B�chse a
+     first-rate rifle un fusil sans pareil, muy hermosa! Do I hear fifty
+     pesos, cinquante Thaler ge-bid pour this here bully gun? Caballeros
+     mira como es aplatado--all silvered up, in tip-top style--c'est de
+     l'argent fin messieurs--s'ist alles von gutem Silber, Gott
+     verdammich wenn's nicht echt is. Cinquante piastres, f�nfzig,
+     f�nfzig, fifty do I hear, and a half an' a half an' a half e un
+     demi piastre un d'mi un d'mi ein halb' und ein halb' und ein halb'
+     un medio y tin medio--wer sagt six shillins, six escalins, six
+     escalins, seis reales, sechs schillin!? For this beautiful gun,
+     good for Injuns, deer, bar, buffalo, or to kill one another
+     with--madre Dios! bueno por matar los Americanos--first-rate to
+     kill a Greaser--womit Sie alles was nicht Deutsch ist zu todten.
+     Fifty-one dollars, thanky sir--cinquante deux--Merci, Monsieur! Wer
+     sagt drei und f�nfzig--ich glaube dass ein Deutscher bekommt's noch
+     am Ende. Go it, Yankee, Dutch is a-gainin' on ye! and a half an' a
+     half e trois quar' r' r' an' three quarters und drei Viertel y tres
+     quartos--quelqu'un a dit fifty-three--fifty-_four_--going, going,
+     gone, sir--at fifty-four--America ahead and Frenchy second-best.'
+
+It would take some time, we should think, to be able to reel it off in
+such a quadruple thread.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two 'after-Norse' poems are ours this month-the first from an esteemed
+Philadelphia correspondent--the second from another of the same State,
+but more inland. The following, we may observe, is written in the
+measure which most prevails in Icelandic poems:
+
+
+THE VIKINGS.
+
+  Through the brown waters
+    Dash the swift prows;
+  At the helm Valor stands,
+    Death at the bows:
+  Vainly the foeman shrinks,
+    Palsied in fright,
+  Vain are his struggles, yet
+    Vainer his flight.
+
+  Triple defenses--
+    Fire, water, and steel,
+  Guard the gate of the West
+    From the Northerner's keel.
+  Though defiant at midnight,
+    Ere morning the wrath
+  Of the terrible sea-kings
+    Has leveled a path.
+
+  Rampart and heavy gun
+    From o'er the bay,
+  Whose broad waters stretch
+    'Twixt the ships and their prey:
+  But shattered the rampart lies,
+    Silent the gun,
+  As the circle of living fire
+    Madly rolls on.
+
+  Wide yawn the timbers,
+    Wild waters rush in,
+  As the ship settles fast
+    Mid the fierce battle-din:
+  Yet her guns hurl defiance,
+    As, stern to the last,
+  The sea sucks her in
+    With her flag on the mast.
+
+  Sons of the Northman,
+    Whose banner of old
+  Spread the shadow of terror
+    From each grisly fold,
+  Of his broad heritage
+    Worthy are ye:
+  Win it and wear it well,
+    Kings of the sea.
+
+
+The next 'Norse' is longer. We find in it a brave ring of true poetry:
+
+
+1861.
+
+  'Oh! dark and true and tender is the North.'
+
+  Loud leaps the strong wind forth,
+  Fierce from the caves of the mighty North,
+          Ages untold,
+          O'er town and wold,
+  That rest 'neath a softer sky,
+  Swept that blast in anger by,
+  And in his wrathful eddies bore
+  The fiery song of Odin and Thor.
+      Then little avail,
+        'Gainst the Vi-king's arm,
+      The maiden's tear, the warrior's mail,
+        Or the priestman's charm.
+  And o'er the bright South-land
+    A shadow of dread was the North wind's course,
+  Whene'er his surging currents fanned
+    The raven banner of the Norse.
+
+  Years pass, and time new rays has brought,
+    Yet still the Northman's heart is warm;
+  But light on his soul a change has wrought,
+    And he loves the calm as he loved the storm.
+
+  Another god than the fearful Thor
+  In heaven's blue he saw,
+  And he gave to Peace his might in war--
+  His anger to the law.
+
+  And the strong hand holds the sickle now,
+    The anvil rings at morn;
+  And waving sunbeams tinge with gold
+    The hues of the ripening corn.
+
+  And the land he loves in peace has grown
+    To be mighty in wealth and name;
+  But o'er its brightness a cloud has flown,
+    And evil men to its councils came.
+
+  And all seemed locked in a deadly sleep,
+    While treason walked in her halls of state,
+  And good men grieve, but hopeless weep,
+    And the song of the scoffer is loud at the gate.
+
+  'The nation must pass away.
+    For the Northman's blood is cold,
+  And little he recks of honor or name,
+    If his hand may clutch the gold.
+
+  'Work treason--work your will--
+    Divide our Fatherland;
+  Hearts are craven, souls are base--
+    'Tis fit for the traitor's hand.
+
+  'Fear no more the Northman's rage,
+    The blood of the Vi-kings is old and worn;
+  No ancient mem'ry can stir him now,
+    To stand by the flag his fathers have borne.'
+
+      The words half-sung in silence fall,
+      Hushed in dread by a mightier call,
+
+  That stays the hand--that throbs the heart;
+    Cleaving the gloom, that wild war-note--
+  The traitor's foot is on your flag,
+    His bayonet at our throat.
+
+  And hark! the North-wind's sullen moan
+  Rises high to a sterner tone,
+  That sinks away, then bursts anew
+  In joy, as 'mid its surges grew
+  The shout, the stroke, the cannon's peal,
+    The tread of countless number.
+  For the flash of a traitor's steel
+    Has broken the nation's slumber;
+  And sighing breeze and southern gale,
+    Seized by the fierce wind's grasp, are torn
+  From gentle haunt by hill or dale,
+  And in the whirling vortex borne.
+  There murm'ring on his hollow breast,
+  And wond'ring at his wild unrest,
+  Their shrieking echoes sounding far,
+  Loud swelled the Northman's shout to war;
+  For with death's dark shadows flitting by,
+    And the day as dark as night,
+  A nation's hands are raised on high
+    To hold their ancient right.
+  And the ages are rolled from the record of time;
+    For the years of peace with its soft'ning beam,
+  That soothed in love the Northman's heart,
+    Are now but the mists of a warrior's dream.
+  And the tinsel of life is burned in the glow
+  That flames in his heart as in years long ago,
+  When Norman sea-kings swept the wave,
+  Who loved the night, the storm, and bloody grave.
+
+  And through all the blue of heaven's vault,
+    Rolls the Vala's mystic charm,
+  Swelled with strains of the mighty past--
+    Victory strikes with the Northman's arm.
+
+                                            F.
+
+
+Truly the old Northman is not dead among us. He lived in the iron
+Monitor, of the descendant of Eric, and he lives in scores of thousands
+of brave hearts and strong arms who came and are still coming to the
+battle-call:
+
+      'Northmen, come out!
+  Forth into battle with storm and shout,
+  He who lives with victory's blest;
+  He who dies gains peaceful rest.
+  Living or dying, let us be
+  Still vowed to God and liberty!
+      Northmen, come out!'
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The following poem is certainly _not_ behind the times:
+
+
+PAYING THE SHOT.
+
+BY J. IVES PEASE.
+
+  Yes, pay them! pay them in their chosen coin,
+    Bomb-shell and cannon-balls, well served and hot;
+  Ay, 'shell out' all the treasures of 'the mine,'
+    Since that's the way we've got to 'pay the shot.'
+
+  We 'owe them _one_!' and now's the time to settle,
+    And finish up the business to a dot;
+  A half a million _men_, upon their _metal_,
+    Accounts will soon square off, and 'pay the shot.'
+
+  We owe them one; but 'tisn't one for niggers;
+    Master or slave no more shall treason plot.
+  We've settled _that_ account with steel and triggers,
+    And the two millions, daily, 'pay the shot.'
+
+  We owe them one for hemp, that, coil on coil,
+    Judge Lynch has tendered us, in noose and knot;
+  We've now a sort that's grown upon free soil,
+    That, properly paid out, soon 'pays the shot.'
+
+  There's a snug sum due on the Sumner books;
+    _That_ must be paid, each tittle and each jot;
+  A good accountant no mistake e'er brooks,
+    But _strikes his balance_ fair, and 'pays the shot.'
+
+  There's some old 'scores,' on tar-and-feather martyrs,
+    We've now the 'devil to pay,' the 'pitch all hot;'
+  In every Jack-tar, Jeff now finds a Tar-tar,
+    Bound to 'pitch in,' and bound to 'pay the shot.'
+
+  So, onward, mudsills! fanatics! vandals! vipers!
+    Wipe out this treason _now_, nor leave one blot;
+  When Dixie dances, Dixie must 'pay the piper;'
+    Enough for 'U. S.' that we must 'pay the shot.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+War stories and war songs are in vogue--for instance:
+
+
+MY JOHNNY IS GONE FOR A SOLDIER.
+
+The accomplished, fascinating, talented, and beautiful Miss H----, as
+Jinkings calls her in his last Saratoga letter, has engaged her
+affections to Mr. John G----, and they are to be married some time. In
+the mean time, she has done all in her power to induce her lover to go
+and fight the battles of his country; so far unsuccessfully, since Mr.
+John G---- deems it his duty to stay at home and keep things steady,
+especially billiards, which, as we all know, is an erratic game,
+requiring great watching.
+
+The other evening, Miss H----, while assisting at a sociable at Madame
+V----'s, was asked to sing. Seated at the piano, to the horror of
+expectant hearers of classic music, she began, with loudest voice, to
+sing:
+
+  'I'll trace these gardins o'er and o'er,
+  A med-i-tating on atche swate flowir,
+  A thinking on each bewcheous hour;
+  Oh! Johnny is gone for a sol-di-er.'
+
+She then put her handkerchief to her eyes, pretended to sob bitterly,
+arose from the piano-stool, and sought an arm-chair.
+
+Solicited by her confidential friend, Miss Belrose, to confide her
+affliction, she only answered:
+
+'Oh! my Johnny G----'s gone for a soldier--to play billiards with him!
+And--and I know that that fast Lieutenant Gamble will keep him there for
+hours and hours.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Young gentlemen, this is the time for bullets and not for balls; for
+cannons and not caroms; for rifle-pits to hole yourselves in, and not
+for 'pockets' wherein to hole your adversary. _Apropos_ of which, listen
+to
+
+
+THE WRONG KIND OF A BAND.
+
+Colonel X---- raised a regiment in the Ri-too-lal Rural districts of
+New-Jersey, including a by no means bad brass band.
+
+Arrived in Washington with his force, he was unfortunate enough to meet
+with a wag, who at once told him he was afraid that he, the Colonel,
+would meet or rather come to grief shortly.
+
+'How so?' asked Colonel X---- excitedly.
+
+'H'm!' answered the wag, 'don't you see that those rural musicians of
+yours will be regarded as country-band of war?'
+
+The Colonel saw it!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Do our readers remember a beautiful poem on Gottschalk's playing--_Los
+ojos Criollos_--which appeared some time since in the _Home Journal_?
+They will not regret to see a lyric in our pages by the writer of the
+first referred to:
+
+
+THE OLD SURGEON'S STORY.
+
+BY ELEANOR C. DONELLY.
+
+  'Twas in a Southern hospital, a week ago or more,
+  (God save us! how the days drag on, these weary times of war!)
+  They brought me, in the sultry noon, a youth whom they had found
+  Deserted by his regiment upon the battle-ground,
+  And bleeding his young life away through many a gaping wound.
+
+  'Dark-haired and slender as a girl, a handsome lad was he,
+  Despite the pallor of his wounds, each one an agony.
+  A ball had carried off his arm, and zig-zag passage frayed
+  Into his chest--so wild a rent that, when it was displayed,
+  I, veteran surgeon that I was, turned white as any maid.
+
+  ''There is no hope?' he slowly said, noting my changing cheek;
+  I only shook my head: I dare not trust myself to speak;
+  But in that wordless negative, the boy had read his doom,
+  And turned about, as best he could, and lay in silent gloom,
+  Watching the summer sunlight make a glory of the room.
+
+  ''My little hero!' said a voice, and then a woman's hand
+  Lay like a lily on his curls: 'God give you self-command!'
+  'Mother!'--how full that thrilling word of pity and alarm--
+  'You here? my sweetest mother here?' and with his one poor arm
+  He got about her neck and drew her down with kisses warm.
+
+  ''All the long, sultry night, when out--'(He shuddered as he said)--
+  'On yonder field I lay among the festering heaps of dead;
+  With awful faces close to mine, and clots of bloody hair,
+  And dead eyes gleaming through the dusk with such a rigid stare;
+  Through all my pain, O mother mine! I only prayed one prayer.
+
+  ''Through all my pain--(and ne'er I knew what suffering was before!)--
+  I only prayed to see your face, to hear your voice once more;
+  The cold moon shone into my eyes--my prayer seemed all in vain.'
+  'My poor deluded boy!' she sobbed; her mother-fount of pain
+  O'erflowing down her gentle cheeks in drops like thunder-rain.
+
+  ''Accursed be he whose cruel hand has wrought my son such ill!'
+  The boy sprang upright at the word, and shrieked aloud, 'Be still!
+  You know not what you say. O God! how shall I tell the tale!
+  How shall I smite her as she stands!' and with a moaning wail
+  He prone among the pillows dropped, his visage ashen pale.
+
+  ''It was a bloody field,' he said, at last, like one who dozed;
+  'I know not how the day began--I know not how it closed;
+  I only know we fought like fiends, begrimed with blood and dust,
+  And did our duty to a man, as every soldier must,
+  And gave the rebels ball for ball, and paid them thrust for thrust.
+
+  'But when our gallant General rode up and down the line,
+  The sunlight striking on his sword until it flashed like wine,
+  And cried aloud (God bless his lips!) with such a cheery laugh,
+  'Charge bayonets, boys! Pitch into them, and scatter them like chaff!'
+  One half our men were drunk with blood, and mad the other half.
+
+  ''My veins ran fire. O Heaven! hide the horrors of that plain!
+  We charged upon the rebel ranks and cut them down like grain.
+  One bright-haired man ran on my steel--I pierced him through and through;
+  The blood upspirted from his wound and sprinkled me like dew.
+  'Twas strange, but as I looked I thought of Cain and him he slew.
+
+  ''Some impulse moved me to kneel down and touch him where he fell,
+  I turned him o'er--I saw his face--the sight was worse than hell!
+  _There lay my brother_--Curse me not!--pierced by _my_ bayonet!'
+  O Christ! the pathos of that cry I never shall forget--
+  Men turned away to hide their tears, for every eye was wet.
+
+  'And the hard-featured woman-nurse, a sturdy wench was she,
+  Dropped down among us, in a swoon, from very sympathy.
+  'I saw his face, the same dear face which once (would we had died
+  In those old days of innocence!) was ever by my side,
+  At bed or board, at school or play, so fresh and merry-eyed!
+
+  ''And now to see it white and set--to know the deed was mine!
+  A madness seized me as I knelt, accursed in God's sunshine.
+  I did not heed the balls which fell around us thick as rain,
+  I did not know my arm was gone;
+  I felt nor wound nor pain,
+  I only stooped and kissed those lips which ne'er would speak again.
+
+  ''O Louis!' (and the lad looked up and brushed a tear aside,)
+  'O Louis! brother of my soul! my boyhood's fearless guide!
+  By the bright heaven where thou stand'st--by thy big-hearted faith--
+  By these the tears our mother sheds--by this my failing breath--
+  Forgive me for that murd'rous thrust which wounded thee to death.
+
+  ''Forgive me! I would yield my life to give thee thine, my brother!
+  What's this? Don't shut the sunlight out; I can not see my mother.
+  The air blows sweet from yonder field!
+  Dear Lou, put up your sword.
+  Let's weave a little daisy-chain
+  upon this pleasant sward--'
+  And with a smile upon his mouth, the boy slept in the Lord.'
+
+Such are the tragedies of civil war, the fearful probability of such
+events. But who has not heard of families with sons in either army,
+especially on the border, in Philadelphia, and Baltimore? We have heard
+_seven_ such instances enumerated by one lady of the former city. Let us
+turn from tragedy to comedy:
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CAPPED THE CLIMAX.
+
+The ladies of Christopher's Church, Philadelphia, have worked like
+true-hearted women for the wounded soldiers. Many a poor fellow has
+blessed them for their contributions to alleviate his pain and make the
+old hospital comfortable for him. In the congregation, one elderly
+maiden lady, who had so far given nothing, was called on by one of her
+energetic sisters in the church, and implored to do something for the
+poor soldiers. She was told that any thing that would render their
+sufferings less would be gratefully received.
+
+She promised to send a donation. Nothing more was heard from her for a
+couple of weeks, when one morning the ladies assembled in the
+vestry-room of the church received a large basket from the elderly
+maiden lady. On opening it, they found three dozen starched muslin,
+night-cape, with frills all round them, bows and long strings.
+
+'Did you ever?' asked Miss G----. 'I declare Miss---- has set her Caps
+for the soldiers in earnest this time.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We select the following as the best proposed completion of the
+unfinished poem by Fitz-James O'Brien, published in our July number:
+
+     _Detroit, Mich., June 22d, 1862._
+
+     EDITORS OF CONTINENTAL: As you do not give the conclusion
+     of that 'Watching the Stag,' I propose to finish it in this wise:
+
+  'Watching my face with half-closed eyes,'
+  As I lean my head on the dappled stag
+  That stiffens beneath a windward crag.
+
+  His flanks are black with the hardened sweat,
+  And a film has clouded his eye of jet;
+  While a round, red wound that oozes still,'
+  Tells of his fate and my marksman's skill.
+
+  Oh! the granite crags shall no longer feel
+  His fleet hoofs ringing like steel on steel,
+  And shepherd shall never again espy
+  His antlers painted against the sky!
+
+  The mountain tarn, so lone and cold,
+  The delicate shadow no more shall hold;
+  The fleetness has died in each rigid limb,
+  And never shall dun hound follow him!
+
+  Stanch Hela blinks as she half recalls
+  That savage chase through the mountain-walls,
+  And growls as she dreams how her white teeth sank
+  With a thirsty grip in his shuddering flank.
+
+  Dream on, good dog! through the night so chill,
+  Till sunrise surges over the hill,
+  Till the heather glows and the peaks are gay,
+  And then for our mountain-home hurra!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We are indebted to L. H. Brook, of Cambridge for a version of
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MARGARET'S SONG.
+
+FROM 'FAUST.'
+
+  Meine Ruh' ist hin,           My peace is gone;
+  Mein Herz ist schwer,         My heart is sore;
+  Ich finde sie nimmer          I find it never
+  Und nimmermehr.               And nevermore.
+
+  Wo ich ihn nicht hab',        Where him I crave,
+  Ist mir das Grab;             To me's the grave;
+  Die gauze Welt                The world and all
+  Ist mir verg�llt.             Seems turned to gall.
+
+  Mein armer Kopf               My wretched head
+  Ist mir verr�ckt,             Seems going mad;
+  Mein armer Sinn               My wretched mind
+  Ist mir zerst�ckt.            Is torn and sad.
+
+  Nach ihm nur schau' ich       For him I look
+  Zum Fenster hinaus,           The casement out;
+  Nach ihm nur geh' ich         Him only seek
+  Aus dem Haus.                 The town about.
+
+  Sein hoher Gang,              His lofty step,
+  Sein' edle Gestalt.           His noble form;
+  Seines Mundes L�cheln,        The smile of his mouth,
+  Seiner Augen Gewalt.          His eye's strong charm.
+
+  Und seiner Rede               And in his voice
+  Zauberfluss,                  The magic bliss,
+  Sein H�ndedruck,              His clasping hand,
+  Und ach! sein Kuss.           And ah! his kiss.
+
+  Meine Ruh' ist hin,           My peace is gone;
+  Mein Herz ist schwer,         My heart is sore;
+  Ich finde sie nimmer          I find it never
+  Und nimmermehr.               And nevermore.
+
+  Mein Busen dr�ngt             My bosom swells
+  Sich nach ihm hin;            Toward him when near
+  Ach! d�rft' ich fassen        Ah! might I fold
+  Und halten ihn!               And hold him there!
+
+  Und k�ssen ihn                And could I kiss him
+  So wie ich wollt',            While I may,
+  An seinen K�ssen              Upon his kiss
+  Vergehen sollt'!              I'd die away!
+
+
+
+THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Continental Monthly has passed its experimental ordeal, and stands
+firmly established in popular regard. It was started at a period when
+any new literary enterprise was deemed almost foolhardy, but the
+publisher believed that the time had arrived for just such a Magazine.
+Fearlessly advocating the doctrine of ultimate and gradual Emancipation,
+for the sake of the UNION and the WHITE MAN, it has found favor in
+quarters where censure was expected, and patronage where opposition only
+was looked for. While holding firmly to its _own opinions_, it has
+opened its pages to POLITICAL WRITERS _of widely different views_, and
+has made a feature of employing the literary labors of the _younger_
+race of American writers. How much has been gained by thus giving,
+practically, the fullest freedom to the expression of opinion, and by
+the infusion of fresh blood into literature, has been felt from month to
+month in its constantly increasing circulation.
+
+The most eminent of our Statesmen have furnished THE CONTINENTAL many of
+its political articles, and the result is, it has not given labored
+essays fit only for a place in ponderous encyclopedias, but fresh,
+vigorous, and practical contributions on men and things as they exist.
+
+It will be our effort to go on in the path we have entered, and as a
+guarantee of the future, we may point to the array of live and brilliant
+talent which has brought so many encomiums on our Magazine. The able
+political articles which have given it so much reputation will be
+continued in each issue, together with the new Novel by Richard B.
+Kimball, the eminent author of the 'Under-Currents of Wall-Street,' 'St,
+Leger,' etc., entitled,
+
+WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?
+
+An account of the Life and Conduct of Hiram Meeker, one of the leading
+men in the mercantile community, and 'a bright and shining light' in the
+Church, recounting what he did, and how he made his money. This work
+excels the previous brilliant productions of this author. In the present
+number is also commenced a new Serial by the author of 'Among the
+Pines,' entitled,
+
+A MERCHANT'S STORY,
+
+which will depict Southern _white_ society, and be a truthful history of
+some eminent Northern merchants who are largely in 'the cotton trade and
+sugar line.'
+
+The UNION--The Union of ALL THE STATES--that indicates our politics. To
+be content with no ground lower than the highest--that is the standard
+of our literary character.
+
+We hope all who are friendly to the spread of our political views, and
+all who are favorable to the diffusion of a live, fresh, and energetic
+literature, will lend us their aid to increase our circulation. There is
+not one of our readers who may not influence one or two more, and there
+is in every town in the loyal States some active person whose time might
+be profitably employed in procuring subscribers to our work. To
+encourage such to act for us we offer the following very liberal
+
+TERMS TO CLUBS.
+
+  Two copies for one year,      Five dollars.
+  Three copies for one year,    Six dollars.
+  Six copies for one year,      Eleven dollars.
+  Eleven copies for one year,   Twenty dollars.
+  Twenty copies for one year,   Thirty-six dollars.
+
+PAID IN ADVANCE.
+
+_Postage, Thirty-six Cents a year_, TO BE PAID BY THE SUBSCRIBER.
+
+SINGLE COPIES.
+
+Three Dollars a year, IN ADVANCE.--_Postage paid by the Publisher_.
+
+J. R. GILMORE, 532 Broadway, New-York, and 110 Tremont Street, Boston.
+
+CHARLES T. EVANS, 532 Broadway, New-York, _GENERAL AGENT_.
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE FINEST FARMING LANDS _WHEAT CORN COTTON FRUITS &
+VEGETABLES_]
+
+EQUAL TO ANY IN THE WORLD!!!
+
+MAY BE PROCURED
+
+At FROM $8 to $12 PER ACRE,
+
+Near Markets, Schools, Railroads, Churches, and all the blessings of
+Civilization.
+
+1,200,000 Acres, in Farms of 40, 80, 120, 160 Acres and upwards, in
+ILLINOIS, the Garden State of America.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Illinois Central Railroad Company offer, ON LONG CREDIT, the
+beautiful and fertile PRAIRIE LANDS lying along the whole line of their
+Railroad, 700 MILES IN LENGTH, upon the most Favorable Terms for
+enabling Farmers, Manufacturers, Mechanics and Workingmen to make for
+themselves and their families a competency, and a HOME they can call
+THEIR OWN, as will appear from the following statements:
+
+ILLINOIS.
+
+Is about equal in extent to England, with a population of 1,722,666, and
+a soil capable of supporting 20,000,000. No State in the Valley of the
+Mississippi offers so great an inducement to the settler as the State of
+Illinois. There is no part of the world where all the conditions of
+climate and soil so admirably combine to produce those two great
+staples, CORN and WHEAT.
+
+CLIMATE.
+
+Nowhere can the industrious farmer secure such immediate results from
+his labor as on those deep, rich, loamy soils, cultivated with so much
+ease. The climate from the extreme southern part of the State to the
+Terre Haute, Alton and St. Louis Railroad, a distance of nearly 200
+miles, is well adapted to Winter.
+
+WHEAT, CORN, COTTON, TOBACCO.
+
+Peaches, Pears, Tomatoes, and every variety of fruit and vegetables is
+grown in great abundance, from which Chicago and other Northern markets
+are furnished from four to six weeks earlier than their immediate
+vicinity. Between the Terre Haute, Alton & St. Louis Railway and the
+Kankakee and Illinois Rivers, (a distance of 115 miles on the Branch,
+and 136 miles on the Main Trunk,) lies the great Corn and Stock raising
+portion of the State.
+
+THE ORDINARY YIELD
+
+of Corn is from 50 to 80 bushels per acre. Cattle, Horses, Mules, Sheep
+and Hogs are raised here at a small cost, and yield large profits. It is
+believed that no section of country presents greater inducements for
+Dairy Farming than the Prairies of Illinois, a branch of farming to
+which but little attention has been paid, and which must yield sure
+profitable results. Between the Kankakee and Illinois Rivers, and
+Chicago and Dunleith, (a distance of 56 miles on the Branch and 147
+miles by the Main Trunk,) Timothy Hay, Spring Wheat, Corn, &c., are
+produced in great abundance.
+
+AGRICULTURAL PRODUCTS.
+
+The agricultural products of Illinois are greater than those of any
+other State. The Wheat crop of 1861 was estimated at 35,000,000 bushels,
+while the Corn crop yields not less than 140,000,000 bushels besides the
+crop of Oats, Barley, Rye, Buckwheat, Potatoes, Sweet Potatoes,
+Pumpkins, Squashes Flax, Hemp, Peas, Clover, Cabbage, Beets, Tobacco,
+Sorgheim, Grapes, Peaches, Apples, &c. which go to swell the vast
+aggregate of production in this fertile region. Over Four Million tons
+of produce were sent out the State of Illinois during the past year.
+
+STOCK RAISING.
+
+In Central and Southern Illinois uncommon advantages are presented for
+the extension of Stock raising. All kinds of Cattle, Horses, Mules,
+Sheep, Hogs, &c., of the best breeds, yield handsome profits; large
+fortunes have already been made, and the field is open for others to
+enter with the fairest prospects of like results. DAIRY FARMING also
+presents its inducements to many.
+
+CULTIVATION OF COTTON.
+
+_The experiments in Cotton culture are of very great promise. Commencing
+in latitude 39 deg. 30 min. (see Mattoon on the Branch, and Assumption
+on the Main Line), the company owns thousands of acres well adapted to
+the perfection of this fibre. A settler having a family of young
+children, can turn their youthful labor to a most profitable account in
+the growth and perfection of this plant._
+
+THE ILLINOIS CENTRAL RAILROAD
+
+Traverses the whole length of the State, from the banks of the
+Mississippi and Lake Michigan to the Ohio. As its name imports, the
+Railroad runs through the centre of the State, and on either side of the
+road along its whole length lie the lands offered for sale.
+
+CITIES, TOWNS, MARKETS, DEPOTS,
+
+There are Ninety-eight Depots on the Company's Railway, giving about one
+every seven miles. Cities, Towns and Villages are situated at convenient
+distances throughout the whole route, where every desirable commodity
+may be found as readily as in the oldest cities of the Union, and where
+buyers are to be met for all kinds of farm produce.
+
+EDUCATION.
+
+Mechanics and working-men will find the free school system encouraged by
+the State, and endowed with a large revenue for the support of the
+schools. Children can live in sight of the school, the college, the
+church, and grow up with the prosperity of the leading State in the
+Great Western Empire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PRICES AND TERMS OF PAYMENT--ON LONG CREDIT.
+
+80 acres at $10 per acre, with interest at 6 per ct. annually on the
+following terms:
+
+  Cash payment             $48 00
+  Payment in one year       48 00
+     "    in two years      48 00
+     "    in three years    48 00
+     "    in four years    236 00
+     "    in five years    224 00
+     "    in six years     212 00
+     "    in seven years   200 00
+
+40 acres, at $10 00 per acre:
+
+  Cash payment             $24 00
+  Payment in one year       24 00
+     "    in two years      24 00
+     "    in three years    24 00
+     "    in four years    118 00
+     "    in five years    112 00
+     "    in six years     106 00
+     "    in seven years   100 00
+
+
+
+The
+
+Continental
+
+Monthly
+
+
+Devoted to Literature and National Policy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SEPTEMBER, 1862.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW-YORK AND BOSTON:
+
+J. R. GILMORE, 532 BROADWAY, NEW-YORK, AND 110 TREMONT STREET, BOSTON.
+
+NEW-YORK: HENRY DEXTER AND SINCLAIR TOUSEY.
+
+PHILADELPHIA: T. B. CALLENDEE AND A. WINCH.
+
+
+CONTENTS.--No. IX.
+
+  Henry Thomas Buckle,                                               253
+
+  The Molly O'Molly Papers,                                          257
+
+  Hopeful Tackett--His Mark,                                         262
+
+  John Bull to Jonathan,                                             265
+
+  Jonathan to John Bull,                                             265
+
+  American Student Life,                                             266
+
+  Go In and Win,                                                     274
+
+  John Neal,                                                         275
+
+  The Soldier and the Civilian,                                      281
+
+  Author Borrowing,                                                  285
+
+  Intervention,                                                      289
+
+  Maccaroni and Canvas,                                              290
+
+  Anthony Trollope on America,                                       302
+
+  Up and Act,                                                        314
+
+  Reminiscences of Andrew Jackson,                                   318
+
+  Shakspeare's Caricature of Richard III.,                           320
+
+  The Negro in the Revolution,                                       324
+
+  A Merchant's Story, By the author of "Among the Pines,"            328
+
+  Shoulder-Straps,                                                   342
+
+  The Children in the Wood,                                          354
+
+  National Unity,                                                    357
+
+  Was he Successful?                                                 360
+
+  Literary Notices,                                                  366
+
+  Editor's Table,                                                    369
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The article in this issue on NATIONAL UNITY, is by the Hon. HORACE
+GREELEY, who will hereafter contribute to each number of 'The
+Continental.'
+
+SHOULDER-STRAPS, by HENRY MORFORD, Esq., author of 'Rhymes of
+Twenty Years,' will be a sparkling commentary on 'Men, Manners, and
+Motives in 1862.' It will depict some prominent characters whose love of
+the UNION is shown in a decided penchant for 'shoulder-straps.'
+
+The future chapters of 'A MERCHANT'S STORY,' by the author of 'Among the
+Pines,' will be mainly descriptive of Southern life and society.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ENTERED, according to Act of Congress in the year 1862, by
+JAMES R. GILMORE, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court
+of the United States for the Southern District of New-York.
+
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+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2,
+August, 1862, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2, August, 1862
+       Devoted to Literature and National Policy
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: November 27, 2006 [EBook #19927]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTINENTAL MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Janet Blenkinship and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h2>THE</h2>
+
+<h1>CONTINENTAL MONTHLY:</h1>
+
+<h4>DEVOTED TO</h4>
+
+<h2>Literature and National Policy.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>VOL. II.&mdash;AUGUST, 1862.&mdash;No. II.</h3>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="75%" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#AMONG_THE_PINES">AMONG THE PINES.&mdash;<span class="smcap">CONCLUDED</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SOUTHERN_RIGHTS">SOUTHERN RIGHTS.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MACCARONI_AND_CANVAS">MACCARONI AND CANVAS.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MACCARONI_AND_CANVAS">CHAPTER IV.</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><a href="#ON_THE_PINCIO">ON THE PINCIO.</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><a href="#ROME_BY_NIGHT">ROME BY NIGHT.</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><a href="#THE_MYSTERIOUS_IN_ART">THE MYSTERIOUS IN ART.</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><a href="#A_BATH_HUNT">A BATH HUNT.</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><a href="#A_BATH_HUNT">A BATH HUNT.</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#GLANCES_FROM_THE_SENATE-GALLERY">GLANCES FROM THE SENATE-GALLERY.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#GLANCES_FROM_THE_SENATE-GALLERY">CHAPTER II.</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_LAST_DITCH">THE LAST DITCH.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#PATIENCE">PATIENCE.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#REWARDING_THE_ARMY">REWARDING THE ARMY.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#JOHN_McDONOGH_THE_MILLIONAIRE">JOHN McDONOGH THE MILLIONAIRE.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HELTER-SKELTER_PAPERS">HELTER-SKELTER PAPERS.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#SKETCHES_OF_THE_ORIENT">SKETCHES OF THE ORIENT.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#WITCHES_ELVES_AND_GOBLINS">WITCHES, ELVES, AND GOBLINS.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_TRUE_ROMANCE">A TRUE ROMANCE.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HUGUENOTS_OF_NEW-YORK_CITY">HUGUENOTS OF NEW-YORK CITY.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_BANE_OF_OUR_COUNTRY">THE BANE OF OUR COUNTRY.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_MOLLY_OMOLLY_PAPERS">THE MOLLY O'MOLLY PAPERS.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_MOLLY_OMOLLY_PAPERS">CHAPTER VII.</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#WOUNDED">WOUNDED</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ASTOR_AND_THE_CAPITALISTS_OF_NEW-YORK">ASTOR AND THE CAPITALISTS OF NEW-YORK.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THUNDER_ALL_ROUND">THUNDER ALL ROUND!</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#WAS_HE_SUCCESSFUL">WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SUCCESSFUL_V">CHAPTER V.</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SUCCESSFUL_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_MERCHANTS_STORY">A MERCHANT'S STORY.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MERCHANTS_I">CHAPTER I.</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CORN_IS_KING">CORN IS KING.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LITERARY_NOTICES">LITERARY NOTICES.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#EDITORS_TABLE">EDITOR'S TABLE</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+
+<h2><a name="AMONG_THE_PINES" id="AMONG_THE_PINES"></a>AMONG THE PINES.</h2>
+
+<h3>[CONCLUDED.]</h3>
+
+<p>'My God! drowned herself and her child!' exclaimed the Colonel, with
+deep emotion.</p>
+
+<p>'Come, my friend, let us go to them at once,' I said, laying my hand on
+his arm, and drawing him unresistingly away.</p>
+
+<p>A pair of mules was speedily harnessed to a large turpentine-wagon, and
+the horses we had ridden the day before were soon at the door. When the
+Colonel, who had been closeted for a few minutes with Madam P&mdash;, came
+out of the house, we mounted and rode off with the 'corn-cracker.'</p>
+
+<p>The native's farm was located on the stream which watered my friend's
+plantation, and was about ten miles distant. Taking a by-road which led
+to it through the woods, we rode rapidly on in advance of the wagon.</p>
+
+<p>'Sort o' likely gal, thet, warn't she?' remarked the turpentine-maker,
+after a while.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, she was,' replied the Colonel, in a half-abstracted manner,
+'<i>very</i> likely.'</p>
+
+<p>'Kill harself 'case har man war shot by thet han'som overseer uv yourn?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not altogether for that, I reckon,' replied my host,' I fear the main
+reason was her being put at field-work, and abused by the driver.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thet comes uv not lookin' arter things yerself, Cunnel. I 'tend ter my
+niggers parsonally, and they keer a durned sight more fur this world
+then fur kingdom-cum. Ye cudn't hire 'em ter kill 'emselves fur no
+price.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well,' replied the Colonel, in a low tone, 'I <i>did</i> look after her. I
+put her at full field-work myself.'</p>
+
+<p>'By&mdash;!' cried the native, reining his horse to a dead stop, and speaking
+in an excited manner; 'I doan't b'lieve it, 'taint 't all like ye; yer a
+d&mdash;d seceshener&mdash;thet comes uv yer bringin'-up; but ye've a soul
+bigger'n a meetin'-house, and ye cudn't hev put thet slim, weakly gal
+inter th' woods, no how!'</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel and I instinctively halted our horses, as the 'corn-cracker'
+stopped his.</p>
+
+<p>'It is true, Barnes,' said my host, in a low voice, 'I <i>did</i> do it!'</p>
+
+<p>'May God Almighty furgive ye, Cunnel,' said the native, starting his
+horse forward, '<i>I</i> wudn't hev dun it fur all yer niggers, by&mdash;&mdash;.'</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel made no reply, and we rode on the rest of the way in
+silence.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p><p>The corn-cracker's house&mdash;a low, unpainted, wooden building&mdash;stood near
+the little stream, and in the centre of a cleared plot of some ten
+acres. This plot was surrounded by a post and rail fence, and in its
+front portion was a garden, which grew a sufficient supply of vegetables
+to serve a family of twenty persons. In the rear, and at the sides of
+the dwelling, were about seven acres, devoted mainly to corn and
+potatoes. In one corner of the lot were three tidy-looking negro-houses,
+and close beside them I noticed a low shed, near which a large quantity
+of the stalks of the tall, white corn, common to that section, was
+stacked in the New-England fashion. Browsing on the corn-stalks were
+three sleek, well-kept milch-cows and a goat.</p>
+
+<p>About four hundred yards from the farmer's house, and on the bank of the
+little run, which there was quite wide and deep, stood a
+turpentine-distillery, and around it were scattered a large number of
+rosin and turpentine barrels, some filled and some empty. A short
+distance higher up, and far enough from the 'still' to be safe in the
+event of a fire, was a long, low, wooden shed, covered with rough,
+unjointed boards, placed upright, and unbattened. This was the
+'spirit-house,' used for the storage of the spirits of turpentine when
+barreled for market, and awaiting shipment. In the creek, and filling
+nearly one-half of the channel in front of the spirit-shed, was a raft
+of pine-timber, on which were laden some two hundred barrels of rosin.
+On such rude conveyances the turpentine-maker sent his produce to
+Conwayboro. There the timber-raft was sold to my wayside friend, Captain
+B&mdash;, and its freight shipped on board vessel for New-York.</p>
+
+<p>Two 'prime' negro men, dressed in the usual costume, were 'tending the
+still,' and a negro-woman, as stout and strong as the men, and clad in a
+short, loose, linsey gown, from beneath which peeped out a pair of
+coarse leggins, was adjusting a long wooden trough, which conveyed the
+liquid rosin from the 'still' to a deep excavation in the earth, at a
+short distance. In the pit was a quantity of rosin sufficient to fill a
+thousand barrels.</p>
+
+<p>'Here, Bill,' said Barnes to one of the negro men, as we pulled up at
+the distillery, 'put these critters up, and give 'em some oats, and when
+they've cooled off a bit, water 'em.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, yas, massa,' replied the negro, springing nimbly forward, and
+taking the horses by the bridles, 'an' rub 'em down, massa?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, rub 'em down right smart,' replied the corn-cracker; then turning
+to me, as we dismounted, he said: 'Stranger, thet's th' sort o' niggers
+fur ye; all uv mine ar' jess like him, smart and lively as kittens.'</p>
+
+<p>'He does seem to go about his work cheerfully,' I replied.</p>
+
+<p>'Cheerfully! d&mdash;d ef he doan't&mdash;all on 'em du! They like me better'n
+thar own young 'uns, an' it's 'case I use 'em like human bein's;' and he
+looked slyly toward the Colonel, who just then was walking silently
+away, in the direction of the run, as if in search of the drowned
+'chattels.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not thar, Cunnel,' cried the native, 'they're inter th' shed,' and he
+started to lead the way to the 'spirit-house.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not now, Barnes,' I said, putting my hand on his arm, 'leave him alone
+for a little while. He is feeling badly, and we'd better not disturb
+him.'</p>
+
+<p>The native motioned me to a seat on a rosin-barrel, as he replied:</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, he 'pears ter, thet's a fact, and he orter. D&mdash;d ef it arn't
+wicked to use niggers like cattle, as he do.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't think he means to ill-treat them; he's a kind-hearted man.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, he ar' sort o' so; but he's left ev'ry thing ter thet d&mdash;d
+overseer uv his'n. I wudn't ha' trusted him to feed my hogs.'</p>
+
+<p>'Hogs!' I exclaimed, laughing; 'I supposed you didn't <i>feed</i> hogs in
+these diggings. I supposed you 'let 'em run.''</p>
+
+<p>'<i>I</i> doan't; an' I've got th' tallest porkys 'round har.'</p>
+
+<p>'I've been told that they get a good living in the woods.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, p'raps the' du jest make eout<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> ter live thar; but my ole 'oman
+likes 'em ter hum. They clean up a place like, eat up all th' leavin's,
+an' give th' young nigs suthin' ter du.'</p>
+
+<p>'It seems to me,' I said, resuming the previous thread of the
+conversation, 'that overseers are a necessity on a large plantation.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, the' ar', an' thet's why thar ortent ter be no big plantations;
+God Almighty didn't make human bein's ter be herded togethar in th'
+woods. No man orter ter hev more'n twenty on 'em&mdash;he can't look arter no
+more himself, an' it's agin natur' ter set a feller over 'em what han't
+no int'rest in 'cm, an' no feelin' fur 'em, an' who'll drive 'em round
+like brutes. I never struck one on 'em in my life, an' my ten du more'n
+ony fifteen th' Cunnel's got.'</p>
+
+<p>'I thought they needed occasional correction. How do you manage them
+without whipping?'</p>
+
+<p>'Manage them! why, 'cordin' ter scriptur'&mdash;do ter 'em as I'd like ter be
+dun ter, ef I war a nigger. Every one on 'em knows I'd part with my last
+shirt, an' live on taters an' cow-fodder, 'fore I'd sell 'em; an' then I
+give 'em Saturdays for 'emselfs; but thet's cute dealin' in me, (tho'
+th' pore, simple souls doan't see it,) fur ye knows the' work thet day
+fur 'emselfs, an' raise nigh all thar own feed, 'cept th' beef and
+whisky, an' it sort o' makes 'em feel like folks, too, more like as ef
+the' war <i>free</i>&mdash;the' work th' better fur it all th' week.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you think the blacks would work better if free?'</p>
+
+<p>'In <i>course</i> I does&mdash;it's agin man's natur' to be a slave. Thet lousy
+parson ye herd ter meetin' a Sunday, makes slavery eout a divine
+institooshun, but my wife's a Bible 'oman, and she says 'tan't so; an'
+I'm d&mdash;d ef she arn't right.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is your wife a South-Carolina woman?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, she an' me's from th' old North&mdash;old Car'tret, nigh on ter
+Newbern&mdash;an' we doan't take nat'rally to these fire-eaters.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have you been here long?'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, nigh on ter six yar. I cum har with nuthin' but a thousan' ter my
+back, slapped thet inter fifteen hun'red acres, paid it down, and then
+hired ten likely North-Car'lina niggers, hired 'em with th' chance uv
+buyin' ef the' liked eout har. Wal, th' nigs all know'd me, and the'
+sprung ter it like blazes; so every yar I've managed ter buy two on 'em,
+and now I've ten grow'd up, and thar young uns, th' still and all th'
+traps paid fur, an' ef this d&mdash;d secesh bisness hadn't a come 'long, I'd
+hev hed a right smart chance o' doin' well.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm satisfied secession will ruin the turpentine business; you'll be
+shut up here, unable to sell your produce, and it will go to waste.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thet's my 'pinion; but I reckon I kin manage now witheout turpentine.
+I've talked it over 'long with my nigs, and we kalkerlate ef these ar
+doin's go eny furder, ter tap no more trees, but cl'ar land an' go ter
+raisin' craps.'</p>
+
+<p>'What! do you talk politics with your negroes?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nary a politic; but I'm d&mdash;d ef th' critters doan't larn 'em sumhow.
+The' knows 'bout as much uv what's goin' on as I du; but plantin' arn't
+politics, it's bisness, an' they've more int'rest in it nor I hev,
+'cause they've sixteen mouths ter feed agin my four.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm glad, my friend, that you treat them like men; but I have supposed
+they were not well enough informed to have intelligent opinions on such
+subjects.'</p>
+
+<p>'Informed! wal, I reckon the' is; all uv mine kin read, an' sum on 'em
+kin write, too. D'ye see that little nig thar?' pointing to a juvenile,
+coal-black darky of about six years, who was standing before the 'still'
+fire; 'thet ar little devil kin read an' speak like a parson. He's got
+hold, sumhow, uv my little gal's book o' pieces, an' larned a dozen on
+'em. I make him cum inter th' house, once in a while uv an evenin', an'
+speechify, an' 'twould do yer soul good ter har him, in his shirt-tail,
+with a old sheet wound round him fur a toger (I've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> told him th'
+play-actors du it so down ter Charles'on,) an' spoutin' out: 'My name am
+Norval; on de Gruntin' hills my fader feed him hogs!' The little coon
+never seed a sheep, an' my wife's told him a flock's a herd, an' he
+thinks 'hog' <i>sounds</i> better'n 'flock,' so, contra'y ter th' book, he
+puts in 'hogs,' and hogs, you knows, hev ter grunt, so he gits 'em on
+th' Gruntin' hills;' and here the kind-hearted native burst into a fit
+of uproarious laughter, in which, in spite of myself, I had to join.</p>
+
+<p>When the merriment had somewhat subsided, the turpentine-maker called
+out to the little darky:</p>
+
+<p>'Come here, Jim.'</p>
+
+<p>The young chattel ran to him with alacrity, and wedging in between his
+legs, placed his little black hands in a free-and-easy way on his
+master's knees, and looking up trustfully in his face, said:</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, massa?'</p>
+
+<p>'What's yer name?'</p>
+
+<p>'Dandy Jim, massa.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thet arn't all; what's th'rest?'</p>
+
+<p>'Dandy Jim of ole Car'lina.'</p>
+
+<p>'Who made ye?'</p>
+
+<p>'De good God, massa.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, he didn't; God doan't make little nigs. He makes none but white
+folks,' said the master, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, he'm do; missus say he'm do; dat he make dis nig jess like he done
+little Totty.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, he did, Jim. I'm d&mdash;d ef <i>He</i> didn't, fur nobody else cud make
+<i>ye!</i>' replied the man, patting the little wooly head with undisguised
+affection.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Jim, say th' creed fur 'de gem-man.''</p>
+
+<p>The young darky then repeated the Apostles' Creed and the Ten
+Commandments.</p>
+
+<p>'Is thet all ye knows?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, massa, I knows a heap 'sides dat.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, say suthin' more; sum on 'em pieces thet jingle.'</p>
+
+<p>The little fellow then repeated with entire correctness, and with
+appropriate gestures and emphasis, though in the genuine darky
+dialect&mdash;which seems to be inborn with the pure, Southern black&mdash;Mrs.
+Hemans' poem:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'The boy stood on the burning deck.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>'Mrs. Hemans draped in black!' I exclaimed, laughing heartily; 'How
+would the good lady feel, could she look down from where she is, and
+hear a little darky doing up her poetry in that style?'</p>
+
+<p>'D&mdash;d ef I doan't b'lieve'twud make her love th' little nig like I do,'
+replied the corn-cracker, taking him up on his knee as tenderly as he
+would have taken up his own child.</p>
+
+<p>'Tell me, my little man,' I said, 'who taught you all these things?'</p>
+
+<p>'I lamed 'em myseff, sar,' was the prompt reply.</p>
+
+<p>'You learned them yourself! but who taught you to read?'</p>
+
+<p>'I larned 'em myseff, sar!'</p>
+
+<p>'You couldn't have learned <i>that</i> yourself; didn't your 'massa' teach
+you?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sar.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! your 'missus' did?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sar.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sar!' I repeated; then suspecting the real state of the case, I
+looked him sternly in the eye, and said: 'My little man, it's wrong to
+tell lies, you must <i>always</i> speak the truth; now, tell me truly, did
+not your 'missus' teach you these things?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sar, I larned 'em myseff.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ye can't cum it, stranger; ye moight roast him over a slow fire, an'
+not git nary a thing eout on him but thet,' said the corn-cracker,
+leaning forward, and breaking into a boisterous fit of laughter. 'It's
+agin th' law, an' I'm d&mdash;d ef <i>I</i> teached him. Reckon he <i>did</i> larn
+himself!'</p>
+
+<p>'I must know your wife, my friend. She's a good woman.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good! ye kin bet high on thet; she's uv th' stuff th' Lord makes angels
+eout on.'</p>
+
+<p>I had no doubt of it, and was about to say so, when the Colonel's
+turpentine-wagon drove up, and I remembered I had left him too long
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>The coachman was driving, and Jim sat on the wagon beside him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Massa K&mdash;,' said the latter, getting down and coming to me, 'Whar am
+dey?'</p>
+
+<p>'In the spirit-shed.'</p>
+
+<p>He was turning to go there, when I called him back, saying: 'Jim, you
+must not see your master now; you'd better keep out of sight for the
+present.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, massa; de ma'am say de Cunnel take dis bery hard, and dat I orter
+tell him I'se sorry for what I'se done.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, wait awhile. Let me go in first.'</p>
+
+<p>Accompanied by the corn-cracker, I entered the turpentine-shed. A row of
+spirit-barrels were ranged along each of its sides, and two tiers
+occupied the centre of the building. On these a number of loose planks
+were placed, and on the planks lay the bodies of the metif woman and her
+child. The Colonel was seated on a barrel near them, with his head
+resting on his hands, and his eyes fixed on the ground. He did not seem
+to notice our entrance, and passing him without speaking, I stepped to
+the side of the dead.</p>
+
+<p>The woman's dress, the common linsey gown worn by her class, was still
+wet, and her short, kinky, brown hair fell in matted folds around her
+head. One arm hung loosely by her side; the other was clasped tightly
+around her child, which lay as if asleep on her bosom. One of its small
+hands clung to its mother's breast, and around its little lips played a
+smile. But how shall I describe the pale, sweet beauty of the face of
+the drowned girl, as she lay there, her eyes closed, and her lips
+parted, as in prayer? Never but once have I seen on human features the
+strange radiance that shone upon it, or the mingled expression of hope
+and peace and resignation that rested there, and that was in the
+long-gone time when, standing by her bedside, I watched the passing away
+of one who is now an angel in heaven!</p>
+
+<p>'Come, my dear friend, let us go,' I said, turning and gently taking the
+Colonel by the arm, 'the negroes are here, and will take charge of the
+dead.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, no!' he replied, rising and looking around as if aroused from a
+troubled dream; 'that is for <i>me</i> to do!' Then he added, after a
+moment's pause, 'Will you help me to get them into the wagon?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I will, certainly.'</p>
+
+<p>He made one step toward the body of the dead girl, then sinking down
+again on the barrel, covered his face with his hands, and cried out: 'My
+God! this is terrible! Did you ever see such a look as that? It will
+haunt me forever!'</p>
+
+<p>'Come, my friend, rouse yourself&mdash;this is weakness; you are tired with
+the long ride and excitement of the past few days. Come, go home; I will
+look after them.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, no! I must do it. I will be a man again;' and he rose and walked
+steadily to the dead bodies. 'Is there any one here to help?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Jim was standing in the doorway, and I motioned to him to come forward.
+The great tears were streaming down his face, as he stepped timidly
+toward his master, and said: 'I'll do dis, massa, don't you trubble
+yerself no more.'</p>
+
+<p>'It's good of you, Jim. You'll forgive me for being so cruel to you,
+won't you?' said the Colonel, taking the black by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Forgib ye, massa! <i>I</i> war all ter blame; but ye'll forgib me,
+massa&mdash;ye'll forgib me!' cried the black, with strong emotion.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, yes; but say no more about it. Come, let us get Julie home.'</p>
+
+<p>But the poor girl was already <i>home</i>&mdash;home where her sufferings and her
+sorrows were over, and all her tears were wiped away forever!</p>
+
+<p>We four bore away the mother and the child. A number of blankets were in
+the bottom of the wagon, and we laid the bodies carefully upon them.
+When all seemed ready, the Colonel, who was still standing by the side
+of the dead, turned to my new friend, and said: 'Barnes, will you loan
+me a pillow? I will send it back to-night.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sartin, Cunnel,' and the farmer soon brought one from the house.
+Lifting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> tenderly the head of the drowned girl, the Colonel placed it
+beneath her, and smoothing back her tangled hair, he gently covered her
+face with his handkerchief, as if she could still feel his kindness, or
+longer cared for the pity or the love of mortal. Yet, who knows but that
+her parted soul, from the high realm to which it had soared, may not
+then have looked down, have seen that act, and have forgiven him?</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>In the first moments of grief the sympathy of friends and the words of
+consolation bring no relief. How much more harshly do such words grate
+on the ear when the soul is bowed down by remorse and unavailing regret!
+Then the wounded spirit finds peace nowhere but with God.</p>
+
+<p>I saw that the Colonel would be alone, and turning to him, as he
+prepared to follow the strange vehicle which, with its load of death,
+was already jolting its way over the rough forest road, I said:</p>
+
+<p>'Will you pardon me, if I remain with your friend here for a while? I
+will be at the mansion before dark.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! certainly, my friend; come when you feel disposed,' he replied, and
+mounting his horse, he was soon out of sight among the trees.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Barnes,' I said, shaking off the gloomy feelings that had
+oppressed me; 'come, I must see that wife of yours, and get a glimpse of
+how you live.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sartin, stranger; come in. I'll give ye th' tallest dinner my 'oman can
+scare up, an' she's sum pumkins in th' cookin' line;' and he led the way
+to the farm-house.</p>
+
+<p>As I turned to follow, I slipped a half-dollar into the hand of the
+darky who was holding my horse, and asked him to put her again into the
+stable.</p>
+
+<p>'I'll do dat, sar; but I karn't take dis; massa doan't 'low it nohow,'
+he replied, tendering me back the money.</p>
+
+<p>'Barnes, your negroes have strange ways; I never met one before who'd
+refuse money.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, stranger,'tan't hosspetality to take money on yer friends, and
+Bill gets all he wants from me.'</p>
+
+<p>I took the silver and gave it to the first darky I met, who happened to
+be an old centenarian belonging to the Colonel. As I tossed it to him,
+he grinned out: 'Ah! massa, I'll git sum 'backer wid dis; 'pears like I
+hadn't nary a chaw in furty yar.' With more than one leg in the grave,
+the old negro had not lost his appetite for the weed: in fact, that and
+whisky are the only 'luxuries' ever known to the plantation black.</p>
+
+<p>As we went nearer, I took a closer survey of the farm-house. It was, as
+I have said, a low, unpainted, wooden building, located in the middle of
+a ten-acre lot. It was approached by a straight walk, paved with a
+mixture of sand and tar, similar to that which the reader may have seen
+in the Champs Elys&eacute;es. I do not know whether my backwoods friend or the
+Parisian pavior was the first inventor of this composition; but I am
+satisfied the corn-cracker had not stolen it from the stone-cracker. The
+walk was lined with fruit-bearing shrubs, and directly in front of the
+house were two small flower-beds.</p>
+
+<p>The dwelling itself, though of a dingy-brown wood-color, was neat and
+inviting. It may have been forty feet square on the ground, and was only
+a story and a half high; but a projecting roof and a front dormer-window
+relieved it from the appearance of disproportion. Its gable ends were
+surmounted by two enormous brick chimneys, carried up on the outside, in
+the fashion of the South, and its high, broad windows were ornamented
+with Venetian blinds. Its front door opened directly into the
+'living-room,' and at the threshold we met its mistress. As the image of
+that lady has still a warm place in a pleasant corner of my memory, I
+will describe her. She was about thirty years of age, and had a fresh,
+cheerful face. To say that she was handsome, would not be strictly true;
+though she had that pleasant, gentle, kindly expression that sometimes
+makes even a homely person seem beau<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>tiful. But she was not homely. Her
+features were regular, her hair glossy and brown, and her eyes black and
+brilliant, and for their color, the mildest and softest I had ever seen.
+Her figure was tall, and in its outline somewhat sharp and angular; but
+she had an ease and grace about her that made one forget she was not
+molded as softly and roundly as others. She seemed just the woman on
+whose bosom a tired, worn, over-burdened man might lay his weary head,
+and find rest and forgetfulness.</p>
+
+<p>She wore a neat calico dress, fitting closely to the neck, and an apron
+of spotless white muslin. A little lace cap perched cosily on the back
+of her head, hiding a portion of her wavy, dark hair, and on her feet&mdash;a
+miracle, reader, in one of her class&mdash;were stockings and shoes! Giving
+me her hand&mdash;which, at the risk of making her husband jealous, I held
+for a moment&mdash;she said, making a gentle courtesy:</p>
+
+<p>'Ye ar welcome, stranger.'</p>
+
+<p>'I sincerely thank you, madam; I <i>am</i> a stranger in these parts.'</p>
+
+<p>She tendered me a chair; while her husband opened a sideboard, and
+brought forth a box of Havanas and a decanter of Scuppernong. As I took
+the proffered seat, he offered me the refreshments. I drank the lady's
+health in the wine, but declined the cigars. Seeing this, she remarked:</p>
+
+<p>'Yer from th' North, sir, arn't ye?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, madam, I live in New-York; but I was born in New-England.'</p>
+
+<p>'I reckoned so; I knew ye didn't belong in Car'lina.'</p>
+
+<p>'How did you know that, madam?' I asked, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>'I seed ye doan't smoke 'fore wimmin. But ye mustn't mind me; I sort o'
+likes it; it's a great comfut to John, and may be it ar to ye.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I do relish a good cigar; but I never smoke before any lady
+except my wife, and though she's only 'a little lower than the angels,'
+she <i>does</i>, once in a while, say it's a shame to make the <i>house</i> smell
+like a tobacco-factory.'</p>
+
+<p>Barnes handed me the box again, and I took one. As I was lighting it, he
+said:</p>
+
+<p>'Ye've got a good 'oman, hev ye?'</p>
+
+<p>'There's none better; at least, I think so.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, I'm 'zactly uv thet 'pinion 'bout mine; I wouldn't trade her fur
+all this worle an' th' best half uv t'other.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't ye talk so, John,' said the lady. Then addressing me, she added:
+'It's a good husband thet makes a good wife, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sometimes, madam, but not always, I've known some of the best of wives
+who had miserable husbands.'</p>
+
+<p>'An' I'm d&mdash;d ef <i>I</i> made my wife th' 'oman she ar',' said the
+corn-cracker.</p>
+
+<p>'Hush, John, ye mustn't swar so; ye knows how often ye've said ye
+wouldn't.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, I du, an' I won't agin, by&mdash;.' But Sukey, whar's th' young uns?'</p>
+
+<p>'Out in the lot, I reckon; but ye mustn't holler'm in&mdash;they'r all dirt.'</p>
+
+<p>'No matter for that, madam,' I said, 'dirt is healthy for little ones;
+rolling in the mud makes them grow.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then ourn orter grow right smart, fur they'r in it allers.'</p>
+
+<p>'How many have you, madam?'</p>
+
+<p>'Two; a little boy, four, and a little gal, six.'</p>
+
+<p>'They're of interesting ages.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, the' is int'restin'; ev'ry uns own chil'ren is smart; but the'
+does know a heap. John was off ter Charl'ston no great while back, an'
+the little boy used ter pray ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' fur his fader ter
+cum hum. I larned 'em thet jest so soon as the' talked, 'cause thar's no
+tellin' how quick the' moight be tooken 'way. Wal, the little feller
+prayed ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' fur his fader ter cum back, and John
+didn't cum; so finarly he got sort o' provoked with th' Lord, an' he
+said God war aither deaf an' couldn't har or he war naughty an' wouldn't
+tell fader thet little Johnny wanted to seed 'im 'werry mooch,'' and
+here the good lady laughed pleasantly, and I joined in most heartily.</p>
+
+<p>Blessed are the children that have such a mother!</p>
+
+<p>Soon the husband returned with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> little girl and boy and four young
+ebonies, all bare-headed and all dressed alike, in thick trowsers and a
+loose linsey shirt. Among them was my new acquaintance, 'Dandy Jim, of
+ole Car'lina.'</p>
+
+<p>The little girl came to me, and soon I had two white children on one
+knee and two black on the other, with Dandy Jim between my legs, playing
+with my watchchain. The family made no distinction between the colors,
+and as the children were all equally clean, I did not see why <i>I</i> should
+do so.</p>
+
+<p>The lady renewed the conversation by remarking: 'P'raps ye reckon it's
+quar, sir, that we 'low ourn to 'sociate 'long with th' black chil'ren;
+but we karn't help it. On big plantations, it works sorry bad, fur th'
+white young uns larn all manner of evil from the black uns; but I've
+laboored ter teach ourn so one won't do no harm ter t'other.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose, madam, that is one of the greatest evils of slavery. The low
+black poisons the mind of the white child, and the bad influence lasts
+through life.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, it's so, stranger; an' it's the biggest keer I hev. It often
+'pears strange ter me thet our grow'd up men arn't no wuss than the'
+is.'</p>
+
+<p>In those few words, that unlettered woman had said what would&mdash;if men
+were but wise enough to hear and heed the great truth which she
+spoke&mdash;banish slavery from this continent forever!</p>
+
+<p>After a while, the farmer told the juvenile delineator of Mrs. Hemans
+and the other poets to give us a song; and planting himself in the
+middle of the floor, the little darky sang 'Dixie' and several other
+negro songs, which his master had taught him, but into which he had
+introduced some amusing variations of his own. The other children joined
+in the choruses; and then Jim danced breakdowns, 'walk-along-Joes,' and
+other darky dances, his master accompanying him on a cracked fiddle,
+till my sides were sore with laughter, and the hostess begged them to
+stop. Finally the clock struck twelve, and the farmer, going to the
+door, gave a long, loud blast on a cow's horn. In about five minutes,
+one after another of the field hands came in, till the whole ten had
+seated themselves on the verandah. Each carried a bowl, a tin-cup, or a
+gourd, into which my host&mdash;who soon emerged from a back room<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> with a
+pail of whisky in his hand&mdash;poured a gill of the beverage. This was the
+day's allowance, and the farmer, in answer to a question of mine, told
+me he thought negroes were healthier and worked better for a small
+quantity of alcohol daily. 'The' work hard, and salt feed doan't set 'em
+up 'nough,' was his remark.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the hostess busied herself with preparations for dinner, and
+it was soon spread on a bright cherry table, covered by a spotless white
+cloth. The little darkies had scattered to the several cabins, and we
+soon sat down to as good a meal as I ever ate at the South.</p>
+
+<p>We were waited on by a tidy negro woman, neatly clad in a calico gown,
+with shoes on her feet, and a flaming red and yellow kerchief on her
+head. This last was worn in the form of a turban, and one end escaping
+from behind and hanging down her back, it looked for all the world like
+a flag hung out from a top turret. Observing it, my host said:</p>
+
+<p>'Aggy&mdash;showin' yer colors? Ye'r Union gal&mdash;hey?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, I is dat, massa; Union ter de back-bone,' responded the negress,
+grinning widely.</p>
+
+<p>'All th' Union <i>ye</i> knows on,' replied the master, winking slyly at me,
+'is th' union yer goin' ter hitch up 'long with black Cale over ter
+Squire Taylor's.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, 'tan't, massa; takes more'n tu ter make de Union.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, I knows; it gin'rally takes ten or a dozen: reckon it'll take a
+dozen with ye.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'John, ye mustn't talk so ter th' sarvents; it spiles 'em,' said his
+wife.</p>
+
+<p>'No it doan't; do it, Aggy?'</p>
+
+<p>'Lor', missus, I doan't keer what massa say; but I doan't leff no oder
+man run on so ter me!'</p>
+
+<p>'No more'n ye doan't, gal! only Cale.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nor him, massa; I makes him stan' 'roun', <i>I</i> reckon.'</p>
+
+<p>'I reckon ye du; ye wudn't be yer massa's gal ef ye didn't.'</p>
+
+<p>When the meal was over, I visited with my host the negro houses. The
+hour allowed for dinner<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> was about expiring, and the darkies were
+preparing to return to the field. Entering one of the cabins, where were
+two stout negro men and a woman, my host said to them, with a perfectly
+serious face:</p>
+
+<p>'Har, boys, I've fetched ye a live Yankee ab'lishener; now, luk at 'im
+all roun'. Did ye ever see sech a critter?'</p>
+
+<p>'Doan't see nuffin' quar in dat gemman, massa,' replied one of the
+blacks. 'Him 'pears like bery nice gemman; doan't 'pear like
+ab'lishener;' and he laughed and scraped his head in the manner peculiar
+to the negro, as he added: 'Kinder reckon he wudn't be har ef he war one
+of <i>dem</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>'What der <i>ye</i> knows 'bout th' ab'lisheners? Ye never seed one; what
+d'ye 'spose the' luk like?'</p>
+
+<p>'Dey say dey luk likes de bery ole debil, massa; but reckon 'tan't so.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, the' doan't; the' luk wuss then thet; they'm bottled up thunder
+an' lightnin', an' ef the' cum down har, they'll chaw ye all ter hash.'</p>
+
+<p>'I reckon!' replied the darky, manipulating his wool and distending his
+face into a decidedly incredulous grin.</p>
+
+<p>'What do you tell them such things for?' I asked good-humoredly.</p>
+
+<p>'Lor' bless ye, stranger, the' knows th' ab'lisheners ar thar friends,
+jest so well as ye du; and so fur as thet goes, d&mdash;d ef the' doan't know
+I'm one on 'em myseff, fur I tells 'em ef the' want to put the' kin put,
+an' I'll throw thar trav'lin 'spenses inter th' bargin. Doan't I tell ye
+thet, Lazarus?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, massa; but none ob massa's nigs am gwine ter put&mdash;lesswise, not so
+long as you an' de good missus am 'bove groun'.'</p>
+
+<p>The darky's name struck me as peculiar, and I asked him where he got it.</p>
+
+<p>'<i>'Tan't</i> my name, sar; but you see, sar, w'en massa fuss hire me ob ole
+Capt'in &mdash;&mdash;, up dar ter Newbern-way, I war sort o' sorry like&mdash;hadn't
+no bery good cloes&mdash;an' massa he den call me Lazarus, 'case he say I war
+all ober rags and holes, an' it hab sort o' stuck ter me eber sense. I
+war a'mighty bad off 'fore dat, but w'en I cum down har I gets inter
+Abr'am's buzzum, I does,' and here the darky actually reeled on his seat
+with laughter.</p>
+
+<p>'Is this woman your wife?' I asked.</p>
+
+<p>'No, sar; my wife 'longs to Cunnel J&mdash;&mdash;; dat am my new wife&mdash;my ole
+wife am up dar whar I cum from.'</p>
+
+<p>'What! have you two wives?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, massa, I'se two.'</p>
+
+<p>'But that's contrary to Scripture?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sar; de Cunnel say 'tan't. He say in Scriptur' dey hab a heap ob
+'em, and dat niggers kin hab jess so many as dey likes&mdash;a hun'red ef dey
+want ter.'</p>
+
+<p>'Does the Colonel teach that to his negroes?' I asked, turning to the
+native.</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, I reckon he do, an' sits 'em th' 'zample, too,' he replied,
+laughing; 'but th' old sinner knows better'n thet; he kin read.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you find that in the Bible, Lazarus?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, massa, whar I reads it. Dat's whar it tell 'bout David and Sol'mon
+and all em&mdash;dey hab a heap ob wives. A pore ole darky karn't hab nuffin'
+'sides dem, an' he <i>orter</i> be 'low'd jess so many as he likes.'</p>
+
+<p>Laughing at the reasoning of the negro, I asked:</p>
+
+<p>'How would <i>you</i> like it, if your wife over at Colonel J&mdash;&mdash;'s had as
+many husbands as <i>she</i> liked?'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, I couldn't fine no fault, massa; an' I s'pose she do, dough I
+doan't knows it, 'case I'se dar only Sundays.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Have you any children?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, sar, Ise free 'longin' ter de Cunnel, an' four or five&mdash;I doan't
+'zactly know&mdash;up ter hum; but <i>dey'se</i> grow'd up.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is your wife up there married again?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, massa, she got anoder man jess w'en I cum 'way; har ole massa make
+har do it.'</p>
+
+<p>We then left the cabin, and when out of hearing of the blacks, I said to
+the corn-cracker: 'That <i>may be</i> Scripture doctrine, but <i>I</i> have not
+been taught so.'</p>
+
+<p>'Scriptur' or no Scriptur', stranger, it's d&mdash;&mdash;d heathenism,' replied
+the farmer, who, take him all in all, is a superior specimen of the
+class of small planters at the South; and yet, seeing polygamy practiced
+by his own slaves, he made no effort to prevent it. He told me that if
+he should object to his darky cohabiting with the Colonel's negress, it
+would be regarded as unneighborly, and secure him the enmity of the
+whole district! And still we are told that slavery is a <i>divine</i>
+institution!</p>
+
+<p>After this, we strolled off into the woods, where the hands were at
+work.</p>
+
+<p>They were all stout, healthy, and happy-looking, and in answer to my
+comments on their appearance, the native said that the negroes on the
+turpentine-farms are always stronger and longer-lived than those on the
+rice and cotton-fields. Unless carried off by the fevers incident to the
+climate, they generally reach a good old age, while the rice-negro
+seldom lives to be over forty, and the cotton-slave very rarely attains
+sixty. Cotton-growing, however, my host thought, is not, in itself, much
+more unhealthy than turpentine-gathering, though cotton-hands work in
+the sun, while the turpentine-slaves labor altogether in the shade.</p>
+
+<p>'But,' he said, 'the' work 'em harder nor we does, an' doan't feed 'em
+so well. We give ourn meat and whisky ev'ry day, but them articles is
+skarse 'mong th' cotton blacks, an' th' rice niggers never get 'em
+excep' ter Christmas-time, an' thet cums but onst a yar.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you think the white could labor as well as the black, on the rice
+and cotton-fields?' I asked.</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, an' better&mdash;better any whar; but, in coorse, 'tain't natur' fur
+black nor white ter stand long a workin' in th' mud and water up ter
+thar knees; sech work would kill off th' very devil arter a while. But
+th' white kin stand it longer nor the black, and it's 'cordin' ter
+reason that he shud; for, I reckon, stranger, that the spirit and pluck
+uv a man hev a durned sight ter du with work. They'll hole a man up when
+he's clean down, an' how kin we expec' thet th' pore nig, who's nary a
+thing ter work fur, an who's been kept under an' 'bused ever sense Adam
+was a young un'&mdash;how kin we expec' he'll work like men thet own
+'emselfs, an' whose faders hev been free ever sense creation? I reckon
+that the parient has a heap ter du with makin' th' chile. He puts the
+sperit inter 'im: doan't we see it in hosses an' critters an' sech like?
+It mayn't crap eout ter onst, but it's shore ter in th' long run, and
+thet's th' way th' black han't no smarter nor he is. He's been a-ground
+down an' kept under fur so long thet it'll take more'n 'un gin'ration
+ter bring him up. 'Tan't his fault thet he's no more sperit, an' p'raps
+'tan't ourn&mdash;thet is, them on us as uses 'em right&mdash;but it war the fault
+uv yer fader an' mine&mdash;yer fader stole 'em, and mine bought 'em, an'
+the' both made cattle uv 'em.'</p>
+
+<p>'But I had supposed the black was better fitted by nature for hard
+labor, in a hot climate, than the white.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, he arn't, an' I knows it. Th' d&mdash;&mdash;d parsons an' pol'tishuns say
+thet, but 'tan't so. I kin do half agin more work in a day then th' best
+nig I've got, an' I've dun it, tu, time an' agin, an' it didn't hurt me
+nuther. Ye knows ef a man hev a wife and young 'uns 'pendin' on him, an'
+arn't much 'forehanded, he'll work like th' devil. I've dun it, an' ye
+hev ef ye war ever put ter it; but th' nigs, why, the' han't got no
+wives and young 'uns ter work fur&mdash;the law doan't 'low 'em ter have
+any&mdash;the' han't nary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> a thing but thar carcasses, an' them's thar
+masters'.'</p>
+
+<p>'You say a man works better for being free; then you must think 'twould
+be well to free the negroes.'</p>
+
+<p>'In coorse, I does. Jest luk at them nigs o' mine; they're ter all
+'tents an' purposes free, 'case I use 'em like men, an' the' knows the'
+kin go whenever the' d&mdash;&mdash;d please. See how the' work&mdash;why, one on 'em
+does half as much agin as ony hard-driv' nigger in creation.'</p>
+
+<p>'What would you do with them, if they were <i>really</i> free?'</p>
+
+<p>'Du with 'em? why, hire 'em, an' make twice as much eout on 'em as I
+does now.'</p>
+
+<p>'But I don't think the two races were meant to live together.'</p>
+
+<p>'No more'n the' warn't. But 'tan't thar fault thet they's har. We han't
+no right to send 'em off. We orter stand by our'n an' our faders'
+doin's. The nig keers more fur his hum, so durned pore as it ar', then
+ye or I does fur our'n. I'd pack sech off ter Libraria or th' devil, as
+wanted ter go, but I'd hev no 'pulsion 'bout it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, my good friend, you're half-brother to Garrison. You don't talk to
+your neighbors in this way?'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, I doan't;' he replied, laughing. 'Ef I dun it, they'd treat me to
+a coat uv tar, and ride me out uv th' deestrict raather sudden, I
+reckon; but yer a Nuthener, an' the' all take nat'rally ter freedum,
+excep' th' d&mdash;&mdash;d doughfaces, an' ye aren't one on 'em, I'll swar.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I'm not. Do many of your neighbors think as you do?'</p>
+
+<p>'Reckon not many round har; but up in Cart'ret, whar I cum from, heaps
+on 'em do, though the' darn't say so.'</p>
+
+<p>By this time we had reached the still, and directing his attention to
+the enormous quantity of rosin that had been run into the pit which I
+have spoken of, I asked him why he threw so much valuable material away.</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, 'tan't wuth nothin' har. Thet's th' common, an' it won't bring in
+York, now, more'n a dollar forty-five. It costs a dollar an' two bits
+ter get it thar an' pay fur sellin on it, an' th' barr'l's wuth the
+difference. I doan't ship nuthin wuss no No. 2.'</p>
+
+<p>'What is No. 2?'</p>
+
+<p>He took the head from one of the barrels, and with an adze cut out a
+small piece, then handing me the specimen, replied:</p>
+
+<p>'Now hole thet up ter th' sun. Ye'll see though it's yaller, its clean
+and clar. Thet's good No. 2, what brings now two dollars an' two bits in
+New-York, an' pays me 'bout a dollar a barr'l; it's got eout o' second
+yar dip, an' as it comes eout uv th' still, is run through thet ar
+strainer,' pointing to a coarse wire-sieve that lay near. 'Th' common
+rosum, thet th' still's runnin' on now, is made eout on th' yaller
+dip&mdash;thet's th' kine o' turpentine thet runs from th' tree arter two
+yar's tappin'&mdash;we call it yallar dip 'case it's allers dark. We doan't
+strain common 'tall, an' it's full uv chips and dirt. It's low now, but
+ef it shud ever git up, I'd tap thet ar' heap, barr'l it up, run a
+little fresh-stilled inter it, an' 'twould be a'most so good as new.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then it is injured by being in the ground.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not much; it's jest as good fur ev'ry thing but makin' ile, puttin' it
+in the 'arth sort o' takes th' sap eout on it, an' th' sap's th' ile.
+Natur' sucks thet eout, I s'pose, ter make th' trees grow&mdash;I expec' my
+bones 'ill fodder 'em one on these days.'</p>
+
+<p>'Rosin is put to very many uses.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, but common's used mainly for ile and soap; th' Yankees put it
+inter hard yaller soap, 'case it makes it weigh, an' yer folks is up ter
+them doin's, and he looked at me and gave a sly laugh. I could not deny
+the 'hard' impeachment, and said nothing. Taking a specimen of very
+clear light-colored rosin from a shelf in the still-house, I asked him
+what that quality was worth.</p>
+
+<p>'Thet ar brought seven dollars for two hundred an' eighty pounds in
+York, airly this yar. It's th' very best No. 1; an' it's hard ter make,
+'case ef th' still gets overhet it turns it a tinge. Thet sort is run
+through two sieves, the coarse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> 'un, an' thet ar,' pointing to another
+wire strainer, the meshes of which were as fine as those of the
+flour-sieve used by housewives.</p>
+
+<p>'Do your seven field-hands produce enough 'dip' to keep your still a
+running?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, I buys th' rest uv my naboors who han't no stills; an' th' Cunnel's
+down on me 'case I pay 'em more'n he will; but I go on Franklin's
+princerpel: 'A nimble sixpence's better'n a slow shillin'. A great ole
+feller thet, warn't he? I've got his life.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you practice on his precepts; that's the reason you've got on so
+well.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, thet an' hard knocks. The best o' doctrins arn't wuth a d&mdash;&mdash;n ef
+ye doan't work on 'em.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is true.'</p>
+
+<p>We shortly afterward went to the house, and there I passed several hours
+in conversation with my new friend and his excellent wife. The lady,
+after a while, showed me over the building. It was well-built,
+well-arranged, and had many conveniences I did not expect to find in a
+backwoods dwelling. She told me its timbers and covering were of
+well-seasoned yellow pine&mdash;which will last for centuries&mdash;and that it
+was built by a Yankee carpenter, whom they had ''ported' from
+Charleston, paying his fare, and giving him his living and two dollars
+and a half a day. It had cost as near as she 'cud reckon, 'bout two
+thousan' dollars.'</p>
+
+<p>It was five o'clock, when, shaking them warmly by the hand, I bade my
+pleasant friends 'good-by,' and mounting my horse rode off to the
+Colonel's.</p>
+
+<p>The family were at supper when I returned to the mansion, and, entering
+the room, I took my accustomed place at the table. None present seemed
+disposed to conversation. The little that was said was spoken in a low,
+subdued tone, and no allusion was made to the startling event of the
+day. At last the octoroon woman asked me if I had met Mrs. Barnes at the
+farmer's.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' I replied, 'and I was greatly pleased with her. She seems one of
+those rare women who would lend grace to even the lowest station.'</p>
+
+<p>'She <i>is</i> a rare woman; a true, sincere Christian. Every one loves her;
+but few know all her worth; only those do who have gone to her in sorrow
+and trial, as&mdash;&mdash;' and her voice trembled, and her eyes moistened&mdash;&mdash;
+'as I have.'</p>
+
+<p>And so that poor, outcast, despised, dishonored woman, scorned and cast
+off by all the world, had found one sympathizing, pitying friend. Truly,
+'He tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.'</p>
+
+<p>When the meal was over, all but Madam P&mdash;&mdash; retired to the library.
+Tommy and I fell to reading, but the Colonel shortly rose and continued
+pacing up and down the apartment till the clock sounded eight. The lady
+then entered, and said to him:</p>
+
+<p>'The negroes are ready, David; will <i>you</i> go, Mr. K&mdash;&mdash;?'</p>
+
+<p>'I think not, madam,' I replied; 'at least not now.'</p>
+
+<p>I continued reading, for a time, when, tiring of the book, I laid it
+down, and followed them to the little burial-ground.</p>
+
+<p>The grave of Sam was open, and the plantation blacks were gathered
+around it. In the centre of the group, and at the head of the rude
+coffin, the Colonel was seated, and near him the octoroon woman and her
+son. The old preacher was speaking.</p>
+
+<p>'My chil'ren,' he said, 'she hab gone ter Him, wid har chile&mdash;gone up
+dar, whar dey doan't sorrer no more, whar dey doan't weep no more, whar
+all tears am wiped from dar eyes foreber. I knows she lay han's on
+harseff, and dat, my chil'ren, am whot none ob us shud do, 'case we'm de
+Lord's; he put us har, an' he'll take us 'way when we's fru wid our
+work, not afore. We hab no right ter gwo afore. Pore Juley did&mdash;but
+p'raps she cudn't help it. P'raps de great sorrer war so big in har
+heart, dat she cudn't fine rest nowhar but in de cole, dark riber.
+P'raps she warn't ter blame&mdash;p'raps,' and here his eyes filled&mdash;'p'raps
+ole Pomp war all ter blame, fur I tole har, my chil'ren'&mdash;he could say
+no more, and sinking down on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> a rude seat, he covered his face, and
+sobbed audibly. Even the Colonel's strong frame heaved with emotion, and
+not a dry eye was near. After a time the old man rose again, and with
+streaming eyes, and upturned face, continued:</p>
+
+<p>'Dar's One up dar, my chil'ren, dat say: 'Come unter me, all ye dat am
+weary an' a heaby laden, an' I will gib you ress.' He, de good Lord, he
+say dat; an' p'raps Juley hard him say it, an' dat make har gwo.' Again
+his voice failed, and he sank down, weeping and moaning as if his heart
+would break.</p>
+
+<p>A pause followed, when the Colonel rose, and aided by Jim and two other
+blacks, with his own hands nailed down the lid, and lowered the rude
+coffin into the ground. Then the earth was thrown upon it, and then the
+long, low chant which the negroes raise over the dead, mingling now with
+sobs and moans, and breaking into a strange wild wail, went up among the
+pines, and floating off on the still night air, echoed through the dark
+woods, till it sounded like music from the grave. I have been in the
+chamber of the dying; I have seen the young and the beautiful laid away
+in the earth; but I never felt the solemn awfulness of death as I did
+when, in the stillness and darkness of night, I listened to the wild
+grief of that negro group, and saw the bodies of that slave mother and
+her child, lowered to their everlasting rest by the side of Sam.</p>
+
+<p>The morning broke bright and mellow with the rays of the winter sun,
+which in Carolina lends the warmth of October to the chills of January,
+when, with my portmanteau strapped, and my thin overcoat on my arm, I
+gave my last 'God bless you' to the octoroon woman, and turned my face
+toward home.</p>
+
+<p>Jim shouted, 'All ready,' the driver cracked his whip, and we were on
+our way to Georgetown.</p>
+
+<p>The recent rains had hardened the roads, the bridges were repaired, and
+we were whirled rapidly forward, and at one o'clock reached Bucksville.
+There we met a cordial welcome, and remained to dinner. Our host pressed
+us to pass the night at his house, but the Colonel had business with one
+of his secession friends residing down the road&mdash;my wayside
+acquaintance, Colonel A&mdash;&mdash;, and desired to stay over night with him. At
+three o'clock, bidding a kindly farewell to Captain B&mdash;&mdash; and his
+excellent family, we were again on our way.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was just sinking among the western pines, when we turned into a
+broad avenue, lined with stately old trees, and rode up to the doorway
+of the rice-planter. It was a large, square, dingy old house, seated on
+a gentle knoll, a short half-mile from the river, along whose banks
+stretched the rice-fields. We entered, and were soon welcomed by its
+proprietor.</p>
+
+<p>He received my friend warmly, and gave me a courteous greeting,
+remarking, when I mentioned that I was homeward bound, that it was wise
+to go. 'Things are very unsettled; there's no telling what a day may
+bring forth; feeling is running very high, and a Northern man, whatever
+his principles, is not safe here. By the way,' he added, 'did you not
+meet with some little obstruction at Conwayboro, on your way up?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I did; a person there ordered me back, but when things began to
+look serious, Scipio, the negro whom you saw with me, got me out of the
+hobble.'</p>
+
+<p>'Didn't he tell the gentleman that you were a particular friend of mine,
+and had met me by appointment at Captain B&mdash;&mdash;'s?' he asked, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>'I believe he did, sir; but I assure you, <i>I</i> said nothing of the kind,
+and I think the black should not be blamed, under the circumstances.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! no; I don't blame him. I think he did a smart thing. He might have
+said you were my grandmother, if it would have served you, for that low
+fellow is as fractious as the devil, and dead sure on the trigger.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are very good, sir,' I replied; 'how did you hear of it?'</p>
+
+<p>'A day or two afterward, B&mdash;&mdash; passed here on his way to Georgetown. I
+had been riding out, and happened to be at the head of my avenue when
+he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> was going by. He stopped, and asked if I knew you. Not knowing then
+the circumstances, I said that I had met you casually at Bucksville, but
+had no particular acquaintance with you. He rode on, saying nothing
+further. The next morning I had occasion to go to Georgetown, and at Mr.
+Fraser's office accidentally heard that Scip&mdash;who is well known and
+universally liked there&mdash;was to have a public whipping that evening.
+Something prompted me to inquire into it, and I was told that he had
+been charged by B&mdash;&mdash; with shielding a well-known abolitionist at
+Conwayboro&mdash;a man who was going through the up-country distributing such
+damnable publications as the New-York <i>Independent</i> and <i>Tribune</i>. I
+knew, of course, it referred to you, and that it wasn't true. I went to
+Scip and got the facts, and by stretching the truth a little, finally
+got him off. There was a slight discrepancy between my two accounts of
+you,' (and here he laughed heartily,) 'and B&mdash;&mdash;, when we were before
+the Justice, remarked on it, and came d&mdash;&mdash;d near calling me a liar. It
+was lucky he didn't, for if he had he'd gone to h&mdash;&mdash;l before the place
+was hot enough for him.'</p>
+
+<p>'I can not tell you, my dear sir, how grateful I am to you for this. It
+would have pained me more than I can express, if Scip had suffered for
+doing a disinterested kindness to me.'</p>
+
+<p>Early in the morning we were again on our way, and twelve o'clock found
+us seated at a dinner of bacon, corn-bread, and waffles, in the 'first
+hotel' of Georgetown. The Charleston boat was to leave at three o'clock;
+and, as soon as dinner was over, I sallied out to find Scip. After a
+half-hour's search I found him on 'Shackelford's wharf,' engaged in
+loading a schooner bound for New-York with a cargo of cotton and
+turpentine.</p>
+
+<p>He was delighted to see me, and after I told him I was going home, and
+might never see him again, I took his hand warmly in mine, and said:</p>
+
+<p>'Scip, I have heard of the disgrace that was near being put upon you on
+my account, and I feel deeply the disinterested service you did to me;
+now, I <i>can not</i> go away without doing <i>something</i> for you&mdash;showing you
+in <i>some</i> way that I appreciate and <i>like</i> you.'</p>
+
+<p>'I likes <i>you</i>, massa,' he replied, the tears coming to his eyes; 'I tuk
+ter you de bery fuss day I seed you, 'case, I s'pose'&mdash;and he wrung my
+hand till it ached&mdash;'you pitied de pore brack man. But you karnt do
+nuffin fur <i>me</i>, massa; I doan't want nuffin; I doan't want ter leab
+har, 'case de Lord dat put me har arn't willin' I shud gwo. But you kin
+do suffin, massa, fur de pore brack man, an' dat'll be doin' it fur
+<i>me</i>, 'case my heart am all in dat. You kin tell dem folks up dar, whar
+you lib, massa, dat we'm not like de brutes, as dey tink we is. Dat we's
+got souls, an' 'telligence, an' feelin's, an' am men like demselfs. You
+kin tell 'em, too, massa&mdash;'case you's edication, and kin talk&mdash;how de
+pore wite man am kep' down har; how he'm ragged, an' starvin', an' ob no
+account, 'case de brack man am a slave. How der chil'ren can't get no
+schulein', how eben de grow'd-up ones doan't know nuffin&mdash;not eben so
+much as de pore brack slave, 'case de 'stockracy want dar votes, an
+cudn't get 'em ef dey 'low'd 'em larnin'. Ef your folks know'd all de
+truf&mdash;ef dey know'd how boff de brack an' de pore w'ite man, am on de
+groun', an' can't git up, ob demselfs&mdash;dey'd do suffin&mdash;dey'd break de
+Constertution&mdash;dey'd do <i>suffin</i> ter help us. I doan't want no one
+hurted, I doan't want no one wronged; but jess tink ob it, massa, four
+million ob bracks, an' nigh so many pore w'ites, wid de bressed Gospil
+shinin' down on 'em, an' dey not knowin' on it. All dem&mdash;ebry one ob
+'em&mdash;made in de image ob de great God, an' dey driven roun' an' 'bused
+wuss dan de brutes. You's seed dis, massa, wid your own eyes, an' you
+kin tell 'em on it; an' you <i>will</i> tell 'em on it, massa;' and again he
+took my hand while the tears rolled down his cheeks; 'an' Scip will
+bress you fur it, massa&mdash;wid his bery lass breaf he'll bress you; an' de
+good Lord will bress you, too, massa; he will foreber bress you, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>
+he'm on de side ob de pore an' de 'flicted; his own book say dat, an' it
+am true, I knows it, fur I feels it <i>har</i>;' and he laid his hand on his
+heart, and was silent.</p>
+
+<p>I could not speak for a moment. When I mastered my feelings, I said: 'I
+<i>will</i> do it Scip; as God gives me strength, I <i>will</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>Reader, I am keeping my word.</p>
+
+<p>This is not a work of fiction. It is a record of facts, and therefore
+the reader will not expect me to dispose of its various characters on
+artistic principles&mdash;that is, lay them away in one of those final
+receptacles for the creations of the romancer&mdash;the grave and matrimony.
+Death has been among them, but nearly all are yet doing their work in
+this breathing, busy world.</p>
+
+<p>The characters I have introduced are real. They are not drawn with the
+pencil of fancy, nor, I trust, colored with the tints of prejudice. The
+scenes I have described are true. I have taken some liberties with the
+names of persons and places, and, in a few instances, altered dates; but
+the events themselves occurred under my own observation. No one
+acquainted with the section of country I have described, or familiar
+with the characters I have delineated, will question this statement.
+Lest some one who has not seen the slave and the poor white man of the
+South, as he actually is, should deem my picture overdrawn, I will say
+that 'the half has not been told!' If the whole were related&mdash;if the
+Southern system, in all its naked ugliness, were fully exposed&mdash;the
+truth would read like fiction, and the baldest relation of fact like the
+wildest dream of romance.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The overseer was never taken. A letter which I received from Colonel
+J&mdash;&mdash;, shortly prior to the stoppage of the mails, informed me that Moye
+had succeeded in crossing the mountains into Tennessee, where, in an
+interior town, he disposed of the horse, and then made his way by an
+inland route to the free States. The horse the Colonel had recovered,
+but the overseer he never expected to see. Moye is now, no doubt,
+somewhere in the North, and is probably at this present writing a
+zealous Union man, of somewhat the same 'stripe' as the conductors of
+the New-York <i>Herald</i> and the Boston <i>Courier</i>.</p>
+
+<p>I have not heard directly from Scipio, but one day last July, after a
+long search, I found on one of the wharves of South street a coasting
+captain who knew him well, and who had seen him the month previous at
+Georgetown. He was at that time pursuing his usual avocations, and was
+as much respected and trusted as when I met him.</p>
+
+<p>A few days after the tidings of the fall of Sumter were received in
+New-York, and when I had witnessed the spontaneous and universal
+uprising of the North which followed that event, I dispatched letters to
+several of my Southern friends, giving them as near as I could an
+account of the true state of feeling here, and representing the utter
+madness of the course the South was pursuing. One of these letters went
+to my Union acquaintance whom I have called, in the preceding pages,
+'Andy Jones.'</p>
+
+<p>He promptly replied, and a pretty regular correspondence ensued between
+us, which has continued, at intervals, even since the suspension of
+intercourse between the North and the South.</p>
+
+<p>Andy has stood firmly and nobly by the old flag. At the risk of every
+thing, he has boldly expressed his sentiments every where. With his life
+in his hand and&mdash;a revolver in each of his breeches-pockets, he walked
+the streets of Wilmington when the secession fever was at its hight,
+openly proclaiming his undying loyalty to the Union, and 'no man dared
+gainsay him.'</p>
+
+<p>But with all his patriotism, Andy keeps a bright eye on the 'main
+chance.' Like his brother, the Northern Yankee, whom he somewhat
+resembles and greatly admires, he never omits an opportunity of 'turning
+an honest penny.' In defiance of custom-house regulations and of our
+strict blockade, he has carried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> on a more or less regular traffic with
+New-York and Boston (<i>via</i> Halifax and other neutral ports) ever since
+North-Carolina seceded. His turpentine, while it was still his property,
+has been sold in the New-York market, under the very eyes of the
+government officials, and, honest reader, <i>I</i> have known of it.</p>
+
+<p>By various roundabout means, I have recently received letters from him.
+His last, dated in April, and brought to a neutral port by a shipmaster
+whom he implicitly trusts, has reached me since the previous chapters
+were written. It covers six pages of foolscap, and is written in
+defiance of all grammatical and orthographical principles; but as it
+conveys important intelligence in regard to some of the persons
+mentioned in this narrative, I will transcribe a portion of it.</p>
+
+<p>It gave me the melancholy tidings of the death of Colonel J&mdash;&mdash;. He had
+joined the Confederate army, and fell, bravely meeting a charge of the
+Massachusetts troops, at Roanoke.</p>
+
+<p>On receiving the news of his friend's death, Andy rode over to the
+plantation, and found Madam P&mdash;&mdash; plunged in the deepest grief. While he
+was there, a letter arrived from Charleston, with intelligence of the
+dangerous illness of her son. This second blow crushed her. For several
+days she was delirious and her life despaired of; but throughout the
+whole, the noble corn-cracker, neglecting every thing, remained beside
+her.</p>
+
+<p>When she returned to herself, and had in a measure recovered her
+strength, she learned that the Colonel had left no will; that she was
+still a slave, and soon to be sold, with the rest of the Colonel's
+<i>personal property</i>, according to law.</p>
+
+<p>This is what Andy writes about the affair. I give the letter as he wrote
+it, merely correcting the punctuation and enough of the spelling to make
+it intelligible:</p>
+
+<p>'W'en I hard thet th' Cunnel hadent leff no wil, I was hard put what ter
+dew; but arter thinkin' on it over a spell, I knowed shede har on it
+sumhow; so I 'cluded to tell har miseff. She tuk on d&mdash;&mdash;d hard at fust,
+but arter a bit, grew more calm like, and then she sed it war God's wil,
+an' she wudent komplane. Ye knows I've got a wife, but w'en the ma'am
+sed thet, she luk'd so like an angel, thet d&mdash;&mdash;d eff I cud help puttin'
+my arms round har, an' huggin' on har, till she a'moste screeched. Wal,
+I toled har I'd stan' by har, eff evrithing went ter h&mdash;&mdash;l, an' I wil,
+by&mdash;&mdash;.</p>
+
+<p>'I made up mi minde to onst what ter dew. It war darned harde work tur
+bee 'way from hum jess then, but I war in fur it; soe I put ter
+Charleston, ter see th' Cunnel's 'oman. Wal, I seed har, an' I toled har
+how th' ma'am felte, an' how mutch shede dun at makein' th' Cunnel's
+money, (she made nigh th' hul on it, 'case he war alers keerles, an' tuk
+no 'count uv things; eff 't'aden't been fur thet, hede made a wil,) an'
+I axed har ter see thet the ma'am had free papers ter onst. An' whot der
+ye s'poze she sed? Nuthin', by &mdash;&mdash;, 'cept she dident no nuthin' 'bout
+bisniss, an' leff all uv sech things ter har loryer. Wal, then I went
+ter him&mdash;he ar one on them slick, ily, seceshun houn's who'd sell thar
+soles fur a kountterfit dollar&mdash;an' he toled me th' 'ministratur hadent
+sot yit, an' he cudent dew nuthin' till he hed. Ses I: 'Ye mean th'
+'oman's got ter gwo ter th' hi'est bider?' 'Yas,' he sed, 'the Cunnel's
+got dets, an' the've got ter bee pade, an' th' persoonal prop'ty muste
+bee sold ter dew it.' Then I sed, 'twud bee sum time 'fore thet war dun,
+an' the 'oman's 'most ded an uv no use now; 'what'll ye <i>hire</i> har tur
+me fur.' He said a hun'red fur sicks months. I planked down the money
+ter onst, an' put off.</p>
+
+<p>'I war bilin' over, but it sumhow cum inter my hed thet the Cunnel's
+'oman cudn't bee <i>all</i> stun; so I gose thar agin, an' I toled har what
+the loryer sed, an' made a reg'lar stump-'peal tew har bettur natur. I
+axed har ef she'd leff the 'oman who'd made har husban's fortun', who
+war the muther uv his chil'ren, who fur twenty yar hed nussed him in
+sick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>ness an' cheered him in healtf, ef shede let <i>thet 'oman</i> bee
+auckyund off ter th' hi'est bider. I axed al thet, an' what der ye think
+she sed? Why, jest this. '<i>I</i> doan't no nuthin' 'bout it, Mister Jones.
+Ye raily must talke ter mi loryer; them matters I leaves 'tirely ter
+him.' Then I sed I s'posed the niggers war ter bee advertist. 'O yas!'
+she sed, (an' ye see she know'd a d&mdash;&mdash;d site 'bout <i>thet</i>,) 'all on
+'em muss bee solde, 'case ye knows I never did luv the kuntry; 'sides
+<i>I</i> cuden't karry on the plantashun, no how.' Then sed I: 'The Orleans
+traders 'ill be thar, an' she wun't sell fur but one use, fur she's
+hansum yit; an' ma'am, ye wun't leff a 'oman as white as you is, who fur
+twenty yar hes ben a tru an' fatheful <i>wife</i> tar yer own ded husban', (I
+shudn't hev put thet in, but d&mdash;&mdash;d ef I cud help it,) ye wun't put
+<i>har</i> up on the block, an' hev har struck down ter the hi'est bider, ter
+bee made a d&mdash;&mdash;d &mdash;&mdash; on?'</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, I s'pose she haden't forgot thet fur more'n twelve yar the Cunnel
+hed <i>luv'd</i> t'other 'oman an' onely <i>liked</i> har; fur w'en I sed thet,
+har ize snapped like h&mdash;&mdash;l, an' she screetched eout thet she dident
+'low no sech wurds in har hous', an' ordurd me ter leave. Mitey sqeemish
+thet, warn't it? bein' as shede been fur so mony yar the Cunnel's &mdash;&mdash;,
+an' th' tuther one his raal wife.</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, I <i>did</i> leav'; but I leff a piece of mi mind ahind. I toled har
+I'de buy thet ar 'oman ef she cost all I war wuth and I had ter pawne my
+sole ter git the money; an' I added, jest by way uv sweet'nin' the pill,
+thet I owed all I hed ter har husband, an' dident furget <i>my</i> dets ef
+she did <i>hern</i>, an' ef his own wife disgraced him, I'd be d&mdash;&mdash;d ef <i>I</i>
+wud.</p>
+
+<p>'Wal, I've got th' ma'am an' har boy ter hum, an' my 'oman hes tuk ter
+har a heep. I doan't no w'en the sale's ter cum off, but ye may bet hi'
+on my bein' thar, an' I'll buy har ef I hev ter go my hull pile on har,
+an' borrer th' money fur ole Pomp. But <i>he'll</i> go cheap, 'case the
+Cunnel's deth nigh dun him up. It clean killed Ante Lucey. She never
+held her hed up arter she heerd 'Masser Davy' war ded, fur she sot har
+vary life on him. Don't ye feel consarned 'bout the ma'am&mdash;I knows ye
+sot hi' on har. <i>I'll buy har</i> shore. Thet an' deth ar th' onely things
+thet I knows on, in this world, jess now, that ar <span class="smcap">Sartin</span>.'</p>
+
+<p>Such is Andy's letter. Misspelled and profane though it be, I would not
+alter a word or a syllable of it. It deserves to be written in
+characters of gold and hung up in the sky, where it might be read by all
+the world. And it <i>is</i> written in the sky&mdash;in the great record book&mdash;and
+it will be read when you and I, reader, meet the assembled universe, to
+give account of what <i>we</i> have done and written. God grant that our
+record may show some such deed as that!</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The whisky was kept in a back room, above ground, because
+the dwelling had no cellar. The fluid was kept safely under lock and
+key, and the farmer accounted for that by saying that his negroes would
+steal nothing but whisky. Few country houses at the South have a
+cellar&mdash;that apartment deemed so essential by Northern housekeepers. The
+intervening space between the ground and the floor is there left open,
+to allow of a free circulation of air.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> No regular dinner-hour is allowed the blacks on most
+turpentine-plantations. Their food is usually either taken with them to
+the woods or carried there by house-servants, at stated times.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="SOUTHERN_RIGHTS" id="SOUTHERN_RIGHTS"></a>SOUTHERN RIGHTS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The right to poison bullets,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The right to rifle graves,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To cut our prisoners' gullets,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or treat them like our slaves;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The right to use the savage</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To aid us in our fight,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To freely scalp and ravage,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each is a Southern right.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Call not these claims Satanic,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They're far beyond your ken:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How can a low mechanic</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Know aught of gentlemen?</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="MACCARONI_AND_CANVAS" id="MACCARONI_AND_CANVAS"></a>MACCARONI AND CANVAS.</h2>
+
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<h3><a name="ON_THE_PINCIO" id="ON_THE_PINCIO"></a>ON THE PINCIO.</h3>
+
+
+<p>With that wise foresight, shared by all European rulers, the Roman
+Pincio was undoubtedly wedded to its purpose of keeping the idle ones
+very busy at the very time of day when revolutionary plots find the best
+hearing&mdash;before dinner. Whirling around its walks in carriages, or
+gently promenading under trees, among rose-bushes, and by fountains,
+while a large band of musicians play with spirit fine selections from
+the last operas, or favorite airs from old ones; the eye gratified by
+the sight of pleasant faces, or dwelling enraptured on the beautiful
+landscape spread before it&mdash;how can the brain disengage itself to think
+of Liberty, won through toil and battle, only to be preserved by
+self-denial and moral strength?</p>
+
+<p>But the traveler who travels only to travel, and has the means and
+spirit to find pleasure wherever he goes, thinking only of what he sees,
+enjoys to its fullest extent the luxurious seat of the hired,
+white-damask-lined carriage, drawn by stalwart, heavy-limbed, coal-black
+horses, with sweeping tails, the white foam flying from the champed
+silver bits, the whole turn-out driven by a handsome, white-gloved,
+black-coated Roman. In solemn state and swiftly, he winds up the zig-zag
+road leading from the piazza Popolo, (so-called from <i>popolo</i>, a
+poplar-tree, and not as the English will have it, from <i>popolo</i>, the
+people,) and at last reaches the summit of Roman ambition&mdash;the top of
+the Pincian hill. He passes other carriages filled with other strangers
+like himself, or with titled and fashionable Romans, and finally, his
+carriage drawn up to one side of the broad drive in front of the
+semi-circle where the band plays, he descends, to walk around and chat
+with the friends he may find there.</p>
+
+<p>Toward sunset the scene is full of animation. The sabres of the cavalry
+soldiers, on guard to prevent infraction of rules, gleam brightly; the
+old infantry soldiers are darting here and there, chasing away sundry
+ownerless dogs, who always make it a point to promenade the Pincio; the
+Italian nurses from Albano, or at least dressed in Albanese costume,
+shine conspicuous in their crimson-bodiced dresses; Englishmen going
+through their constitutional; Frenchmen mourning for the Champs Elys&eacute;es;
+artists in broad-brim hats smoking cigars; Americans observing Italy, so
+as to be like Italians; ladies of all nations commanding the attention
+of mankind as they sweep along the hard-rolled gravel-walks; smiles,
+bows, looks of love, indignation, affection, coquetry; faces reflective
+of great deeds and greater dinners ... every face bright in the lambent
+amber light that streams from the sun dipping his head preparatory to
+putting on his night-cap, and bidding Rome <i>felicissima notte!</i> a most
+happy night.</p>
+
+<p>Over the irregular walls of the subdued white and mellow gray houses and
+palaces, beyond the Tiber running red in the dying sunlight, over the
+round-walled castle of San Angelo, the dome of Saint Peter's rises full
+in the midst of the twinkling, hazy, red and golden light. Passing the
+stone-pines crowning Monte Mario, there gleam away to the left the far
+waters of the sea, over which the purple mist of young night tenderly,
+softly falls. Once thoughtfully noted, you will remember this glowing
+scene years after sublimer and wilder views are lost to memory or grown
+so faint that they are to you but as dull colors seen in dreams of old
+age compared to the flashing brightness of those presented to the closed
+eyes of youth.</p>
+
+<p>As the sun sets and those in carriages and on foot slowly leave the
+hights of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> the Pincio, and descend once more to the old city, you will
+hear, as the evening star shines brighter and brighter, the first
+liquid, thrilling notes of the nightingales; then as you lean over the
+stone parapet, dreamily looking into the dense foliage of trees and
+shrubs beneath you, you will feel the beauty of those lines:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seek the nightingale's sequestered tower,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who with her love-lorn melody</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So bewitched thee in the vernal hour:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When she ceased to love, she ceased to be.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>It is from the months of May to November, when travelers have left Rome,
+and the city is in the hands of the Romans, that your walks on the
+Pincio will prove something more than a mere repetition of a stroll in
+Baden-Baden, or a revival of ideas common to the Prado or Prater. No
+longer the little prettinesses of the Medicean Venus flirt by you in the
+nervous silks that flutter along these walks, but something nobly
+womanly, of a solid past, slow and stately, moves solemnly, by. We know
+the lives of these copies of the Venus of Milos, we know its most
+commonplace and vulgar attributes, but we know, too, its strength! The
+city of Rome holds in its women the mothers of heroes, when Providence
+shall withdraw the black veil now hung over their rude minds, and let in
+the light of knowledge. We who laugh at their sad ignorance, think what
+we would be without liberty&mdash;our minds enslaved, geography tabooed!
+Egypt is a paradise compared to Rome.</p>
+
+<p>The advantages of foreign travel to an intelligent American are to teach
+him ... the disadvantages of living any where save in America. And
+though the artistic eye dwells with such loving repose on the soothing
+colors of Italy, and particularly on the subdued white and gray tones of
+Roman ruins and palaces, walls and houses, yet the owner of that
+artistic eye should restrain his wrath at the fiery red bricks of our
+own cities, for let him reflect that this color goads him on, as it doth
+a bull, to make valorous efforts&mdash;to do something!</p>
+
+<p>Looking down from the stone balustrade of the Pincio on the piazza
+Popolo, we note two churches, one on either side of the Corso; their
+architecture is neither more nor less hideous than nine tenths of the
+other three hundred and odd churches of Rome; the same heavy,
+half-cooked look about doors and windows, suggesting cocked-hats of the
+largest size on the heads of dwarfs of no size at all; the same heavy
+scroll-work, reminding one of the work of a playful giant of a
+green-grocer who has made a bouquet of sausages and cabbages, egg-plants
+and legs of mutton, and exhibits it to a thick-headed public as a&mdash;work
+of art. O Roman <i>Plebs!</i> lay this nattering unction to your soul&mdash;we did
+not do that!</p>
+
+<p>The history of all nations seem to indicate successive ages of grub and
+butterfly-life; certainly Rome has been a grub long enough. Let us hope
+the sun of Victor Emmanuel, the King of Gallant Men, will hasten the
+time when the Romans shall wing their way to the light of Liberty. These
+mockeries of architecture shall then stand as warning fingers to the
+Romans of the sad days that were; the days when mind and body were
+enslaved, and the grinning monkey held the dove tight-clutched in his
+brutal grasp. Through sword and fire public taste must pass before it is
+purified: the mountain-stream, dashing along with bounding steps, is
+clear and sparkling, but in the long stretch of level pastureland or
+prairie it is still and&mdash;dirty.</p>
+
+<p>It may be well to descend and wander through those close and narrow
+streets where the waste-water of old Roman aqueducts makes green and
+damp the foundation stories of gloomy houses, and where the
+carefully-nurtured traveler sees sights of smoked interiors, dirt and
+rubbish in the streets, that terrify him; but let him remember that in
+the worst of these kennels the inhabitants have never forgotten that
+they had a Past, and the 'I am a Roman Citizen!' still rings in their
+ears, eats into their hearts, and is at their tongue's end. Monsieur
+About was in Rome when Caper was there; he saw these Romans through
+Napoleonic spectacles: while one foot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> was trying to stamp on Antonelli
+gently, the other was daintily ascending the shining steps leading to
+the temple of Gallic fame. He is impressed with the idea that the Romans
+are hangers-on of hangers-on to patricians, from which we are to infer,
+if the patricians are ever hung, there will be a heavy weight to their
+feet!</p>
+
+<p>Rocjean, one afternoon, after a walk on the Pincio, was returning to his
+studio, when, as he descended to the Via Babuino, he met a Roman artist
+named Attonito, who cultivated the English.</p>
+
+<p>'Ow arr you toe-day, my dear?' he asked Rocjean.</p>
+
+<p>'Quite well, except a slight attack of bad English, from which I hope to
+recover in a few minutes.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pray tell unto me th-hat weech is bad Englis.'</p>
+
+<p>'Haven't you been on the Pincio?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yas, I tak' consteetutionails up there avery afternoons; it is a
+costume Englis' th-hat I vary moche cotton to.'...</p>
+
+<p>'W-hat! Cotton to? Why, that is a clear Americanism; where did you pick
+it up?'</p>
+
+<p>'Meester Caper of Noo-York, he told unto me it am more elegant as to
+say, I love, or I affection. Bote, 'ave you saw that bu-tee-fool
+creechure with 'air of flags?'...</p>
+
+<p>'What!'</p>
+
+<p>''Air of flags; 'ow you name eet? <i>Capellatura di lino?</i>'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! you mean tow-head?'</p>
+
+<p>'Toe! no, no! I mean <i>lino</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! yes, flaxen hair.'</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Benissimo!</i> Vary well, flagson 'air and blue eyze. Shhe was in
+carri-adge with Lady Blumpudy. I go avery afternoons to inspect her as
+she takes the airs on the Pincio, Eet would gife me great pleasures to
+ally myself to her in marriage compact, bote I do not know eef she has a
+fortune. Do you know any theengs?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, a great many; one of which is that it is my dinner-time, and as I
+turn down the Condotti&mdash;good afternoon.'</p>
+
+<p>'Goo-ood by, my dear,' answered Attonito, as he slowly wandered up the
+Piazza di Spagna.</p>
+
+<p>Another example of the beneficial effects of the Pincio on the
+<i>bourgeoise</i>, thought Rocjean. When will the alarm-bell in the clock of
+Roman time ring out its awaking peal?</p>
+
+<h3><a name="ROME_BY_NIGHT" id="ROME_BY_NIGHT"></a>ROME BY NIGHT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>If one would realize the romantic side of Rome in all its stately
+grandeur, and receive a solemn and ineffaceable impression of its
+beauty, by all means let him, like Quevedo's hero, sleep 'a-daytime' and
+do his sight-seeing by moonlight or star-light; for, save in some few
+favored quarters, its inspection by gaslight would be difficult.
+Remember, too, that all that is grandly beautiful of Rome, the traveler
+has seen before he reaches the Imperial City&mdash;with the eyes of
+understanding, with the eyes of others&mdash;in books.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing but a heap of old stones, bricks, and mortar is there here for
+the illiterate tourist&mdash;he can have six times as jolly a time in Paris
+for half the money that he pays 'in that old hole where a fellow named
+Culius J&aelig;sar used to live.'</p>
+
+<p>As if the night were not sufficiently dark in this city, there are
+always those who stand ready with the paint-brush of fancy to make it
+even of a darker hue; whisperings among the travelers in hotels of
+certain Jim Joneses or Bill Smiths who have been robbed. Yes, sir, early
+in the evening, right there in the Corso: grabbed his watch and chain,
+struck him on the head. You know he was a powerfully built man; but they
+came behind him, and if he hadn't have done so and so, the rascally
+Italians would have killed him, and so forth.</p>
+
+<p>'Re-al-ly; well, you won't catch me out at nights!'</p>
+
+<p>There rises up, as I write, the figure of a slim young man, of the
+day-time negro-minstrel style of beauty, who once dwelt three weeks in
+Rome. I know that he was profound in knowledge of trick and vice, and
+that he had an impediment in his speech&mdash;he could never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> speak the
+truth. He told a fearful tale of a midnight robbery in the Piazza di
+Spagna&mdash;himself the victim. It was well told, and I ought to know, for I
+read it years before in a romance, only the scene was, in type, laid in
+Venice. According to this negro-minstrel style of youth, he had been
+seized from behind, held, robbed of watch and elegant gold chain, red
+coral shirt-studs, onyx sleeve-buttons, and a porte-monnaie containing
+fifty scudi, etc., etc. He was the theatrical hero of the hotel for two
+days, and the recipient of many drinks. Time, the cater of things, never
+digested this falsehood, and months after the youth had left, I learned
+that he had lost all his jewelry and money at&mdash;twenty-deck poker.</p>
+
+<p>A few nights after Caper was domiciled in the Via Babuino, Rocjean
+called on him, and as he entered his room, carefully extinguished a
+taper, and was putting it in his pocket, when Caper asked him what that
+was for?</p>
+
+<p>'That! it's a <i>cerina</i>. Have you been two weeks in Rome, and not found
+out that? Why, how did you get up-stairs at night?'</p>
+
+<p>'There was a lamp in the entry.'</p>
+
+<p>'None there to-night, so I had to light this. It's only a long piece of
+wick, dipped in wax; you see you can roll it up in a ball, and carry it
+in your pocket, so! Without this and a box of matches, you can never
+hope to be a good Roman. You must have seen that where the houses have
+any front-doors, three quarters of them are open all night long; for, as
+on every floor of a house, there live different families, they find it
+saves trouble&mdash;trouble is money in Rome&mdash;to leave the door unclosed.
+These dark entries, for they are seldom lighted, offer a grand chance
+for intrigues, and when you have lived here as long as I have, you will
+find out that they&mdash;improve the chances. A <i>cerina</i>, in addition to
+keeping you from breaking your neck, by tumbling down stone stairs,
+gives light to avoid the stray dogs that sleep around loose, and to see
+if there is any enemy around who wants to give you a few inches of cold
+steel. You may laugh at robbers here; but you may cry for mercy in vain
+to a Roman who seeks <i>vendetta</i>&mdash;revenge, you know. Bad way to use
+foreign words; but we all do it here. Speak an Italianized English after
+a time, the effect of had examples. But come, if you want to see Rome by
+moonlight, it's time we were off.'</p>
+
+<p>As they reached the street, Caper asked Rocjean where he could buy the
+<i>cerina</i>.</p>
+
+<p>'At any <i>dragheria</i>' said the latter.</p>
+
+<p>'Good, there is a druggist's store up the street&mdash;Borioni's.'</p>
+
+<p>'A <i>dragheria</i> means a grocery-store in Rome. If you want molasses,
+however, you must go to the <i>farmacia</i> for it, [that is the Roman for
+druggist's shop,] and you will buy it by the ounce.'</p>
+
+<p>'Live and learn,' said Caper, as they entered the grocery and bought the
+<i>cerina</i>-price, one baioccho a yard.</p>
+
+<p>'And now let us walk out to Saint Peter's, and see the church by
+moonlight.'</p>
+
+<p>'The want of sidewalks in this city,' remarked Rocjean, 'compelling the
+Romans to walk over cobble-stones, undoubtedly is the cause of the large
+feet of the women, added to their dislike of being in pain from tight
+shoes or boots. For genuine martyrdom from tight shoes, French, Spanish,
+and Americans&mdash;but chiefly Cubans&mdash;next to Chinese women, are ahead of
+the world.'</p>
+
+<p>'But apart from the fact that they do walk on the narrow sidewalks in
+the Corso, I have noticed that in the side-streets, even where there is
+a foot-walk, nobody takes advantage of it at night.'</p>
+
+<p>'For a good reason, as we shall probably see,' said Rocjean,' before we
+reach the bridge of San Angelo. But keep close to me in the middle of
+the street.'</p>
+
+<p>The moonlight shone brightly down the narrow street they were then
+walking through, which, but for this, the occasional dim light of an
+oil-lamp hung in front of a shrine, the light from a wine or grocery
+shop, and the ruddy blaze of a charcoal-fire, where chestnuts were
+roasting for sale, would have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> dark indeed. The ground-floor of
+very few Roman houses is ever occupied as a dwelling-place; it is given
+up to shops, stables, etc., the families residing, according to their
+wealth, on the lowest up to the highest stories; the light purses going
+up and the heavy ones sinking. They had walked nearly to the end of this
+street, when, happening to look up at the fourth story of a house, he
+saw something white being reversed in the moonlight, and the next
+instant a long stream of water, reminding him of the horse-tail fall in
+Switzerland, came splashing down where a sidewalk should have been.</p>
+
+<p>'What do you think of the middle of the street now?' asked Rocjean.</p>
+
+<p>'Let's stick to it, even if we stick in it. I'm going to buy an
+umbrella, <i>and spread it too</i>, when I go out of nights, after this.'</p>
+
+<p>They reached the bridge of San Angelo, and studied for a short time the
+fine effect of the moonlight shining on the turbid, slow-flowing Tiber,
+and lighting up the heavy pile of the castle of San Angelo. Then they
+reached the Piazza of Saint Peter's, and here the scene was imperial.
+Out and in through the semi-circular arcade of massive pillars the
+moonlight stole to sleep upon the soft-toned, gray old pavement, or was
+thrown in dancing, sparkling light from the two noble jets of water
+tossed in the clear night-air by the splashing fountains. In all its
+gigantic proportions rose up, up into the clear blue of the spangled
+sky, the grand thought of Michael Angelo&mdash;the dome of Saint Peter's.</p>
+
+<p>Returning from Saint Peter's, Rocjean proposed to walk through the
+Trastevere, the other side of the Tiber, and to cross over the river by
+the ponte R&oacute;tto or broken bridge. They found the street along the river
+very quiet; here and there a light showed, as on the other side, a
+wine-shop or coffee-room; but the houses had few lights in them, and
+spite of the moonlight, the streets looked gloomy and desolate.</p>
+
+<p>'They seem to keep dark this side of the river,' said Caper.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' answered Rocjean, 'and live light. They go to bed for the most
+part early, and rise early; they economize fifty-one weeks in a year, in
+order to live like lords for the fifty-second&mdash;that is Carnival-week.
+Then you shall see these queenly Trasteverine in all their bravery,
+thronging the Corso. But here is a clean-looking wine-shop, let us go in
+and have a foglietta.'</p>
+
+<p>They found the shop full of thirsty Romans&mdash;it is safe to say
+that&mdash;although the number of small flasks showed they could not indulge
+their taste so deeply as they wished to. The centre of the listening
+group of Romans, was a bright-eyed, black, curly-haired man, who was
+reciting, with loud emphasis:</p>
+
+
+  <h3>THE LIFE AND DEATH</h3>
+
+  <h4>OF THE PERFIDIOUS ASSASSIN,</h4>
+
+  <h3>ARRIGO GARBETINGO OF TRENTO,</h3>
+
+  <p class='center'>Who slew nine hundred and sixty-four grown
+  persons and six children.<br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p>He had already got through his birth and wicked childhood, and had
+arrived at that impressive part where he commences his career of brigand
+at large, accompanied by a 'bool-dog':</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'He had a bull-dog of the English breed, oh!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More savage than all others that we've seen, oh!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Close at his side it always walked, indeed, oh!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never barked! but then his bite was keen, oh!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When on some poor man straight he sprung, take heed, oh!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His soul from body quickly fled, I ween, oh!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because with cruel, gnashing teeth he tore, oh!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Him all to pieces, in a manner sore, oh!'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The reciter here stopped to drink another tumbler of wine, upon which
+Caper and Rocjean, having finished their pint, paid their scot and
+departed.</p>
+
+<p>'Was that an improvisatore?' asked Caper.</p>
+
+<p>'He might pass for such with a stranger of inflammable imagination, who
+didn't know the language,' answered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> Rocjean. 'He is, in fact, a
+reciter, and you can buy the poh, poh-em he was reciting at any of the
+country fairs, of the man who sells rosaries and crucifixes. It is one
+of the cent-songs of the Papal States, published <i>con licenza</i>, with
+license; and a more cruel, disgusting, filthy, and demoralizing tendency
+than it must have on the people can not well be imagined; and there are
+hundreds of worse.'</p>
+
+<p>While Rocjean was talking they had crossed the ponte R&oacute;tto, and as he
+finished his sentence they stood in front of the ruined house of&mdash;Cola
+di Rienzil, 'Redeemer of dark centuries of shame&mdash;the hope of Italy,
+Rienzi, last of Romans!'</p>
+
+<p>'Well,' said Rocjean, as he halted in front of the ruined house, and
+looked carefully at the ornamented stones still left, 'when Saint
+Peter's church shall be a circus, this house shall be a shrine.'</p>
+
+<p>'That being the state of the case,' spoke Caper, 'let us walk up to the
+Trevi fountain and see the effect by moonlight of its flashing waters,
+and inhale the flavor of fried fish from the adjacent stands.'</p>
+
+<p>They stood in front of the wild waters dashing, sparkling over the grand
+mass of tumbled rocks reared behind the wall of a large palace. Neptune,
+car, horses, tritons, all, stone as they were, seemed leaping into life
+in the glittering rays of the moonlight, and the rush and splash of the
+waters in the great basin below the street, contrasted with the silence
+of the city, left a deep impression of largeness and force on the minds
+of the two artists.</p>
+
+<p>'Let us go down and drink the water, for he who drinks of it shall
+return again to Rome!'</p>
+
+<p>'With all my heart,' said Caper; 'for if the legend has one word of
+truth in it, Garibaldi will be back again some <i>bello giorno</i>&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Bello giorno</i> means fine day; <i>giorno di bello</i> means a day for war: I
+drink to both!' spoke Rocjean, dipping water up in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>They returned to the street, and were walking toward the Piazza di
+Spagna, when they overtook two well-dressed men evidently none the
+better for too much wine. As they passed them, one of the men said to
+the other:</p>
+
+<p>'J-im! I don't see but what we-we-'ll have to r-r-roost out-tall night.
+I don't know 'ny 'talian, <i>you</i> don't know 'ny 'talian, we-we-'re
+nonpl'sh'd, I'm th-think'ng.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ary borry bout&eacute;re spikinglish?' said the other one to the two artists,
+as they were walking on.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' said Caper, 'four of 'em. If you've lost your way we'll set you
+right. Where's your hotel?'</p>
+
+<p>''Tel? Why, 'Tel Europe p'aza Spanya. Are you English?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sir! I'm an American born, bred and&mdash;buttered,' said Caper.</p>
+
+<p>'B-bullyf'ryou! We'resame spishies&mdash;allrite&mdash;d-driv'on!'</p>
+
+<p>'Look here,' said the one of the two men who was least tipsy, 'if this
+tother g-gen'leman and I could stick our heads into c-cold water we'd
+come out tall right.'</p>
+
+<p>'It's only a block or two back to the Trevi fountain,' answered Caper,
+'and if your friend will go with you, you'll find water enough there.'</p>
+
+<p>They went back to the fountain, and descending the steps with some
+difficulty, the two men soon had their heads pretty well cooled off, and
+came up with cleared intellects and improved pronunciation. In the
+course of conversation it appeared that the two travelers, for such they
+were, after rather too much wine at dinner in their hotel, had been
+invited to the German Club, where Rhine wine, etc., had finished them
+off: attempting to return to their hotel alone, they had lost their way.
+As the four walked along, it came out that one of them owned a painting
+by Rocjean, and when he discovered that one of his guides was no other
+than that Americanized Frenchman, the whole party at once fraternized,
+and disregarding any more moonlight effects, walked at once to Caper's
+rooms, where over cigars and a bottle of Copalti's wine they signed,
+sealed, and delivered a compact to have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> a good time generally for the
+week the two travelers intended devoting to Rome. The moral of which is
+... that you make more friends than meet enemies&mdash;walking round Rome by
+night.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_MYSTERIOUS_IN_ART" id="THE_MYSTERIOUS_IN_ART"></a>THE MYSTERIOUS IN ART.</h3>
+
+
+<p>They were in the presence of a man with flowing hair, flowing beard, and
+flowing language, in a studio, all light from which was excluded by
+heavy curtains, except enough to display an easel on which was placed a
+painting, a background of dark blue where were many apparently spider
+and crow-tracks.</p>
+
+<p>'Those who in the profundity of their darkness incline to the belief
+that the vitality of art, butterfly-like, has fled from this sunny
+world, have made the biggest kind of a mistake,' said Mr. Artaxerxes
+Phlamm, the Mystic Artist, to Caper. The hit was evidently intended for
+Rocjean, but that descendant of the Gauls, for some reason, did not
+smite back again; he contented himself with the remark:</p>
+
+<p>'Art is long.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir,' continued Mr. Phlamm, 'not only it has length, but breadth,
+breadth, broadness&mdash;it extends from&mdash;yes&mdash;from&mdash;pole to pole.'</p>
+
+<p>'Like a clothes-line,' said Caper.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah!' continued Phlamm, with a pickled smile, 'Fancy, ever Fancy, but it
+is Imagination that, as it were, brings man to a level with his destiny
+and elevates him to the Olympium hights of the True, and all that rises
+much above the meedyochre. But I must not forget that this is your first
+visit to me studeeyoh. The painting on the easel is a view of Venice on
+the Grand Canal.'</p>
+
+<p>'But,' said Rocjean, 'I do not see the canal.'</p>
+
+<p>'When you are gazing at the stars do you see your boots?' asked Phlamm.</p>
+
+<p>'I always do,' spoke Caper quickly, 'always gaze at 'em at night&mdash;smoke
+a cigar&mdash;put my feet higher than my head&mdash;sit in a chair&mdash;stars
+reflected in boots&mdash;big thing!'</p>
+
+<p>'You are full of life and spirits, Caper,' continued Phlamm, 'full of
+'em; but Rocjean is more serious, more imbued with his nobil calling. My
+illustration, as he understands, would convey the idea that such a thing
+as foreground in a painting is false; it's a sham, it's a delusion, and
+all that. It may do for pre-Raffleites, but for a man who looks Naychure
+in the face, he sees her operating diversely, and he works according. I
+repeat it again, when I was on the Grand Canal in Venice, I didn't see
+the Grand Canal.'</p>
+
+<p>'Neither did I,' spoke Caper, 'we're just alike; I kept my head all the
+time out of the gondola-window looking for pretty girls&mdash;and I saw
+them!'</p>
+
+<p>'May I ask why you dead-color your canvas blue, and then make your
+drawing in black outline?' asked Rocjean.</p>
+
+<p>'What is the color of the sky? Is it not blue? Is not blue a cold color;
+is it not the negative to the warmth, the balance to the scales, the one
+thing needed on which to rear the glorious fabric that Naychure reveals
+to the undimmed vision of man? I know your answer, and I refute it. I
+have studied Art from its roots, and now I'm in the branches, and I
+grasp the fruit. My manner is peculiar&mdash;I have no patent for it&mdash;I ask
+for none. The illimitable passes the legitimate, and the sw-word is
+carried by the hero&mdash;for me the bruzh, the paint-bruzh. You see that
+painting before you&mdash;it is my child&mdash;I lavish on it my intentions&mdash;I am
+going to work three years on that picture!'</p>
+
+<p>'I bet you a new hat you sell it, and a dozen more, and send 'em off
+before six months. You're all the rage now since you sold old Goldburg a
+picture,' quoth Caper.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't bet, I am opposed to betting. But look that picture of mine in
+the face, in the face! Here is a finished painting, The Lake of Zurich;
+see those clouds floating mistily away into the far distance&mdash;there's
+atmosphere for you&mdash;there's air! You can't cut those clouds into slices
+of cheese as you can them of that humbug of a Cloud Lowrain. Cloud
+Lowrain! he's a purty painter! Naychure is my teacher. I go out
+morn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>ings and hear the jackdaws chatter, and see trees and all that;
+sometimes I walk around in a garden for ten minutes and commune with
+Naychure&mdash;that's the way to do it. Look at clouds before you paint
+'em&mdash;I know it's hard when the sun's in your eyes, but do it&mdash;I've spent
+a week at a time out-doors, like Wordsworth and the great, the grand,
+the colossial Ruzking.'</p>
+
+<p>'I like that water,' said Rocjean, alluding to that of the painting.</p>
+
+<p>'Water is my peculiar study; I am now engaged experimenting on it&mdash;see
+there!' Here Phlamm pointed to a basin.</p>
+
+<p>'Been washing your hands?' asked Caper.</p>
+
+<p>'Scientifically experimenting, not manually. Water is
+soup-or-fish-all&mdash;earth is not soup-or-fish-all.'</p>
+
+<p>'Our dinners are, during Lent,' quoth Caper, 'unless we're heretics.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't understand your frivolity&mdash;what do you mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'Didn't you say, 'Soup or all fish?''</p>
+
+<p>'Pshaw! You will never make an artist&mdash;never, never&mdash;<i>you</i> are too, too
+superficiall, too much of the earth, dirty.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! now I understand,' answered Caper; 'give it to me, I deserve it.'</p>
+
+<p>'I was studying water, its shadows and its superficiality, in that
+basin,' continued Phlamm, 'and I study the ocean there, and have
+devolved great principles from it. What makes my pictures sought for by
+the high and the low, wealthy? What? It's the Truth in 'em, the Mystery,
+the Naychure. The old masters were humbugs, they weren't mysterious,
+they had no inner sight into the workings of Naychure. Who'd buy one of
+their pictures when he might have a Turner for the same price? Nobody.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wouldn't he?' asked Caper. 'Try him with a Raphael, just a small one.'</p>
+
+<p>'Raphael? You mean Raffaele. Ah! he <i>was</i> a painter, he wasn't one of
+the old masters, however, he was a middle-age master. What sweetness,
+what a kind of&mdash;sweetness generally; what a blending of the prayerful
+infant with the enthusiastic beauty; the&mdash;the polished chastity of his
+Mad-donas; the folds of his drapery, and&mdash;the drapery of his folds.
+Truly enchanting, and so very uncommonly gentlemanly in his colors.'</p>
+
+<p>'The Chesterfield of oil-colors?' suggested Rocjean. 'But <i>&agrave; propos</i> of
+Nature, you never paint a picture directly from her, do you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Never! Does a great historical painter use the model? No, sir; he draws
+on his imagination for his figures. He scorns to copy from a model. I
+convey the impression of mystery that Naychure gives me; I am no servile
+copyist. And I claim to leave an impression on the minds of the
+beholders of my works. Why, even Caper, I believe, can see what I wish
+to tell, and read my poems on canvas. Tell me, Caper, what idea does
+even that rough sketch of Venice awake in your imaginative faculties,
+and all that?'</p>
+
+<p>Caper's face wore a deeply thoughtful look, as he answered: 'I do see
+it; I do claim to read the lesson you would teach&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Speak it out,' interrupted Phlamm, 'I knew you would feel the deep,
+mysterious sentiment as is in it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Spider-tracks and crows' feet on the blue mud of a big marsh,' spoke
+Caper resolutely.</p>
+
+<p>'Pshaw!' exclaimed Phlamm impetuously; 'you have no Faith, and without
+that, all Art is a sealed thing. Goldburg, to whom I lately sold a
+painting, had faith; he saw the grand idea which I explained to him in
+that picture; he knew that the Earl of Bigbarns had purchased a work of
+mine, and he said to me: 'The opinion of such a man is an opinion as
+should be a valuable opinion to a business man, and govern the
+sentiments of those who worship Art.' Other artists see Naychure, but
+<i>how</i> do they see her? I answer, blindly! They don't feel her here!'
+(Phlamm struck his waistcoat in fearful proximity to a pocket in it, and
+altogether too low for his heart.)</p>
+
+<p>'Nay-chure,' said Caper to Rocjean,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> as they left this studio of the
+mysterious one, 'ruined a good Barnum to make a poor Phlamm, when she
+made him.'</p>
+
+<h3><a name="A_BATH_HUNT" id="A_BATH_HUNT"></a>A BATH-HUNT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It is a mournful sight to see a city of one hundred and eighty thousand
+five hundred and thirty-nine inhabitants, including one thousand three
+hundred and thirty-one priests, two thousand four hundred and four
+monks, and eight hundred and fifty-four Jews, Turks, and heretics, as
+the census had it, attacked with hydrophobia. But it is so. A
+preternatural dread of water rages among all the inhabitants of Rome,
+from the untitled down to the titled.</p>
+
+<p>'Madame,' said Rocjean to a distinguished female model, 'I assure you
+that, in the sixth century, [or as Sir Gardiner Wilkinson has it, in the
+five hundred,] there were nine thousand and twenty-five baths in this
+city.'</p>
+
+<p>'Those must have been good times,' replied she, 'for the washerwomen,
+<i>seguro!</i> There are a good many clothes of the <i>forestieri</i> [strangers]
+washed here now; but not so many different places to wash them in.'</p>
+
+<p>'I mean places to bathe one's self all over in.'</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Mai!</i> Never, never!' exclaimed the woman with horror; 'never! 'twould
+give them the fever, kill them dead!'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Van Brick, of New-York, arriving in Rome early in the morning,
+demanded of the porter at the hotel where he could find a <i>bagno</i>, or
+place where he could get a bath. He was directed to go down the Babuino,
+and at such a number he would find the establishment. Forgetting the
+number before he was three steps from the hotel, he inquired of a man
+who was driving a she-jackass to be milked, where the bath was. As he
+spoke very little Italian, he had to make up by signs what he wanted in
+words. The man, probably believing he wanted a church, and that his
+motions signified being sprinkled with water, pointed to the Greek
+church, and Van Brick, thinking it was a solemn-looking old <i>bagno</i>,
+strode in, to his astonishment finding out as soon as he entered that he
+was by no means in the right place. As he turned to go out, he saw an
+amiable-looking young man, with a black cocked hat in his hand, and a
+black serge shirt on that came down to his heels, and had a waist-band
+drawing it in over his hips. He asked the young man, as well as he could
+in Italian, where there was a <i>bagno</i>.</p>
+
+<p>'The signore is English?' asked the youth in the black shirt.</p>
+
+<p>'I want a bath,' said Van Brick, 'which way?'</p>
+
+<p>'Have patience, signore. There are a great many English in Rome.'</p>
+
+<p>'Farewell!' quoth Van Brick, turning on his heel, reflecting: 'That
+youth talks too much; he does it to conceal his ignorance; he don't know
+what a bath is.' Coming out of the church, he met a good-natured looking
+Roman girl, without any bonnet, as usual, going along with a bottle of
+wine and a loaf of bread.</p>
+
+<p>'Can you tell me where the bath is?'</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Chi lo sa</i>, signore.'</p>
+
+<p>This CHI LO SA, or, 'who knows?' of the Romans, is a shaft that would
+kill Paul Pry. It nearly throws an inquisitive man into convulsions. He
+meets it at every turn. The simplest question is knocked to pieces by
+it. So common is it for a Roman of the true <i>plebs</i> breed to give you
+this for an answer to almost every question, that Rocjean once won a hat
+from Caper in this wise: they stood one evening in front of a grocer's
+store, down by the Pantheon; it was brilliantly illuminated with
+hundreds of candles, displaying piles of hams, cheese, butter, eggs,
+etc., etc. Chandeliers constructed of egg-shells, where candles shone
+brightly, particularly struck Caper.</p>
+
+<p>'You see,' said Rocjean, 'as anyone else can see, that those chandeliers
+are made of egg-shells. Now, I will bet you a hat that I will ask four
+men, one after another, who may come to look in this window, what those
+chandeliers are made of, and three at least, if not all four of them,
+will answer, 'Who knows?' (<i>Chi lo sa.</i>)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Done!' said Caper.</p>
+
+<p>Rocjean asked four men, one after another. All four answered; 'Who
+knows?'</p>
+
+<p>But to continue the bath-hunt: Van Brick was thrown over by the girl's
+answer, and next asked an old woman, who was standing at the door of a
+house, buying broccoli from a man with a hand-cart.</p>
+
+<p>'Can <i>you</i> tell me where the bath is?'</p>
+
+<p>'The bath?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, the bath.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is it where they boil water for the English?'</p>
+
+<p>'That must be the shop,' quoth Brick.</p>
+
+<p>'That's the place,' pointing with her finger to a house on the opposite
+side of the way.</p>
+
+<p>Van Brick crossed over, and after five minutes' hunt over the whole
+house, was coming down disheartened, when he saw a pretty girl, about
+eighteen years old, standing by the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>'Can you tell me where the bath is?'</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Seguro!</i> I attend to them. You can't have a warm bath for two or three
+hours yet, for there is no fire; but you can have a cold one.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, let me have it as quickly as possible.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir. We have no soap for sale, but you can get it two doors off.'</p>
+
+<p>Van Brick went out, and after a time returned with a cake of soap.</p>
+
+<p>'Signore,' said the girl, when he went back, 'the water is all running
+out of the hole in the bottom of the tub, and I can't stop it.'</p>
+
+<p>'H'm! Show me the tub; I am a splendid mechanic.'</p>
+
+<p>The hole being stopped, the tub was rapidly filling with water. Van
+Brick, in anticipation, was enjoying his bath; when in rushed the
+attendant.</p>
+
+<p>'Signore, you will have to wait a few minutes&mdash;until I wash some
+towels.'</p>
+
+<p>Van Brick was in extremis. Taking a gold scudo, one of those dear little
+one-dollar pieces the Romans call <i>far-f&aacute;lle</i> (butterflies) from his
+pocket, he thus addressed her:</p>
+
+<p>'Maiden, rush round the corner and buy me a yard of any thing that will
+dry me; I don't care what it is, except salt fish.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! but these English are bursting with money,' thought the girl, and
+thus thinking, she made great haste, only stopping to tell three or four
+friends about the crazy man that was round at her place, who didn't want
+salt fish to make him dry.</p>
+
+<p>'Behold me back again!' said the girl, 'I flew.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' said Van Brick, 'and so did time; and he got ahead of you about
+half an hour. Give me the towels.'</p>
+
+<p>'Si, signore, behold them! See how fine they are! What an elegant fringe
+on them; and only twenty-five baiocchi a piece, fringe and all
+included.'</p>
+
+<p>Van Brick, at last left in peace, plunged into the bath.</p>
+
+<p>When he came out, he found he had half a scudo to pay for the water,
+half a scudo for towels, quarter of a scudo for soap, and another
+quarter scudo for a <i>buono mano</i> to the bath-girl. Total, one dollar and
+a half.</p>
+
+<p>'Now,' soliloquized Van Brick, as he dressed himself, 'I have an
+arithmetical question to solve. If a Roman, by hard scratching, can earn
+twenty cents a day, and it costs him twenty-five cents for board and
+lodging, how long will it be before he saves up a dollar and a half to
+take a bath? But that intelligent maiden will tell me, I know.' He asked
+her.</p>
+
+<p>'Signore, the Romans never bathe.'</p>
+
+<p>'You mean the Catholic Romans, for the Pagan Romans didn't do any thing
+else.'</p>
+
+<p>'They're all burning up in the <i>inferno, Seguro</i>!' said the maiden.</p>
+
+<p>'But they had fifteen aqueducts to keep them cool when they were alive,'
+spoke Van Brick.</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Chi lo sa</i>. We have three aqueducts, we Romans, and we have more
+water, yes, more water than we can&mdash;drink.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, while there's wine about. <i>Adio, bella ninfa!</i>'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="GLANCES_FROM_THE_SENATE-GALLERY" id="GLANCES_FROM_THE_SENATE-GALLERY"></a>GLANCES FROM THE SENATE-GALLERY.</h2>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+
+<p>We considered, in the last number of <span class="smcap">The Continental</span>, some of
+the leading orators and statesmen who, in the last Congress, represented
+the States now in rebellion against the Constitution. It can not be
+denied that, by their secession from the floor of the Senate, that body,
+which undoubtedly exhibits the best specimens of American eloquence, was
+deprived of several of its fairest ornaments; but we believe that a
+consideration of those Senators who remained faithful to the interests
+of their country, will discover the fact that in them was displayed at
+least equally conspicuous merit in oratory and legislation. A distinct
+contrast was discernible between Northern and Southern eloquence; the
+latter being of an impulsive and passionate character, unadorned
+generally by the graces which mental culture lends to that art, (which
+might be inferred from their well-known temperament,) while the former
+appears to be more deliberate and thoughtful, indicating by its elegance
+and harmony the refining and systematizing influence of education, and
+partaking of the natural phlegm peculiar to inhabitants in colder
+regions. While Southern eloquence seemed to endeavor to elicit feeling
+and passion, Northern orators looked for their success rather to the
+conviction of the understanding than to the indulgence of the weaker
+elements of human nature. By pleasing and subtle sophistries, by
+enthusiastic ebullitions of resentment and indignation, or by the more
+amiable contrivances of patriotic and virtuous sentiment, Benjamin and
+Davis sought, if they could not convince legislators, at least to
+attract to their peculiar doctrines the impulsive and credulous masses
+among their own people. On the contrary, it was apparent that Northern
+statesmen, confident in the exercise of intellectual resources, relied
+on the intelligence and reason of their auditors and constituents, and
+seldom resorted to that species of oratory which was employed by their
+adversaries, and which may be called in a manner strategetic, when
+logical accuracy was likely to meet with more satisfactory and more
+permanent success. Before we proceed to notice the eminent Senators from
+the North, we propose to dwell briefly upon several who, though
+representing slave States, were, in the last Congress at least, loyal to
+the Government; several of whom, however, are now engaged in treason,
+while others remain true to their allegiance.</p>
+
+<p>The person who, both from the position he held in the Senate and from
+his imposing personal appearance, first attracted the attention of the
+visitor, was the Vice-President, Breckinridge, of Kentucky. His later
+treachery has made him justly the object of bitter popular odium,
+inasmuch as his delinquency was aggravated by his former professions of
+loyalty. It was hoped by many who had witnessed his early elevation to
+the highest dignities, his undoubted ability both as an orator and as an
+administrative officer, and his apparently manly and ingenuous bearing,
+that talents which promised to be of so great service to his country
+would, in the approaching struggle, be exerted in behalf of its entirety
+and honor. Southern 'chivalry' in him was exhibited in a nobler and more
+amiable light than in his more petulant and less generous colleagues. A
+certain graceful dignity was united with the most attractive felicity of
+manner, and one could not help regarding him, when viewed in private
+society, as a perfect model of a gentleman. His courtesy and delicacy
+were exhibited to all alike, and strangers could not help admiring one
+who had at so early an age been raised to so giddy a hight, and yet who
+had retained such condescension of manner and such continual good-nature
+to every body who approached him. His personal appear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>ance, as we have
+already said, was highly imposing; in which was combined a manliness of
+demeanor and a strikingly handsome countenance and figure. His peculiar
+fitness as a presiding officer made him popular in that capacity.
+Seldom, indeed, has a Vice-President occupied the chair with such
+perfect ease and such stately dignity. His oratory was worthy of a
+Senator, elevated, earnest, and partaking less of passion and rancor
+than other Southern speakers; but it rather lacked the substance and
+solidity which a maturer stage of life would undoubtedly have given to
+it. He seemed to be a fair representative of the Kentucky aristocracy,
+possessing a delicate sense of honor, a bold spirit, though hardly
+enthusiasm of soul. Evidently absorbed in a selfish ambition for power,
+this fault is in some degree palliated by the circumstance of the early
+age at which he was promoted to the public counsels. That this passion,
+unduly encouraged, has led him into a deplorable and fatal mistake, is
+now evident; and from what we have recently heard of him, we doubt not
+that a similar conviction has made him wretched and desperate.</p>
+
+<p>The father of the Senate, Mr. Crittenden, so well known during the last
+weeks of his term as the would-be pacificator, by compromise, of the
+impending rupture, was the last of the generation of statesmen of whom
+Webster and Clay were the leading cotemporaries. His long service in the
+national legislature procured him on all occasions a respectful and
+attentive hearing, and were it not for this circumstance, the earnest
+impressiveness of his declamation, at times relieved by sparks of
+old-fashioned wit, would have attracted the notice of his auditors. He
+was singular in his personal appearance, and a peculiarly fierce
+expression of face frequently gave an erroneous idea of his character,
+which was, making allowance for age and a life of turmoil, affable and
+good-natured. He always reminded us of the portraits of Lord Chancellor
+Thurlow, whose bushy eyebrows and stern countenance used to terrify
+young barristers in Westminster eighty years ago. Rather negligent in
+his dress, and far from elegant in manner, he would hardly be noticed at
+first as one of the leading members of the body. As a lawyer, he has
+been acute and learned; as a statesman, generally able, though hardly
+profound; as an orator, not graceful, but forcible and earnest. His
+patriotism was, no doubt, zealous and entirely disinterested; but
+certainly ill-directed, and not adapted in the application it made of
+principles to the exigencies of the times. Representing the most
+respected and most prosperous of slave States, and being considered in a
+manner as the statesman upon whose shoulders had fallen the mantle of
+the illustrious Clay, his influence was considerable, both with
+adherents and antagonists.</p>
+
+<p>With sincere satisfaction, we turn to contemplate the character of a
+true-hearted and undaunted Southern patriot, Andrew Johnson, of
+Tennessee. Coming as he did from a section in which secessionism
+predominates, and representing a mercurial and sensitive people, he
+stood out fearlessly and zealously in behalf of the maintenance of the
+Union at all hazards. He is an admirable example of the self-made man,
+having received no education in his youth, and owing to the application
+of maturer years the historical and political information he now
+possesses. Born and bred among the lower classes of society, and
+engaging in an occupation suited to his humble sphere, by perseverance
+and patience and a very superior natural ability, he has won a deserved
+place in the United States Senate. He is universally considered as one
+of the leading intellects in that body, and by his speeches during the
+last Congress, in which his enthusiasm as a patriot lent brilliancy and
+energy to his naturally forcible declamation, he attracted to himself
+the confidence and affection both of his auditors and of the country.
+His personal appearance is rather ordinary, not at all imposing, and yet
+his countenance indicates a sound judgment and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> a pure heart. His whole
+manner is open and frank, his bearing that of a gentleman by nature, and
+socially he is universally liked. His oratory is also of an ingenuous
+character, calculated to impress one at once with his thorough honesty
+and humanity. Sometimes he rose to admirable passages of virtuous
+indignation and scathing rebuke, as he warmed with the subject of
+Southern delusion, actuated by unprincipled leaders, and few of the
+Senators who sat on the Democratic side escaped from his truly
+formidable denunciation. Lane, of Oregon, a compound of conceit,
+ridiculous ignorance, and servility to Southern masters, was totally
+annihilated by the sturdy Tennesseean, for his imbecile attempts to
+excuse his pusillanimous submission to his chivalrous dictators. So
+successful was he in conjecturing and exposing the designs of the
+malcontent Senators, that the boldest of them feared to meet him in
+forensic discussion, and recoiled from the honesty and acuteness of one
+who knew them and did not hesitate to hold them up to ignominy. Through
+all the dangers which have beset the neighborhood from which he came, he
+has stood firm in the assertion of patriotic principles; nor to save his
+own household from disaster, has he yielded a jot to the demands of
+traitor tyrants. At present, he is provisional Governor of Tennessee,
+and is doing good service in bringing that once-honored State back to
+the folds of the Union. Of few public men can we say, what may be
+confidently said of him, that he has shown himself ready to sacrifice
+every private interest to subserve the interests of his country, and has
+given us a certain and practical example of a heroism unknown before the
+present crisis to Americans, except in the colored narratives of
+history.</p>
+
+<p>Senator Green, of Missouri, was justly regarded as one of the clearest
+thinkers and speakers in the Upper House. Irregularity of life had
+somewhat blunted what must once have been a very superior mind. His
+statesmanship was of a high order; his oratory ingenuous, generally
+courteous and conciliatory, and always entertaining, from its lucidness
+and keenness. He was decidedly popular in social circles, genial and
+good-natured, and full of animal spirits. His excesses, indeed, rather
+tended to make him the more companionable, though they undoubtedly
+undermined an uncommonly fine intellect; and certainly nothing can be
+more sickening than to see one so highly endowed, and who might command
+the applause of listening senates, gradually sinking below the level of
+manhood by habitual indulgences. In personal appearance, he was rather
+awkward, of an ungainly figure, his countenance not highly intelligent,
+but cheerful and rather pleasing. After the ostracism of the great
+bulwark of Democracy, Douglas, from the councils of his party, Senator
+Green became the leader of that side of the house, assuming the place on
+the Committee on Territories made vacant by the Illinois statesman. As a
+manager of party tactics, and as a bold, shrewd, and energetic leader,
+few could equal and none surpass him. His rise to so high a
+consideration among his political friends was rapid, but proved, in the
+event, well deserved.</p>
+
+<p>We have occupied more space than we had intended, in considering the
+Senators from the slave States, and will now attempt to speak of some of
+the more prominent Northern statesmen, in this paper, and perhaps
+continue their consideration more at length in a future number.</p>
+
+<p>The present Secretary of State was long regarded as the leading
+Free-Soil Senator, and after the present Republican party came into
+existence, he naturally assumed a prominent position among its
+advocates. In caution, in profound foresight, in coolness and affability
+of temper, and in perspicuity and logical shrewdness of oratory, he has
+been without a superior since the death of Webster. He somewhat
+resembles Earl Russell in the prudence and care with which he treats
+political questions, and the vigilance with which he notices<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> every
+symptom of popular tendencies and popular desires. His circumspection is
+constant, and the imperturbability of his character enables him to be
+ever on his guard, and protects him from the enunciation of an unpopular
+idea. Never permitting himself to be annoyed at ever so bitter a taunt,
+perfectly self-possessed, and always mindful of the courtesy due to his
+colleagues, and the respect due to the most dignified body in the
+nation, he has generally succeeded in completely disarming his less
+prudent antagonists. In general debate, his coolness and mental balance
+enabled him to cope with the most formidable opponents, and although at
+times the overwhelming eloquence of Douglas got the better of the more
+philosophic orator, such an occurrence was rare, and a triumph was
+gained over him only by the greatest exertions of the greatest orators.
+His labored speeches, as will be testified to by all who have perused
+them, are rich in profound thought, a clear discernment and
+comprehension of events, causes, and results, and occasionally in
+passages of stately and brilliant eloquence. Graceful rhetoric and
+shrewd logic appear to be ever at his command, as he has occasion, in
+the course of argument, to resort to one or the other, to illustrate or
+to enforce his reasoning. In person, Mr. Seward is of about medium
+hight, rather stooping, with reddish-gray hair, an aquiline nose, and
+dull, sleepy, blue eyes. His countenance is hardly intellectual, and no
+one would suppose, on seeing him for the first time, that he was a man
+of conspicuous ability. He is affable to every one, and enters freely
+into conversation with all who call upon him; nevertheless, he is
+extremely guarded at all times in expressing his opinions, and will
+never betray himself into an unguarded sentiment. His manner of speaking
+is extremely easy, and occasionally dull; and when in the Senate, he
+used to take his position by leaning against the pillar behind his seat,
+twirling in one hand his spectacles, while with the other he enforced,
+by slight gestures, the more striking passages of his speech. His
+delivery was far from animated, and his intonation was rather
+conversational than declamatory. He has a quiet dignity at all times,
+which is yet consistent with a polite and amiable demeanor; and while
+the former inspires the respect, the latter elicits the esteem of all
+who approach him.</p>
+
+<p>The present Vice-President was, during the last Congress, Senator from
+Maine. He was long known as an able Democratic politician, and in 1856
+was elected Governor of Maine by the Republicans, in a hotly-contested
+election. He is remarkable rather for a sound judgment and practical
+good sense than as an orator or in the higher arts of statesmanship. He
+was always listened to with attention, because all looked upon him as
+well informed in the everyday duties of the Senate, and as one whose
+opinion was formed from accurate observation and a clear head. He is in
+no sense an orator, his delivery not being pleasant or his sentiments
+couched in graceful or forcible language. He is of a dark complexion,
+rather tall, with jet-black hair, a little bald, and would not be
+selected as one of the leading men in the Senate from his personal
+appearance. As a presiding officer, he ranks well, being apparently
+posted on parliamentary law and impartial in his decisions, although he
+has not the dignity and grace which lent <i>&eacute;clat</i> to Mr. Breckinridge's
+performance of the office.</p>
+
+<p>Senator Fessenden, of Maine, is considered one of the first statesmen
+now prominent before the country; and the ability he has exhibited, not
+only in the practical details of his position but in the wider range of
+comprehensive statesmanship, entitles him to a place superior to most
+and equal to any of his contemporaries. Since the retirement of Senator
+Hunter from the Finance Committee, (which may be considered as the most
+important in the Senate,) Mr. Fessenden has executed the duties of its
+chairmanship with an accuracy and vigilance which has elicited the
+praise of all sides of the house. His supe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>riority as a financier is
+marked; but not more marked than his high capacity for comprehending and
+elucidating the great national issues, which swallow up all minor ones
+in the magnitude of their importance and the intensity of their
+interest. For maturity of judgment, deliberateness of thought and
+manner, fearlessness of speech, a presence of mind never lost, and
+bitterness of invective, no one ranks above him in the Chamber. His
+oratory is of that substantial and yet spirited character which at once
+convinces and interests and engages the attention of the mind, without
+wearying it by unrelieved exertion. Always the master of every topic on
+which he attempts to enlighten, he is neither foiled by the sophistries
+nor embarrassed by the bravadoes of his opponents. His eloquence is not
+demonstrative, but calm, dignified, and earnest, apparently confident in
+the correctness of his views, and yet cautious to avoid giving offense
+to others. He is always listened to with the utmost respect, and his
+opinions are of much weight among his political friends. His appearance
+is dignified and highly intellectual; his forehead being broad and
+indicative of great ability, and his general manner being in harmony
+with the prominence and responsibility of his office. Never resorting,
+in default of argument, to the petty malice of personal abuse, his
+course has been liberal, consistent, and uniformly courteous. In private
+life, he retains the dignity which appears to be natural to him; but is
+yet affable and sociable, attracting one alike by the rich products of
+thought and the courtesy of his manner.</p>
+
+<p>Benjamin F. Wade, Senator from Ohio, is a noble specimen of a self-made
+statesman. He migrated, at a very early age, from New-England to his
+present residence, being entirely without means and devoid of every
+thing except his own invincible spirit, with which to secure a
+livelihood. The qualities which made him successful sooner than his most
+sanguine expectations taught him to hope for, appear in all their
+maturity in the character of the Senator. A perseverance the most
+constant, a firmness approaching to stubbornness, a courage which never
+feared man, and a power of application wonderful in a mind disciplined
+only by rude nature, are the component elements which have promoted him
+to and maintain him with conspicuous honor in the Senate of the United
+States. His honest and intrepid advocacy of principle has won him an
+enviable position in his party, and no one possesses the entire
+confidence of the country to a greater degree than he. He was
+particularly prominent in the last Congress for the bluntness and
+severity with which he handled the Southern Senators, and the little
+hesitation with which he exposed their delinquencies in the strongest
+light. His harangues were full of impulsive, strong, and fearless
+invective, and he never stopped to consider the delicacy of chivalrous
+sensitiveness, when treason and conspiracy were to be exposed. Probably
+no man was more feared by the other side of the Chamber, for he could
+neither be cowed by threats nor restrained within the limits of
+punctilious courtesy. He dealt with them in the plainest language, and
+combined with powerful effect argument, sarcasm, and eloquent
+denunciation. Strong sense is a leading feature of his character, and a
+practical wisdom which renders him eminently capable in the discharge of
+details. In private life, he is genial and always good-natured, ready
+for a joke at all times, and enjoys his leisure hours with a zest which
+is quickened by previous earnest toil. Although as bitter and
+unconciliatory as any of his colleagues in his treatment of the Southern
+statesmen on the floor of the Senate, he always manifested the utmost
+good temper toward them in social intercourse, and was frequently seen,
+after a sharp and irritating episode in debate, laughing and talking
+with Green or Benjamin in the most cheerful manner imaginable.</p>
+
+<p>We hope to present more sketches of Northern Senators in a future
+number.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_LAST_DITCH" id="THE_LAST_DITCH"></a>THE LAST DITCH.</h2>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where in the Southron's Fatherland</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is that last ditch&mdash;his final stand?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is't where the James goes rolling by</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Used-up plantations worn and dry,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where planters lash and negroes breed,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And folks on oyster memories feed?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find it you must further go.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where in the Southron's Fatherland</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is that 'last ditch,' his final stand?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is't where the Mississippi runs</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His mighty course for many suns,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To where New-Orleans fills the flat?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">[Ben Butler's taken charge of <i>that</i>]</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis ours&mdash;to the Gulf of Mexico,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So that can't be the ditch, you know.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where in the Southron's Fatherland</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Is</i> that last ditch&mdash;his final stand?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is it about Fort Donelson,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where Floyd 'skedaddled,' <i>minus</i> gun,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Packed up his traps and stole away</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By night&mdash;as he had done by day?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find it you must further go.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where in the Southron's Fatherland</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is that last ditch&mdash;his final stand?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is it at Nashville, Tennessee,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Once more a city of the free,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where Isham Harris and his tools</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thieved just two millions from the schools?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find it you must further go.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where in the Southron's Fatherland</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is that last ditch&mdash;his final stand?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is't at Montgomery, where in May</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hell's blackest tricks were put in play,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where right and might were overruled,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And people into treason fooled?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find it you must further go.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where in the Southron's fatherland</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is that last ditch&mdash;his final stand?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is it at Charleston? Time shall prove</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How much that precious nest we love,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When, crushed to dust and damned to shame,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We give the place another name.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet 'tis not there, I tell you, no!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Much further off its waters flow.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where in the Southron's Fatherland</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is that last ditch&mdash;his final stand?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is it at Natchez, high or low,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or Newbern, where the pine-trees grow?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is it where ladies 'dip' and snuff,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And white men feed on dirt enough?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not there, not there; far down below</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And further off its waters flow.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where in the Southron's Fatherland</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is that last ditch&mdash;his final stand?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Knowest thou a stream folks call the Styx,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Round a plantation of Old Nick's,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In which, as Beauregard once swore,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His horse should drink when all is o'er?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There, there, my Southern friend, you'll find</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A ditch exactly to your mind.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ay, there in truth. God! can it be</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That falsehood, sin and tyranny,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though eighteen hundred years be past,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still roar and revel wild and fast?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well, let them rave; thou knowest the way&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis darkest ere the dawn of day,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And well we know, whate'er befall,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where runs the ditch to hide them all!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="PATIENCE" id="PATIENCE"></a>PATIENCE.</h2>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Patience! why,'tis the soul of peace;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of all the virtues, the nearest kin to heaven.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It makes men act like gods. The Best of Men</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That e'er wore earth about him was a Sufferer,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The first true Gentleman that ever breathed.</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="REWARDING_THE_ARMY" id="REWARDING_THE_ARMY"></a>REWARDING THE ARMY.</h2>
+
+
+<p>It is a brave thing that we can truly say, after more than a year of
+fierce hostilities, the war in which this country is engaged goes on
+with undiminished&mdash;nay, with increasing Northern spirit. The enemy has
+been obliged to resort to forced conscription, and to declare every man
+within its limits a soldier, while we have not as yet had recourse to
+drafting; nor, as the late sudden call showed, nearly exhausted our
+volunteers. A thousand, and even fifteen hundred dollars have been
+offered in Virginia newspapers for a substitute, and yet behind this
+there has followed an Executive order for enrolling every man in the
+army whether he have purchased a substitute or not. 'Our flag floats
+over Nashville and Natchez, over Memphis and New-Orleans, over Norfolk
+and Pensacola, over Yorktown and Newbern.' We have girded them in on the
+Mississippi, on the Atlantic, and on the Gulf. We know that they are
+destitute of almost every thing save mere food and arms, and that every
+month sinks them deeper and deeper in destitution and misery. The war is
+on their own soil, and their own armies are a scourge and a curse to
+their own estates. Every where the plantation and the farm are made
+desolate&mdash;every where the direst distress is taking the place of
+comfort. And all this they brought on themselves by the most determined
+will. They believed that Northern men were all cowards and
+half-traitors&mdash;their allies and friends among us promised them easy
+victories and certain independence&mdash;they thought that the greed of money
+was stronger among us than the sense of dignity and honor&mdash;and now they
+are reaping their reward.</p>
+
+<p>Yet despite the bitter need into which they have brought themselves, it
+does not seem that those of the South who are in earnest have lost any
+of their desperation, or gained a better opinion of their foes. Their
+journals still trumpet the loudest lies and the mass still believe that
+sooner or later their shattered bark will outride the battle and the
+storm, and float safely into the broad sea of independence. Would that
+they could see the North as it is, in all its comparative prosperity,
+with millions still left to volunteer, and with thousands of foreigners
+eagerly seeking for places in the fray. We have found it necessary to
+instruct our ministers and consuls abroad that we can not accept for the
+present any more of the many military officers of different nations who
+desire to fight for the stars and stripes. We have money in abundance,
+and there is no flinching at taxation&mdash;indeed, the great source of
+apprehension at present is an excess of 'flush times' such as is too apt
+to bring on a reaction. When the war broke out we had, indeed, divided
+counsels. The old Southern Democrats whined and yelped, and attempted
+'peace-parties' and the like; but they have vanished, and traitors now
+confine themselves to less offensive measures, while their ranks have
+been woefully thinned. We may have disasters; nay, we can hardly hope to
+escape them. But in the present state of the war we may fairly boast of
+having the upper-hand. And the Northern tenacity which did not yield
+when misfortune lowered around, will not be likely to loose its hold now
+that it has learned to measure its might, man for man, with the arrogant
+enemy.</p>
+
+<p>Under the wise and judicious policy inaugurated by President Lincoln, we
+see Slavery, the great cause of this trouble, in a fair way to disappear
+in a manner which can give offence to no one. His 'remuneration
+message'&mdash;the shrewdest document which ever emanated from an American
+Executive&mdash;shows itself, as events proceed, to be a master-stroke of
+genius. The longer the cotton States prolong their resistance, the more
+precarious does slave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> property become, and the more inclined are the
+men of the tobacco States to sell their human chattels. Already in
+Kentucky, Tennessee, Maryland, and Delaware, people are longing to
+'realize' something on what bids fair to become altogether intangible
+amid the turns and tides of skirmishes and battles. Meanwhile with every
+day's delay Emancipation, as a predetermined necessity, gains ground
+among the people, and very rapidly indeed in the army. It was the lowest
+and most tyrannical form of an aristocracy&mdash;that of slaveholding
+planterdom&mdash;which caused and is still causing all this trouble, and it
+is beginning to work its way into the minds of the multitude that it is
+hardly worth while to risk every thing, and see the real criminals
+re&iuml;nstated after all in their privileges and possessions, when the one
+can only serve to continue the old sore, while the other might be better
+employed in free labor. And better employed, we may add, in rewarding
+those noble men whose lives were risked in defense of our liberties.</p>
+
+<p>This consideration brings us to the very important question: How shall
+we reward our army, and what should be its future mission in the
+reconstruction which every freeman will be called to aid?</p>
+
+<p>There is no use in disguising facts, shirking inevitable issues, or
+trying to cheat either destiny or honest labor. We have got this
+question of rewarding our soldiers with the property of rebels, before
+us, and must meet it squarely. The pro-slavery Democratic press may
+oppose it, as they have been doing, with all the malignity which their
+treasonable friendship for the South may inspire; but we have an
+inevitable road before us over which we <i>must</i> travel, and it would be
+well to consider it betimes, that we may tread it fairly and smoothly,
+and not be dragged along shrieking, by a pitiless destiny.</p>
+
+<p>There are two good reasons why we should begin to consider betimes, the
+expediency of rewarding our army with Southern lands. The one is the
+necessity of a future Northern policy; the other the claim of the army
+to such reward.</p>
+
+<p>If when this war is concluded, our Government is to have a policy or a
+principle, it should manifestly be that of re&iuml;nstating itself in power,
+in consolidating that power, and in acting as a powerful unity,
+according to the letter and the spirit of the Constitution. The
+<span class="smcap">Constitution</span>&mdash;bear that word well in mind&mdash;the Constitution
+which suffers no State to usurp a single power belonging to the General
+Government, and which was expressly framed for the purpose of making all
+its freemen the citizens of one great nation. Let the reader consult the
+Constitution, study its unmistakable plan of national integrity and of
+state subordination, and then reflect whether, according to its spirit,
+any and every mere state privilege which may be claimed should not yield
+to the paramount claim of <i>the Union</i>?</p>
+
+<p>If this war has demonstrated any thing, it has been, firstly, the fact
+that the South <span class="smcap">shall</span> stay in the Union, and secondly, the folly
+of permitting the old Southern system to control us in politics, in
+social life, and in every thing. We have had enough of it. Manufactures,
+free labor, science, schools, the press, learning, new ideas, social
+reforms, the whole <i>progress</i> of the age, inspiring twenty millions, can
+no longer be cuffed and scouted in the Senate and snubbed in the <i>salon</i>
+or public meeting by the private interests of half a million of the most
+illiberal and ignorant conservatives in existence. Henceforth the North
+must <i>rule</i>. 'Must' is a hard nut, but Southern teeth must crack it,
+whether they will or no. We may shuffle and quibble, but to this it must
+come. Every day of the war renders it more certain. The farm must
+encroach on the plantation, the rural nobility give place to the higher
+nobility of intelligence; social culture based on mudsills must make way
+for the mudsills themselves&mdash;for lo! the sills which they buried are not
+dead timber, neither do they sleep or rot&mdash;they were fresh saplings,
+and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> with the reviving breath of spring and at the gleam of the sun of
+freedom, they will shoot up into brave, strong life.</p>
+
+<p>Let them talk, dispute, hem and haw, that will&mdash;we can not set aside the
+great fact that in future our Government will be united in its policy,
+great in its strength, and no longer impeded by the selfish arrogance of
+a petty planterdom. Labor and capital are bursting their bonds&mdash;the
+Middle Class of North-America which Southerners and Englishmen equally
+revile, is becoming all-powerful and seeks to substitute business
+common-sense for the aristocratic policy which has hitherto guided us.
+It is no longer a question of radicalism, of poor against rich, of
+lazzaroni and royalists, but of a new element&mdash;that of labor and of
+intellect combined&mdash;the guiding-spirit of the North. And the question
+is, how to best aid this element in its progress?</p>
+
+<p>The army of the United States at the present day contains within itself
+the best part of such free labor and intellect as is needed to reform
+the South. That dashing and daring energy which gladly enters on new
+fields, and loves bold enterprises, has streamed by scores of thousands
+from the farm and factory toward the camp and the battle-field. There it
+is doing brave service for God and for freedom. Every day sees martyrs
+for the holy cause drawn from the ranks of these good and noble
+volunteers. They die noble&mdash;ay, holy deaths, and as they die new
+aspirants for honor step forward to fill their places. When the war
+shall be over, it is to the army that we should look to revive the
+wasted South, to farm its exhausted plantations and employ its blacks.
+Is there no significance in the numerous anecdotes which reach us of
+Northern intellect already displaying itself in a thousand forms of
+restless activity? The newspaper before us states that General Shepley,
+in New-Orleans, has threatened that if the bakers of his conquered city
+do not supply bread more cheaply he will remodel their whole business
+and employ bakers from the army. 'Bakers from the army!' Ay, smiths,
+engineers, editors, and every thing else are there, amply capable of
+re&ouml;rganizing the whole South&mdash;of tilling its fields to greater
+advantage, of developing its neglected resources, of making the old,
+desolate, lazy, dissolute Southland hum with enterprise. Let them do it.</p>
+
+<p><i>We</i> may as well do it betimes with a good grace, for it is very
+doubtful if those who venture to oppose the settlement of our soldiers
+in the South, will not stir up such a storm of trouble as this country
+never saw. An army of half a million after a year or two years of
+battle-life, will not calmly return to its wonted avocations,
+notwithstanding all that has been said to that effect. A warrant for
+Western lands, which will possibly bring a hundred dollars, will seem
+but a small matter to men who have seen unlimited paths to competence in
+the rich fields of the South. They will not comprehend why the enemy
+should be allowed to retain his possessions while they themselves have
+been thrown out of employment. There is to be some end to this
+protecting the rights and property of rebels. And it is very certain
+that a vast number of those who were non-combatants will perfectly agree
+with them.</p>
+
+<p>It is pleasant to see the process of reconstruction going on so well in
+New-Orleans under the bayonets of our troops. But neither in New-Orleans
+nor elsewhere has it any vitality save under Northern direction, aided
+by Northern industry. The hatred of the South for the old Union is
+insane, terrible, and ineradicable. The real secessionists will never
+come back, they will never be conciliated. They will oppose Union,
+oppose free labor, hinder our every effort to benefit them, and be our
+deadly foes to the last. We might as well abandon now and forever any
+hope of reconstruction to be founded on reformed secessionists. A large
+party there is&mdash;and it will, if properly protected, become much
+larger&mdash;who will join the Union for the sake of preserving their
+property. <i>But this party will not be increased a sin</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span><i>gle man by our
+neglecting to punish those who have been active rebels</i>, while on the
+other hand it will dwindle to nothing if left exposed to temptation and
+enmity. We must proceed with the utmost energy, and our only hope is in
+a complete re&ouml;rganization of the South, by infusing into it Northern
+blood, life, ideas, education, and industry. And the only effective
+means of doing this will be to settle our army in the South. The task
+before us is a tremendous one, but so is the war, and we must not flinch
+from it.</p>
+
+<p>We have come to an era of great ideas and great deeds, such as rarely
+overtake nations in history, and which when they do, either crush them
+to the dust or elevate them to the topmost pinnacle of glory. Petty
+expediency, timid measures, small politics, will no longer help this
+country. There is a great cause of evil in America&mdash;slavery&mdash;which is
+destined to disappear, and which <i>will</i> disappear whether we legislate
+for or against it. It <i>is</i> disappearing now under the influences of the
+war. Beyond it lies the equally great evil of Southern hatred, inertia,
+laziness, ignorance, and depravity. We must learn to live in the great
+ideas of making all this disappear before superior intelligence,
+industry, and humanity. The great principles of free labor, scientific
+reforms and culture, the enlargement of capital, the feeding and
+teaching the poor, should become as a deep-seated religion in our
+hearts, and we should live and labor to promote this great and holy
+faith which is in reality the practical side of Christianity&mdash;that great
+shield of the poor. To extend these doctrines over the whole continent
+is a noble mission, and one not to be balked or hindered by foolish
+scruples or weak pity for a pitiless foe.</p>
+
+<p>He who can raise his mind to the contemplation of the government of
+North-America, ruling over a perfectly <i>free</i> continent, may see in the
+future such a picture of national greatness as the world never before
+realized. <i>Every</i> State attracting the eager labor of millions of
+emigrants&mdash;for there will be no cause in future for the foreigner to
+carefully shun the slave hive&mdash;the native American directing as ever the
+enterprises&mdash;one grand government spreading from ocean to ocean&mdash;the
+whole growing every year more and more united through the constant
+increase of industrial interests and mutual needs&mdash;this is indeed a
+future to look forward to. And it is no idle dream. It will be something
+to be an American when we count one hundred millions of <i>united</i>
+freemen.</p>
+
+<p>The first step in this advance lies right before us. It will be in
+'Northing' the South and in completely sweeping away, by means of free
+labor and free schools every trace of the foul old negro-owning
+arrogance. And to do this we must begin by finding or making a way to
+induce a large portion of the army to remain in the South and reform it.
+It is a grand scheme, but we live in the day of great deeds, and should
+not flinch from them.</p>
+
+<p>It is, however, tolerably clear to him who looks to the future, that
+whether we boldly embrace this scheme or not, it will force itself upon
+us or else entail some great disaster. It is more to our interest to
+reward the army with Southern land-grants than it is even for theirs to
+accept them. The longer we bolster up in its possessions an insolent
+enemy, so much the longer shall we have to support an army and pay
+taxes. The sooner we weaken the enemy by introducing industrial rivals
+into his country, the better it will be for us.</p>
+
+<p>If it be difficult to settle our army all over the South, let there be
+at least a vigorous beginning made in Texas, and other States. With
+Texas thoroughly colonized from the North and from Europe, sedition
+would be under constant check, and its boasted cotton supremacy
+completely held in by an unlimited rival supply of free-labor cotton.
+Every Southern port should be held and governed as New-Orleans is now
+being treated. In due time there would spring up a new generation of
+Southrons who would think of us as something else<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> than cowardly,
+vulgar, stingy serfs, and learn that social merit is conferred not by
+being born on this or that piece of 'sacred' dirt, but by full
+development and exercise of the talents with which God has gifted us.</p>
+
+<p>But to do all this there must be <i>no flinching</i>. This is not the time to
+prate of the 'unrepresented rights' of traitors, or wince at the
+prospect of reducing to poverty the men who have labored for years to
+reduce us to utter ruin!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="JOHN_McDONOGH_THE_MILLIONAIRE" id="JOHN_McDONOGH_THE_MILLIONAIRE"></a>JOHN McDONOGH THE MILLIONAIRE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>In the year 1850, and for nearly forty years previous, there could be
+seen almost every day in the streets of New-Orleans, a very peculiar and
+remarkable looking old gentleman. Tall and straight as a pillar, with
+stern, determined features, lit up by eyes of uncommon, almost unnatural
+brilliancy, with his hair combed back and gathered in a sort of queue,
+and dressed in the fashion of half a century ago, to wit, an old blue
+coat, with high collar, well-brushed and patched but somewhat 'seedy'
+pantaloons, of like date and texture, hat somewhat more modern, but
+bearing unmistakable proof of long service and exposure to sun and rain;
+old round-toed shoes, the top-leathers of which had survived more soles
+than the wearer had outlived <i>souls</i> of his early friends and
+companions; a scant white vest, ruffled shirt, and voluminous white
+cravat, completed the costume of this singular gentleman, who, with his
+ancient blue silk umbrella under his arm, and his fierce eye fixed on
+some imaginary goal ahead, made his way through the struggling crowds
+which poured along the streets of New-Orleans.</p>
+
+<p>The last time this strange and spectral figure was seen making its
+accustomed rounds was on the twenty-sixth of October, 1850. On that day,
+a very remarkable event occurred, which attracted the notice of
+passers-by and was even snatched up as an item by the ever-vigilant
+reporters of the daily press; this consisted simply in a notable
+variation from the routine and habits of the old gentleman in the
+long-tailed blue. He was seen to stop on Canal street, to hesitate for a
+few moments, and then deliberately enter an omnibus bound for the lower
+part of the city. Such an occurrence created quite a sensation among
+street-corner gossippers. There must really be some new and pressing
+emergency, which could produce this departure from the custom and
+invariable habits of forty years; so said every one who knew the old
+gentleman. The omnibus stopped at the court-house; the subject of these
+observations and his blue umbrella emerged from it, and both soon
+disappeared in the corridor leading to the so-called halls of justice.</p>
+
+<p>That was the last that was ever seen of the strange old gentleman on the
+streets of New-Orleans. The evening journals of the next day contained
+the following obituary:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'Died this morning, the twenty-seventh of October, 1850, at
+McDonoghville, opposite the city of New-Orleans, after a short
+illness, John McDonogh, a native of Baltimore, but for forty years
+a resident of Louisiana.'</p></div>
+
+<p>And the strange old man, who could not ride a few squares in the omnibus
+without attracting the attention of every body and exciting public
+curiosity to such a degree, was the millionaire, the Cr&oelig;sus of the
+South, the largest land-owner in the United States. He had reached the
+advanced age of seventy, and his remarkable vigor and health had never
+given way under the pressure of the severest and most incessant labor.
+Generation upon generation had lapsed into the grave under his eye. A
+few, a very few shriveled old men were known<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> to him as cotemporaries.
+Suddenly, while pursuing so eagerly his imaginary goal, he was seized
+with faintness on the street. Other men would have taken a cab, and
+ridden home, or at least to a physician's; but when did John McDonogh
+turn aside from business to relieve any weakness or want? He had an
+important document to file in court. It must be done that day. He is too
+weak to walk. There is the omnibus; the fare is only a dime; but that
+dime is so much taken from the poor, for John McDonogh is only an agent
+for the poor, so appointed and called of God. Such were the reflections
+that passed through his mind before he could be induced to perpetrate
+this serious violation of the settled rules of a life, this single blot
+and stain on a career of unbroken self-abnegation. With a sigh, he took
+his seat in the omnibus.</p>
+
+<p>It was his last ride.</p>
+
+<p>In a cold, desolate, dreary, brick building, constituting almost the
+only visible sign of the existence of the town of McDonoghville, situate
+on the right bank of the Mississippi, opposite to the centre of
+New-Orleans, and in a large room, the furniture of which was
+old-fashioned, worn, and time-stained, there lay on a small hard
+mattress the gaunt figure of the millionaire, tortured with pain and
+fast sinking under the ravages of that terrible disease, the Asiatic
+cholera. The only beings near were negroes; no white persons were ever
+allowed to spend the night under that roof. Those negroes were the rich
+man's slaves in law, but companions and friends in fact. His immense
+business, his vast estates were administered through them. Even his
+documents were copied by them. They were true to him in his moment of
+distress and sickness. All that their limited knowledge of medicine
+could suggest was done for his relief. At last, in disregard of his
+command, a physician was brought from the city, who pronounced his
+condition a very critical one. The doctor's first demand was for brandy.</p>
+
+<p>'Massa, there an't bin no brandy in this house for twenty years,' was
+the reply of an old, gray-headed domestic.</p>
+
+<p>A servant was dispatched to the nearest grocery; but it proved to be too
+late. The dying man perceived his condition, and requested that his
+lawyer should be sent for. In an hour that gentleman arrived. He was
+just in time.</p>
+
+<p>'Roselins,' he said, addressing one of the most eminent of the lawyers
+of the New-Orleans bar, as he held his hand, 'You see I am going; you
+see I am not afraid to die. Take care of the estate; 'tis not mine,'tis
+God's and the poor's.' And thus, without a struggle, the soul of John
+McDonogh passed to its Maker.</p>
+
+<p>His death was truly a desolate one. No devoted relatives or friends
+gathered around his couch to cheer his last moments with those tender
+tokens of love and sorrow which so sweeten the otherwise bitter cup of
+death. No soft hand of woman smoothed his pillow or relieved the agony
+of pain and suffering by the timely opiate or emollient. No weeping
+little ones were there to cheer his heart with the assurance that on
+their dear pledges of affection his name and virtues will live after
+him. His lawyer, physician, and his servants were the only witnesses to
+the mortal agony of one who could have commanded troops of devoted
+friends, and who possessed the qualities which might have adorned the
+domestic and social circle.</p>
+
+<p>So departed this life the rich and eccentric possessor of acres
+sufficient to have made a duchy or a kingdom, and of money adequate to
+the maintenance of the dignity and power of such a position.</p>
+
+<p>But if his death and funeral were attended by so few witnesses, an
+occasion quickly followed which was honored by the presence of a large,
+eager, curious crowd. It was when his will was probated and read in
+court. Intense was the curiosity of the public to know what disposition
+the eccentric old man had made of his enormous property. This feeling
+was soon gratified. The will was produced. It was a curious docu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>ment,
+written on stout foolscap by the testator himself, in a remarkably neat,
+clear hand, with the lines as close as type, and his autograph signed to
+every page. Being an holographic will, under the law of Louisiana it
+required no witness. Ever since 1838, this will had lain among certain
+old papers of the deceased; and yet, during all this time, it had been
+'the thought by day and dream by night' of the devoted old millionaire.
+In its preparation, he had consulted the most eminent lawyers and
+studied the most approved law-books bearing on his grand scheme. Truly,
+a curious, bold, and gigantic scheme it was. But let us to the will. In
+a slow, solemn and impressive tone, the judge proceeded to read to an
+eager and interested multitude this remarkable testament.</p>
+
+<p>After setting forth, in the usual form, his nativity, his present
+residence, his belief in God and in the uncertainty of life, and that he
+has no heirs living in the ascending or descending line, and directing
+an inventory of his property to be taken immediately after his death, he
+proceeds to bequeath to the children of his sister, a widow lady in
+Baltimore, a ten-acre lot in Baltimore, the usufruct to remain in the
+widow, with six thousand dollars in cash. He then emancipates his old
+servants, ten in number, whom he designates. The rest of his slaves he
+provides shall be sent to Liberia. Certain of them are to be sent after
+serving those who shall succeed to his estate for fifteen years. The
+slaves to be sent to Liberia are to be supplied with plows, hoes,
+spades, axes, clothing, garden-seeds, etc.; also with letters of
+recommendation to the colonists, and with a copy for each of the volume
+of the Holy Gospel of the Old and New Testament, as the most precious of
+all the gifts we have it in our power to give or they to receive. The
+will then proceeds to provide:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'And for the more general diffusion of knowledge and consequent
+well-being of mankind, convinced as I am that I can make no
+disposition of those worldly goods which the Most High has been
+pleased so bountifully to place under my stewardship, that will be
+so pleasing to him as that by means of which the poor will be
+instructed in wisdom and led into the path of virtue and holiness.'</p></div>
+
+<p>He gives all the residue of his estate to the corporations of
+New-Orleans and Baltimore, in equal proportions of one half to each, for
+the several intents and purposes set forth, and especially for the
+establishment of Free Schools for all classes and castes of color,
+wherein they shall all be instructed in the knowledge of the Lord and in
+reading, writing, arithmetic, history, geography, etc., provided that
+the Bible shall be used as one of the class-books, and singing taught as
+an art.</p>
+
+<p>And now comes the ingenious scheme which had engaged the constant
+thought and study of the testator for forty years, by which the grand
+passion of his soul for accumulation might survive the dissolution of
+his mortal frame and still direct and control the acquisitions of his
+life. Of his real estate, no part is ever to be sold; but it is all to
+be let out on leases, never to exceed twenty-five years, to be improved
+by the tenants or lessees. At the expiration of those leases, the
+property is to revert, free of cost, to his estate, to be thereafter
+rented out by the month or year. All his personal property is to be sold
+and converted into real estate, the aggregate of which is styled his
+general estate, which is 'to constitute' a permanent fund on interest,
+as it were, namely, a real estate, affording rents, no part of which
+fund (of the principal) shall ever be touched, divided, sold, or
+alienated, but shall forever remain together as one 'estate.'</p>
+
+<p>The net amount of rents to be divided equally between the two cities, to
+be applied as follows:</p>
+
+<p>1. An annuity for forty years of one eighth part, or twelve and a half
+per cent of the net yearly revenue of rents of the whole of the estate,
+to the American Colonization Society, provided the sum does not exceed
+twenty-five thousand dollars a year.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>2. For an asylum for the poor of both sexes, of all ages and castes of
+color, where they may be sheltered, clothed, fed, and taken care of,
+made useful according to their respective degrees of health, strength,
+and capacity, and mendicity thereby be banished from the streets of the
+cities, he gives one eighth, or twelve and a half per cent of the net
+revenue of rents, until the sum shall reach six hundred thousand
+dollars, when it shall cease. This legacy is to be received by
+commissioners appointed by the corporations, who, as they receive, shall
+invest the amount in bank stocks or other good securities, on landed
+estate on interest, so as to augment the amount thereof by the
+accumulation of interest to the largest possible amount up to the time
+when the last of the annuity shall be received, when the commissioners
+shall proceed to take such part of said sum, not to exceed one third of
+the whole of principal and interest, and invest in the purchase of real
+estate and buildings, furniture, etc., essential for the asylum; the
+residue to be invested in real estate, which is never to be sold, but
+always rented out for the support of the asylum. The locality and
+character of the buildings are particularly described. It is recommended
+that the persons who shall reside in this asylum be employed in the
+cultivation of the mulberry-trees, (this was during the <i>morus
+multicaulis</i> mania.)</p>
+
+<p>3. For the Orphan Boys' Asylum in New-Orleans&mdash;an existing
+institution&mdash;one eighth, or twelve and a half per cent of the net yearly
+revenue of rents. This annuity is to be set aside and deposited in some
+bank-paying interest, until it reaches four hundred thousand dollars,
+when it shall cease. This fund as it accumulates is to be invested in
+real estate, which is never to be sold, but rented out, and the rents
+devoted to the charity.</p>
+
+<p>4. For a School-Farm in the city of Baltimore, on an extensive scale,
+for the destitute and the poorest of the poor of the city of Baltimore,
+Maryland; secondly, of every town and village of said State; and
+thirdly, of all the great maritime cities of the United States, of all
+classes and castes of color, from four years to sixteen, where they
+shall be sheltered, lodged, clothed, fed, instructed in the Christian
+religion, and a plain education given them, and taught husbandry
+practically, as well as the science of agriculture, providing that the
+Bible shall be read and singing taught, especially 'divine psalmody,'
+one eighth part, or twelve and a half per cent of the whole revenue of
+the general estate, to be paid until it shall amount to three millions
+of dollars, when it shall cease. This sum, too, as it accrues, is to be
+invested in real estate, until the whole amount of three millions is
+received. One sixth of the rents from this investment is to be applied
+to the purchase of the School-Farm, the other five sixths to be invested
+in lots in Baltimore, which shall be leased out and the rents applied to
+the support of the farm.</p>
+
+<p>The modes in which these various institutions are to be governed and
+directed are then set forth in tedious detail, interlarded with many
+rather trite and moralizing reflections on the importance of having the
+young reared up in habits of virtue and industry. A complex system of
+government is arranged, and great care taken that the funds thus
+bequeathed to charitable institutions shall never be controlled by the
+corporations of the two cities. It is also provided, that</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'No compromise shall ever take place between the Mayor, Aldermen,
+and inhabitants of the city of Baltimore, in Maryland, and the
+Mayor, Aldermen, and inhabitants of the city of New-Orleans, nor
+shall any agreements be made between these two cities contrary to
+the directions of the will. If such compromise or agreement be
+made, these legacies shall be void, and the States of Maryland and
+Louisiana shall receive the general estate half and half, for the
+purpose of educating the poor of said States, and in case of any
+lapse of the legacies to the cities, the States shall inherit the
+general estate.'</p></div>
+
+<p>After these dispositions and directions, the testator proceeds:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'Now, with the view of setting forth and explaining more fully and
+particularly (if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> it is possible) my desires and intentions as
+expressed in the foregoing dispositions of this my last will and
+testament, in relation to my general estate, I will add, that the
+first, principal, and chief object I have at heart, (the object
+which has actuated and filled my soul from early boyhood with a
+desire to acquire fortune,) is the education of the poor (without
+the cost of a cent to them) in the cities of New-Orleans and
+Baltimore, and their respective suburbs, in such a manner that
+every poor child and youth of every color in those places may
+receive a common English education, (<i>based, however, be it
+particularly understood, on a moral and religious one</i>, that is,
+the pupils shall on particular days he instructed in morality and
+religion, and school shall be opened and closed daily with prayer.)
+And in time, when the general estate will yield the necessary
+funds, (for in time its revenue will be very large,) over and above
+what will be necessary to the education of the poor of those two
+cities and their respective suburbs, it is my desire and request
+that the blessings of education may be extended to the poor
+throughout every town, village, and hamlet in the respective States
+of Louisiana and Maryland, and was it possible, through the whole
+of the United States of America.'</p></div>
+
+<p>After paying off all the annuities, which the testator thinks will be
+completed in forty years, the net annual revenue of rents of the general
+estate is to be equally divided, one half to each, between the said two
+cities of Baltimore and New-Orleans, for the purpose of educating the
+poor.</p>
+
+<p>The testator then proceeds to inculcate a better feeling between the
+poor, and rich, declaring that the latter are 'reservoirs in which the
+Most High makes to flow the rich streams of his beneficence, to be laid
+up and husbanded for his all-wise and all-seeing purposes, and for
+seasons of distress and affliction to the poor. Instead, then, of
+looking on them as their greatest enemies, they should, on the contrary,
+consider them as they really are, their best friends. This is the
+position of all rich men, whose hearts occupy the right place in their
+bosoms, stand toward the poor.'</p>
+
+<p>Then follows a remarkable and consoling confession of the superior
+happiness of the poor man:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'Besides, let the poorer classes of the world be consoled, assured
+that the labor-loving, frugal, industrious, and virtuous among them
+possess joys and happiness in this life which the rich know not and
+can not appreciate; so well convinced am I (after a long life and
+intercourse with my fellow-men of all classes) of the truth 'that
+the happiness of this life is altogether on the side of the
+virtuous and industrious poor,' that had I children, (which I have
+not,)' [how lively and sagacious the apprehension of the old
+millionaire lest some putative offspring might come forward to
+disturb his darling bequests!] 'and a fortune to leave behind me at
+death, I would bequeath, after a virtuous education, (to effect
+which nothing should be spared,) a very small amount to each,
+merely sufficient to excite them to habits of industry and
+frugality, and no more. As the poor man's friend, then, I recommend
+to him to honor and respect the virtuous rich, and to lay these
+observations to their heart and to store them up in their mind. And
+to the rich, I would say, (if they own feelings, and worthy of
+their regard,) 'Give them an occasional reflection.' Hoping
+thereby, that the world may advance in happiness, in virtue, and
+holiness.'</p></div>
+
+<p>Lastly, the old man grows tender, sentimental, and poetic, He who for
+forty years had never been seen or known to manifest a single emotion of
+gentleness, of tender feeling or sentiment, of love of children, of
+nature, or any domestic affection, in his last will desires to be held
+in loving remembrance by the fresh young souls for whose benefit he
+declares he has led his long career of toil, of self-sacrifice, and
+devotion, to gain. The association of sweet flowers, sprinkled over a
+green grave by the hands of innocent children, with the life and
+character of one of the most intense, hard and severe devotees to Mammon
+that ever lived, is a strange and incongruous one, but it was a picture
+which appears to have been very distinctly sketched on the imagination
+of John McBonogh, as will appear from the following clauses in his will:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'I request my executors (hereinafter named) to see that my funeral
+is plain, made without parade, and with the least possible
+expenses. And (I was near forgetting that) I have still one small
+request to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> make, one little favor still to ask, and it shall be
+the last: It is, that it may be permitted annually to the children
+of the free schools (situate the nearest to the place of my
+interment) to plant and water a few flowers around my grave. This
+little act will have a double tendency: it will open their young
+and susceptible hearts to gratitude and love to their divine
+Creator for having raised up (as the humble instrument of his
+bounty to them) a poor, frail worm of earth like me, and teach them
+at the same time, what they are, whither they came, and whence they
+must return.'</p></div>
+
+<p>Such was John McDonogh's grand theory of philanthropy, which he had
+devoted so many years of sacrifice, study, and labor, to mature and
+prepare.</p>
+
+<p>Accompanying the will, and inclosed in the same box, were certain
+memoranda of instructions to his executors, who were distinguished
+citizens of Baltimore and New-Orleans, including Henry Clay, of
+Kentucky, and K. R. Gurley, of Washington City, These directions to his
+executors are very minute and specific. Certain observations in this
+document are worthy of being copied, as characteristic. His reasons for
+preferring to invest in land are thus stated:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'For the base of a permanent revenue, (to stand through all time,
+with, the blessing of the Most High,) I have preferred the earth,
+'a part of the solid globe.' One thing is certain, it will not take
+wings and fly away, as silver and gold, government and bank-stocks
+often do. It is the only thing in this world of ours which
+approaches to any thing like permanency; or in which at least there
+is less mutation than in things of man's invention. The little
+riches of this world, therefore, which the Most High has placed in
+my hands, and over which he has been pleased to place and make me
+his steward, I have invested therein, that it may yield (its
+fruits) an annual revenue to the purpose I have destined it
+forever.'</p></div>
+
+<p>He also states his motives, as follows:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'My soul has all my life burned with an ardent desire to do
+good&mdash;much good, great good&mdash;to my fellow-man, as it was chiefly by
+that means, and through that channel, that I could bend, greatly
+bend to the honor and glory of my Lord and Master,&mdash;which was my
+soul's first, great, chief object and interest.'</p></div>
+
+<p>He says, however, he has much to complain of the world, and gives
+instances of its injustice, especially in suits, where his just claims
+were ignored because he was rich:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'They said of me: 'He is rich, old, without wife or child; let us
+take from him, then, what he has.' Infatuated men! they knew not
+that it was an attempt to take from themselves, for I was laboring,
+and had labored all my life, not for myself, but for them and their
+children. Their attempts, however, made me not to swerve either to
+the right hand or to the left, although to see and feel so sorely
+their injustice and ingratitude made me often lament the frailty,
+the perversity, and sinfulness of our fallen nature. I persevered
+in an onward course, determined, as the steward and servant of my
+Master, to do them good whether they would have it or not. And I
+have so strove, so labored, to the last. The result is in the hands
+of Him who fixes and determines all results; he will do therewith
+as seemeth good unto himself.'</p></div>
+
+<p>Who was John McDonogh, the maker of the foregoing will, and contriver of
+such a grand scheme of charity? The answer to this inquiry will be the
+most interesting part of this narrative. John McDonogh was born in
+Baltimore, Maryland, in 1779. The only incidents of his youth that are
+known are, that he was a clerk in a mercantile store in an inland town
+of Maryland; that he was noted then for eccentricities, and for an
+excess of imagination, which led to the apprehension that he was not
+entirely of sound mind. Still his energy and intelligence secured him
+employment and the confidence of his employers. About the year 1800 he
+was sent out to New-Orleans by a house in Baltimore, with a letter of
+credit and considerable resources. He engaged largely in business, but
+soon renounced his agency, and starting on his own account, became a
+leading and prosperous merchant. In a few years he accumulated a large
+fortune&mdash;say at least three hundred thousand dollars&mdash;then a vast amount
+in the colony. He was one of the nabobs of the city. His style of living
+and habits conformed to his position and resources. His mansion was one
+of the most showy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> and luxurious in the city. He kept his carriages and
+horses, his cellar of costly wines, and entertained on a scale of great
+extravagance and sumptuousness. He was, in fact, the centre of fashion,
+frivolity, sociability, and even of the fashionable dissipations of the
+day. His person, which even in extreme old age was remarkable for
+dignity, erectness, and courtliness, at the period we write of, was
+conspicuous for all the graces of manhood. Indeed, he was styled the
+handsomest man in the colony. That such a young man should attract the
+favorable notice of ambitious Creole beauties who then composed the only
+female society in New-Orleans, of managing mothers, desirous of
+providing for their daughters, or of fathers, who, in addition to the
+latter motive, might also desire to secure a connection which might
+promote their own business prospects, was quite natural. The handsome
+American merchant, with his still handsomer fortune, was, therefore,
+much courted. Though always gay, gallant, and polite, Mr. McDonogh
+proved for some time invulnerable to even the charms of Creole beauty.
+At last there were indications that a young Orleanoise of fortune equal
+to his own, and of personal charms that were the theme of general praise
+and admiration, had captured the obdurate Cr&oelig;sus. This young damsel
+was then emerging into sweet sixteen. She was the toast and heiress of
+the city. Her name and family were among the oldest in the French and
+Spanish colonies. Her father was the venerable Senor Don Pedro
+Almonastre, an old official under the Spanish government, who, by
+prudent investments, accumulated a large property in the very centre of
+New-Orleans. He it was who donated the ground on which the Cathedral of
+St. Louis now stands. It is for the rest of his soul that mass is
+offered up and the bells are tolled every Sunday afternoon in this
+venerable temple.</p>
+
+<p>The daughter and only child of Almonastre&mdash;her maiden name we
+forget&mdash;was born in the Colony, of a French Creole mother. She had
+attained the age of sixteen about the year 1811. It was then that Mr.
+McDonogh's propositions for an alliance were favorably considered, and
+all the arrangements were made for the betrothal of the parties.
+Suddenly, however, a new actor appeared on the stage, who overturned
+this well-arranged scheme. There resided in the city a grim, austere,
+and wealthy man, who had served in the French and Spanish armies, who
+was noted no less for his ferocity and pride&mdash;which had been displayed
+in several sanguinary duels&mdash;than for his wealth. He had an only son, a
+handsome, graceful, and fascinating young man, who, at the suggestion of
+his father, and perhaps at the prompting of his own heart, stepped
+forward to lay his claims at the feet of the lovely heiress of
+Almonastre. Fortunately for the cause of humanity, as will appear
+hereafter, though unfortunately for the American merchant, the young
+Frenchman supplanted him in the regard of the fair Creole.</p>
+
+<p>The alliance of two such wealthy families as the Pontalbas and
+Almonastres, was a great event in the city, and it was duly celebrated
+by many brilliant festivities, at the close of which the happy couple
+departed for Paris, accompanied by the father of the young man.
+Purchasing a splendid hotel in the Faubourg St. Germain, the Pontalbas
+gave themselves up to all the fashionable dissipations of that gay city.
+The younger Pontalba was appointed by Napoleon one of his pages, with
+the title of Count. Leaving them to continue their gay life, we return
+to New-Orleans.</p>
+
+<p>The day after the marriage of Miss Almonastre to young Pontalba, there
+stepped into the office of an old auctioneer on St. Louis street, no
+less an individual than the rich and elegant American merchant, John
+McDonogh, Esq.</p>
+
+<p>'Sir,' remarked the merchant to the auctioneer, at the same time handing
+him a voluminous roll of paper, 'there is the inventory of my furniture,
+carriages, horses, liquors, stores, plate, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> all that pertains to my
+establishment in Chartres street I desire you to sell them all for cash,
+immediately. Accordingly in three days the extensive establishment of
+Mr. McDonogh was all converted into money, to the great surprise and
+deep regret of his many friends and guests. With the proceeds he
+purchased a small, lonely house, on the opposite bank of the river,
+where, with scarcely furniture enough to satisfy the most ordinary use
+and demands of humble life, he immured himself in perfect seclusion.
+From that period until his death&mdash;forty long years&mdash;he ceased to have
+any connection or association with the world except in the course of
+business. He would neither dispense hospitality himself nor share that
+of others. Purchasing all the land around him, he placed himself beyond
+the curiosity and annoyance of near neighbors. His negro servants alone
+were permitted to reside in his house, and they were the depositories of
+the secrets of his household, and acted as his clerks and agents in all
+his transactions with the outside world.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst thus socially secluded and morose, Mr. McDonogh continued to
+prosecute his acquisition of property with augmented vigor and ardor. It
+was about this time his passion for accumulating vast acres of waste and
+suburban land began to manifest itself. All his views regarded the
+distant future. The present value and productiveness of land were but
+little regarded by him. His only recreation and pleasure were in
+estimating the value of his swamp and waste land fifty, a hundred, and
+even a thousand years to come. This passion at last gained such an
+ascendency over him that he seemed to court and luxuriate in waste and
+desolation. He would buy cultivated places and allow them to go to ruin.
+He would build on his lots in the city miserable shanties and rookeries,
+which would taint the neighborhood and enable him to buy out his
+neighbors at low rates. One of his favorite plans of operation was to
+purchase the back-lands of plantations on the river, the value of which
+would be increased enormously by the improvements in front of them. So
+he eagerly pounced upon all the lands in the neighborhood of the towns
+and villages in the State. One of the most brilliant of his feats in
+this sphere was the completion of his lines of circumvallation around
+the city of New-Orleans. For many years he pursued this object with the
+greatest ardor and intensity. Commencing at the upper end of the city,
+he stole gradually around through the swamps, purchasing large belts of
+land, until at last, a few years before his death, meeting one of his
+old friends in the street, he slapped him on the shoulder, and with his
+face full of enthusiasm and joy,&mdash;exclaimed: 'Congratulate me, my
+friend; I have achieved the greatest victory of my life. I have drawn my
+lines around the city, and now entirely embrace it in my arms&mdash;all for
+the glory of God and the good of my race.'</p>
+
+<p>During all this eager pursuit of acres there was never any manifestation
+of selfishness or of the ordinary repulsive characteristics of grasping
+avarice. It is true, he was exacting, punctual, and opinionated. He
+pursued his own course in all matters, but there was no misanthropy or
+harshness in his manner or deportment. He rarely gave for charitable or
+other purposes, for the reason that he would never sell any property he
+acquired, because he said it was not his; that he was only the steward
+or agent of God for certain great designs. His agency, however, did not
+include a power to sell. Hence he could not be induced by any offer or
+consideration to alienate any property he had once acquired. Abstemious
+to a fault, withholding himself from all the enjoyments and associations
+of the world, he devoted his time to the care of his large estate, to
+the suits in which such acquisitions constantly involved him, working
+for seventeen hours out of the twenty-four, the greater part of which
+labor consisted in writing the necessary documents relating to his
+titles, in corresponding with his lawyers and overseers. For the fifty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>
+years of his residence in New-Orleans, he never left the State, and
+rarely, if ever, passed beyond the limits of the corporation. It was
+well known that he was entirely wrapped up in some grand scheme of
+charity, the nature of which, however, was only known to a few lawyers,
+with whom he consulted in regard to the legality of his proposed
+dispositions, though none of them knew the mode and form in which those
+dispositions were to be made.</p>
+
+<p>McDonogh's scheme was certainly a grand one. In the execution of it, a
+man of his character and mind might well feel and display the
+extraordinary zeal and enthusiasm that gave to his appearance, habits,
+and conduct the characteristics of a monomaniac. Without ever once
+turning aside for pleasure, ambition, curiosity, affection, or enmity,
+he steadily pursued his great design, until death released him from the
+severe servitude to which he had bound himself. But, save in this entire
+self-abnegation and social exclusion, Mr. McDonogh had none of the
+habits of the miser. He was not a usurer, a money-lender, or a
+speculator. He did not extort his riches from the distresses and
+weaknesses of his fellow-men. He acquired by legitimate purchase, by
+entries on public lands. He dealt altogether in land. Stocks,
+merchandise, and other personal securities were eschewed by him. The
+wonder is, how, with a comparatively small revenue, his property not
+being productive, and his favorite policy being to render his lands wild
+and unsuited for cultivation, he was able to go on every year expanding
+the area of his vast possessions. Such enormous accumulations are not
+surprising under the operation of compound interest on sums of money
+loaned; but when effected by purchases of unproductive lands, they
+constitute a puzzle which the most intimate of Mr. McDonogh's friends
+have found it difficult to unravel.</p>
+
+<p>So much for the labor and practice of realities of the life of the
+millionaire. We must not conclude our sketch without rounding off the
+romance of that life which is the starting-point in the strange career
+pursued by him for forty years, with such ascetic severity and
+undeviating fidelity. What became of the betrothed of the gay and
+wealthy young American, from whom he had experienced the shock and
+disappointment that threw so much gloom over and produced such a
+thorough change in his future life? She had left with her gallant young
+husband, in bright hopes of a brilliant future. For some years their
+life in Paris was one of gayety, pleasure, and joyfulness. In the course
+of a few years, the dissipations of Paris began to pall upon the taste
+of the young couple. With unbounded wealth and means of enjoyment, they
+grew <i>ennuy&eacute;ed</i>, discontented, and finally contentious. Jealousy, like a
+serpent, stole into their household, and involved the mind of the
+husband in her snaky embrace. Rumors reached his ear which nourished
+this passion, until it exploded in a violent and irreconcilable quarrel.
+One of the chief instigators of the young Count, in this quarrel with
+his high-spirited wife, was his own father, who, in the retirement of a
+chateau near Paris, grew daily more morose and misanthropic. He had
+heard that his son had been dishonored, and his rage and bitterness were
+unbounded. The son abandoned his wife's hotel, and repaired to his
+father's chateau, where the two lived in seclusion and gloom. After they
+had been separated for some time, the Countess was either enticed by
+lures thrown out by the elder Pontalba, or of her own accord resorted to
+the chateau, for the purpose of consulting the Count relative to certain
+dispositions of their joint property, or certain arrangements for the
+education of their children, of whom there were three. The son was not
+at home; but the father, receiving her in the hall, invited her into his
+study. In a few moments afterward, the servants in the chateau were
+aroused by the report of a pistol, followed by the scream of a woman,
+and by another report; then all was silent. Rushing toward the study of
+Mr. Pontalba, they forced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> the door open&mdash;it had been locked on the
+inside&mdash;and there a terrible spectacle was presented. The Countess lay
+on the floor, bathed in blood, which gushed in torrents from a large
+wound in her breast, whilst her dress was burning from the nearness of
+the shot by which the wound had evidently been inflicted. But a still
+ghastlier object lay near. It was the body of the elder Pontalba, her
+husband's father, who had blown off the top of his skull with a large
+dragoon's pistol, which he still grasped in his hand. Though insensible,
+it was discovered that the Countess was not quite dead. A surgeon was
+soon obtained, and on examination it was discovered that though her
+wound was a terrible one&mdash;three buck-shot and one large bullet having
+entered her breast&mdash;yet there was some hope for her. After incredible
+suffering and long confinement, she recovered; though to the day of her
+death she will feel the effects of the terrible wound, to which was
+added the mutilation of her hand, which caught the bullet.</p>
+
+<p>The causes and circumstances of that tragedy were never unveiled to the
+world. Nor is there any great desire to penetrate the mystery. The
+Countess got well, and continued her fashionable life, appropriating a
+large portion of her great rental in New-Orleans to the purchase of
+property and the improvement of her elegant hotel in Paris. The
+Revolution of 1830 found the Countess a fierce Bourboniste, and produced
+such apprehension of confiscation, and danger to her life and liberty,
+that she concluded to return to New-Orleans. Here she found that her
+property had greatly augmented in value, and after a short sojourn in
+her native city, discovering that Louis Philippe's dynasty was an
+unproscriptive one, she returned to Paris, where she resided until the
+Revolution of 1848 again filled her with alarm for her large
+possessions. Beside, she was well known to be a conspicuous Legitimiste
+of the party of Henry V. Again she returned to New-Orleans, full of
+horror of Red Republicanism and Socialism, and with disgust for the
+fickleness of the French.</p>
+
+<p>Directing her attention, with characteristic energy and ardor, to the
+improvement of her property which incloses Jackson Square, the principal
+public place in New-Orleans, she built some forty elegant houses, and
+then assuming the government of the municipality, she succeeded in
+inducing the authorities to cut down the old trees on the square, and to
+have it laid off in the parterre style. The 'Woodman spare that tree'
+sentiment strongly opposed this reform; but it was vain to resist the
+Countess. The trees obstructed the view of her fine rows of houses, and
+down they must come, and down they did come, very much to the
+improvement of the city, and to the full justification of the taste and
+good sense of the Countess.</p>
+
+<p>After thus improving her property, and augmenting her resources, the
+Countess thought she might trust herself again in Paris, though a
+parvenu filled the throne which, in her view, was justly the property of
+the elder branch of the Bourbons.</p>
+
+<p>But before she left, an incident occurred which must close this
+desultory sketch. It happened one day, while the Countess was in a
+notary's office, for the purpose of signing some deeds, that a tall,
+grave, and eccentric-looking old gentleman entered, and seeing the
+notary engaged, took his seat to wait his turn. After completing her
+signature of the deeds, the Countess, raising her eyes from the
+parchment, perceived that she was the object of close and keen
+observation of the eccentric old gentleman with the very brilliant and
+piercing eyes. A single glance served to bring that face and form
+distinctly back to her memory. Rushing up to the old gentleman, she
+threw her arms around his neck, in an affectionate embrace, exclaiming:</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Mr. McDonogh, is it you? I have not forgotten you during our long
+separation.' And after a pause, her emotions checking her utterance, she
+continued: 'We were once betrothed;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> it would have been better for both
+if we had married. Is it too late to repair that fatal error?'</p>
+
+<p>For the first time for forty years, the old man was deeply affected by a
+tender and human feeling. The ancient love was aroused from the deep
+recess of his heart, where it had kin dormant and forgotten, and for a
+moment triumphed over the passion which had been growing and expanding
+for the half of his lifetime, until it had gained the entire mastery of
+his soul. Greatly moved by this penitence of his once-loved betrothed,
+Mr. McDonogh begged to be permitted to consult his better judgment, and
+tearing himself from the bewitchments of the Countess, he repaired
+instantly to the office of his lawyer. Walking in with the appearance of
+great excitement, he paced the office of the lawyer in an anxious and
+excited manner for some time, to the profound astonishment of his
+ancient counselor. At last the cause of this emotion was explained,
+when, turning to his lawyer, Mr. McDonogh confessed that he was under a
+great excitement, produced by meeting his old love, the Countess. 'And
+what would you think now, R&mdash;&mdash;, if I were to marry her?'</p>
+
+<p>'I should think,' replied the unsentimental counselor, 'that you had
+become crazy.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah?' replied the millionaire interrogatively, and then pausing
+thoughtfully, he continued: 'And you would think right&mdash;you would think
+right; so let us to business.'</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="HELTER-SKELTER_PAPERS" id="HELTER-SKELTER_PAPERS"></a>HELTER-SKELTER PAPERS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>In choosing a caption for the heterogeneous collection of reflections
+that are likely to be the result of the 'present writing,' the
+superscriber makes no apology for his title not being also a topic to
+any further extent than its consideration in this paragraph. The object
+held in view in giving <i>any</i> name to the succeeding lucubrations was
+merely to obtain a starting-point; it being conceded that the
+commencement of a <i>tas</i> of papers need have no greater influence on
+their course than the point of departure of a railroad-train exercises
+on its terminus and intermediate stopping-places. To resort then to my
+heading or its derivations for any indication of my purpose in what may
+follow, would be futile, and I am free to disclaim any premeditate
+purpose of governing my pen by either <i>hilariter</i> or <i>celeriter</i>, save
+as accident may determine. This, at least, gives hope of variety in the
+consequences of my present step; but whether spiciness will also ensue,
+will depend entirely on the humor of the writer and the complaisance of
+the reader hereof. So with no further introduction, the following
+children of my moods are presented for the kind consideration of those
+under whose eyes they may fall.<br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p>&mdash;<span class="smcap">Has a man a right to use an old pun in making a new joke</span>?
+This was a question which arose in the Quidnuncs coterie the other
+evening, after Muggins had sent in the following, for the comic column
+of a weekly paper, the editor of which had returned it gratefully but
+firmly, on the score of superannuation: 'If Truth lie at the bottom of a
+well, why should we be surprised that so many kick the bucket before
+they are able to reach it?'</p>
+
+<p>Slight sympathy was expressed for Muggins, but in my opinion that was
+owing rather to the depravity evinced in the particular attempt than to
+any condemnation of his conduct in making an old joke answer the purpose
+of a new one. I confess that I don't see why a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> good pun should be
+thrown aside after it has served as the soul of a single sentence. I am
+a supporter of the doctrine of Transmigration of Puns. For a true pun
+always has a humorous idea behind the verbal quip that is its prominent
+characteristic. And though the verbal quip may be 'old as the hills,'
+the joke may present a face fresh as that of a young maiden and bear a
+meaning merry as her eyes. Thus an adept in this art once renovated two
+veritable antiques:</p>
+
+<p>'I tell thee, Binks, that the proposition is incontrovertible; any thing
+that is worth doing is worth being <i>well done</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, then, brother Noggs, what hast thou to say to a beef-steak? Does
+not thy rule fail thee there?'</p>
+
+<p>'Truly it doth, Binks; but thou wilt grant me that thine is a <i>rare</i>
+exception?'</p>
+
+<p>'That will I, right readily.' And both laughed heartily, and went their
+ways.<br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p>&mdash;<span class="smcap">'Sir, you are treading on my favorite corn</span>,' was the mild
+protest of one in a crowd against the act of a neighbor who had
+encroached on his pedal extremities, by attempting to violate the
+philosophical axiom that two bodies can not occupy the same space
+simultaneously. The remark raised a laugh; yet it involved a great
+truth. Each of us has at least one pet infirmity, which we nurse as
+earnestly, with a view to its becoming chronic, (perhaps unwittingly,)
+as we strive earnestly to eradicate other morbid troubles. And the
+position is true regarding moral as well as physical invalids. Who has
+not often been doubly irritated by the removal of his source of
+irritation? Thus Paterfamilias Bloggs, having been 'riled' by the
+overcrowding of the omnibus in which he proceeds homeward, makes up his
+mind that if Materfamilias B. has not provided fish-balls for supper, he
+will 'raise a row.' And he so gloats in expectancy over the imaginary
+denunciation that he will inflict on that long-suffering female, that he
+is quite disappointed, on entering his basement, to discover at a glance
+that a dish of beautifully-browned fish-balls decks the evening table.
+So Bloggs' wrath is smothered, and smoulders for the rest of the
+evening, finding insufficient vent in boxed ears for the children, and
+short, crisp replies to civil questions from the older members of the
+family. Thus you see that removing a cause does not always do away with
+a consequence.<br /><br /></p>
+
+
+
+<p>&mdash;<span class="smcap">Who ever gave a satisfactory excuse for an inopportune laugh</span>?
+Certainly, no child transgressing in this particular ever failed to
+receive less than ten-fold its due of punishment therefor, as many grown
+persons will join me in testifying. Especially is this true in instances
+of church cachinnation. I solemnly aver that I have felt a stronger
+tendency to hearty laughter in a church than I ever experienced in a
+theatre, and yet I could not and can not give any satisfactory reason
+for the inclination. I wanted to laugh for the child's reason,
+'Because.'</p>
+
+<p>Not many months since, in a land thousands of miles hence, I was
+stretched upon a bed of sickness. In pursuance of the humane duties of
+his calling, the minister of the Episcopal Church called upon me, and
+after a short conversation, proposed addressing the throne of grace.
+This he did in a few eloquent extemporaneous phrases, closing with the
+Lord's prayer. Now, from the outset, I felt an uncontrollable
+inclination to laugh; but for a time succeeded in restraining it. But
+when, in close succession upon the minister's words, there arose from
+the next room (separated from us by a thin board partition) a sepulchral
+echo in the voice of my room-mate, a grim and swarthy miner, who
+probably had not heard the prayer since he repeated it after his mother
+at her knee, and from the still potent though long dormant force of
+habit, now joined in its utterance, the incongruity of my surroundings
+overcame me, and I electrified the worthy priest by bursting into a
+guffaw. Looking back on the scene, I can see far more pathos than humor
+in it; but at the time, the scene was to me irresistibly ludicrous. And
+oh! the paltry excuse that I raked up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> 'Nervousness,' I think. No
+matter, I had 'spoiled the whole party and broke up the ball!' 'Tis
+always the way.<br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p>&mdash;<span class="smcap">Somebody has said that to be a successful author, it is only
+necessary to feel what you write</span>. This I deny, for many reasons
+which I might but will not cite, contenting myself with saying that to
+write what one feels, though much more gratifying and in a moral sense
+far more commendable than to conceal or falsify sentiments, is
+dangerous, and has been known to cause a writer to feel not only more
+than he wrote or could write, but more than he had any expectation or
+desire of feeling in such connection. Thus, whenever under an assumed
+but transparent title, I introduce my friend Scroggs into a little
+sketch of my production, I never express in that performance my actual
+estimate of Scroggs, physically or mentally. Nor in my glowing
+description of the incidents of a trip to Catskill Mountain House, do I
+confine myself to the expression of what I felt in viewing the many and
+varied scenes of rural beauty that presented themselves during the
+progress of that undertaking. Do you suppose that I would run the risk
+of conveying to Claribella, who was my only companion in that
+expedition, that I never was more bored in my life, and that my
+conversation was the result of operating with a constantly working
+though invisible pump at the well of common-places and platitudes, which
+a gentleman accumulates for such emergencies in the course of his social
+experience? Heaven preserve my hair, should I venture on such a step.</p>
+
+<p>'But you digress,' some impatient reader suggests.</p>
+
+<p>Digress! That is an impossibility in an article without a topic. But
+even if I plead guilty, my impatient critic; did you ever take a walk in
+the country, and if so, did you choose those broad roads that lead to
+churches and the village stores and the 'Academy,' or did you plunge, by
+some little modest path, into the recesses of a grove, careless whither
+your steps carried you, so content you were to yield to the enchanting
+guidance of accident? And what though, in following your bent, you were
+compelled to climb an occasional fence or cross a chance puddle, the
+satisfaction of coming suddenly upon some pleasant view, or unexpectedly
+entering an apparently previously unexplored nook, more than atoned for
+such trifling annoyances. Without digression in some degree, neither
+spoken nor written language can be made entertaining to the person
+addressed. Who is more discursive than the Autocrat, the Czar of
+table-talkers; and whose productions are more charming or wiser? We do
+not do our everyday thinking in strictly logical or consistent forms. It
+is sufficient to introduce hypotheses, premises, or syllogisms, when
+there are ends to be attained by such a course. Impulse is far more
+attractive than prim consistency in the character of those we love; and
+if this be true as to pet persons, why not in our favorite writings? So
+the most charming women I have met would be styled in Spanish <i>las
+inconsecuentes</i>. Therefore, when amusement is the aim of writing, let
+digression have full swing.<br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p>&mdash;<span class="smcap">I envy a good talker</span>. There is no class of persons so
+generally underrated and vilified, yet this would be a dull world
+without them. And the faculty is not to be acquired. Really good talkers
+are born, not made. (And some, I hear a skeptic say, are not to be borne
+in certain contingencies.) Talk is like a river; it rushes onward, by
+expression of ideas, <i>making room for thoughts</i> to follow, and the dull
+elf, whose mouth is a mill-dam, finds his fancies and thoughts
+accumulate on his brain, till that organ is dull and sodden as is his
+facial aspect. Why is it that some can only be fluent from the point of
+a pen, while others can only address their fellows effectively by word
+of mouth? Of course there are conversational monsters as well as other
+violations of nature's creative processes. And the more thought that
+talk holds in solution, the more grateful the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> offering. But I have
+often listened attentively and pleasurably to an hour's flow from the
+lips of a pretty, graceful woman, or an interesting child, just saying
+enough myself to prove that sleep had not seized me. And at the
+subsidence of the tide, I could not for the life of me recall a single
+idea to which verbal embodiment had been given. Perhaps I had been
+carried away by the music of tone, or the charming, ever-changing curves
+of the opening and closing lips, or the dimples in the cheeks, as they
+budded, blossomed, and faded in the light of the now laughing, now
+languishing eyes, that never lost their hold of mine, yet never bore
+mine down by that most intolerable of all social manifestations&mdash;a
+stare.<br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p>&mdash;I have a friend, who declares that he has <span class="smcap">lost a smile</span>. Not
+one from his sweetheart, for that would be either recoverable or
+replaceable with another. The smile he mourns is&mdash;his own. To speak
+plainly, he has lost, through neuralgia, the control over the risible
+muscles of his face, and they not only refuse to obey him in his desire
+and design to beam upon all peaceful comers, but occasionally put in
+motion another set of facial strings, which give him a depressed and
+lachrymose air when he would fain appear most jubilant. He says he never
+till now knew how much of his facial aspect was artificial. His present
+condition is only relieved when he is under the control of some powerful
+emotion. <i>Then</i> he can laugh as heartily and present the appearance of
+so doing as fully as ever. It is only the conventional smile, the bland,
+self-possessed smile of society, that is utterly gone from him. I
+elicited the confession by entering his room noiselessly one day, and
+detecting him in the act of making the gloomiest grimaces at a small
+boarding-house mirror on the wall. He was much confused, and at first
+denied any such employment; but ultimately admitted that he had been
+practicing facial gymnastics for the purpose of simulating the smile he
+had lost. Perhaps some of our fashionable dentists may be able to aid
+him by a suggestion. They certainly have more smiles at their command
+than any class of men that have come under my observation. How singular
+that the most ferocious quadrupeds and the blandest of men should evince
+their most contrasted characteristics&mdash;fierceness and amenity&mdash;by
+showing their teeth.</p>
+
+<p>I sometimes think those are blessed who are endowed with a coarse
+organization. Sensitive people are chronic martyrs. Their nerves are so
+many toes, that their neighbors and friends are perpetually treading on.
+Not only are the pangs of such more acute, but the occasions of injury
+are infinitely multiplied by super-susceptibility. Talk of the happy
+hours of childhood! Ask nine persons out of ten, who are of susceptible
+organization, at what period in life their sufferings were most intense
+and unremitting, and if they be gifted with good memories, their reply
+will be, 'before adolescence.'<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> For susceptibility of nerve implies
+also high mental capability, acute intelligence, vivid imagination, all
+of which go to intensify sensation, and thus to aggravate the mischief.
+And our sympathy is due to one who by one of those strange
+contradictions in human nature finds herself, a highly nervous creature,
+the victim of an affection for one of the coarser organizations to which
+I have alluded. I say victim, for such attachments seldom result
+happily. The effect produced, in the first instance, by the magnetism of
+a strong over a weak nature gradually dies away. With it die the
+brilliant colors in which the beloved has been invested by the belover,
+and life is thenceforward only lit up by the lamps that heaven sets in
+the eyes of the little children that some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>times cheer the darkness of
+these ill-assorted unions.<br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p>&mdash;<span class="smcap">'Sir we are too poor to be economical.</span>' These were the words
+which I once heard a woman use to a rich relative of her husband, who
+had followed up his refusal of assistance by allusions to many little
+short-comings which he had noted in the domestic details of the family.
+The phrase seems to involve a contradiction; but a little consideration
+will show even the most superficial thinker that it expresses a truth.
+Great is the power of ready money. Ready money can save by wholesale
+purchases. Ready money can save by choice of place of purchase. Ready
+money can save by choice of proper time for purchase. Ready money can
+save by discount obtained under threat of discontinuance of trade; a
+threat futile in the mouths of the poor. Ready money can save in
+furniture and wearing apparel, by being able to provide the best in
+fabric and construction, and therefore the most lasting. But it is
+needless to extend the catalogue of ready money's powers. None know them
+better than those who seldom are able to obtain their aid.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Quevedo has broadly satirized his faith in 'Childhood's
+happy hour'. In his <i>Visions of Hell</i>, where Satan, wearied by the
+continual grumbling of the condemned, requests them to leave, go back to
+life, be born again, and live it all over. On due reflection, they
+conclude that rather than suffer the whippings, schoolings, and
+scoldings incident to boy and girlhood, they&mdash;would prefer to stay where
+they were.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Note by Editor</span>.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="SKETCHES_OF_THE_ORIENT" id="SKETCHES_OF_THE_ORIENT"></a>SKETCHES OF THE ORIENT.</h2>
+
+
+<p>The world is undergoing a wonderful change. Even within the memory of
+some twenty-five years, what events have occurred to verify the remark.
+Civilization changes all the preconceived perfections of the past, and
+introduces new scenes of life; it reforms without injuring, and leaves
+us undecided as to the value of the progress made. New customs and new
+habits leave man where he was; his nature is still the same, and perhaps
+he has only engrafted on a faulty structure what neither embellishes nor
+improves, and shows how slow is the progress of the human mind toward
+this goal for which it has, since the commencement of time, been bent.</p>
+
+<p>This is peculiarly verified in the 'Orient,' the most ancient of climes
+and lands. Through the mist of so many centuries, so many thousands of
+years, the 'far East' has followed the 'even tenor of its way' through
+revolutions and systems; its usages have been consecrated by time, and
+the parent has handed down to his son the usages which were more nearly
+allied to the natural state of man than those of the more famed and
+progressing 'West.' The animal has had more sway than the intellectual
+part of his nature, and what the curious traveler most admires is the
+still primitive condition of the latter. Violence there reigns superior
+to reason, and if changes be made, the former consults but little the
+latter in the measures which it adopts for the prosecution of its plans.
+There is seldom any appeal made by the reformer to the understandings of
+the people to be reformed; they must blindly adopt the innovations
+offered, and this without the means of contrasting what they are thus
+compelled to receive at the hand of the bestower with what they forsake.
+Tossed in the billows of doubt, they are exposed to the rocks of
+misconception, and are too often wrecked through the total absence of
+any chart to guide them in their new voyage of life. The transitory step
+is always a dangerous one to a people who have not entire confidence in
+their leader, for his plans may inspire neither conviction nor approval,
+and if they fail, leave his followers exposed to all the fury of storms
+without any haven in which to seek a refuge.</p>
+
+<p>Sultan Mahmoud, believing that European civilization was superior to
+that of the East, imagined that he adopted it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> when he only assumed its
+exterior, the costume of Frankistan. How little did he know of the
+defects to which this simplest part of it led. Luckily, he adopted only
+the habiliments of the male sex, leaving those of the female unchanged.
+The flowing robes, full of ease and comfort; the turban, soft to the
+head, and giving it protection from the colds of winter and the heats of
+summer; the commodious shoe, which leaves the feet uncrumpled and free
+from the results of the tighter and closer ones of the West, were laid
+aside for the dress of Europe. The only part of the garb which we use,
+that he did not assume and compel his people to accept, was the unseemly
+and uncomfortable hat, and this he would also have taken, had religion
+not interposed to prevent it. Of all parts of the Christian's costume,
+the hat is the most calculated to inspire disgust in the sight of the
+native of the Orient, and if ever he adopts it, it is because it is
+supposed to cover him with protection against the injustice of his own
+rulers, and not from any preference or even choice. It is always an
+object of ridicule, and serves to point many a remark of derision and
+contempt against the wearer. On the other hand, what is more noble and
+dignified than the turban, with its snowy white folds, or its varied
+hues of green or red? Just as the external appearance of the colored
+man, and the knowledge of his total deprivation of civil abilities
+perpetuates the existing prejudice against him, so does the dress of the
+Frank clothe him with all that is distasteful and revolting in the eyes
+of the native of the East, with his prejudices dating back to the
+earlier days of the prophets. To pass over the external appearances of
+the reformed Eastern, let us examine the results of the civilization of
+Europe with which his costume has clothed him. Tight clothes have
+unfitted him for the broad and soft luxury of the sofa, and many persons
+resume the flowing robe and full trowsers within doors, so as to be able
+to enjoy the comforts which they lost with them. For the same reason,
+they must sit at a high table, on a high chair. The sleeve of the tight
+coat scarcely permits of being rolled up, so that the man of the East
+can return to his primitive use of his fingers in place of the fork, and
+for this he rejects the coat for the flowing pelisse, or he goes to his
+meal in his shirt-sleeves. It is amusing to see the <i>homme de bureau</i>,
+or the humble clerk, endeavoring to sit on his sofa cross-legged, with
+his writing paraphernalia before him as formerly, or to examine the
+broad chair which he has had to invent, so as to suit himself to his new
+transitory state. It may even be doubted whether he has gained any thing
+by the change, as a <i>cavalier</i>, for the full trowsers were far more
+comfortable than the present tight pantaloons, and any one who has seen
+the Bedouin horsemen, with their commodious saddles and flowing robes,
+must have given them his entire approbation in point of contrasted
+beauty.</p>
+
+<p>As yet the Oriental has made no innovation in his domestic life and
+habits, or if any, it is that his ladies wear the slender <i>botine</i> of
+the Christian lady in place of the loose slipper of former years. As yet
+there is no commingling of the sexes, no excursions by land and sea in
+boats or carriages together, in undisturbed and unrestricted familiar
+intercourse. The lady of the house has not yet met her husband's friends
+at the dinner-table, at the social <i>soir&eacute;e</i>, or in the ball-room. He is
+quite willing to go to these, at the house of his Frank friend, but he
+has not been convinced of the propriety of the change, and his sovereign
+has not carried his reforms into harem life. It will require some years
+yet to fit the Oriental for witnessing the displays of female beauty at
+such places with the calm indifference of the more accustomed native of
+Frankistan. He is willing, however, to commingle with the females of his
+European neighbors' household, even to embrace them in the mysteries of
+the mazy polka or waltz; but he hesitates admitting that such are the
+advantages or benefits of civilization. Indeed, it may be doubted
+whether<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> his own wife and daughters would suffer such, were they told
+that they might do so without fear of reproach; for it is mostly to the
+mothers and wives that the Eastern world owes its tardy progress in the
+civilization of the West. Some time since, during the late Carnival,
+there was a Persian ambassador present at a ball given by the Italian
+minister, attended by the ambassador extraordinary of the Shah of
+Persia, who had never been to Europe or in a 'civilized European'
+society. Being asked by a foreign gentleman how he was, and how he liked
+the ball, he frankly replied, that such an exhibition as that of the
+beautiful ladies assembled there <i>decoll&eacute;</i>, etc., had taken him quite by
+surprise; that it was more than his nerves could stand, and he felt so
+bad that he thought of leaving the ball and retiring to his own
+quarters. The same gentleman, to induce him to remain, jocosely told him
+that it was the paradise of the Christian, whilst his (that of
+Mussulmans) was in the life to come. At this he smiled, and turning
+toward a bevy of very handsome young ladies, dressed in the hight of the
+fashion, his eyes gloating on the fair scene, answered, that he admired
+the Christian paradise very much, and as the other was somewhat
+uncertain, he thought he could be satisfied with the persons now around
+him. It is quite possible that, except for the loss of dignity which
+would have attended the act, the Shah's ambassador might easily have
+been induced to join in a polka with one of the infidel houris then
+present.</p>
+
+<p>Many of the Mussulmans (Turks) of Stamboul come over the Golden Horn to
+Pera, to witness the merry scenes of the Christian Carnival. They do not
+select the most fashionable places of resort, and consequently fall into
+rather doubtful company. They come sometimes with a companion or two,
+but prefer to have only their own people with them, or at most a <i>toady</i>
+or two to keep them in countenance. Such a person finds a conspicuous
+place, where he can see what is going on, throws off his more than half
+European coat, puts on his loose pelisse, calls for his <i>Tchibook</i>, or
+pipe, and, it must be added, something very much like hot punch, and
+goes in for the full enjoyment of the evening. In an hour or two, he is
+rather 'pulverized,' and very disregardful of what he says and does. The
+true semi-barbarian then comes to view; he becomes very ostentatious,
+and is disposed to act the fast man; a friend will always find him a
+lady, whom he invites to accompany him over to his <i>konak</i>, (private
+dwelling in Stamboul,) which she refuses; he urges her to play <i>faro</i> or
+<i>rouge et noir</i> with <i>his</i> money, which she does, until his purse is
+rather light, and by this time our Turk is so far insensible as to
+require to be conveyed to his carriage by the toadies or private
+attendants above mentioned. This he thinks is all right, and calls it <i>&agrave;
+la Franka</i>, or conformably with European civilization and fashion.</p>
+
+<p>The Armenian and Greek ladies, too, are adopting the same ideas of
+reform and improvement in social life. One of the former, a fair,
+married lady, of good family, having lately fallen in with a young and
+handsome foreigner attached to one of the legations, allowed his visits
+to become more and more frequent, so that one day her husband, returning
+home rather sooner than expected, caught the couple in <i>flagrante
+delicto</i>. This was carrying European civilization somewhat to a delicate
+point; but she shielded herself against the husband's reproaches by the
+assertion that it was <i>&agrave; la Franka</i>, and the matter was compromised
+without any 'secession movement.'</p>
+
+<p>The late Sultan built a theatre, and had a corps of ballet-girls for
+private amusement. He frequently gave entertainments at the former to
+the foreign legations, and one season even attended a <i>bal par&eacute;</i> at the
+British Embassy, and a <i>bal en ordinaire</i> at the French. This rather
+startled some of his subjects; but as such things were considered <i>&agrave; la
+Franka</i>, it passed over without any serious results. At the former, it
+is said, an amusing incident occurred,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> which, if not altogether true,
+is <i>bon troveto</i>. The late Sultan was extremely sensitive about coming
+in close contact with non-believers in the principles of the blessed
+Prophet. He never could touch the letter accrediting a foreign
+ambassador without hastening to perform ablutions, and as to conforming
+to the custom of shaking hands with an infidel, it was too horrible to
+be thought of for a moment. All animals, except horses, he held in
+abhorrence, and changed his entire costume several times a day, if he
+happened to have occasion to expose himself even to the winds blowing
+from the direction of the infidel hill on which Pera, the residences of
+the Christians, are built. On his arrival at the ball in question, he
+was, as is customary, shown into a private apartment, for a moment's
+repose previous to entering the salon in which hundreds of gay visitors
+were collected. The apartment happened to be that of the lady of the
+Ambassador, in fact, her <i>boudoir</i>, in which her poodle-dog, <i>Bijou</i>,
+had been accustomed to stay. Scarcely had the Sultan taken a seat,
+before poor Bijou made his appearance, and was at once driven away by
+some of the frightened attendants; but soon after returning unnoticed,
+the spiteful brute approached the Sultan, and offered the greatest
+indignity in his power to the pantaloons of the sensitive monarch.
+Imagine the indignation which occurred, and the designs of the wily
+British Ambassador to civilize the Turkish Sultan would have been wholly
+frustrated had not the chief gardien of the Sultan's wardrobe
+fortunately brought with him a full fresh suit for his master, in case
+of eventualities.</p>
+
+<p>On the same occasion, the British Ambassador, for the same laudable
+purpose of civilizing the various clergy of the Ottoman capital, had
+insisted upon the Armenian, Greek, and Catholic Armenian Bishops and the
+Greek Rabbi of the Jews appearing at his <i>bal par&eacute;</i> in their canonicals!
+Against this they strongly remonstrated, but the influence of the
+Ambassador was greater than their own, and they had to make their
+<i>d&eacute;b&ucirc;t</i> at his ball in full dress. But this was, however, soon
+forgotten, as it was all <i>&agrave; la Franka</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Some years ago, the late Sultan, on the occasion of the circumcision of
+one or two of his sons, gave a series of entertainments to his own
+functionaries, and one to the foreign diplomatic corps, in one of the
+valleys on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus, called Hyder Pacha. With
+the view of properly amusing the foreign legations, <i>&agrave; la Franka</i>, the
+Sultan got up an extemporary theatre, adjoining the splendid pavilion,
+in which his guests were assembled. The play selected as best calculated
+for the purpose, was the <i>Milliner's Shop</i>, the like of which the Sultan
+had noticed while passing through the great street of Pera&mdash;the windows
+filled with bonnets, dress-caps, crinolines, etc., and very handsome
+dolls, some quite as 'large as life,' <i>decoll&eacute;</i>, and thanks to the
+miniature crinolines, often showing very well-made chaussures and
+ankles. The little stage was not much raised above the green sward of
+the valley&mdash;a ditch had been dug out for the use of the orchestra, and
+the counter of the milliner separated this from the audience. As the
+whole affair had been got up rather hurriedly, the <i>entrepreneur</i> had
+not been able to procure a sufficient number of blocks on which to
+exhibit the bonnets and caps, and as men were readily obtained for the
+purpose, holes were cut in the counter, through which these thrust their
+heads, and on them rested the articles in question. A man also figured
+against the wall, on whom to hang up a ready-made dress or two, while
+his head also served as a block for a first-rate bonnet with flowers and
+feathers to suit the occasion. Now the weather had threatened a change,
+and much to the regret of the Sultan and his Court, who had it at heart
+to give such an entertainment to the diplomatic corps of Europe as would
+tell largely in the papers, and prove the great progress made by him in
+civilization, just as the play commenced, the rain began to fall in
+torrents. In their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> pavilion, the foreign ambassadors, etc., were
+somewhat secure, but not so the <i>dramatis person&aelig;</i>. The ditch soon
+filled with water, and the orchestra had to hold their instruments above
+their heads, while the water rose to their waists, and finally drove
+them to open 'secession.' But the man-blocks which supported the
+millinery were still more to be pitied. Their heads were fast in the
+holes made, and partially closed again in the centre, so that they were
+unable to escape from the rain which deluged the whole affair. The water
+fell in torrents over the gay bonnets, caps, crinolines, etc., until
+they became a mass of tawdry, and the bare pates of those under them
+came ludicrously into view. It required the assistance of a carpenter
+and his aids to get the poor fellows free from their bondage, and enable
+them to seek safety in flight. As to the man fastened against the wall,
+he bore his torture, and the merriment which he occasioned among the
+audience, for some time, but finally was compelled to put an end to his
+part of the entertainment by a timely retreat.</p>
+
+<p>Sultan Mahmoud was the first reformer of the Ottoman Empire, and his
+second son, Sultan Abd-ul-Aziz, the last. The reforms of the late
+Sultan, Abd-ul-Mejid, nearly ruined him, and the consequence is, that
+the present sovereign has wisely concluded to fall back upon some of the
+older fashions of his people. Mahmoud thought to drive away the
+remembrance of the Dervish-Janissaries whose violences seldom allowed a
+Sultan to die of disease, and never of old age. To effect this, he
+disbanded their several corps, and created new ones, in another dress.
+Perhaps this was wise at the time, but the object once reached, he
+might&mdash;or his successor, at most&mdash;have restored the broken spirit of his
+people, by a return to their national costume. It was only by force and
+fear that he induced his new troops to adopt the dress of the deeply
+detested Ghiaours, and the measure greatly alienated the respect and
+affections of his subjects, especially those of the interior of the
+empire. The higher classes of the capital assumed it with less reserve,
+on account of the economy which it admitted, and because it was <i>&agrave; la
+mode</i>, but the lower were less disposed to lay that one aside which had
+been worn by their ancestors, and served to designate the true
+Mussulman. The picturesque costume of the natives of Arabia, of Egypt,
+Syria, and Albania, had to be thrown aside for the tight pantaloons and
+coat of the Infidel, and Mahmoud went so far even as to require the
+<i>Bombardiers</i> of his army to wear a head-dress, black, and tall as a
+hat, differing from it by the absence of a rim, and open on the top,
+covered only with a bag of dark silk, drawn together with a cord. This,
+how-ever, disappeared in the reign of his successor.</p>
+
+<p>The present Sultan has adopted a middle course. Without either restoring
+the costumes of the Janissaries, or even assimilating the habiliments of
+his troops to that which they wear in their own country, which would
+have inspired a strong and useful <i>esprit de corps</i>, he has accepted the
+uniform of the Zouave and Turcos of the French army. It is sufficiently
+Oriental to meet the object desired, and is very popular in the Sultan's
+army. It leaves to the wearer the free use of his limbs, but as a
+parade-dress will not show so favorably, to European eyes, as the more
+dignified dress of the Guards. The most difficult part of a military
+costume is the head-dress; and the common red cap of the Turks, called
+the <i>Fez</i>, is even more objectionable than the unseemly slouched hat
+worn in the regular army of the United States. Around this cap the
+Sultan has had a small turban bound, in one or two folds, which is a
+relief to the eye, and easily kept in order. It is readily taken off, in
+case of need, and may be bound around the waist as a sash, or girdle.</p>
+
+<p>This change in the dress of his army has given to his people the idea
+that their new Sultan is anti-Christian, and will restore the Ottoman
+Empire to its former state and condition. How far this will be verified,
+still rests to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> seen. Reforms not entirely needed, and but half
+carried out, leave the recipients in that transitory state which weakens
+and demoralizes without effecting any permanent and real benefit. An
+external change is certainly less efficient than a moral one, but it
+goes far toward influencing the feelings of patriotism and loyalty which
+are so essential to man in his political condition, and it is more than
+probable that the anti-reforms of Sultan Abd-ul-Aziz will effect more
+real good in his capital, and elsewhere, than the boasted reforms of his
+illustrious father.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="WITCHES_ELVES_AND_GOBLINS" id="WITCHES_ELVES_AND_GOBLINS"></a>WITCHES, ELVES, AND GOBLINS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>The creative power of man, though so much boasted, is after all but a
+mere phantom&mdash;a vapor which rises from the ground and floats with little
+change of form from place to place. The diapason which we thought so
+extensive, appears, on inquiry, to consist of only a few notes, and the
+changes that may be rung upon them, may almost be counted upon the
+fingers. Homer's fables are near of kin to those of Shakspeare; the
+legends of ancient Greece find their details mirrored exactly in the
+traditions of Spain, Scotland, and Scandinavia. Whether in the remoter
+fogs of the past some glimmering traces of light may lead us to discover
+a common origin, a universal fountain, whence proceed pure and limpid
+all the streams that are contaminated by baser contact in their later
+course, is a question which might mightily task the most powerful minds.
+The gods of Greece and Rome are reproduced in Odin and Thor, Freia, and
+Gerda and Tduna. Aphrodite at Athens, Venus on the Seven Hills, Freia in
+the North, differ but in name. Dark hair and coal-black eyes, and a
+warm, sunny beauty may please the ardent inhabitants of Greece and Rome;
+the Swedes and Germans may bow before golden hair and blue eyes, fair
+and blooming cheeks. But transport the Grecian Aphrodite to the
+Dofrefield glaciers, and she will soon grow white as their snow, her
+eyes will fade to the pale cold blue of their skies, and with the winter
+frosts her hair will turn like fall leaves, golden yellow; and under the
+sun of Italy, Freia will tan to the burning, dark-hued, voluptuous Venus
+of the South. The two soils naturally breed the one cold statues, the
+other passionate life, but these two different phases are in themselves
+identical, Thor's hammer, and the various wonderful exploits of the
+Northern gods and goddesses, their dim, ill-defined notions of creation,
+of time and space, and of future worlds, are but natural growths from
+the nature of the North. Their gods, like their men, are all action, and
+to raise their actions above those of the human race, they naturally
+invest them with peculiar supernatural physical endowments, and a
+strange, mysterious mode of action. The powers of magic come to their
+aid; they are not absolutely omnipotent. Dwarfs forge them invincible
+arms in subterranean caverns; earth, air, fire, and water, conspire to
+assist them. The elements rage or are appeased at their command.</p>
+
+<p>In the same way the gods of Greece and Rome are all repose. Their
+actions acquire a superiority over those of man not by supernatural
+agencies or extraordinary developments of physical power; their
+pre&euml;minence lies in the quiet assumption of power, in the immediate
+sequence of action on volition. Their divinity is esoteric, consisting
+in attributes innate and not assumed. Action with them is power; but in
+the North power must be superadded.</p>
+
+<p>Thus we find all the various attributes embodied in the gods of the
+South, like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>wise deified and modified in the North, Thus Loke is the
+Mercury of the ancients. He is the same sly rogue as Hermes, though he
+has not some of the better qualities of that god. He is essentially the
+god of deceit. His deceptions are more subtle and deep-laid than those
+of the Grecian adept. He combines with the Pagan element something of
+the old Christian Satanic element. Without the horn and hoof of the
+Christian devil, he has all his peculiar mental qualities, and uses them
+to the great prejudice and harm of the other gods. So, likewise, with
+many of the more human &#956;&#965;&#952;&#959;&#953;. We find the same ideas to spring
+up in the agora of Athens, the wilds and snows of Norway, and the
+heathers and hills of Scotland. The fable of the Sirens finds an exact
+counterpart in the North. Like Ulysses, Duke Magnus and innumerable
+others escape with difficulty from the charms and enticements of
+sea-nymphs. Sometimes it is their wonderful song which the earth and
+the elements obey as they did Orpheus, that attracts them. Sometimes it
+is by more sensual blandishments, and sometimes by sweet and tender
+persuasion, <i>suad&aelig; medull&acirc;</i>. Mountain elves start from the ground, and
+from unseen caverns, and attempt to entice brave knights to their ruin;
+they dance round them beneath the trees, and endeavor to make them join
+in their dances. The natural fortitude of the stalwart champions is
+rarely able to resist the temptation, and they are always on the point
+of falling, when some unoffending barn-yard fowl sounds the signal for
+retreat, or some Christian word is uttered, or sign made, and the fair
+visions vanish, either naturally or in divers shapes with odors of
+brimstone and sulphur. The differences between the Grecian and the
+Northern conceptions are striking. In the Greek the forms are clear and
+vivid. The sirens are beautiful women, with angelic voices and vulture's
+talons. There are nothing but conceivable realities in their story.
+There is nothing strange or supernatural in their accessories. But in
+the Scandinavian elves the case is different. They vanish and re&auml;ppear
+at different times; they have no actual, permanent existence. The crow
+of a cock or the sign of the cross is enough to drive them back to their
+hiding-places. They shun daylight and fixed, customary spots. They
+generally surprise casual travelers, and upon them in lone, romantic
+spots, practice all their arts of enticement and seduction. There is
+always something of magic, of the supernatural, connected with them. The
+Greek sirens are not like common women; but once conceive of their
+physical existence, and you understand them thoroughly. Their laws of
+action are purely human, and we do not find them one half so unnatural
+as our neighbor that has a splay foot or a hunchback. The Northern
+witches, however, are formed like human females, but obey unknown and
+mysterious powers. The commonest words and associations of men are bans
+to them. Only so long do they have power as nothing human disturbs and
+overthrows their supernatural spells.</p>
+
+<p>Again let us look for a moment at another division of Grecian fiction.
+The grim Cyclops who toils for Vulcan, working like mortal men, and
+forging divine things, it is true, like any Grecian blacksmith, has a
+counterpart of a somewhat different character in the North. The reality
+and vividness of the Greek changes as we approach the Pole. In deep
+caverns distorted, strange little dwarfs work by the aid of supernatural
+powers wondrous weapons, swords of incredible qualities, armor that
+defies mortal blades, bracelets of wondrous and cunning finish and
+singular properties&mdash;all here is miraculous, the workman, the process,
+and the work. The vividness with which Homer presents to us the one-eyed
+Polyphemus, with his tree-staff and his ponderous body, is exchanged by
+the Scandinavian for smallness, indistinctness of form and of power. The
+grand in the South is obtained by giving enlarged pictures of man as he
+is; in the North, by investing him with strange, magic, mysterious
+quali<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>ties. In mental as well as material nature, a general haziness of
+outline conveys the idea of greatness as strongly, though in another
+manner, as the sharp and perceptible outline of any thing really great.</p>
+
+<p>This peculiarity we shall find running through the literature, the
+character, and the mind of the two nations. The North is misty,
+undefined, illimited; the Greek is clear as crystal, sharp and angular,
+on every side. Its conceptions are never vague, but are tangible, real,
+and human. Thus with the Greek, a vast ocean, like that they know,
+encircles the whole earth, and fixes its bounds and the limits which man
+shall not pass; the Northerns compassed it about with a vast serpent of
+immense size, which bounded infinity and space, time and eternity,
+thereby mirroring, in some degree, as it were, the ancient symbol for
+time and space without end, the snake biting his own tail, the circle
+with no one beginning nor end. The heaven of the Greeks is the summit of
+one of their own mountains, known to every peasant and inhabitant.
+Accessible only to the gods, there they live, as unconcernedly as though
+the earth were not. Thor, and Odin, and Freia live in the 'Shining
+Walhalla,' whither go the souls of brave and good warriors. Their way
+thither is over the heavenly bridge, the many-colored rainbow, thrown
+over between heaven and earth for the passage of the happy souls. And
+there in this dim, ghostly Walhalla they sit like the Grecian gods, and
+drink mead instead of ambrosia and nectar. They do not share in the
+earthly vices of the Southern gods. Thor never begat such a progeny as
+Jupiter.</p>
+
+<p>Repose is also, as hinted at, a characteristic of Southern mythology,
+while action, assisted by supernatural agencies, is the feature of the
+Northern deities. Thus Jupiter sits majestic and silent upon Olympus and
+nods his head, and the whole earth shakes. He is human in his character,
+but of an ideal and superior human nature&mdash;man immensely magnified. The
+gods of Norway are also human, but they are, in themselves, <i>mere</i> men.
+What makes them gods is the magic power which is joined with them, a
+mere adjunct not forming a part of them. They toil and act like
+men&mdash;they are never still. Thor bears the hammer, the emblem of physical
+strength, energy, and activity. He can at a draught half drain the sea,
+and cause the tides to rise and ebb; he can lift the serpent that
+surrounds the world; he can wrestle with Death himself, and almost come
+off victorious. The giants are his mortal enemies, and against them he
+wages war and bears deadly hatred, as Jupiter against the Titans. None
+but the warrior, who has fought long and well, enjoys the long dreamt-of
+mead of Walhalla. A death on one's own bed is almost as ignominious as
+that of the coward. The straw-death (<i>str&ouml;dod</i>) they will endeavor to
+avoid by opening their own veins and bleeding to death, and as the warm
+life-blood pours forth, they sing triumphant death-songs, and see the
+portals gradually open to receive them, and Braga the Scald, seated at
+the gate with his magic-sounding harp, his fingers running through the
+golden strings, and in such ecstasies they give up the ghost. The Greek
+dies in a more quiet, philosophical, and practical manner. He does not
+fear the shame of a warm and soft bed. Achilles, and Ajax, and Diomed,
+are not the only inmates of Elysium. Socrates, and Plato, and Homer,
+Apelles and Zeuxis, are all there too. The poet and the philosopher, the
+painter and the sculptor, rank as high through pen, pencil, and chisel,
+as the warrior by his blade and his bloody exploits. Art, in the North,
+finds no existence, and strikes no sympathizing chord in the bosoms of
+the sturdy Northmen. Art, to be perfect, requires a distinctness of
+conception, and an assimilation to human nature in its subjects,
+entirely at variance with the dim, mysterious character of the
+Scandinavian imagination. Painting is a thing utterly unknown, and
+sculpture, where found, deals in shapeless blocks and huge, massive,
+ill-proportioned forms, analogous to the primitive Egyptian art. In the
+Northern mythology and legend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>ary history, minstrels play an important
+part. They are as indispensable as the Welsh bards, though not invested
+with the same authority as they. At the table of the gods, Braga strikes
+his wonderful harp and chants the triumphal hymns of dead warriors as
+they enter the Walhalla. Round the boards of the rougher Vikings, among
+the muscular, sun-browned champions, hardened to blood and strife, the
+minstrel is ever present, and as the huge cups pass around the long
+line, they sing the triumphs and praises of their hosts. They are like
+the old Grecian minstrels; like Phemius and Demodocus, they chant old
+memories of great sea-kings and champions, legends of magic elves and
+dwarfs, and wondrous and often touchingly beautiful stories of love and
+passion. The vague impressions of music seem to harmonize marvelously
+with the Northern nature. It is wild and weird in its character, for
+much of it, with the innumerable ballads of those days, have reached us
+from father to son, and vividly recall the times whence they date, and
+the men whose characters they mirror. There is often a magic element
+connected with their music. The music of the elves is like that of the
+sirens and of Orpheus, often irresistible. Through many of their ballads
+runs the same legendary undertone. A maiden's song moves the king's
+heart, and one by one he offers in vain every gift in his power, to the
+very half of his kingdom, and ends by placing a crown of gold upon her
+head, and seating her beside him on his throne as his lawful queen. The
+story of the two sisters, one ugly and one beautiful, reappears in the
+North in various forms. The younger and more lovely of the two is
+murdered, and the elder is to wed her bride-groom. Pilgrims who meet
+with the body, make a lyre from the bones, and string it with the golden
+hair of the maiden, and as they play at the bridal, each string tells
+its tale of horror in turn, while the unhappy sister sinks under these
+inanimate accusations.</p>
+
+<p>In the Greek myths we find none of these mysterious elements. The
+supernatural creations we meet with are innumerable, and no less strange
+in themselves. But there is nothing in Polyphemus, in Circe, in the
+Sirens, beyond their physical natures, which can make us look beyond
+ourselves to understand and fully sympathize with them. Once fully grasp
+their superhuman endowments, and you feel they act like men on a large
+scale. Not so with the Northern supernatural beings. In themselves they
+approach nearer to men, and are but little above them in endowments and
+character, but it is their mode of action which makes them superior to
+us; their divinity and power lie not in themselves, but in the agents,
+visible and mysterious, that they employ. They are not like Jupiter,
+omnipotent. They are brought to a stand quite as often as more humble
+mortals. Thor, without his hammer, is no longer Thor himself. His trusty
+Mj&ouml;lner is more to him than the thunderbolt of Zeus to the Grecian
+father of the gods. The eagle and thunderbolt of Jove, the &aelig;gis of
+Minerva, the girdle of Venus and Mercury's wands, are mere emblems of
+what powers their own natures give them. With the Northern deities their
+whole strength lies in the possession of these. Without them they are
+powerless, and in spite of all their might, they are often obliged to
+call on one another for assistance, and sometimes even stand in need of
+mortal aid. We may, perhaps, consider the Grecian gods as mere
+personifications and idealities, but those of the North are essentially
+real. They are the creations of a powerful but vague imagination, forms
+which resemble a Norwegian mountain, distinct in itself by its
+glittering snows and icy rocks, but which shrouds its head in a
+perpetual mist, except when some adverse wind with its indiscreet
+blowing, displays it in all its nakedness, and plain though grand
+reality.</p>
+
+<p>Analogous to the story of Circe and Ulysses is a myth which forms the
+foundation of some of the most beautiful and pathetic ballads of Sweden,
+Den<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>mark and Norway. The mountain king bears to his cavern in the
+hill-side a fair maiden, and with him</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'For eight long years, I ween, she lived in the mountain there,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sons full seven she bore him, and eke a daughter fair.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>And here the resemblance ceases, and the Northern legend assumes a more
+beautiful tone. The maiden longs for her mother and her old home, and
+goes from the mountain king with the promise not to mention her seven
+sons. She tells her tale, however, and the elf-king straightway appears,
+and strikes her till the life-blood flows. She then says:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Farewell, dear father, and farewell, dear mother, too,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Farewell, my sister dear, and dear brother, farewell to you.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Farewell, thou lofty heaven, and the fresh, green earth, farewell!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now wend I to the mountain where the mountain king doth dwell.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>And so they ride to the mountain, through the long, wild, black wood,
+the mother weeping bitter tears, while the elf-king smiles. Her little
+daughter reaches her a golden chair:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Oh! rest thee, my poor mother, so sad and woe-begone.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>She takes the foaming mead in her hand,</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'And scarce from out the mead-glass bright the first draught does she take,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">(The hour goes heavy by,)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her eyes were sudden closed, and her weary heart it brake,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">(Ah! well sorrow's burden know I.)'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>That the Greeks had similar ballads and legends can not be doubted, but
+to revive them from their present destruction is a task beyond the power
+of science and antiquarianism. Hardly more than a quarter of a century
+has elapsed since the first important steps were taken in the North of
+Europe to preserve these ballads which had thus been orally handed down
+from ages that vanish in the darkness of the past, and which in a few
+years more, with the gradual disappearance of primitive simplicity in
+Sweden and Norway, might have been, for the greater part, lost to us
+forever. Who knows but that in some remote corner of Greece, in spite of
+the revolutions and shocks which have convulsed it, there may still lurk
+an occasional shadow at least of some good old popular song?</p>
+
+<p>The refrains which accompany the Northern ballads, and which are, in
+fact, found among all nations whose ballad poetry has been preserved,
+merit some attention. Sometimes melancholy and sad, sometimes gay and
+joyous, they impart character wonderfully to the piece. There is
+something peculiarly mournful in the recurring of these sad, touching
+thoughts and words, and as the interest of the ballad deepens, their
+touching simplicity grasps more deeply into the soul, and affects us in
+a manner which nothing else could. When they are joyous&mdash;a rarer form,
+however&mdash;they impart to us also their own buoyancy and gayety. Sometimes
+they convey the moral of the piece, some simple yet profound reflection,
+which marks by itself the feeling that pervades the whole ballad; at
+other times they are merely descriptive of nature, and borrow their
+enlivening or heart-rending character from the assimilation or contrast
+they present with the groundwork of the poetry. The origin of this kind
+of refrain is evidently due to the manner in which the ballads were
+composed. Mainly extemporized, both words and music, by wandering scalds
+or minstrels, the refrain was a pause to enable the singer to compose
+the next line. The utter disregard of rhyme, alliterations the most
+slight and imperceptible, and words of no similarity of sound almost
+always taking their place, rendered this a very easy task. A thorough
+knowledge and mastery of legendary lore, and a little power and
+concentration of thought and imagery, were the only qualities requisite
+for a ballad-monger. Some of them bear the marks of superior minds, both
+by their wonderful vividness of description and by the tone of deep,
+genuine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> feeling which pervades them throughout.</p>
+
+<p>There is a wonderful affinity between the Scotch and the Norwegians and
+Swedes, especially in their traditionary literature, which marks a
+common origin and common customs at some remote period. We find among
+the genuine Scotch ballads many that are almost literal versions of the
+same Scandinavian legends no less indigenous in their own land. A large
+number of the most beautiful Scotch ballads plainly point to an
+extraneous Northern origin, and their exact counterparts in form, ideas,
+and words, we find circulating as popular songs among the Swedish,
+Danish, and Norwegian peasantry. These may often be traced back
+centuries, at the end of which they seem still to be as old and as
+thoroughly implanted in their native soil as they now seem. They have
+been sung from mouth to mouth, with the same wild old melodies and the
+same quaint language, as they were sung centuries ago among the scenes
+they so faithfully depict.</p>
+
+<p>The characteristics we have so briefly alluded to as marking the two
+classes of nations, namely, mysterious grandeur among the Northmen, and
+among the Greeks ideality, grandness, and vividness of conception, might
+by skillful hands be traced in more modern times under the influence of
+an ever-changing and growing civilization. I will only allude, in
+passing, to a few prominent points.</p>
+
+<p>The literature of Greece, as we know it, had already reached its hight,
+two thousand years before our time. It was already gray with years
+before the North had begun its infancy. Homer is the boundary which is
+insurmountably opposed to our further retrospection, and Homer is
+already the beginning of perfection in Greek letters. Of earlier periods
+we can but conjecture that there must have been such, bearing a
+character analogous to the relics of those nations whose fabulous
+history is better known to us. Northern literature can hardly be said to
+have had an existence till within the last hundred years. Before that
+time we must look for all phases of progress and germs of progress in
+the physical and animal character of the nation, their social and
+political features and relations. The vividness and ideality of the
+ancients find their natural change in the more purely impassioned style
+of more modern Southern poetry. Their creations have naturally lost with
+the fall of paganism, the supernatural endowments they had, and
+retaining in some their ideality, they have hightened and fired the
+human nature they depict by the addition of wilder and more flaming
+passions, of love that consumes, and ambition, revenge, and hatred that
+destroy. Thus we again obtain consistent characters governed by human
+laws, but raised above the ordinary mass of men by different qualities
+from those which ennobled ideal creations among the ancients. Repose
+still constitutes greatness in some instances; but the inner man is made
+all fire, and seething metal, ever-burning and quenchless. Elevation and
+subtlety of ideas naturally follow these causes, they are another
+natural growth of the simple ideality of conception.</p>
+
+<p>The Northern character at the present day has very different qualities.
+Though renowned for philosophical and metaphysical prose, yet their
+poetry they require to deal with realities and not with ideas; it must
+be clear as a fountain, and any opaqueness is an inexcusable flaw. They
+are yet in the infancy of literature, and the imagination is still more
+sensuous than acute and subtle. However much they court abstractions in
+prose, in verse they love only the actual, the real, the tangible.
+Nature, and not metaphysics, are the subjects of their poetry, and they
+still preserve a freshness and simplicity reminding of more ancient and
+ruder days, delightful amidst the hair-splitting of most modern poetry.
+Their infancy is like the infancy of all national literatures,
+peculiarly modified by the advanced state of civilization in which their
+birth was thrown. At first sight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> there seems something unnatural and
+unaccountable in this apparent contradiction in the character of the
+nation, manifested respectively in their prose and their poetry. But on
+farther examination all becomes clear as a spring day. Their prose was,
+as their whole literature might and should have been, contemporary with
+their civilization through its various phases. Metaphysics is the last
+refinement, or rather, corruption, which national literature undergoes.
+Their prose had naturally arrived at this stage when the true poetic
+feeling woke for the first time. And in spite of the rational tendencies
+of the age, it assumed that character of warm, bodily imagination which
+marks all early literatures. The tendency to the mysterious and the
+superhuman has mostly vanished, and more vivid conceptions of every
+thing have, under their Christian development, taken the place of dim
+magic and weird creations. Northern poets still delight in dealing with
+those wonderful poetical inventions of their own ancient mythology, and
+revel among the elves and dwarfs that surround the bosoms of mountains
+and woods. Lif, with her golden hair, Gerda, with cheeks like auroras,
+the cunning Loke, with his mixture of guile, wickedness and deceit,
+Thor's mighty Mj&ouml;lner, and the mead-horns of Walhalla&mdash;from among these
+wonderful beings, they have culled with a careless hand, and every sprig
+and flower is radiant with poetic beauty. The taste for old legends and
+traditions has revived within a few years, and scholars and antiquarians
+are now laying open unknown mines of treasure.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_TRUE_ROMANCE" id="A_TRUE_ROMANCE"></a>A TRUE ROMANCE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Among my friends at Rome, during a few weeks that I spent there, was one
+old resident of the 'Eternal City' whom I had often begged to give me
+some authentic narrative of Catholic experience. He was naturally
+reserved, jealously truthful, a 'know-nothing' upon religious
+controversy, not at all the man to invent an exciting story, not fond of
+legends, Romish or Genevan, not a violent partisan of republicanism in
+church or state, and not familiar enough with American thought to
+suspect the use that might be made in the United States of such an
+incident as I am now to repeat. In fact, as I compare him with other
+sources of intelligence open to travelers, sure as I am that no one
+could question his belief of whatever he told, every weight that
+character, intelligence, years, experience, could confer, rests upon
+the only monkish secret which he professed to know. One night he
+invited me to a subterranean restaurant, famous for its excellent
+creature-comforts, and there over some royal English beer, without any
+graces of style or attempts to exaggerate the incidents, he unfolded
+what I believe to be a true record of unblessed love.</p>
+
+<p>General readers are familiar with the fact that many a nun immures
+herself for life under a sort of moral compulsion, because her high-born
+family has become too indigent to maintain its stately style of living,
+because the lady herself is in danger of contracting some degrading
+alliance, declines peremptorily such connection as her relations
+approve, or has committed some imprudence that clouds over her future
+prospects. The secret influences which entangle men in the Catholic
+orders correspond to this. It would be arrant bigotry to doubt that some
+offer up an unstained heart, in aspirations for usefulness or sighs for
+holiness; but many times a youth is led blindfold to the altar by
+ambitious relatives, like Talleyrand, and discovers too late his perfect
+unfitness for the vow he has assumed. And these last are they whose
+lives become a scandal to their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> profession, whose levity shocks so many
+Protestant observers, whose consciences have no true peace, who die
+sometimes in open unbelief and, living, are the worst enemies of the
+cause they advocate.</p>
+
+<p>As my story goes, at nearly the same time that a gallant young man of
+high family disappeared from the gay circles of Rome, a lovely girl of
+distinguished parentage had suffered her blonde tresses to be shorn, her
+graceful limbs draped in forlorn russet, her merry meetings with girlish
+spirits like herself exchanged for the tears of the confessional, the
+lengthened prayers of the cloister, the frequent fastings and sometimes
+scourgings of monastic life. The cause of this contemporaneous
+disappearance was known only to the most intimate friends of two
+celebrated but no longer wealthy families, who deemed the sacrifice
+necessary, and so recked not of the wounds it might make, the perjuries
+it might tempt, the life-struggle of duty with feeling it might cause.</p>
+
+<p>Time passed on. Forgotten by society, it was supposed these victims of
+artificial life had forgotten the circles they were wont to charm,
+forgotten almost themselves in a system most ingeniously arranged to
+blot out one's individuality and to make its subject a perfectly ordered
+part of a grand machine. But, unsuspected by their friends, unknown to
+their superiors, these two pledged hearts had met. Love will break
+through even convent-walls, will speak amidst monastic silence, will
+rise unbidden under ascetic discipline. No one can tell, very few can
+imagine how they agreed upon their trysting hour. Through a neglected
+drain, from some underground apartment, where she had been imprisoned
+for negligence, the slender form of the delicate maiden worked its way
+into the free air where her lover awaited her in the eagerness of a
+stolen pleasure; and the hours supposed to be given to prayer or repose
+flew fast in the worship of the 'winged god.' If I recollect rightly,
+there were deeply-shaded groves not far from their place of meeting, in
+which they felt secure from observation during the night season.</p>
+
+<p>But Love has always been blind to its own peril: a prudent lover would
+be indeed a black swan; if such there have been, these were not. And one
+night, when the beautiful nun would return through the friendly passage
+in season, that her absence might not be detected when the sisters were
+summoned to their matin service, the rain, whose torrents she had not
+noticed while her lover's arm sheltered her, had filled up the only
+pathway to her cell, and not even by the hazard of life could she
+recover her room once more. A few hours more, and her absence would
+inevitably come to light, would be fearfully punished, if not by a death
+such as Scott portrays in one of his poetical legends, by a disgrace far
+worse than physical suffering, from which nothing but the grave could
+give her relief. The alternative, flight, where no provision had been
+made, with no possible help from any friend, with the likelihood of
+treachery where they might least expect it, seemed impossible.</p>
+
+<p>In despair rather than hope, the forlorn lady recollected that her
+uncle, who had some spiritual supervision over the Roman convents,
+though he was sure to be more outraged by her misstep than any one else,
+had (besides the motive of shielding a family name from disgrace)
+perhaps some remaining affection for his favorite niece. At any rate, if
+she were to die, she thought it would be a satisfaction to die humanely,
+by the speedy stroke of offended honor than by such cruel penances as
+would slowly wear life away. And, what might she not hope, if there were
+still one humane drop in that aged bosom, one indulgent memory of
+youthful passion beneath that austere cowl, one fond thought of a
+childhood which seemed to herself a dream of paradise, when his hand
+blessed her curling head, and his lips gave a parting kiss, returned so
+heartily by herself.</p>
+
+<p>There was not a moment to lose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>&mdash;they hardly knew how time had sped, but
+they had never found his wings slow when they were together. So, hand in
+hand they hastened to the presence which was to be either deliverance or
+condemnation to them both; and when at last they reached the palace, and
+after some delay were admitted to kneel before his eminence, no words
+can paint the horror with which he exchanged his dreams of the papal
+chair for a sight of the apostate priest and self-doomed nun confessing
+in one breath that they had 'loved not wisely, but too well'&mdash;that God
+once brought together those whom cruel relatives tore asunder&mdash;that <i>he</i>
+was their only escape from double ruin, and infamy worse than death.</p>
+
+<p>The moments seemed hours while he who had approved the punishment of
+other celibates for no greater sins, sought how he might ward off a blow
+that struck so near his own bosom&mdash;that was to crush one the grace of
+whose childhood had not been more marked than her affection for
+himself&mdash;than the earnestness of the tone with which she was wont to
+declare herself 'his little daughter.' He had not the courage to hazard
+his position by espousing her cause or undertaking her escape. He felt
+that she had been more sinned against than sinning, in having been
+forced into a vow of perpetual virginity when she had already made
+another vow which her loving nature had rejoiced to keep.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, the preservation of his dignity was of infinite moment to his
+peace&mdash;nor could he help seeing that a flood of disgrace would sweep
+over the Church were such breaches widened by the public protection of
+the offenders, and, of course, the enemies of monastic institutions
+would seize upon the opening for fiercer assaults.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he dismissed the erring brother in too much trouble to bestow
+the admonition which the other was in too great anxiety to heed&mdash;threw
+over the trembling girl the cloak and hat of a common citizen&mdash;summoned
+his household servants together as quickly as possible, and hastened in
+the twilight of early dawn to the sleeping convent with as large an
+attendance as such hot haste would permit.</p>
+
+<p>For some time no admittance could be obtained; and the rain seemed to
+pour down in sheets, as if all the windows of heaven were open. But his
+orders were peremptory, his authority was ample, his excuse ingenuity
+itself: 'He had just heard that a man was secreted within those
+consecrated walls; he was determined to see for himself, if he had to
+tear one stone from another; under his supervision no such infamy should
+be so much as suspected.' And so, making a virtue of necessity, the
+panic-struck lady abbess yielded her dignity, and the <i>posse</i> of
+pretended inspectors stood within the drowsy walls before one rose-tint
+in the East threatened their secret with exposure.</p>
+
+<p>So responsible an official could not be satisfied with seeing the nuns
+together, or witnessing their earliest chapel-service; he must enter
+every room, survey every cranny, and leave no possibility of deception,
+no corner for concealment. And posting some of his servants&mdash;whose
+excessive watchfulness might prove a little inconvenient&mdash;at the two
+principal entrances, with his remaining attendants he proceeded orderly
+from room to room, the superior refusing, as was expected, to sanction
+by her presence such an invasion of the sacred privacy of her
+institution. When they reached the cell adjoining that where our tale
+properly ends, the disguised nun was far enough in the rear of the
+feebly-lighted party, and they too busy in the pretended search, for her
+disappearance to be noticed&mdash;her uncle had made her see that this was
+the only chance&mdash;so, flinging the coat and hat through an open window
+into the yard, she glided with ghost-like tread into her own apartment,
+and when the drowsy servitors opened her door, she was seen upon her
+knees before the crucifix, praying more fervently than ever the jubilant
+prayer of a newly-rescued soul.</p>
+
+<p>The trouble threatened to lead to some farther difficulties. For these
+ladies were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> of the Roman aristocracy, and their honor had been
+impeached, their sanctuary invaded, their solemn asseverations had been
+disregarded, their protector had become their accuser. It might have
+gone hard with the father who had planned this ingenious device to save
+his name from disgrace and shield his niece from suffering. But, just
+before the party turned from the convent-gate, a keen eye detected the
+fallen mantle; and the trophy was exhibited to the agitated superior, in
+proof that some of the forbidden sex had been lurking around, and had
+stolen away in terror from so formidable a search; she was warned to new
+vigilance, and offered every assistance for the future which the papal
+guards could bestow.</p>
+
+<p>And so ends all that my informant knew of the love-lost girl. Her
+accomplice in guilt, who did not desert her till he saw there was hope
+in her uncle's face, was hurried away as a missionary to South-America;
+and, as the waves of the sea rolled between him and his only object of
+affection, he must have 'rejoiced with trembling' that the crimson waves
+of death had not mingled her and him in a common doom. He wanted the
+independence to detect the injustice of a system which made a pure
+attachment guilt, and its discovery condemnation; so he raised no
+protesting voice against it. Truly, the day of strange stories in Italy
+is not yet over.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="HUGUENOTS_OF_NEW-YORK_CITY" id="HUGUENOTS_OF_NEW-YORK_CITY"></a>HUGUENOTS OF NEW-YORK CITY.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Governor Stuyvesant was among the earliest to encourage the emigration
+of the Huguenots to New-York, and whose descendants for generations have
+ranked with our best and most honorable citizens. On the twenty-fourth
+of January, 1664, N. Van Beck, a merchant in New-Amsterdam, received
+letters from Rochelle, stating the wish of some French Protestants to
+settle in New-Netherland, as their religious rights had been invaded and
+their churches burned. The Governor and Council resolved to receive them
+kindly, and grant them lands gratuitously. In a letter of M. de
+Denonville to the French government, dated sixteenth November, 1686, he
+reports that fifty or sixty 'men, Huguenots,' arrived at New-Amsterdam,
+'who are establishing themselves at Manat, (New-Amsterdam,) and its
+environs. I know that some have arrived at Boston, from France.'
+Although the waves of the Atlantic divided the two countries, the French
+King does not seem to have forgiven his banished subjects in America. In
+his instructions to Count De Frontenac, respecting the expedition from
+Canada against New-York, and dated seventh June, 1689, he directs him to
+'send to France the French refugees, whom he will find there,
+<i>particularly those of the pretended Reformed Religion</i>,' or Huguenots.
+His royal but remorseless spirit was not gratified, however, as the
+French did not venture to attack New-York, and instead of their
+Protestant brethren being sent back to France, a few years afterward
+they erected a church for their own religious services. This was <i>Du
+Saint-Esprit</i>, and built on Pine street, directly opposite to the
+present Custom-House, by the Huguenots and Walloon settlers, the last of
+whom were a part of the French Protestants, although they emigrated to
+America from the river 'Wael.' An earlier French chapel had been erected
+on Marketfield street, then called Petticoat Lane, near the Battery. It
+was an humble edifice, but hither, every Lord's day, the Huguenots from
+the city, Stat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>en Island, the Wallabagh, and New-Rochelle, by wagons, in
+which they lodged, were wont to assemble to worship God, without the
+fear of royal, persecuting edicts, or armed bands. <i>L'Eglise
+Saint-Esprit</i> was founded in the year 1704, with a cemetery adjoining.
+It was a plain, neat, stone building, and nearly square&mdash;its bell the
+gift of Sir Henry Ashurst, of London. On its tablet in front was
+inscribed: &AElig;DES SACRA GALLOR PROT. REFORM. FONDA. 1704. PENITUS REPAR.
+1741. In our day its sacred walls have been taken down, the dead
+removed, and the venerable spot, like many others in our busy city, is
+now devoted to Mammon. The successors of <i>Saint-Esprit</i> long since
+united with the Episcopalians, and erected the beautiful marble church
+in Leonard street, where the doctrines of the ever-blessed Reformation
+continue to be declared in the same language in which they were so
+eloquently preached two centuries ago, by Claude, Laurin, and other
+Reformed French Ministers.</p>
+
+<p>The Rev. James Laboire was the first pastor of the <i>Saint-Esprit</i>, which
+soon numbered a flourishing congregation. Some of its members would walk
+from New-Rochelle, on Saturday night, to worship God in this place, and
+thus spending the holy day, would return home again in the evening,
+joyfully singing Marot's old French hymns to cheer them by the way. The
+Staten-Island Huguenots would make the same pious journey in their light
+skiffs and boats. For some years Mr. Laboire, the pastor, toward his
+support was 'allowed a yearly sallary of twenty pounds per ann. out of
+y<sup>e</sup> Revenue of this Province.' The religious services were here
+performed in the primitive manner of the French Calvinistic churches;
+but after the sovereignty of the English was established over the Dutch,
+the forms of their church worship were gradually introduced, until at
+length the Huguenot congregation united with the Protestant Episcopal,
+in this diocese.</p>
+
+<p>In the <i>Documentary History of New-York</i>, vol iii. p. 427, may be found
+an old curious article, entitled, 'A Full and Just Discovery of the weak
+and slender foundation of a most Pernicious <span class="smcap">Slander</span>, raised
+against the <span class="smcap">French Protestant Refugees</span>, inhabiting the Province
+of New-York, generally, but more particularly affecting Captain
+<span class="smcap">Benjamin Fanuel</span>, a person of considerable note amongst them.
+Printed and published by license of his Excellency Edward Viscount
+Cornbury, Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of the said Province, in
+favor of Justice.'</p>
+
+<p>It appears that one Morris Newinhuysen, a mate of a vessel, in 1706, was
+taken by the French, and a prisoner of war, at New-York, reported that
+the 'French Protestants' here corresponded with 'the inhabitants of
+France, tending to the taking and destruction of this city, by Her
+Majesty's declared enemies.' The New-York Huguenots considered this
+accusation a 'crime of so high a nature in itself,' and so 'altogether
+false and untrue,' as to petition Governor Burnet to cause 'the said
+Morris Newinhuysen, and all others who may appear concerned, to be
+strictly examined upon the same report, and if found out, be punished
+according to the nature of the crime.' This petition is dated 'February
+10, 1707/8,' and signed by 'Stephen D'Lancey, Elias Nezereau, Abraham
+Jouneau, Thomas Bayeux, Elias Neau, Paul Deoilet, Augustus Jay, Jean
+Cazale, Benjamin Fanuel.' These must have been leading Huguenots at the
+time. To another petition of a similar character, we find the names of
+Daniel Cromelin, John Auboyneau, Francis Vincent, Alexander Allaire. His
+Excellency the Governor, ordered the report to be considered, which was
+done, when his Council reported that there was not 'any ground to
+suspect Captain Faneuil of holding a correspondence with France.' This
+was cheering news to the 'French Refugees' in the Province of New-York,
+as such a slanderous report, to use their own language on the occasion,
+was 'of pernicious consequence to all the French refugees in general,
+and disturbs their peace and quiet, and ob<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>structs that affection and
+familiarity which they had formerly enjoyed with the other inhabitants
+of this Province, to their just grief and resentment.'</p>
+
+<p>The Rev. Louis Rou was also a pastor of the 'Reformed Protestant French
+Church in New-York.' As early as the year 1713, among other names in its
+official records, are found John Barberie, elder, Louis Carr&eacute;, ancien,
+Jean Lafont, ancien, Andr&eacute; Fuyneau, ancien.' During the year 1724, there
+was great excitement in the French congregation, caused by a party
+question. Stephen De Lancey, a wealthy merchant, and patron of the
+church, with others became dissatisfied with the pastor. He was
+dismissed for want of zeal, and for innovations which they contended he
+had introduced into their church discipline; but the minister, with his
+friends, appealed from this decision to Governor Burnet and his Council,
+when they sustained him. Indignant memorials were published by both
+parties, and things went so far, that when De Lancey was elected to the
+Colonial Assembly, the Governor refused to administer his oath of
+office, alleging that he was not a subject of the British crown. De
+Lancey, the Huguenot, contended that he had left France before the
+revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and had received denization in
+England, under the great seal of James II. He was right, and the
+Assembly sustained his argument and claims against his Excellency the
+'Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of the Provinces of New-York,
+New-Jersies, and Territories thereon depending in America.'</p>
+
+<p>For the curious in old families, among the official friends of the
+French minister, we find James Gou, John Hastier, Elias Pelletreau, Jr.,
+Jean Va Chan, Andrew Foucault, Jacques Bobin, N. Cazalet, Samuel
+Bourdet, David Le Febrer, Francois Bourdet, Peter Morgat. They testify
+to Mr. Rou's 'exemplary piety and instruction for upwards of fourteen
+years,' which 'have rendered him exceedingly estimable to all who knows
+him, which can't but be acknowledged even by those who are now the
+occasion of this trouble.' We find a more general list of French
+families, his friends also, and dated thirty-first December, 1724, and
+they speak well of him, 'with edification, always leading an exemplary
+life:' James Bergerron, Francis Bosset, Daniel Girand, Daniel Gailliard,
+Elias Chardavoine, Paul Pelletreau, James Many, Gamaliel Guyele, Anthony
+Pintard, Jeremie La Touche, Samuel Bourdet, Jean Bachan, Elie Mainburt,
+Andrew Richard, James Belleveau, Peter Quintard, John Bosset, James
+Bobin, Daniel Bossuet, Charles Jardin, Amand Perot, William Huertin,
+John Vezier, Peter Dennys Doctr, John Many, Peter Tillou, Peter Ebrard,
+Henry Collier, John David, Noe Cazalet, Gabriel Le Boyteix, Jr., Elias
+Gros&eacute;llier, Andrew Girand, Francis Baumier, James Des Brosses, James
+Renaudet, Lawrence Cornisleau, Daniel Mesnard, John Ganeau, Peter
+Monget, John Hastier, David Le Telier, Jean Le Chevalier, Philip
+Gilliot, Abraham Bertrand, Abraham Butler, Daniel Cromelin, John
+Pintard, Abraham Pontereau, Peter Burton, Stephen Bourdet, Paul Pinaud,
+Peter Fauconnier. As the same old chronicle says: 'Here followeth the
+names of the widow women, and others, members of the same church:'
+Rachel Ebrard, Elizabeth Heurtin, Marie Anne Ablin, Magdalene
+Fauconnier, Anne Bachan, Mary Perot, Susanne Magle Bosset, Mary
+Sergeran, Esther Bouniot, Marquise Boyteul, Martha Brown, Ren&eacute;e Mary
+Rou, Judith Morget, Martha Pentereau, Mary Bargeau, Susanne Boutecon,
+Susanne Ford, Mary Oaks, Mary Ellison, Martha Perot, Esther Masse,
+Elizabeth Tillou.</p>
+
+<p>At this period, a Rey. Mr. Moulinars was the assistant minister of Mr.
+Rou, and united with the party who opposed him, and they also have left
+records of their views, in which they claim to have paid Mr. Rou in
+full, and that then the Consistory could dismiss him when they saw fit.
+'We are not indebted unto Mr. Rou one farthing for all the time he hath
+served us,' is their language, and to their official act are the
+signatures of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> 'I. I. Moulinars, ministre, John Barheweeld, Louis
+Carr&eacute;ansien, Abraham Gouneau, ans., Fran. Cazalz, ans., Ren&eacute; Het, ans.,
+January twenty-eighth, 1724.' Still the Council decided in favor of Mr.
+Rou, and were 'of opinion that the said congregation be admonished that
+every person in it do all in his power to preserve peace and unanimity
+in their congregation.' That body also advised 'that the ministers of
+the French congregation who shall officiate next Sunday be ordered to
+read publicly the said opinion and admonition, immediately after divine
+service in the forenoon.'</p>
+
+<p>All these efforts did not produce harmony in the French congregation.
+Moulinars evidently had a restless spirit, and was much opposed to the
+Church of England, at that time the established religion of the New-York
+Colony, and respected by many of the Huguenots. Through his efforts, a
+'meeting-house' was erected for the French refugees at New-Rochelle, and
+its members numbered one hundred persons. One old document (May twelfth,
+1725) records 'that the said Mr. Moulinars has declared (as can be
+proved) that he finds our Church (Episcopal) and that of Rome as like
+one another as two fishes can be ... and one of the chiefest reasons of
+this violence against Mr. Rou has no other ground than his constant
+affection to the Church, and the public approbation he has at all times
+given to its ceremonies and doctrines.' The churchmen also complained
+that Moulinars caused 'great prejudice in general to the Church of
+England, and in particular to that of New-Rochelle, where he would come
+quarterly from New-York, and plead among the people.' New-Rochelle was
+then a parish, and its rector, of course, considered the French preacher
+a dissenter. From the parochial account of the former, the town embraced
+two Quaker families, three Dutch ones, four Lutherans, and several of
+the French; and the Huguenots settling among them in the year 1726,
+gathered a congregation of 'about one hundred persons.'</p>
+
+<p>The Rev. Messrs. Daille and Labord appear early to have served the
+French Protestant Church in New-York; but of the latter we have learned
+nothing. The former had been pastor awhile to the French Protestants in
+Boston. About the year 1690, the Dutch Church Consistory employed Mr.
+Daille to preach to the French in their own language, at New-York, and
+also to conduct the religious services of the pulpit during a part of
+the Lord's day.</p>
+
+<p>In 1763, Jean Carll was the pastor of Du Saint-Esprit, for we discover
+his name, together with Peter Vallade and James Desbrosses, the present
+elders, Daniel Bounet and Charles Jardine, the present deacons of the
+French Protestant Church in the city of New-York, to a petition for a
+charter. Their church property, they state, was purchased agreeable to
+an act of the Legislature in 1703; 'a decent edifice for the public
+worship of Almighty God, according to the usage of the French Protestant
+Churches,' erected; 'and the residue they devoted to the use of the
+cemetery or church-yard for the interment of their dead.' 'Ever since,
+they have maintained a succession of ministers there, who have dispensed
+the ordinances of divine worship in the French tongue.' Besides this
+property, they received the rents of a house and parcel of ground in the
+township of Breucklin, on Nassau Island, near the ferry, and the French
+Church now asked from the legislative authorities a proper charter. With
+honest pride they boast, in their petition, of the most inviolable
+fidelity 'to all those indulgent states and powers who protected them
+from the merciless rage of their Popish persecutors. As your petitioners
+in particular are the descendants of a people who suffered the greatest
+hardships and flew from their native country to preserve the purity of
+the Christian faith and worship.' Eloquent and truthful words. The
+Huguenots were a great blessing to every land where they settled. The
+name of their body politic was 'the Ministers, Elders, and Deacons of
+the Protestant French Church of the City of New-York.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>During the Revolutionary War, New-York became literally a city of
+prisons. The pews of the North Dutch Church in William street were used
+for fuel, and eight hundred American prisoners were incarcerated within
+its old walls, without fuel or bedding, and here many died from cold and
+starvation. The 'Brick Meeting,' in Beekman street, was also used at
+first for a prison, and afterward changed into an hospital. The
+Rose-street Friends' Meeting-house and the Wall-street Presbyterian
+church became hospitals also, and Du Saint-Esprit was made a d&eacute;p&ocirc;t for
+military stores. The Middle Dutch, the present Post-Office, stripped of
+its sacred furniture, was the abode of three thousand American
+prisoners. 'Here,' says John Pintard, himself a most respectable member
+of the Protestant French Church near by, and an eye-witness of the
+disgusting sight, 'the prisoners taken on Long Island and at Fort
+Washington&mdash;sick, wounded, and well&mdash;were all indiscriminately huddled
+together by hundreds and thousands, large numbers of whom died by
+disease, and many were undoubtedly poisoned by their inhuman attendants,
+for the sake of their watches or silver buckles.' The suffering inmates
+were afterward transferred to other places of confinement, and the
+venerable building turned into a riding-school for the British dragoons.
+Its floor was taken up, the ground covered with tan-bark, and the
+window-sashes removed for this sacrilegious purpose. The French Huguenot
+church remained in its original form one hundred and thirty years, until
+1834, when it was taken down, the grounds sold, and its dead disinterred
+and removed to other resting-places. In their native lands, the ashes of
+the Huguenots would sometimes be dug up, burned, and scattered by
+persecuting hands to the winds of the heavens; but in ours&mdash;Protestant
+and more favored&mdash;their sainted dust, wherever buried, is watched and
+preserved with pious care and affectionate fidelity. It would be a
+pleasant but an impossible duty to trace the histories of thousands of
+our most excellent New-Yorkers, whose pious ancestors worshiped God in
+the old sanctuary of Du Saint-Esprit, and whose ashes reposed, in
+Christian hope, alongside of its humble and venerable walls. But records
+are scarcely to be found. Still we may love their characters and strive
+to imitate their noble and generous virtues. Hallowed be those precious
+memories!</p>
+
+<p>The remains of many Huguenots repose among the innumerable dead of old
+Trinity church-yard, that vast home of the departed; and where can be
+found their memorials of honor, patriotism, and exalted piety. Here lie
+the ashes of the Rev. Elias Neau, near its northern porch. He was a man
+of more than ordinary eminence; his life useful, beneficial, and
+religious. Mr. Neau was the paternal ancestor of Mrs. Commodore Oliver
+H. Perry, of Rhode-Island.</p>
+
+<p>Previous to his escape from France, he suffered confinement for several
+years in the prisons and galleys, and while in his dungeons, learned by
+heart the liturgy, and became attached to the English Church service.
+When the Rev. Mr. Vesey was rector of Trinity, Mr. Neau was appointed
+catechist of that church. For a number of years, he faithfully
+discharged the duties of this important appointment among the Indians
+and the slaves, of whom some fifteen hundred were catechumens in the
+city of New-York. He could only collect them together on Sunday nights,
+after the last public services; and when properly prepared, would
+present them to Mr. Vesey, for baptism. Mr. Neau may be said to have
+founded the Free School of Trinity, an institution so useful and well
+known among the noble charities of New-York. Its former tablet is still
+preserved among the mementoes of the olden time. This excellent Huguenot
+closed his useful life in 1722, resting from his earthly labors
+alongside of God's holy temple, where he had so long worshiped and'
+served him.</p>
+
+<p>The Rev. Elias Neau, his wife Susannah, and daughter Judith, left
+France, for America, with the Huguenots, about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> 1685. Judith married a
+Rabineau in New-York, and their only child, Marie, married Daniel
+Ayrault; their issue was six sons and five daughters; and the second
+son, Daniel, married Susannah Eargrass, whose children were Daniel and
+Mary Ayrault. Mary married Benjamin Mason, and their children were two
+sons and two daughters. The eldest son, Benjamin Mason, M.D., was
+educated in England, marrying Margaret Champlin, of Newport, R. I., and
+their issue was three sons and one daughter. This daughter, Elizabeth
+Champlin Mason, became the wife of the patriotic and brave Captain
+Oliver Hazard Perry, of the United States Navy. From this last union
+were four sons and one daughter, Elizabeth Mason Perry. This daughter
+married the Rev. Francis Vinton; and their children, seven sons and
+three daughters, make the <i>eighth</i> generation from their venerable,
+pious Huguenot ancestor; Mr. Vinton himself serving in holy things at
+the same sacred altar of old Trinity, where the Rev. Elias Neau
+worshiped, and after a lapse of one hundred and fifty years. How
+enduring is sacred truth! It will abide forever.</p>
+
+<p>Johannes Delamontagnie was another Huguenot refugee, who reached
+New-Amsterdam in 1773. Governor Kieft appointed him a member of his
+council, then the second office in the colonial government. He purchased
+a farm of two hundred acres at Harlaem, for seven hundred and twenty
+dollars, naming it' Vriedendel', (Valley of Peace.) The land was
+situated East of the Eighth Avenue, between Ninety-third street and the
+Harlem river. His grandson, named Vincent, died in May, 1773, at the
+very advanced age of one hundred and sixteen years. Numerous descendants
+are still among us from this early French Protestant emigrant, although
+some abbreviations have been made in the name.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_BANE_OF_OUR_COUNTRY" id="THE_BANE_OF_OUR_COUNTRY"></a>THE BANE OF OUR COUNTRY.</h2>
+
+
+<p>While sharing the Provost-Marshal's office, in Portsmouth, Virginia, I
+was struck with the almost utter absence of cultivation of the
+understanding of the people living there or in the surrounding country,
+who entered to obtain passes, or for other purposes. Scarce one of them
+at first appreciated the nature of an oath, which they all shrank from
+taking, or objected to, when proposed as a condition of obtaining either
+the passes or the protection they wished. They were not merely
+illiterate and untaught, but showed also an extremely low grade of
+reasoning power. There was, indeed, in most cases, but little
+development even of those lower grades of intellectual ability which are
+so frequently seen in simply 'illiterate' persons. They hung back from
+committing themselves, in any way, as friendly to us, though they
+evidently did not feel that hatred or ill-feeling characteristic of the
+bolder secessionist. I afterward saw many more of these people, in
+Norfolk, at our office. With our continued occupancy of the city, and in
+the absence of any aggressive action by our Government, they presented
+themselves more frequently. Among them there was occasionally one who
+avowed himself, without reservation, for the Union. These people are, I
+am confident, the only ones in the rebellious States who are other than
+secessionists. Love of the Union&mdash;that which the reader identifies with
+patriotism and nationality&mdash;they had not, because this can nowhere be
+found in the rebellious States, except in isolated instances. That they
+remained silent and subdued under the progress of the acts of the
+secessionists, and never raised hand or voice in contradiction to them,
+proves in this class an absence of that force of character, or of that
+moral courage or 'energy' which is the distinguishing attribute of our
+Northern people, even the poorest, and this was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> also evinced when we
+first occupied the town. It was not peacefulness of disposition which I
+remarked, but the lack first, of <i>decision of character</i>, and next, of
+<i>decision of understanding</i> respecting the questions at issue. In
+conversation they could express only very simple notions, nor could I
+promptly elicit more from them. Even their feelings lacked the qualities
+of force and intensity. Yet this class is next to the ruling and leading
+part of the population, which is composed of planters, cotton, tobacco,
+and produce factors' families, professional men, and others, who court
+patronage, including shopkeepers, small manufacturers, and
+money-lenders, and who support in political affairs <i>their</i> own
+<i>client&eacute;le</i> of supporters. The latter people constitute the determinedly
+rebellious. It is the first class only, that we can regard as the sole
+support to Unionism which there is in the rebellious States; but in them
+we shall find no moral force or power even when the reign of the leading
+class shall have ceased. These facts, I am aware, are in striking
+contrast to the usual estimation of the courage and daring of the people
+of the South. But the usual estimation is true only of the people who
+have a concert of interest in slavery, and who, whatever their petty
+disagreements may be, concur in their politics. Nowhere, therefore, is
+democracy less actual than in the rebellious States; a ruling and a
+subservient class exists precisely as in England or Austria. To increase
+the latter, comprising the people I first described, is by no means to
+increase the power and extend the domination of the other, but the
+contrary; and undoubtedly the diminution of their number by the
+sacrifice of their lives in the rebellion, is considered by the chief
+managers as desirable, in view of the success of their scheme of polity
+and government.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, in enforcing their plan of formally identifying the various
+States with secession&mdash;the form being the ordinance of secession&mdash;the
+suffrages and sense of this ruled class were ruthlessly unheeded, and
+denied validity.</p>
+
+<p>Hence we say that several of the rebel States did not 'secede,' it being
+true that a majority of the people expressed their aversion to
+rebellion&mdash;this majority being, for the occasion, the ruling one, in
+virtue of the principle to which <i>all</i> equally deferred. But it is the
+<i>will</i> of the ruling or aristocratic class in all similar cases, and not
+the forms of law or principle, which accomplishes such changes, whether
+according to the forms of law or in disregard of them. <i>This class are
+never respecters of principle</i>, but rule in virtue not of what
+principles empower them to do, as a majority, but of the power of might
+and dominant strength. It is obvious that were they to do the former,
+they would be destitute of any other power than pertained to the whole
+community, they in part, and others equally. Accordingly, they having,
+once for all, in their adhesion to the Constitution, and again on its
+eve, consented to an election, and therefore its issue, when a majority
+of the entire nation elected a representative of the Chicago
+declaration, they reverted to their power of might, and rebelled.</p>
+
+<p>It is, therefore, the subversion of an <i>un</i>principled (the term is of
+the strictest accuracy) ruling class, or aristocracy, and the
+obliteration of their peculiar power, that we have to accomplish. This
+power consists wholly of certain peculiar interests as masters. To
+deprive them of these, is the only possible terminus of the question at
+issue. So plain and palpable is the whole question, that we need hardly
+say that their whole scheme of government turns upon and clusters about
+this interest. For the preservation of this interest, which they thought
+touched by the advances of freedom, they rushed into war, and for the
+conservation of their power, they base all upon it.</p>
+
+<p>That the general question of property is at all affected by the
+obliteration of this interest, is an egregious error. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> property, the
+possession of which is valid and inviolable, is the product of human
+skill, industry, labor, invention, or what not. Nor does it confer
+political dominance on its possessor. The slaveholders are the only
+class in the nation whose property interest does so; and reciprocally,
+the sole object of the maintenance of this interest is the maintenance
+of this dominant power. Whether it be or be not criminal to possess it,
+is not the point upon which the demand for the abrogation of this
+interest turns&mdash;at least, there is no legal precedent to so think of
+it&mdash;but it turns upon the fact that it is ruinous to a republican
+system. Not the whole force of republicanism can at once maintain itself
+and conserve and cherish <i>that</i>; and <i>if</i> it, to a certain extent
+cherish it, it will do no more than continue the basis of the power of a
+class, who will use it in the only way it can be used, namely, in
+contesting whatever interests, principles, or practices are averse to
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Hence, for more than thirty years not a single widely beneficent measure
+of legislation has been allowed to pass and become operative by the
+representatives of this interest. So the South, the seat of this
+interest, has always been, in its own estimation, 'the South,' despite
+what we have said of a national Union; rendering it impossible that the
+republican patriot could <i>unite</i> in one sentiment that which this
+particular interest <i>divided</i> itself from.</p>
+
+<p>That humanity should dictate the freedom of the slave in the interests
+of morality, is but natural. With this we have nothing to do; but that
+the being of an 'aristocracy based on property' should be excluded from
+the bounds of a republic, is of an importance to it and mankind, not
+second to religion itself.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_MOLLY_OMOLLY_PAPERS" id="THE_MOLLY_OMOLLY_PAPERS"></a>THE MOLLY O'MOLLY PAPERS.</h2>
+
+<h3>VII.</h3>
+
+<p>The Chinese thief, they say, greases himself and sticks knives in his
+queue, so that it is nest to impossible to catch him. Old Time is about
+as slippery a fellow as a Chinese thief. I don't know that he has a
+queue, and have fancied that when queues were worn, and Time was in the
+fashion, some old fogy, too slow to keep up with him, caught him by his
+queue. Time, who never yet was detained by mortal grasp, pressed on and
+left it behind. Since then he has cultivated only that <i>ungraspable</i>
+forelock. Fleet of foot as he is, it is thought that Young America, with
+his telegraphs, will, in the long run&mdash;that is, in the race round the
+world&mdash;come out 'a leetle ahead' of him. Indeed, Young America talks of
+annihilating Time. But, though he may have 'one foot on land and one on
+sea,' he has no commission to 'swear that time shall be no more.'</p>
+
+<p>We are a fast people&mdash;no mistake. Perhaps a little too fast. Did we only
+<i>anticipate</i> Time, and pull down only what, with those sure sappers and
+miners of his, the years, he is certain to overthrow, it would be well
+enough. But we wish to destroy what he has left untouched, or would
+remodel it, would modernize it.</p>
+
+<p>The dear old creed of our fathers; <i>old</i> creed, did I say? Ever <i>new</i>
+creed; for what Time passes by, never grows old. This we would change to
+suit ourselves, fancying we have outgrown it; or thinking it, like the
+Spartan iron coin, too cumbersome for general circulation, we would
+change it for lighter, and as we think, more precious metal. We deem
+this the age of gold.</p>
+
+<p>There is a great deal said about our progress toward mental and moral
+perfection. Some seem to think that education is all we need to make us
+perfect moral beings. 'Ignorance is the cause<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> of all evil;' all things
+are as they should be; our minds are as the <i>camera obscura</i>, a darkened
+chamber which a few rays enter, and every thing only <i>appears</i> upside
+down. All we need is more light, to see to set every thing straight. It
+is true that we see things in an inverted position; but in this
+prison-house, we shall never have light enough to see them as they are.
+There is a lens that corrects these false impressions, and the light
+that enters through it shows us many things upside down that we before
+saw right side up, and <i>vice versa</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Intoxicated with conceit, we fancy that we have but to eat of the tree
+of knowledge to become gods. Some go so far as to say that we are even
+now a part of divinity. 'The universe&mdash;it is God;' therefore we, as a
+part of the universe, are a part of God. The universe God? If it is a
+part of God, (which it is not,) it is so small a fraction that in all
+mathematical calculations, it would be called nothing. Were all the
+minds in the universe mingled into one, that one would be but as a drop
+to the ocean that girdles Infinity&mdash;God.</p>
+
+<p>You will think me too earnest. The O'Mollys were ever an earnest race
+and an orthodox race. With what earnestness did they, in the good old
+times, from those peculiarly Irish goblets, that wouldn't stand, drink
+Irish whisky, till they partook of the nature of the goblets and came to
+the floor with them&mdash;the goblets with a crash, but the O'Mollys got up
+as sound as a bell, and next morning were ready to attend mass, into
+which they entered with as much earnestness as into their revelry. No
+people equal the Irish in earnestness in <i>spiritual</i> matters. It is
+perhaps not for a female O'Molly to record these roysterings; but I am
+the last of my race, I only am left to chronicle the glorious doings of
+my ancestors. Then, too, on our escutcheon is one of these same goblets.
+The origin of this escutcheon it has been a family task to trace, with
+but little success, however, till the present generation, I had a cousin
+who inherited all the family pride. He became a martyr to his devotion
+to the 'time-honored custom;' for alas! good old Irish whisky is as
+certainly among the 'things that were,' as are the Irish kings. Some
+have shrewdly thought that it was the only real Irish king. Well, then,
+it is owing to this cousin's loyalty to the usurper, or rather
+pretender, that I am the family chronicler. He was wonderfully
+ingenious; could from the slightest hint guess at the whole story; he
+was equal to those naturalists who from one bone can make out the
+animal. With the remains of an old family tradition for his clue, he
+traced the origin of the escutcheon. It was on this wise. One of the
+Irish kings, traveling incog., stopped at the castle of an O'Molly, who,
+though he knew not the rank of his guest, entertained him with the
+utmost hospitality. Freely the goblet circulated, and as they two only
+drank from it, it was soon broken. The king, next morning, revealed his
+rank to his host, and dubbed him <i>Knight of the Goblet</i>; hence the
+goblet on the shield, an emblem of hospitality. And never has there been
+a stain on the escutcheon of the O'Mollys.</p>
+
+<p>I said they were an orthodox race. Perhaps they were too bigoted in
+their adherence to the old customs and the old faith. But there is too
+much latitudinarianism in this nineteenth century. Too many think it
+matters but little what a man's belief is, if he is only sincere in it;
+as if the consequences of any thing could be averted by not believing in
+it. The hands of your clock may be so turned around that they will point
+to the wrong figures; does that change the time? Or, what amounts to the
+same thing, it may be so ill-regulated, the machinery may be so out of
+gear, that you are deceived. But morning, noon, and night do not
+regulate their face by your clock. There is a dial that unerringly marks
+'the stately stoppings' of the sun of suns&mdash;let us regulate our belief
+by it.</p>
+
+<p>Truth is not like the clouds that, it is said, take the form of the
+country over which they pass. It does not change to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> suit your condition
+or mind, and we can not change it, neither can we dilute it. What is
+not truth is falsehood, and this, as the acid dissolved the pearl which
+Cleopatra dropped into it, will dissolve truth and convert it into its
+own nature.</p>
+
+<p>How little we prize truth, even if we do not thus attempt to dissolve
+it. It lies in our heart unheeded. We are almost as unconscious of it as
+the oyster is of the pearl within his shell.</p>
+
+<p>A friend of mine, having a daughter 'to finish,' looked over
+advertisement after advertisement, till finally her eye lighted on the
+circular of Mrs. Smith's Female Seminary, situated in the quiet and
+salubrious village of&mdash;&mdash;, within a few minutes' walk of three or four
+places of worship.... Great care taken of the health, manners, and
+morals of the pupils.... Exercise insisted on.... Those whose parents
+may wish it, allowed the use of a quiet saddle-horse.... The pupils
+under the immediate supervision of the principal.... They have all the
+comforts of Home, etc., etc. All this, in addition to a thorough course
+of instruction in every thing ever heard of, not forgetting the Use of
+the Globes.... Music on the piano and guitar; there are six pianos in
+the institution.... Drawing, Monochromatic, Grecian, Oriental, etc.,
+etc. Painting in oils and water-colors.... Embroidery, ten different
+kinds.... Terms, $&mdash;per annum. Then follows an imposing list of
+references, Reverends, Esquires, and Honorables.</p>
+
+<p>My friend, taken with this, decided that her daughter, Bessie, should go
+to Mrs. Smith's seminary. Accordingly, a short time before the
+commencement of the next term, she accompanied her there; was so pleased
+with Mrs. Smith's bland politeness toward herself, and her affectionate,
+almost matronly manner toward her daughter, that she came away relieved
+of all anxiety on Bessie's account.</p>
+
+<p>I hope I am not 'violating the sanctity of private correspondence,' in
+giving the following letter from Bessie:<br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">'My Dear Molly</span>: I received yours last evening, and hasten
+to reply, though, to answer your numerous questions will take me
+till after prayers. I shall consequently, as I am not the <i>model</i>
+pupil, get an absence-mark. You inquire as to the advancement I am
+making in my studies. One thing is certain, I shall not come home
+the <i>encyclopedia</i> mother expects. I'll not say that this
+'flourishing institution' is a humbug; but will say that facts and
+the circular do not exactly tally. A few of the facts I will give,
+and you can judge for yourself.</p>
+
+<p>'To begin with the supervision of the bland, portly principal. She
+enters the school-room makes a few criticisms, asks a blessing at
+the table; occasionally a misdemeanor is reported to her, when the
+offender is cited to the august presence, and duly reprimanded, not
+according to the quality of the offense, but, in an inverse
+proportion, to the <i>quality</i> of the offender. Her teachers do the
+mental drudgery of the institution. Their life is about as varied
+and pleasant as that of a churn-dog; that is, if the dog were kept
+churning all day. The balancing of accounts with them, and the
+making out of the bills for the patrons, are certainly 'under the
+immediate supervision of the principal.' These bills, which fond
+parents suppose amount to $&mdash;, have a rat-like appendage (excuse
+the expression) of 'incidentals,' that wasn't drawn into the
+<i>modest</i> 'terms' of the circular. I nearly forgot her Friday
+afternoon lectures, for which she sometimes substitutes <i>Hannah
+More</i>, and the <i>Young Ladies' Own Book</i>. These lectures are as
+commonplace as expatiations on the importance of cultivating the
+mind and heart, interspersed with 'hence the necessity,' and
+'highly essential,' can mate them. Last Friday, as she was
+enlarging on the advantage of having had our birth in an
+enlightened, Christian land, Jenny Dean wrote on a slip of paper,
+and poked it over to me,'not <i>have</i> our <i>berth</i> in a Christian
+land.' Mrs. Smith saw her, confiscated the paper, and gave her a
+severe reprimand, for evincing such a disposition to trifle with
+serious things. Jenny was right; if ours is a Christian berth,
+commend me to heathendom. Mrs. Smith neglected to mention in her
+circular the instruction in <i>entomology</i> her pupils receive;
+probably because they are, as 'the Autocrat' says every traveler
+is, <i>self-taught</i>. I wish she would omit a few lessons in the 'Use
+of the Globes,' and teach the servants the use of hot water,
+corrosive sublimate, and roach-poison.</p>
+
+<p>'I begin to understand why it is called a <i>finishing</i> school. Don't
+tell mother, or she will have me put in quarantine when I return.
+But, really, I'm getting quite thin; the demand made on my system
+being greater than the supply of 'plain wholesome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> food.' Now, I'm
+not going to complain of this 'plain wholesome,' though the butter
+is sometimes strong, the lamb (?) ditto, (see circular in regard to
+home comforts.) But I wish you would suggest to mother the
+propriety of sending me another box; the last we finished in short
+metre. You know this is a <i>finishing</i> school. Only one of the girls
+of our hall is too mean to <i>treat</i>, and she gets <i>lots of things</i>
+from home. Yesterday, she brought a beautiful basket of apples to
+my room, just to show me how nice they <i>looked</i>. I suggested that
+'the proof of the pudding was in the <i>eating</i>.' She was too obtuse
+to take the hint. It is almost sacrilege to talk so about her; she
+is Mrs. Smith's <i>model</i> pupil, which, as I before informed you,
+your humble servant is not. Jenny Dean and I are always getting
+into trouble. Somehow, we've got a bad name, and our <i>slightest</i>
+misdemeanor is noticed, so we think that we 'might as well be
+killed for a sheep as a lamb:' in other words, if the camel's back
+must be broken, it may as well be by a hundred-pound weight as a
+feather.</p>
+
+<p>'We have an Italian music-teacher, chiefly noticeable for his
+length of limb, an exiled nobleman, of course. I hinted to Jenny a
+doubt as to his nobility. She said, if he didn't belong to 'the
+Brahmin caste,' he did to the <i>Bramah cast</i>, and that was the next
+thing to it. He has become violently attached to the assistant
+music-teacher, who is very thin. Now, he has been teaching us to
+screech 'For Bonnie Annie Laurie.' Jenny persists in calling it,
+For bony Annie Laurie. The gravity with which he each time corrects
+her is amusing. Signor <i>executes</i> to the admiration of patrons,
+etc.; though music on those horrid pianos is rather like music on
+the rack. Of the six inventoried, (see circular,) two are in the
+garret, superannuated; two more ought to be; as for the remaining
+two, on one of them your friend Bessie practices, and it is too
+great a trial to her nerves to speak of them. You say that you have
+music in your souls that I must learn to express for you; that you
+can't turn a tune to save your life; that the attempt is like the
+attempt to make a curve of straight lines, (you see how I remember
+all you write or say.) If you were here, you would wish all the
+melody of the institution <i>voiceless</i>, and that it wouldn't ooze
+out at the finger-ends.</p>
+
+<p>'As for drawing, (see circular,) this department, to save expense,
+Mrs. Smith's <i>accomplished</i> daughter has. She teaches crayoning and
+pencilling&mdash;a few learn to daub in water-colors&mdash;but this she
+rather discourages, as colored crayoning is much easier and quite
+as <i>showy</i>&mdash;this is the word for everything here. Miss Smith also
+teaches French&mdash;<i>Anglicized</i>. It is hardly worth while to mention
+'the solids,' as these are shoved into a corner to give place to
+the accomplishments.... As for the exercise&mdash;we do, two or three
+times a week, file down the street, then file back again&mdash;are thus
+exhibited to the admiring gaze of the Esquires, Reverends, and
+Honorables, (see circular.) The 'quiet saddle-horse' (see circular)
+is a 'poetic fiction,' a 'pious fraud'&mdash;as much a myth as Pegasus
+himself. Though there is a tradition in the school that, a short
+time after the founding of the establishment, the late lamented
+husband of Mrs. Smith, who was fond of equestrian exercise, kept a
+horse&mdash;which a parlor-boarder, niece of Mrs. Smith, was allowed to
+ride&mdash;hence the provision in the circular. One part of it is
+correct&mdash;he doubtless is now a <i>very</i> quiet saddle-horse&mdash;that is,
+if he had not the tenacity of life of the <i>lamb</i> that, judging from
+the savory odor, we are to have for dinner, ('what's in a name?')
+Perhaps the 'late lamented' was as fond of his nag as was the man
+who entertained his guests with his horse in the form of soup.
+Jenny Dean says that is what she calls true <i>horse-pitality</i>.</p>
+
+<p>'There goes the bell. Don't forget the box. Mrs. Smith&mdash;unlike many
+principals&mdash;approves of them&mdash;the reason you can guess&mdash;the <i>fact</i>
+please mention to mother. In haste,</p>
+
+<p class='author'><span class="smcap">Bessie</span>.'</p></div>
+
+
+<p>It seems hardly consistent with my regard for the 'dear reader,' to add
+any thing by way of remark on this true school-girl letter. But it is so
+suggestive. How many circulars do tally with facts? Even in those of the
+best schools, that need none of this clap-trap, there is a little
+humbug. But this is rather the fault of the patrons; like Bessie's
+mother, they will hardly look at a plain advertisement. The truth is, we
+love to be humbugged. Among the 'wants of the age' may be classed
+<i>humbug</i>.</p>
+
+<p>I have read of a painter with disproportionately short legs, who, in all
+his pictures of human figures&mdash;from Moses down to the Mayor, done in
+heroic style&mdash;substituted his own legs. Your thorough utilitarian,
+deficient in imagination, his idea of mental symmetry being his own
+mental proportions, thinks no mind well balanced that has not a similar
+deficiency. He is a believer in nothing but the real and the useful&mdash;all
+else is stuff and nonsense; to him a mountain is a high elevation of
+land; a plain, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> level tract; a forest, so much timber in a green
+state; a cloud, a collection of vapor. He sees in every thing just what
+there is in it and nothing more. Why does any one see more? It has been
+a puzzle to me, the undefinable longing I have sometimes felt in looking
+at a beautiful scene; a feeling akin to this, though lower, is that
+awakened by the fragrance of some flowers&mdash;it is so unsatisfactory, you
+wish to <i>taste</i> them. These somethings bring up a shadow of 'shadowy
+recollections,' an echo of an echo of a past so indistinct, so dimly
+distant, that it seems to have been a part of another life.</p>
+
+<p>It may be that all earthly things are but types of spiritual things in a
+future spiritual existence&mdash;hence the yearning; or they may be
+expressions of spiritual things in a past spiritual existence&mdash;hence the
+'shadowy recollections.' One thing is certain: all beauty and grandeur
+are faint expressions of the ideas of the All-Father; therefore, O
+utilitarian! you do wrong to ask of them: 'What use?' Better cultivate a
+taste for them, and with this taste an earnest desire to look into that
+Mind and read there thoughts of which Mont Blanc and the exquisite
+flowers are but feeble utterances.</p>
+
+<p>How the Great Teacher has lavished on us illustrations of his goodness,
+as if he would in some way make it plain to all, '<i>what use</i>.' There
+<i>must</i> be a use in every thing he creates. Every dew-drop that the
+meanest weed has wooed and won from the atmosphere, is as tenderly cared
+for by him, as the stream is that supplies your mill-pond; every briny
+tear on the infant's cheek, as the ocean that bears on its bosom your
+merchant-vessels. What use? Have not some things been made useless&mdash;in
+your sense of the term&mdash;that they might be preserved from destruction?
+The gorgeous-plumed birds, and brightly-enameled fish of the tropics,
+are unfit for food&mdash;so, to your mind, of no use. I wonder if this holds
+good in cannibal countries; if so, it would be no protection to poor
+Molly O'Molly if she were there.</p>
+
+<p>I, too, am a believer in the real and the useful; but to me, the sphere
+of both is almost infinite. Are not the feelings awakened on viewing a
+beautiful sunset, as real as your satisfaction after eating roast-beef?
+Though I acknowledge that no one can thoroughly enjoy the one, who feels
+the need of the other; if then weighed in the scale, the sunset would
+'kick the beam.' All things 'by season seasoned are to their right
+praise and true perfection.' It would, for instance, be rather out of
+place to talk of the beauty of the stars to the houseless wanderer, for
+whom there were no 'cheerful lights of home;' to expatiate on the
+loveliness of the moon to him who must spend the chill night with no
+other covering than her 'silver mantle.'... Moonlight and memory are
+associated together in my mind&mdash;reflections of a set sun, wrapping in
+their calm, beautiful light, all things, even the graves of those we
+love.... I have thought that the murmur of the brook was the <i>voice of
+Silence</i>. Moonlight expresses to the eye&mdash;<i>silence</i>.... 'All this
+unreal?' I beg your pardon; I claim for my feelings the same reality
+that you claim for yours. Is only what is gross real? Is not the sky as
+real as the mountain that pierces it? Is there more reality in the chink
+of the dollar than in 'the music of the spheres'? This first is, I
+acknowledge, to me a pleasant sound, though only 'heard at rarest
+intervals.'... Yet I am rather inclined to believe in the reality of
+the music of the spheres; it is too ethereal, too spiritual a music for
+the ear to <i>sense</i> it; the food and drink of the gods, ambrosia and
+nectar, even were we to swallow them, could our mortal palates taste
+them? Even thus may we drink in the music of the spheres, and, strange
+as it may seem, the more <i>ear</i> we have, the less likely we will be to
+hear it.</p>
+
+<p>But&mdash;<i>not</i> 'in this connection,' in no connection&mdash;the utilitarian also
+thoroughly despises cobweb theories, as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> terms them. The world owes
+its greatest achievements to theories&mdash;cobwebs they may be. In caves
+have been found books of stone, whose nucleus was but cobweb; along
+these webs the calcareous solution ran, and hardened into stone. A
+cobweb theory has been the thread, on which, drop by drop, as it were,
+experiments have run and hardened into a possibility on which might be
+hung a <i>steam-boat</i>.</p>
+
+<p>There goes the night-train. Every morning as the engine with its train
+passes, the dark smoke rushing out of the chimney is touched by the rays
+of the rising sun and made glorious. I doubt not my enjoyment in looking
+at it is as real as that of the heaviest stockholder. Here I 'pitch my
+foot against'&mdash;as Paley says in his famous watch-argument&mdash;<i>a
+quotation</i>.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Life is transfigured in the soft and tender</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Light of love, as a volume dense</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of rolling smoke becomes a wreathed splendor</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the setting sun.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>But this warm subject of love I avoid as the whale avoids the warm water
+of the Gulf Stream. So I will wheel about&mdash;first, one more digression:
+This love, like the Gulf Stream, softens many a climate naturally as
+cold as that of Labrador. I just throw out this hint for the sentimental
+reader to enlarge upon.</p>
+
+<p>That quotation from Alexander Smith reminds me of one other thing, for
+which your utilitarian has a sovereign contempt&mdash;that is <i>poetry</i>. What
+is poetry? Every thing that stirs the soul to its depths, or but crisps
+the surface, is poetry&mdash;every truth does this, therefore every truth is
+poetry. Mind, I don't say <i>conversely</i>, etc. There&mdash;that word
+'conversely,' suggests to you that now you have me; there is
+mathematical truth, you say; you might as well attempt to raise a tree
+from cube-root as to attempt to make poetry sprout from mathematics....
+Is there no poetry in the marked path of the vessel on the trackless
+ocean&mdash;no poetry in the magnificent sweep of suns and worlds through
+space&mdash;in the eccentric orbit of the faithful comet&mdash;faithful, for from
+the most distant errands he passes right by earth, and even Venus,
+lingers not a moment, but hastens back to his lord&mdash;is there no poetry
+in the icing over of the brook, (if you think not, read Lowell's <i>Sir
+Launfel</i>,) each icy crystal being an exact geometrical figure? When 'God
+geometrizes,' he also poetizes.</p>
+
+<p>Then if we can't say conversely all poetry is truth, yet poetry gives to
+every thing she touches with her magic wand, the charm of reality. Are
+not Ariel, Puck, Oberon, real characters, though but 'beings of the
+mind'? Shylock and Lady Macbeth are to me as real as John Wesley and
+Hannah More, and far more real than the dimly defined heroes of
+Plutarch, except those that Shakspeare has thrilled with his own
+life-blood&mdash;his very ghosts have an awful individuality&mdash;they are enough
+to make you believe in ghosts. But hark! what was that&mdash;pshaw! it is
+only a screech-owl on the maple near my window&mdash;Keats' 'owl, for all his
+feathers, was a-cold,' I should think this was, from his shivering
+notes. Listen again! how old is the dead Time, whose age the distant
+town-clock is tolling? I don't care to count&mdash;to tell the truth, that
+owl makes me nervous&mdash;and if it is 'the witching time of night,' I don't
+care to know it&mdash;so good-night.</p>
+
+<p class='author'>In haste, <span class="smcap">Molly O'Molly</span>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="WOUNDED" id="WOUNDED"></a>WOUNDED</h2>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up the quiet street in the early Sunday morning, came with slow</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">steps and silently, two wounded soldiers:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One with shattered arm and a cruel sabre-cut on his forehead;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One with amputated leg, hobbled slowly along on crutches.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the thunder-storm and sharp crash of terrible battle, 'mid blood,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">carnage, and death,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Comrades in arms, they fell side by side; one of them senseless, the</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">other feeling his life-blood flowing away...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Faintness came over him, breathing the sulphurous smoke, with the</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">tornado of battle stunning his brain&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Faintness&mdash;forgetfulness. A vision of childhood, of the sweet</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Heaven-time of life, came to him...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He hoped it was death, coming as no king of terrors, but as a</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">beautiful flower-crowned child,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bidding a hero welcome to the great halls of the laurel-wreathed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">dead&mdash;those who died for their country.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From this dream of the Future came sharp awaking to life; rattling</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">away in the ambulance...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Crashing pains shooting wildly from leg to brains&mdash;the heart now and</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">then grasped with steel fingers and squeezed...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The knife and the tourniquet, the rapid surgical operation: the</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">poor, pale fellow maimed for life.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At home in a hospital kindly nursed and tended, hearing for the</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">first time in life the name of God&mdash;not taken in vain: seeing the</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">good <span class="smcap">deeds</span> of true woman...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Knowing that should he die he would ask no gentler sounds to cheer</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">him on his road to the Hereafter, than the prayer he once heard</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">read by The Lady in Gray to a dying soldier in the same</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">hospital:... thus passed he back again to life.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now convalescent he walks in the fresh morning up the quiet street,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">under the leafy shadow of lindens... he and his comrade in battle.</span><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the faces of both you may see that they know how earnest is</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">life...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Angel of Death on the battle-field raised the veil of the</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Future: transient the glimpse, but they will never forget it...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Angel of Mercy here in the hospital bound up their wounds,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">cheering their hearts with kind looks and well-spoken words of</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">true sympathy...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Solemnly earnest and beautiful is Life to these two wounded soldiers.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lame one is weary, and halts by the steps of a handsome house;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">his comrade with one arm helps him sit down there, on the lowest</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">step, leaning against the white marble balustrade.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through lace and silk curtains, from drawing-room window, looks down the street</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">a beautiful woman, waiting impatiently carriage, coachman, and footman,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">to carry her grandly to church.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up comes the carriage; wide open the doors of the house: Madame descends...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How is this?... She stops by the two wounded soldiers.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I have two sons in the army, she thought; what if they were weary and wounded</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">like these?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then she speaks to the comrades in battle, and learning where they were going,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">insisted on their taking her carriage. She will have no refusal: and now</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John the footman, inwardly groaning, assists the lame man to enter, then</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">the other one takes a seat...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Off they whirl to their hospital-home, with a blessing upon the fair lady who dared</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">follow the teachings of <span class="smcap">One</span> whom that morning she worshiped with words ...</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">and with deeds.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Open your hands&mdash;and your hearts&mdash;ye who stand afar off from the battle! Lo!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">the wounded and dying are here at your doors.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Slumber no more; but awake, <span class="smcap">awake to their cries</span>!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="trans-note">
+        Transcriber's Note: Because of the length of the lines, the above piece has been
+formatted as in the original.
+    </div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ASTOR_AND_THE_CAPITALISTS_OF_NEW-YORK" id="ASTOR_AND_THE_CAPITALISTS_OF_NEW-YORK"></a>ASTOR AND THE CAPITALISTS OF NEW-YORK.</h2>
+
+
+<p>The accumulation of wealth has always been a chief proclivity of our
+race. The earliest of all books (Job) mentions it with sharp reproof, as
+though even then it had become a theme with the moralist. In olden time,
+wealth was even more unreliable than at the present day, especially as
+the mere possession of gold was enough to endanger one's life. The
+modern capitalist avoids this by devolving the custody of his cash on
+some bank and holding its stock instead of a hoard of ingots. The
+science of wealth now takes a more philosophic turn, and may be summed
+up in one word, <i>debt</i>. To be rich is simply to have brought the
+community in debt to yourself; and the greater it is, the greater, of
+course, your riches. To be poor is simply to reverse this condition, and
+to be in debt to others. The richest of all mankind may not have on
+hand, in specie, at any one time, more than the amount of a single day's
+income, and may be only able to show for his entire capital sundry
+pieces of paper, representing value. This is a vast improvement upon
+antiquity, since then wealth was identified with the holding of bullion,
+for whose protection an especial deity was invented. By a strange
+co&iuml;cidence, while Pluto was god of the lower regions, a slight change of
+the name represented his moneyed colleague, and Plutus presided over
+money. This connection is with sober wit hit off by Milton, who sets the
+fallen angels at once to work digging gold.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 8.5em;">'Soon had his crew</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Opened into the hills a spacious wound</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And digged out ribs of gold. Let none admire</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That riches grow in hell: that soil may best</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Deserve the precious bane.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The term 'almighty dollar' is stereotyped in modern slang, and yet the
+idea could not but have existed under other words in the days of those
+flush individuals, Midas and Cr&oelig;sus. The first of these moneyed
+gentlemen found gold too plenty for comfort, while the latter, by his
+unfortunate end, proved that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> even at that early time riches had learned
+to fly away. Gold entered very largely into the politics of antiquity,
+and by this means Crassus got a partnership in the grand triumvirate of
+which Mark Antony and Octavius formed the more active parties. Poor
+Crassus found, however, that to be a sleeping partner in a concern was
+quite a dangerous position.</p>
+
+<p>The danger in which money involves its possessor, is shown with dramatic
+power by Scott, in his splendid medieval dream, <i>Ivanhoe</i>&mdash;in the
+torture-scene, where the Jew is racked to obtain his gold. In connection
+with this, it may be noted as a surprising fact that while poverty has
+always been dreaded, it has ever been exempt from one term of peculiar
+wretchedness. With all his privation, who ever heard a poor man
+designated as a <i>miser</i>?</p>
+
+<p>Wealth is a matter of comparison. The original term applied by the
+New-England savages to the white was, <i>knifeman</i>; the possession of one
+implement making the latter rich in the view of the Indian. What a vast
+investment in wampum would such a weapon be? Carrying out the same
+comparative idea, it is reported as one of John Jacob Astor's sayings:
+'That a man worth fifty thousand dollars is as well off as though he was
+rich.' So strong is this comparative aspect, that the money-hunter finds
+his mark continually receding, and when he has attained his hundred
+thousand, he is appalled by finding himself but a mere beginner compared
+with others. He is but at the foot of the mountain which others have
+climbed, and which towers above him in</p>
+
+<p class='center'>
+'Many a fiery, many a frozen Alp.'
+</p>
+
+<p>Hence, there is nothing more clearly proven in the psychology of man
+than that accumulation utterly fails to fulfil the idea attached to
+riches; that is, satiety or even satisfaction, and there is often a
+bitter poverty of soul gnawing the owner of millions. The organic
+thought crops out of great and small alike. It is said that the chief of
+Boston merchants of the olden time, William Gray, when asked what would
+satisfy him, replied, 'A little more;' while the Indian to whom the same
+inquiry was made, replied with aboriginal simplicity: 'All the whisky
+and all the tobacco in the world.' 'Nothing else?' added the inquirer.
+'Yes,' replied the Indian in an anxious tone, 'a little more whisky.'
+The same insatiable craving is shown in poor Isaac K&mdash;&mdash;, the
+half-witted boy, whose droll sayings of a half-century ago are still
+remembered about Boston. 'Father,' he one day exclaimed, 'I wish every
+body was dead but you and me.' 'Why so, my son?' 'Why, then, father, you
+and I would go out and buy all the world.'</p>
+
+<p>The power of gold to inflict pain on its possessor suggests deep
+philosophical inquiry. Even at a superficial view, one can not but be
+struck by the fatal facility which it affords to vice on the one hand,
+while on the other, how many suffer untold distress from the miser's
+self-inflicted poverty? There are multitudes of ruined youth, who, had
+they been bound to labor instead of being reared to a life of affluent
+ease, would have become useful men. Indeed, by merely changing the
+costume of Hogarth's <i>Rake's Progress</i>, we may see it enacted by scores
+of young men in any of our leading cities. The writer once knew a
+worn-out debauchee of thirty, who, even at that early age, had got rid
+of an inheritance of a half-million.</p>
+
+<p>The miseries of poverty are severe, and such men as Johnson and De
+Quincey have painted them in colors drawn from their own experience; but
+what scenes vastly more terrible might they not have sketched had they
+held that master-key which unlocks the abodes of pleasure and summons
+the dreadful crew of temptation?</p>
+
+<p>One can not but pity the former of these, as he thinks of his wandering
+the live-long night through the streets of London, unable to buy a
+lodging, and eating each occasional meal, not knowing when he would get
+another. Yet, had as this might have been, how vastly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> more pitiable
+would his case have been, had he fulfilled the infernal career of some
+of his rich cotemporaries, such as Lord Lyttelton or Lord Euston, whose
+dying horrors Young has so thrillingly described in his <i>Altamont</i>.
+Horace, who had so thoroughly studied the philosophy of life, could
+refer to his lowly condition:</p>
+
+<p class='center'>
+'S&aelig;va paupertas et avitus apto<br />
+Cum lare fundus:'
+</p>
+
+<p>and then cite the race reared in poverty as those who saved the
+commonwealth, by defeating Hannibal. His deep-toned objurgations at the
+degeneracy of Rome are brought to mind by the increased dissipation and
+licentiousness of American youth.</p>
+
+<p>Who can read lines like these without thinking of our concert-saloons
+and other facilities of vice? (the former happily suppressed.)</p>
+
+<p class='center'>
+Damnasa quid non immmuit dies.
+</p>
+
+<p>The history of capitalists would be interesting, if only as showing this
+single feature, namely, that the secret of great success lies in one's
+placing himself in some channel where the stream must soon flow, and
+thus anticipating the future.</p>
+
+<p>Johnson, in the midst of his cheerless poverty, had some golden dreams,
+was sensible of this fact, and illustrates it in one of those Oriental
+apologues which occur in the <i>Rambler</i>, where he shows the tiny rivulet
+gradually filling a lake. With the same idea permeating his mind, he
+exclaims, when Thrale's brewery was to be sold: 'Here are the means of
+wealth beyond the dreams of avarice.'</p>
+
+<p>The history of rich men also proves that it is not so much the art of
+getting as that of keeping which insures success. New-York and other of
+our great cities contain thousands of poor men who, but a few years ago,
+were heavy operators, and whose future seemed brilliant with promise.
+Yet here they are, now struggling for mere bread.</p>
+
+<p>Riches are winged creatures, which break cage with strange facility and
+are not to be whistled back again. The array of agents, brokers,
+book-keepers, and decayed gentlemen who but lately were numbered among
+merchants, bankers, and ship-owners, is quite a moving spectacle. Thus
+A. B&mdash;&mdash;, for thirty years connected with trade, during most of which
+period he was a leading member of the great cloth house of&mdash;&mdash;, has been
+worth two hundred thousand dollars, but is now a book-keeper for a
+concern in John street. I. S&mdash;&mdash; has been forty years in trade, and was
+considered successful beyond all liability to future risk; and for many
+years ranked among the rich men of the street, but has since failed, and
+is now poor. B&mdash;&mdash; and M&mdash;&mdash;, princes in the dry-goods line, built two
+palatial stores in Broadway, have been immensely rich, but after
+battling honorably with adverse fortune, have failed. J. R&mdash;&mdash;, a
+retired merchant, estimated at five hundred thousand dollars, holding at
+one time fifty thousand dollars in Delaware and Hudson Canal stock,
+subsequently got involved and lost all. Instances like these might be
+multiplied to volumes, but they are sufficient to illustrate the
+transitory nature of earthly possessions.</p>
+
+<p>The great capitalists of New-York are chiefly identified with its real
+estate, and their wealth has generally arisen from its advance in value.
+Few great fortunes have lasted long, when left to 'the caprices of
+trade, and the sons of our merchant-princes generally turn out poor men.
+The great estates of the city are of a very limited number, and are
+mainly included in the names of Whitney, Goellet, Lorrillard,
+Rhinelander, Stuyvesant, Lenox, and Astor. The first of these was so
+long an <i>habitu&eacute;</i> of Wall street, Front street, and Coenties Slip, that
+even now, when wandering along those thoroughfares, we almost momently
+expect to meet him. We can not but think that at the next turn we shall
+see that shrunken and diminutive form, that meagre, hungry-looking
+countenance, and that timid, nervous eye, which indicated the fear of
+loss or the dread approach of charity. His office was held for years in
+the second story of a ware<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>house in Front street, a spot in whose
+vicinity he had passed nearly three-score years. Thither he had come in
+his boyhood, a poor, friendless, New-Jersey lad, had found friends and
+employment, had at last got to be a grocer, and had gradually
+accumulated a large capital, by the closest economy. At this time the
+war of 1812 broke out, and cotton became very low, in consequence of the
+difficulty of shipping it to England. Mr. Whitney had at that time a
+vast amount of outstanding accounts in the Southern States, and his
+debtors were glad to pay him in this depreciated article. We have been
+informed that Jackson's cotton defences of New-Orleans were of his
+property. As neutral ships were permitted to sail between the
+belligerent ports, Mr. Whitney exported large quantities of cotton to
+England, and held the balance of his stock until the close of the war,
+when it advanced enormously. This advance, together with the proceeds of
+his exports, at once made him a millionaire, and the capital thus
+acquired never lost a chance of increase. Giving up the details of
+trade, Mr. Whitney bought large quantities of real estate, on which he
+erected warehouses and obtained a princely rental. In addition to this,
+he dealt more largely in commercial paper than any other man in the city
+and perhaps in the Union. His habits of industry continued, and were a
+theme of remark, as we observed him in his daily walk from his office to
+the great moneyed centre of America, where the price of paper and money
+rates regaled his ears. He was a good judge of paper, and needed no one
+to advise him. He touched nothing but what in commercial parlance is
+termed 'gilt-edged,' and of this he purchased almost daily for thirty
+years. These notes being made payable to the order of the drawers,
+needed no other indorsement, and hence might pass through an hundred
+hands without this fact becoming known. Mr. Whitney's bills receivable
+falling due in Wall street must have been at the rate of thirty thousand
+dollars per day, and his purchases of paper, of course, were at about
+the same rate. Much of this paper brought rates but little better than
+interest, but on others from one to two per cent per month was obtained.
+The secrets of this trade are deep and little understood, and few even
+of the best dealers knew that when their notes had been given for
+invoices of merchandise, they passed almost directly into the hands of a
+few bill-buyers, and that perhaps in Stephen Whitney's portfolio might
+be found almost the whole amount of good paper made in Front or South
+streets. Mr. Kimball's recent work, <i>Undercurrents</i>, throws much light
+on this traffic, and exhibits the result of deep study of our mercantile
+system.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> Mr. Whitney's management of his estate soon brought him up to
+an estimate of ten millions. I used not only to meet him daily at the
+mart, but also attended the same church, (Dr. Alexander's.) He was a
+regular attendant, and a close listener, and I used to marvel how he
+could bear the plain truths that fell upon my ears. Here in the pulpit,
+at least, was one who was no money-worshiper. How well we remember the
+exclamation from that earnest preacher: 'Wealth! in comparison with this
+thing, (religion,) let it not be mentioned!' Whitney was a great admirer
+of plain preaching, though, we believe, he never got into the communion
+of the Church. Both the preacher and his millionaire listener are now
+dead, and the church has been pulled down, and the site is now covered
+by a block of splendid stores. Mr. Whitney's charities were on a very
+limited scale. When the congregation above referred to were building a
+mission-house, he was applied to, to head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> the subscription, which he
+did with a trifling sum. The gift was refused, and a larger one was
+demanded, as in better keeping with his position. 'Sir,' was his reply,
+'if you go on this way, there will not be a rich man left in the city of
+New-York.' It is also said that on a certain occasion, he was called on
+to aid a political movement with his subscription. 'Sir,' was his reply,
+'I have no money to spare, but I'll come and sit up all night to fold
+ballots for you.'</p>
+
+<p>The Lorrillard estate was chiefly acquired through an immense tobacco
+business which the patriarch of that house started nearly a century ago,
+and which led to the purchase of large landed property. The original
+identity of the name continues, and 'short cut' and 'ladies' twist' are
+still sold under the sign and brand of the Lorrillards. We presume that
+it is the oldest house in America.</p>
+
+<p>The Stuyvesant farm was a vast but unprofitable tract of marshes in the
+eastern part of New-York, but now covered by serried blocks, and among
+the most densely populated portions of the city. Forty years ago, these
+marshes were favorite skating-fields in winter, and here a lad was at
+that time actually drowned by the breaking of the ice. Being out of
+town, the drier portions were converted into an American Tyburn, and
+here the murderer Johnson was hanged. Such were the Stuyvesant meadows,
+whose worthless wastes have been raised to immense value by the growth
+of the city.</p>
+
+<p>Among those of our city capitalists who are more identified with general
+benevolence, the names of Stuart and Lenox are chief. Messrs. Stuart are
+two brothers, who are largely engaged in refining sugars, and who have
+in this business made large sums. The concern originated in a small
+shop, where, some fifty years ago, a Scotchwomen sold candy, with her
+two boys as clerks. Instead of that little candy-shop, there stands on
+the same spot an enormous refinery, whose operations employ hundreds of
+hands, and whose purchases are by cargoes. What would the worthy mother
+say to this transformation of her shop, as by some act of magic? But it
+is the magic of industry and enterprise. The Stuarts use their wealth
+with judicious liberality, and evidently mean that the world shall be
+better for their living in it. Their contributions are large, and their
+opportunities are great, for be it remembered, such men are under
+incessant solicitation. Indeed, there are few things more fatal to one's
+peace than a reputation for liberality, which lays one open to a siege
+of begging faces and an inundation of begging letters, whose demands
+would exhaust all resources. It is our opinion that, avoiding
+ostentation on the one hand and importunity on the other, the Stuarts
+contribute conscientiously to every worthy enterprise, in a proportion
+corresponding to their profits.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p>
+
+<p>The name of Lenox appears among some of the early Scotch emigrants, such
+as the Irvings, Masons, Douglases, Grahams, etc. Robert Lenox became a
+distinguished New-York merchant. His profits were wisely invested in
+land, and this became very valuable. His only son, James, inherited the
+larger portion of this estate, whose increasing value made him a
+millionaire, and in its use, he has exhibited a remarkable benevolence.</p>
+
+<p>We say <i>exhibited</i>, for though acting with studied secresy and silence,
+his life has been so full of good works, that they can not be hid. In
+these benefactions, Mr. Lenox exercises close discrimination, and for
+this purpose has for years refused personal applications. This measure,
+indeed, was necessary, in order to escape a perpetual siege, which would
+soon have driven any man distracted. He has been in the habit of
+considering written applications, and of selecting such as seemed worthy
+of his patronage. Mr. Lenox annually disburses an enormous sum in a most
+useful as well as most quiet manner. Indeed, his man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>sion is one of the
+benevolent institutions of the day, and to all intents and purposes, its
+occupant is but an actuary driven by perpetual duties and working with
+assiduity to fulfil an important trust. He is a thoroughly practical
+man, posted on all the details of business, and, inheriting the peculiar
+abilities and energy of his father, puts them to the best of use.</p>
+
+<p>We may say that the whole purpose of his life is benevolence to all
+classes. Mr. Lenox will pardon us if we allude to his munificent gifts
+toward educational enterprise, and especially to those which enrich the
+institutions of Princeton. He has long been a trustee of Nassau Hall, in
+whose behalf he has expended large sums, and whose gallery is enriched
+with his portrait. The Theological Seminary is also an object of his
+affectionate care. A few years ago, he observed that it needed increased
+accommodation for its growing library. Carrying out a scheme which had
+its inception in this circumstance, he quietly employed an architect to
+draft plans, while at the same time a suitable range grounds was
+obtained, the materials hauled from New-York, and the present noble
+edifice, known as the Lenox Library, erected. That library has been of
+vast assistance to the institution, and not a student visits its
+alcoves, who does not gratefully remember its founder with a sentiment
+like that uttered by Gray in reference to Eton:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Where grateful science still adores</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Henry's sacred shade.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>We understand that it has been recently decided to change this structure
+into an oratory, and to build another library, and we presume that in
+this also Mr. Lenox takes the initiative. We have referred to the fact
+that Mr. Lenox only considers written applications, but lest this
+statement should lead to their increase, we would add a word of
+explanation. Their number has already become so large as to create a
+great burden, and the daily task of reading these his begging letters is
+very annoying. Mr. Lenox is greatly overladen, and we advise any one who
+may think of his name as a <i>dernier resort</i>, to refrain from adding to
+the labors of an overworked philanthropist. Rest assured, dear reader,
+that Mr. Lenox will do all possible good with his money, and if it fails
+to reach you, it may flow to a more deserving object.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lenox is deeply interested in the Free Church of Scotland, and was
+one of its most efficient helpers at the time of its exodus. A
+correspondence between him and De. Chalmers conveyed his benefactions
+through the noblest of instrumentalities, and a portrait of the great
+Scottish theologian graces the mansion of his American friend. It was
+painted by Henry Inman, during his sojourn abroad, and is the finest
+picture of Chalmers we have ever seen. Mr. Lenox is a man of fine taste,
+and finds recreation in gathering rare books, of which he has a valuable
+collection, and he possesses, in addition, a splendid gallery of
+pictures. Among them are two of Turner's landscapes, and we know of no
+others in America.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> We might say more of this estimable man, but will
+not too soon anticipate the voice of fame. Our statements are made
+mainly to correct some false impressions about one who, with all his
+reticence, is one of the public men of his day, and who fulfills the
+idea of the poet:</p>
+
+<p class='center'>
+'Do good by stealth and blush to find it fame.'
+</p>
+
+<p>Such a man was George Douglas, one of the same circle of wealthy
+citizens of Scotch descent, who, though in a pecuniary view, hardly in
+the same rank with Mr. Lenox, was still very rich. Mr. Douglas preserved
+a studied retirement, and passed much of his time on his noble farm, but
+was still active in philanthropy. His estate can not be far from a
+half-million, yet it was used humbly in the service of his race.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Though nursed in greatness, and to riches born,</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet in earth's fairest flower he saw the thorn.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beneath the finest linen sackcloth felt,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bound his purple with an iron belt;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lived Heaven's trustee, and lent, and gave away,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To God's own heirs who never could repay;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And died a rare example to the great,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of lowly virtue in a high estate.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>But among all American capitalists the name of Astor looms up in
+unapproachable solitude, and stands as it has stood for nearly forty
+years.</p>
+
+<p>We may get the better idea of the Astor estate by a comparative view.
+Thus, a man worth one hundred thousand dollars is a rich man; a man
+worth five hundred thousand dollars is a very rich man; a millionaire is
+still more the ideal of wealth. Mr. Astor, then, is, if rightly
+estimated, equal to twenty-five millionaires, or two hundred and fifty
+rich men of the class first mentioned. In the seven hundred thousand
+inhabitants of New-York, there are not more than two hundred men worth
+one hundred thousand dollars; not more than twenty-five of the second;
+not more than ten of the last. Approaching the assessment-roll, we may
+estimate the Astor estate at one thirtieth of the entire city. Thus he
+stands one seven hundred thousandth in the proportion of population, and
+one thirtieth in that of wealth; or in other words, he owns what would
+be a fair proportion for twenty-five thousand of his fellow-citizens.
+The commencement of this estate was, as is well known, by small
+beginnings.</p>
+
+<p>Among the emigrants who landed in New-York about the close of the French
+Revolution, was a rude German, from Baden Baden, whose life in the New
+World was commenced as a laborer. He afterward became a peddler of fancy
+goods, and eventually a dealer in peltries. In 1791 there appeared at
+Number 40 Little Dock street, the unpretending name of John Jacob Astor,
+and here the foundation of his estate was laid. Astor soon took fair
+rank among business men. He was prompt and snug in his dealing, honest
+and straightforward, and beside this, carried great weight of character
+in his countenance. No man could be much with him without being struck
+with his depth of character, and the solidity of his views. At that time
+the fur-trade was brisk along the Mohawk, and the peltries, after
+passing through the hands of frontier dealers, generally found their way
+into Astor's warehouse, in Liberty street. Here they were sorted with
+great care by his own hands, and prepared for foreign markets. An
+octogenarian merchant informed me that, calling once at Mr. Astor's
+store, he found him in an upper loft clad in a long, coarse wrapper, and
+engaged among his furs. 'I shall get for that,' said he, holding up the
+skin of a splendid silver fox, 'forty dollars, in St. Petersburg.' It
+probably cost him less than five dollars. Astor had no sooner gained a
+position as a thrifty trader, than he took a higher step by induction
+into Free-Masonry. We say a higher step, not with a view of glorifying
+this institution, but because at that time it was exceedingly popular
+and aristocratic, and gave tone to citizenship. Among the leading
+Free-Masons of New-York were Peter Irving and his brother William,
+Martin Hoffman, the founder of the great auction business, and father of
+the late L. M. Hoffman. Moving among these magnates, John Jacob Astor
+became Grand Treasurer. Mr. Astor had a brother of the same thrifty
+turn, though not so successful in acquiring wealth. He was a butcher by
+trade, and slaughtered himself into a pittance of one hundred thousand
+dollars, which, as he died early, he bequeathed to William B., his
+nephew. 'To him that hath shall be given.' Mr. Astor's oldest son is
+said to have been a very promising lad, but his brain became injured by
+a fall, and he soon fell into a state of derangement. A private asylum
+was arranged for his use years ago, and this, with its grounds, covers
+an entire block in the western part of the city.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Astor's profits rolled in upon him at a rate which no one could have
+dreamed of, and he kept their amount a secret until he had so penetrated
+the frontier by his agencies that he controlled the whole trade, when he
+occa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>sionally acknowledged a degree of wealth which astonished those who
+heard. For instance, we may state this fact in illustration: He had
+occasion at a certain time to use a large amount of cash, and what was
+very rare with him, applied to his bank for a heavy discount. The
+unusual circumstance and the sum demanded startled the cashier, who in a
+plain, business way, put the question: 'Mr. Astor, how much do you
+consider yourself worth?' '<i>Not less than a million</i>,' was the reply. <i>A
+million</i>! the cashier was overwhelmed. He supposed that he knew all his
+customers, and had rated Astor at hardly more than one tenth of that
+sum.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Astor commenced at an early day to buy real estate, and the habit
+grew upon him until it became a passion. He was for years a leading
+character at sheriff and other land sales, and it was the commonest
+thing at such places to hear the closing words of the auctioneer: 'Last
+call&mdash;going, going&mdash;gone&mdash;to John Jacob Astor.' At that time many large
+estates were broken up, and among others, that of Aaron Burr was put
+into the market, and speedily became the property of Mr. Astor. It
+embraced a small suburban principality, whose mansion, 'Richmond Hill,'
+was Burr's country-seat. The whole property is now in the heart of the
+city and is worth millions, where once it brought thousands. Mr. Astor
+boldly bought those wild lands, including swamps, rocky knolls, and
+barren commons, which lay at waste from Canal street onward to
+Bloomingdale, and while others affected to laugh at his judgment, the
+correctness of that judgment is now quite apparent. A case similar in
+character is that of the late eccentric Jonathan Hunt. This man, who had
+accumulated a vast fortune South, was quite noted, a few years ago, for
+his dashing land purchases in New-York, and his relatives actually
+served on him a warrant <i>de lunatico inquirendo</i>, with a view of
+preventing him from wasting his estate. Subsequently, however, it turned
+out that these incessant purchases which had made him a leading man at
+the Merchants' Exchange, and an object of distrust to his family, were
+splendid operations. Poor Hunt's bid was subsequently refused by the
+auctioneers, on the score of insanity, while the lots he bought on
+Madison avenue and elsewhere, were, in fact, as speculations, superior
+to the operations of the most sagacious speculators.</p>
+
+<p>Astor's boldness increased with years. He bought government loans at a
+time when other capitalists shrunk, and the price had run down to the
+lowest mark. He bought claims against old estates&mdash;one of which paid an
+enormous profit, and would have been accounted a splendid fortune of
+itself&mdash;while the gradual increase of the city brought his waste lands
+into demand; and the opening of the Erie Canal may be said to have at
+one stroke added a million of dollars to the value of his estate.
+Whatever was bought was held with determined grasp, however small the
+prospect of advance. For instance, a friend of ours (now dead)
+purchased, in company with Mr. Astor, two lots on Broadway, of which
+they took separate deeds, and held for an advance. Year after year
+passed by, but no advance appeared, while assessments were continually
+made for city improvement. At the end of this period our friend called
+on Mr. Astor and stated that he was weary of such long delay in getting
+return for his investment, and asked him if he would not take the lot
+and give him its simple cost. Mr. Astor calmly acceded to the proposal.
+Had our friend held the same views as the great land operator, he would
+have realized a fortune from this single lot, since what then cost one
+thousand dollars is now worth fifty thousand dollars.</p>
+
+<p>The Napoleonic character of Mr. Astor's mind is shown by the great
+commercial schemes which shared the claims of real estate. He was
+extending the ramifications of his trade through the North-west
+wilderness and competing with the Hudson Bay Company for the peltry
+taken by the numerous tribes of savages, while at the same time a vast<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>
+export trade was carried on with Europe, and also with China, whence he
+brought teas in exchange for furs. It was this broad ambition which
+prompted the grand scheme of a new station at the mouth of the Columbia.
+And this scheme, though it failed, was not without great national
+results. Its misfortunes were chronicled by the pen of Irving, and in
+his pages the story of the crew murdered, and the ship plundered and
+burned, was recorded among the tragedies of commerce.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Astor lived to old age, and his life was one of few changes. From
+his humble shop in Little Dock street (now Water street near Coenties
+Slip) he removed his place of business to Liberty street, (Number 71,)
+and subsequently to Broadway. His longest place of abode was Number 223
+Broadway, now a part of the site of the Astor House, whence, after a
+residence in Hoboken, he removed up-town to a block in Broadway near
+Prince street. Here he remained until death, but he lived long enough to
+see the progress of the city covering his lands with dwellings, and
+bequeathed to his son the largest estate in America. Mr. Astor had a
+literary taste, and was fond of book-men. He gave Fitz-Green Halleck a
+snug and profitable clerkship, and on the death of the capitalist,
+William B. Astor presented to the poet the sum of ten thousand dollars.
+Mr. Astor also sought the acquaintance of Washington Irving on the
+return of that distinguished gentleman from Europe, and it was at his
+especial request that the <i>Astoria</i> was written. The friendship between
+these two distinguished men continued until death, when it was found
+that Mr. Irving had been appointed one of the executors of the will. The
+fees connected with this office could not have been less than one
+hundred thousand dollars, and the executors (six in number) at one time
+received ten thousand dollars apiece.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Astor's project of the library was conceived long before his death,
+and he had Dr. Cogswell for several years engaged in the collection of
+books for this purpose. The full provisions, however, were not known
+until the reading of the will developed the plan and funds. The plan was
+not carried out in detail, but was left to the judgment of the trustees,
+who modified it considerably, making an institution for reference
+instead of a mere circulating library.</p>
+
+<p>To the original bequest Mr. William B. Astor has since added a large
+conveyance of real estate, and the institution is nearly double its
+original size. Speaking of Mr. William B. Astor, we may be led to a few
+references of a personal nature. As the ordinary street-passenger is
+traversing Prince street, he is not likely to be struck by any of its
+surroundings. The street itself is but of third-rate character, and the
+houses are but of a common stamp. Near Broadway, however, one may notice
+a small brick office, neatly built, of one story, with gable to the
+street, but with doors and windows closed, and the whole appearance one
+of security. Near the door may be seen a little sign which reads thus:
+'Entrance next door: office hours from nine to three.' The next door, to
+which we are referred, is a plain three-story brick dwelling, with no
+name on the door, and might be taken for the residence of some
+well-to-do old-fashioned family. Hence one is quite startled to find
+that this is the headquarters of the chief capitalist of America.
+Entering the street-door, one will find himself in a small vestibule,
+neatly floored with checkered oil-cloth, and opening a door on his left,
+he will enter a well-lighted front-room, destitute of any furniture but
+a counting-house desk and a few chairs. At this desk stands an
+accountant (or perhaps two) working at a set of books, and evidently
+enjoying an easy berth. He will answer all ordinary inquiries, will do
+the duty of refusing charitable demands, and will attend to any thing in
+the ordinary run of business; but if one has any thing special on hand,
+he will point to a door opening into a rear office. This apartment is of
+moderate size and of simple furniture. On the table are a few books, and
+on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> opening one of them, which appears well thumbed, it will be found to
+contain maps of plots of city property, carefully and elegantly
+executed, and embracing the boundaries of an enormous estate. Seated by
+the table may generally be seen a stout-built man with large and
+unattractive features, and upon the whole an ordinary face. He is
+plainly dressed, and has a somewhat care-worn look, and appears to be
+fifty or sixty years of age. One naturally feels (that is, if he be a
+poor man) that it is quite a rare thing to address a capitalist, and
+especially when that capitalist is the representative, say of
+twenty-five millions of dollars. Such, at least, was our experience at
+our first interview with William B. Astor.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Astor occupies an imposing mansion in Lafayette Place, and
+immediately adjoining is the magnificent library to which we have
+referred, and which should commemorate the name of the son as well as
+that of the father. At this house he spends that small portion of his
+time which is not occupied by his duties in Prince street, where he does
+a full day's work (Sundays excepted) every day in the week. Thus the
+daily routine of the richest man in America is a walk to and from home,
+of a half-mile or so, and close attention to business.</p>
+
+<p>The care of Mr. Astor's estate is a vast burden. His tenements of all
+grades number several hundreds, ranging from the dwelling at three
+hundred dollars per annum to the magnificent warehouse or hotel at
+thirty thousand dollars. To relieve himself from the more vexatious
+features of his business, he has committed his real estate collections
+to an agent who does the work well, and who is, no doubt, largely paid.
+He, with his clerks, collects rents, and makes returns of a rent-roll,
+whose very recital would be wearisome. As a matter of course, such a man
+must employ a small army of painters, carpenters, and other mechanics,
+in order to keep up suitable repairs. As Mr. Astor pays no insurance,
+the work of rebuilding after fires is in itself a large item.</p>
+
+<p>A large part of Mr. Astor's property consists of vacant lots, which are
+in continual demand, and which he generally prefers to hold rather than
+sell; hence he is much employed with architects and master-builders, and
+always has several blocks in course of erection. This is a very heavy
+burden, and were it not for the help derived from his family, would, we
+believe, crush him. However, his son, John Jacob, is quite a business
+man, and bears his share of the load. This young gentleman has shown his
+patriotism by serving in the army for the Union, in which he bears an
+important commission. In addition to this, Mr. Astor has the aid of a
+gentleman of business character and habits, once a member of one of the
+largest shipping houses in the city, who has become connected with the
+family by marriage. The labors of all these parties would not be more
+than adequate to the task of collecting interest on bonds, looking after
+dividends, etc., since that little fire-proof office in Prince street
+contains several millions of Government and State securities.</p>
+
+<p>In order to give something like an estimate of the immense income
+rolling in upon this family, we must commence with the fact that two
+dollars per day is considered fair wages for working men; that the man
+who makes five dollars per day all the year round may be considered very
+fortunate; that ten dollars per day is attained by that few who are more
+favored and gifted, and whose proportion to the mass is about one to a
+thousand. Starting from this estimate, we may be better prepared to rate
+Mr. Astor's position by comparing any of the above sums with six
+thousand dollars, which is said to be his daily income. Bless me! one
+can not but exclaim; here Cr&oelig;sus himself might die with envy. Yet we
+reply, after a moment's pause, let no one envy the man of gold. It is
+said that when John Jacob Astor was once congratulated by a certain
+person for his wealth, he replied by pointing to his pile of bonds, and
+maps of property, at the same time in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>quiring: 'Would you like to manage
+these matters for your board and clothes?' The man demurred to the idea.
+'Sir,' continued the rich man, '<i>it is all that I get</i>!' Hence, thinking
+on these things, we have never envied Mr. Astor, and would not bear the
+burden of his wealth for all its glory. It is not the possession but the
+use of money, which affords enjoyment, and this is a secret which the
+rich seldom learn. Alas! among the annals of moneyed men, how seldom do
+we meet a Stuart or a Lenox&mdash;men who have learned what Goldsmith calls
+'the luxury of doing good.'</p>
+
+<p>It is one of the peculiar misfortunes of the rich, to be subject to the
+attentions of parasites and flatterers, and hence they can not possess
+that same certainty of the value of friendship enjoyed by the poor. The
+latter of these classes know that when a kind act is done to them, it
+comes from a pure motive; the other seldom can be sure that it is not
+from selfish ends. To illustrate the idea which wealth suggests, as to
+the motive of friendly visitors, we may state that among Mr. Astor's
+class-mates in Columbia College was a young man who became a preacher.
+The students separated&mdash;the one to handle millions, and to touch the
+springs of the money-market, and become the colossus of wealth; the
+other to his flock, as a poor domestic missionary, whose history was
+indeed a 'shady side.' The latter struggled on through thick and thin,
+and never in all his privations thought of sending a begging-letter to
+his old class-mate. But being once upon a time in New-York, he yielded
+to the inclination to make him a visit. Mr. Astor received him
+courteously, and the two conversed on the scenes of their early days. As
+the pastor arose to depart, an idea struck the capitalist's heart, which
+we mention to his credit. '<i>Can I do any thing for you</i>?' he inquired.
+He had, in fact, misconceived the object of the visit, and supposed that
+under the guise of a friendly call, lurked an inclination to beg, which
+fear of refusal had suppressed. The poor clergyman at once perceived the
+drift of the question. Nothing could have been farther from his mind,
+and blushing at the thought, he acknowledged the suggestion with an
+expression of gratitude, and retired.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps a view of the unrest of the human heart appears most terrible
+when contrasted with the almost fabulous heaps of surrounding wealth,
+and one is thus led to the conclusion arrived at by Goldsmith:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Vain, very vain, my weary search to find</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That bliss which only centres in the mind;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With secret course which no loud streams annoy,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Glides the smooth current of domestic joy;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still to ourselves in every place consigned,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our own felicity we make or find.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> <i>Undercurrents</i> is not a romance, and although its author
+calls it a 'Romance of business,' it is a life-like presentation of the
+deep things of trade, a series of dramatic scenes, holding the mirror up
+to a terrible reality. The characters are no fictions; they exist, they
+labor, they suffer daily, and will continue to do so, go long as the
+present system obtains, Mr. Kimball boldly lays bare the secret disease,
+like a demonstrator of anatomy. He is the only author who has succeeded
+in this department of literature, and here he shows himself a master.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Since writing the above, we have heard of that masterpiece
+of munificence, the gift of fifty thousand dollars to the Theological
+Seminary of Princeton by the Messrs. Stuart.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Calling on Church lately, we found him finishing his
+Cotopaxi for Mr. Lenox. Price, six thousand dollars.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THUNDER_ALL_ROUND" id="THUNDER_ALL_ROUND"></a>THUNDER ALL ROUND!</h2>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'When it once begins to thunder,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You will hear it all around!'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we waited&mdash;till in wonder</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Soon we heard the awful sound:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Crashing cannon, rifle-rattle,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bowing many a traitor-head:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On, McClellan, with the battle!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Strike the Typhon-serpent dead!</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="WAS_HE_SUCCESSFUL" id="WAS_HE_SUCCESSFUL"></a>WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?</h2>
+
+<blockquote><p>'Do but grasp into the thick of human life! Every one <i>lives</i> it&mdash;to
+not many is it <i>known;</i> and seize it where you will, it is
+interesting.'&mdash;<i>Goethe</i>.</p>
+
+<p>'<span class="smcap">Successful</span>.&mdash;Terminating in accomplishing what is wished or
+intended.'&mdash;<i>Webster's Dictionary</i>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h3><a name="SUCCESSFUL_V" id="SUCCESSFUL_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h3>
+
+
+<h4>SOME ACCOUNT OF JOEL BURNS OF BURNSVILLE</h4>
+
+<p>You will find, as you travel through the country, but few very poor
+people in New-England. Rarely are the 'selectmen' called to act either
+on applications for admission as one of the 'town's poor,' or to 'bind
+out' a boy or girl till one-and-twenty.</p>
+
+<p>One evening&mdash;it was the close of a cold, raw day in the latter part of
+November&mdash;the stage deposited a woman, and a lad perhaps twelve years
+old, at the village tavern in Sudbury. She was intending to ride all
+night; indeed, she had paid her 'fare' through to New-Haven, but, seized
+with sudden illness, she was compelled to stop. Her malady proved to be
+typhus fever. The doctor was summoned, who subjected his patient to the
+terrific treatment then in vogue for that disorder, and in due course
+she died. It turned out on inquiry, that the woman, whose name was
+Burns, was on her way to a married sister's in Pennsylvania; further,
+that she was a widow, the lad her only child, and the sister in
+Pennsylvania the only near relation she had in the world. This sister
+was by no means in affluent circumstances, but she could offer a home to
+'Sarah,' which the latter was glad to accept. After disposing of the
+trifling articles unsuitable to carry with her, she had barely money
+enough to defray the expenses of herself and 'Joel' to their new abode.
+The poor woman's journey was interrupted, as we have explained, at
+Sudbury, and a new direction given to it. She departed for 'the
+undiscovered country,' leaving little Joel to cry himself asleep; for
+the time quite heart-broken, and desolate enough.</p>
+
+<p>There was not time to write to the married sister; so the selectmen,
+after ascertaining what money still remained in the purse of the
+deceased, undertook the burial. They ordered a cheap pine coffin,
+scantily 'stained.' It cost but a quarter of a dollar to dig the grave,
+and old Sally agreed to 'lay the woman out' for the comfortable dress
+she wore on arriving at the inn. Of the three selectmen of Sudbury, two
+were from the east part of the town&mdash;thrifty, hard-working farmers; the
+third was a Mr. Bellows, a popular store-keeper of the village. The
+latter had not interfered with the action of his colleagues, because he
+himself was very busy, and they, having very little to do at that
+season, were pleased with the excitement the affair afforded them. But
+passing the inn the morning Mrs. Burns was to be buried, Mr. Bellows
+stepped in a moment at the request of the landlord, who was a
+kind-hearted fellow, and did not feel quite satisfied with the
+arrangements. Ascending to the chamber, he saw a sad but
+handsome-looking boy standing over a rudely constructed coffin, a
+picture of sorrow and despair. The little fellow had witnessed the
+action of the coarse-hearted men who took the direction of the funeral.
+He heard their private discussion as to the 'cost of burying the woman.'
+He was a witness to their haggling with Aunt Sally about laying her out.
+He could hear various propositions as to what was to be done with <i>him</i>.
+He saw his mother hurriedly draped for the coffin and placed inside of
+it. He did not sob nor cry; a dreadful reality had so overcome him, that
+he lost the power of doing either. Once or twice, when every body had
+left the room, he had stolen softly up and kissed the face of the
+corpse, and some tears would then roll down his cheeks. It was at such a
+time that Mr. Bellows entered, and his heart smote<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> him that he had not
+sooner looked in. He spoke kindly to Joel, which seemed to loose the
+flood-gates of his grief, and for a time he continued to cry in the most
+piteous manner. Mr. Bellows soon decided what to do. His own family was
+small; he had a wife and one child&mdash;a little girl nine years old. He
+took Joel in his lap, told him not to cry&mdash;that he should go home with
+him, and be <i>his</i> boy. The tone in which this was uttered had more
+effect to soothe the lad than what was said to him. After a few minutes,
+Joel was persuaded to leave the room and to accompany his new friend to
+the house. Mr. Bellows then called on his minister, and requested him to
+perform the funeral rites at the grave; for so little interest had been
+shown in the fate of the strange woman, that her illness had not even
+been communicated to the clergyman, and the selectmen did not think it
+'worth while to have any funeral'! Mr. Bellows hurried hack to the inn.
+The coffin was placed in a wagon. It was followed by the clergyman and
+Mr. Bellows, the two other selectmen, the landlord of the inn, and his
+wife. The burying-ground was soon reached, a short prayer made, and the
+company dispersed, leaving the man to fill up the grave according to
+contract. Mr. Bellows and his two associates returned to the tavern
+together, in order, as the latter expressed it, to settle up the
+business. Going into the sitting-room, and taking seats around a small
+table, one of them opened the subject in a serious and important tone,
+indicative of the weight of responsibility he felt was resting on his
+shoulders, by asking what was to be done with the boy.</p>
+
+<p>'What do you think best to do with him?' said Mr. Bellows.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I suppose there is room in the town-house. There is nobody there
+now but Aunt Lois and foolish Tom, and we can probably bind him out next
+spring.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't think we have a right to charge the town with the expense,'
+said selectman number two. 'We know where the boy came from; the best
+way is to send him back to Granby.'</p>
+
+<p>'He has got an aunt,' said the other; 'hadn't we better write to her?'</p>
+
+<p>'Gentlemen,' said Mr. Bellows, 'I will cut this matter short. I will
+take the lad myself. You shall bind him out to me in the regular way. I
+do not think you need fear any interference from the town of Granby. As
+to his aunt, I propose first to write and get her consent. If she
+prefers to take the boy, why, she will send for him.'</p>
+
+<p>This question disposed of, the spokesman next proposed to go into the
+accounts; which meant his own and his neighbor's charge for time and
+personal expenses twice from East-Sudbury with horse and wagon. They
+thought six dollars about right.</p>
+
+<p>'How do you propose to be paid?' quoth Mr. Bellows.</p>
+
+<p>'Twenty dollars and seventy-two cents was in their possession, taken
+from the pocket of the woman after she died.'</p>
+
+<p>'And how did you dare interfere with property of any kind,' exclaimed
+Mr. Bellows, his smothered indignation bursting forth, 'without
+consulting with me? Don't you know the landlord has the first claim on
+every thing till his bill is paid? Don't you know, too, you are simply
+doing the town business, and if you have any claim, the town must pay
+you for it?'</p>
+
+<p>Well, that is so, I guess,' said the third. 'It <i>is</i> agin the town. I'll
+take my chances, for one&mdash;had rather settle it that way, any how.'</p>
+
+<p>The result of the conference was, that the whole business, including the
+twenty dollars and seventy-two cents, was handed over to Mr. Bellows,
+leaving his colleagues to make out and collect their bill at leisure.
+Joel's aunt was written to, and freely gave her consent that the boy
+should go with his new friend. The latter promptly paid the bill at the
+inn, and the doctor for his services, and soon after paid his colleagues
+what they claimed, lest it might in the future be a subject of comment
+when Joel grew up.</p>
+
+<p>He was a good man, this Mr. Bellows;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> not specially refined in manner,
+but possessing a delicacy of character and a lively sensibility which
+placed him among the ranks of nature's noblemen. He had been fortunate
+in business, and owned the principal store in the place, where he
+exercised a decided influence.</p>
+
+<p>Little Joel gave promise of not disappointing his patron's expectations.
+In fact, he was a child of most engaging manners. His features were not
+regular, nor indeed handsome; but he had bright black eyes, a fine
+complexion, and an open, ingenuous countenance. He was treated by Mr.
+Bellows as considerately as if he were his own son. To be sure, Joel had
+some unpleasant scenes to pass through. As nothing is ever lost sight of
+in a small country village, the story of how he came to be living with
+Mr. Bellows was not forgotten. At school, occasionally, one of the boys
+would, on some slight provocation, point at him and call him 'Bellows's
+nigger,' or make faces and cry 'charity boy,' 'town's poor.' Now,
+fortunately, Joel had a happy, joyous nature&mdash;somewhat fiery and
+irascible, but still joyous&mdash;else he might have become morbidly
+miserable. As it was, these manifestations only provoked his anger, and
+led him forthwith into a rough-and-tumble fight, in which, whether
+victor or not, he always showed unquestionable pluck. If he came off
+second-best a dozen times, he went confidently into the thirteenth
+trial, brave as Bruce, and equally successful. At length the voice of
+gossip was hushed. Joel became the most popular lad in the village.
+Every body liked him, and what is better, he deserved it.</p>
+
+<p>But the evil days came at last to good Mr. Bellows&mdash;came after years of
+happy, moderate, unclouded prosperity. First his wife died. This was
+when Joel was twenty years old, and Ellen Bellows seventeen. The illness
+was short, and the daughter was summoned from boarding-school in time
+only to attend her mother's funeral. Mr. Bellows, after that, as every
+body said, was an altered man. He could not bring his mind to business.
+Some people thought at times he acted strangely, by which they meant he
+was a little out of his head. Still, his affairs could not suffer while
+such a young man as Joel Burns was about. The fact is, in some things
+matters were even better managed than before. But great mistakes were
+made in the purchase of goods, which Mr. Bellows continued to attend to,
+and which Joel had too much respect for his benefactor to criticise. The
+succeeding year, speculation in wool ran high. Mr. Bellows was anxious
+to go into it. Joel took the freedom of begging him not to do so. The
+latter appeared to be persuaded; but he did what was worse than engaging
+actively in purchases, for then he would have had Joel's tact and energy
+to aid him. He lent his name to an acquaintance, for a very large
+amount, who was to go extensively into the scheme with him and divide
+the profits. The result was disastrous. Wool fell rapidly. An attempt
+was made to borrow money on it and hold it over to the next
+season&mdash;worse and worse; Mr. Bellows was ruined.</p>
+
+<p>One morning, very early, several attachments were levied on his goods,
+and the store was shut up. One of the officers next proceeded to the
+house and took possession there, so that Mr. Bellows was now tied hand
+and foot.</p>
+
+<p>I suppose few of my readers can appreciate what it is for a man to 'fail
+up' in the country. In our large cities, it is regarded, to be sure, as
+a misfortune, but one to which every merchant is exposed; and the usual
+course is to propose a compromise, obtain a release, and set cheerfully
+to work again, with loss of property, doubtless, but <i>not</i> with any
+damage to reputation. But in the country, failure is regarded as a
+disgrace, and a 'failed man' is looked and pointed at something as a
+felon would be.</p>
+
+<p>When Joel Burns awoke in the morning and found every thing in the hands
+of the sheriff, he was astounded, for Mr. Bellows had not told him a
+word about his last year's operations. He perceived the amounts were
+larger than could ever be realized. He took in the whole situ<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>ation at a
+glance. He hastened to consult with Mr. Bellows, but he was listened to
+with entire apathy. The merchant would say but little, and that was so
+incoherent and unintelligible, it was evident he was laboring under
+mental aberration. He continued moody through the day, and the next
+morning was found dead in his bed. He had severed an artery.</p>
+
+<p>At this time Joel was in his twenty-second year. Already displaying
+extraordinary capacity in affairs, this event served to call out all his
+resources.</p>
+
+<p>I ought to have mentioned, before this, what every body will guess, that
+Joel was desperately in love with Ellen Bellows, without, however,
+giving her the least reason to believe so, beyond that silent,
+unobtrusive devotion which girls, after all, are not very apt to
+mistake. Joel felt that in his situation he had no right to attempt to
+win Ellen's affection; but he unconsciously took the very best way to
+win it. In his intercourse with her he was reserved, almost formal, and,
+I may say, apparently indifferent. Ellen, when she came home from school
+to spend her vacations, used to feel a good deal piqued that Joel was
+not more demonstrative in his welcome. I can not believe she did not
+comprehend pretty well how Joel really felt; but his manner annoyed her,
+nevertheless. For example, he would frequently step aside and permit
+another to wait on Miss Bellows, when Miss Bellows would much prefer
+Joel had not been so accommodating. In fact, she was vexed with him half
+the time for what she called his stupidity, and half the time tantalized
+by his 'studious reserve.' Meanwhile, Joel pursued his career of
+self-martyrdom, honest and true-hearted.</p>
+
+<p>Now the scene had changed, and Joel was no longer the diffident youth,
+but a man, competent and energetic. He took the direction of every
+thing; nothing was overlooked. Of course the relatives were sent for. It
+was the old story: they had paid great respect to their rich cousin, but
+they did not seem to care much for the memory of the broken-down
+insolvent.</p>
+
+<p>The day of the funeral arrived&mdash;a dreary November day. It was just
+eleven years from the day Joel's mother was buried and he himself taken
+to the house of Mr. Bellows. Joel did not forget it, and it gave
+additional strength to carry out what devolved on him. There was a very
+large attendance at the house. The circumstances of the failure and
+subsequent suicide, the situation of the only daughter, and the many
+petty incidents which were now the town talk, excited the curiosity of
+the good people, and there was an opportunity to gratify it by attending
+the funeral. They wanted to see how the corpse would look. They were
+crazy to know how Ellen Bellows would appear, and what Joel Burns would
+do. So the house was thronged. After all, there was not much to satisfy
+their curiosity. The corpse was not exposed; Ellen Bellows, contrary to
+all custom in New-England, remained in her chamber, for which, as you
+may believe, she was pretty thoroughly picked to pieces; and Joel Burns
+sat quietly, with sad but tranquil countenance, among the mourners.</p>
+
+<p>The next day Joel called Ellen aside and asked her whether she was not
+going home with her aunt.</p>
+
+<p>'Am I not to stay here?' she said.</p>
+
+<p>Joel could not explain to her just then the absolute ruin which stared
+her in the face. He simply answered: 'No, Ellen, you must go away for a
+few weeks. There is much to do, and for a time you had better be
+absent.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, Joel, if you advise it. I have nobody else to advise me,'
+and she burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>Joel remained calm. He had previously made up his mind just what to do,
+and he brought all the energy of his nature to sustain him. His composed
+air helped to restore Ellen&mdash;she tried to be as calm as he.</p>
+
+<p>'But aunt, since she came, has not invited me return with her,' she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! but she will, I am sure,' replied Joel, and he went out rather
+abruptly;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> for here was an obstacle to his plan which did not occur to
+him before. He proceeded at once to the aunt, and found her preparing to
+leave that afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>'You will take Ellen with you, I suppose?' he said.</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure I had not thought of doing it. You know all the children are
+home, and really we have no room at present.'</p>
+
+<p>Two weeks previous she had written a pressing invitation to Ellen to
+come at this particular time. Joel bluntly reminded her of it.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, but circumstances alter cases. The fact is, I can't afford to
+maintain the girl, and I don't think I had better begin; and that's the
+English of it, Joel, if you force me to say so. You know very well there
+won't be a cent left.'</p>
+
+<p>'I think I know more about that than you do,' replied Joel, with an air
+which would have done credit to a <i>diplomat</i>, 'and, I assure you, Ellen
+will <i>not</i> be left penniless; and if you will insist on her going with
+you for a short time&mdash;mind, I say <i>insist</i>&mdash;I promise before long to
+make certain disclosures which will satisfy you as to my assertion. But
+she must not be here while they are settling up. You understand.'</p>
+
+<p>The old lady did not understand, but Joel carried his point by the aid
+of the mystery with which he surrounded it. It put her on her good
+behavior at once, lest she should lose the promised revelation. She
+spoke even affectionately to Ellen, and declared she should not let her
+remain in the house alone, but she must go home with her.</p>
+
+<p>Before the two left Sudbury, Joel had a very long interview with Ellen.
+What passed at that interview never transpired, but the young girl's
+countenance, though very sad, did not wear the desolate and despairing
+expression which it exhibited before.</p>
+
+<p>The stage now drew up, the ladies got in, and it rolled away, leaving
+Joel and the deputy-sheriffs the sole possessors of the premises.</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="SUCCESSFUL_VI" id="SUCCESSFUL_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A few miles to the north-east of Sudbury the country, at the time I
+speak of it, had a wild and forbidding appearance. This was partly owing
+to the immense forest which stretched along a continuous ridge of land
+covering both sides of it and the plain below. On one side of this ridge
+the face of the country was very rough; on the other side, through a
+fine intervale, flowed a stream of respectable size called Pine Creek,
+which took its rise in the mountains at some distance, and was fed by
+innumerable springs and rivulets from the surrounding hills. Nearly a
+thousand acres of these lands were owned by an old merchant in New-York,
+who had taken them for debt many years before, and had become, as he
+said, tired of paying taxes on them.</p>
+
+<p>Joel had had his eye on the property for two or three years. What his
+views were, we shall presently see, for no sooner did Miss Bellows quit
+Sudbury with her aunt, than Joel, after remarking to the sheriff that he
+did not propose to interfere with him in any way, proceeded to pack his
+trunks, which he removed to the inn. Then he hired a horse and wagon for
+a week, and set off no one knew whither. He came back within the time
+limited, and found a committee of creditors awaiting his return. They
+wanted to engage him to sell out the stock of goods and to close up Mr.
+Bellows' affairs. Joel declined the service, although the offers were
+liberal and coupled with the intimation that it would be the means of
+starting him in business as the successor of Mr. Bellows. Joel
+resolutely declined. He knew the estate was hopelessly insolvent, and
+that he could not be of the least service to Ellen by any labors he
+should undertake; and besides, he did not care to even appear to thrive
+out of the broken fortunes of his patron. When still pressed by the now
+perplexed creditors, he turned sharply on them and said: 'Gentlemen,
+don't you think it would have been more judicious, not to say more
+humane, had you waited on Mr. Bellows in his lifetime, and requested
+<i>him</i> to undertake this service instead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> of pouncing on his property,
+closing his store, and hurrying him into his grave? He was an honest
+man, and would have worked honestly for your benefit, and I would have
+aided him. As it is, I do not feel disposed to lift a finger for you.
+Good morning.'</p>
+
+<p>Joel left the same day for New-York, and did not again return to
+Sudbury. Some weeks afterward, in mid-winter, the report was circulated
+that he was living in the woods on Pine Creek. Then the story went
+abroad that the poor fellow was crazy and had turned hermit. This was
+followed by other rumors still more ridiculous.</p>
+
+<p>I have no desire to alarm the reader on Joel's account. It is time,
+therefore, I should say that he had formed extensive plans for the
+future, which he was proceeding to carry out. During his week's absence
+he went carefully over the entire tract owned by the old merchant in
+New-York. This lay on both sides of the creek, and extended to the
+eastward quite over the 'ridge.' It was well timbered and beautifully
+situated. After making these observations, Joel proceeded to New-York
+and called on the proprietor. He stated his object to be to purchase a
+hundred acres of the tract, for which he would pay five dollars an acre
+cash. He wanted, besides, the refusal of the rest of the property, for a
+certain time, at the same rate. The old merchant was pleased with Joel's
+ingenuous manner as well as with his intelligence. He questioned him
+minutely about the lands, for he had never seen them, and asked him what
+he proposed to do with his purchase. Joel answered promptly and
+truthfully. He put the owner in possession of every material fact.</p>
+
+<p>'And all you will give is five dollars per acre?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you think that is all the lands are really worth?'</p>
+
+<p>'I hope to make them worth much more to me, else I would not seek to
+buy,' responded Joel. 'What they are worth to you, is for you to judge
+after what I have said about them.'</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon the old gentleman told Joel he would do better by him than he
+asked. He would sell him the whole, receive the five hundred dollars,
+and take back a mortgage for the balance. Joel would not accept this
+proposition. He wanted one hundred acres, and he wanted to pay for them,
+and the money was ready at five dollars the acre, and he desired the
+refusal of the balance at the same rate. The bargain was closed in this
+way, and Joel went on to his own property rejoicing. The plot selected
+by him was from that portion nearest to the road, which here was about a
+mile distant, and at a point of the stream most favorable for the
+erection of a <i>saw-mill</i>. This hundred acres Joel had had carefully
+surveyed before he went to New-York. It embraced a portion of the
+'ridge,' with a front on the stream. The old village was miserably
+situated, on the ancient principle of putting it in the centre of the
+township, and a new road had been talked of for some time, which would
+shorten the communication between two important points, and leave it to
+one side. This was also known to Joel, and it led him to greater energy
+in trying to secure the property. But he did not omit to mention this
+circumstance in his interview with the proprietor, though, if the truth
+be told, he was tempted to keep silent. Joel Burns had a fine moral
+sense, to violate which, gave him pain. Without going through any
+argument on the subject, he <i>felt</i> that it would amount to a deception
+if he withheld the information.</p>
+
+<p>At the time of Mr. Bellows' death Joel was worth about twelve hundred
+dollars. His benefactor had not only paid him a full salary, but,
+besides this, perceiving that Joel displayed an aptitude for business,
+Mr. Bellows allowed him privileges by which he was able to make some
+money on his own account. The result was, he had accumulated the sum I
+have mentioned, from which had now been disbursed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> five hundred dollars
+for the land purchase.</p>
+
+<p>Through the winter Joel was very busy. He hired four stout, active
+lumber-men, built a rude log-hut, which was comfortable enough inside,
+and all set to work first to cut a road to the highway. Then they
+commenced clearing. The timber was magnificent first-growth pine. It cut
+up splendidly. The lumber-men now saw what Hiram was driving at. They
+began to respect the young fellow who looked so much like a boy, yet who
+showed such pluck, nerve, and sagacity. After a while, in a pleasant
+position on the ridge could be seen a very neat log-house in progress of
+erection. It contained four rooms&mdash;a spacious edifice for the woods&mdash;all
+of course on the ground floor, for there was no second story. Great
+attention was paid in a rude way to the interior, and by spring it was
+finished.</p>
+
+<p>During the winter Joel was twice absent from the 'settlement' for two or
+three days. He was making a visit to&mdash;- Ellen's aunt. That worthy woman
+had only been half-persuaded when she invited her niece home. Very soon,
+she began to think she had made a mistake in 'harboring' her, especially
+as the news spread abroad that Bellows' estate was a very great deal
+worse than nothing. To be sure Joel's presence re&auml;ssured her, he looked
+so competent, and spoke so confidently yet still so mysteriously. On his
+second visit, however, the lady pretty flatly intimated she was losing
+confidence in his assertions. She did not believe her brother had left
+Ellen a cent in any shape.</p>
+
+<p>'And I tell you what it is, Joel Burns, you need not think we are going
+to support her. She must earn her living like other folks.'</p>
+
+<p>'<i>I</i> will be responsible for Ellen's board,' said Joel indignantly. 'I
+would have said that before, but I should feel mortified to have her
+know I had made the offer, or you had accepted it.'</p>
+
+<p>'You need not mount your high horse with me, Joel,' retorted the other,
+but in a mollified tone. 'You know I am just as kind to Ellen as any
+body would be under the circumstances.'</p>
+
+<p>'As kind as Mr. Bellows would have been to Tilly and Eliza, had they
+been left orphans, I suppose,' interrupted the still indignant Joel.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, to be sure. You don't imagine I should have expected him to take
+care of my children!'</p>
+
+<p>'But he would have done it though.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well that may or may not be&mdash;he is dead and gone, poor man, and I have
+done my best to make it pleasant for Ellen, and she will tell you so. We
+have got along very well; I like her and her cousins like her, and I am
+satisfied after what you have said.'</p>
+
+<p>By the middle of April, the people of Sudbury had made up their minds
+that Joel Burns was neither crazy nor exactly a hermit, nor yet a fool,
+though some candidly admitted they had been fools when they so judged of
+him. For by the middle of April a saw-mill with a double set of saws had
+been put in operation, and was turning out the lumber rapidly. Quickly
+the knowing ones saw into it, (but they did not see into it till Joel
+had made his demonstration,) and now wondered why they had overlooked
+the speculation. One very keen fellow determined to make the most out of
+Joel's beginning. He examined the records at the office of the register
+of deeds and discovered that Joel had title to but a hundred acres.
+Thereupon he went to New-York with the object of purchasing the adjacent
+lands. Imagine his chagrin, when he was told Joel had the refusal of the
+whole tract. With a low cunning he endeavored to make the old merchant
+dissatisfied with the sale, by telling him that he had parted with his
+property for a quarter of its value&mdash;in fact, had given it away. He
+would have offered twice the money himself.</p>
+
+<p>'I am glad to hear you say so,' was the only reply the fellow received,
+'for I take a great interest in that young man. So he has got his mill
+a-going, has he? Good.'</p>
+
+<p>'But if I should offer you ten dollars an acre for the next
+hundred-acre-lot,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> don't you think you could manage to let me have it?'</p>
+
+<p>'No.'</p>
+
+<p>What an excitement there was when our smart man returned and gave an
+account of his trip. Then followed all sorts of rumors. Joel was in
+partnership with a rich old fellow in 'York,' who was going to let him
+have all the money he wanted. There was to be a new village right away,
+situated somewhere&mdash;on the ridge&mdash;on the stream&mdash;across the creek&mdash;on
+the plain&mdash;under the hill. What wouldn't the speculators give to know
+<i>just</i> where! With the erection of the saw-mill, several little huts
+went up near it for the use of those employed there. These huts were not
+made of logs&mdash;there was plenty of lumber now&mdash;but cheaply constructed
+and clap-boarded with slabs. Some of the Sudbury wits derisively called
+the place 'Slab City.' The lumber-men seemed to like this name, for they
+at once adopted it, and it has never been known by any other.</p>
+
+<p>But before this, a remarkable event occurred, affording still greater
+food for town-talk and gossip generally. The neat log-house on the ridge
+had been comfortably furnished, and Ellen Bellows&mdash;now Ellen
+Burns&mdash;installed as its mistress.</p>
+
+<p>On his third visit the mystery was solved in a manner quite satisfactory
+to the aunt. To do that lady justice, we must say she was not half so
+selfish nor so calculating as she might have been. It is true she had
+not generosity enough to run the risk of offering Ellen a home as long
+as she might require one, whatever should happen. But she was tolerably
+kind to her, and when she heard that a wedding was to be speedily
+improvised, she entered into it heart and soul, and made every thing
+pass pleasantly, yes, happily. Furthermore, I am bound to record that
+she refused to take one penny for Ellen's 'board,' although Joel pressed
+her to do so.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you think I am an old hunks, Joel, because I did not feel able to
+undertake Ellen's support? Prudent I try to be, it is my duty. Haven't I
+my own children to look after? but because I <i>am</i> prudent and do my
+duty, can't I show some kindness to my poor brother's only child? Don't
+talk to me about 'board,' and, Joel, don't say any thing to Ellen about
+our previous conversation. You know I have always been perfectly
+satisfied with every thing you told me.'</p>
+
+<p>Joel felt too happy then to question the fact, if indeed, it could be
+questioned. He re&auml;ssured the good woman on that head, and added he
+should in due time expect visits from Tilly and Eliza.</p>
+
+<p>'They will be delighted to go, and what is more Mr. Barron (her husband)
+has been thinking a good deal of leaving here, and I should not be
+surprised if he paid you a visit one of these days to see what chances
+offer, for we have all heard how smart <i>you</i> have been.'</p>
+
+<p>It is essential I should explain to the reader why Joel Burns, who was
+ingenuous and truthful, and by no means fond of mystery or concealment,
+should make use of both in his intercourse with Ellen's aunt. We have
+previously stated how desperately he was in love with Ellen, and further
+how hard he tried to make himself believe his affection could never be
+reciprocated. When, however, the day of trial came suddenly on <i>her</i>,
+all the nonsense was scattered from Joel's brain like mist before the
+wind. But the romance in his heart was not dissipated, because romance
+is <i>not</i> nonsense. Genuine romance is a real element in our natures, and
+so long as we preserve it, we are young. When Joel found himself placed
+in the position of Ellen's sole protector, he took prompt and decisive
+steps <i>for</i> her protection. But while he hoped to win her for his wife,
+he could not endure the thought that possibly a part of his success
+might be due to the change in Ellen's fortunes, or that her choice
+should not be free and unrestrained. It was for this reason he mystified
+the aunt and procured for Ellen a cordial invitation to stay with her
+'till the business matters were settled,' thus mystifying Ellen also.
+She, poor girl,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> continued in happy ignorance of her absolutely
+destitute condition. She loved Joel dearly, and it was one of her
+happiest day-dreams to plan how she could aid him in his projects by
+putting him in possession of all she should have&mdash;yes, all.</p>
+
+<p>The evening before the wedding, after Joel had given a full history of
+the progress of the 'settlement' and what he hoped to do in the future,
+Ellen, overcoming the timidity which had before prevented her speaking,
+exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>'O Joel! how much you have done&mdash;all alone, too! When you get what is
+coming to me, won't <i>that</i> help you? and you shall have the whole of it,
+dear Joel, every dollar!'</p>
+
+<p>She stopped and blushed, half-frightened at her boldness. Tears came
+into Joel's eyes, he was so happy. He threw his arms around his beloved
+and pressed her to his heart.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>People could now understand where the village was to be. The new road
+had been laid out and was in course of construction. It passed along the
+ridge near the centre. On computing the distances, it was found this
+point would be a convenient one for a stage-house, where passengers
+could pass the night. Joel sold to the stage company what lots they
+required, at a very low price, on condition that they would erect a
+first-rate public house. The water-power at 'Slab City,' three fourths
+of a mile distant, attracted attention. The 'fell' was large, and the
+supply of water abundant. One man started with a turning-machine, which
+was attached to the mill. Another, with more capital, established a
+fulling-mill, and so on. Joel avoided the ordinary errors of
+landholders. He did not attempt to carry on all sorts of business
+himself, neither did he hold his lots at too high prices. To actual
+settlers he sold very cheap; to speculators he would not sell at all.
+The old merchant continued his friend. By his recommendation a man with
+considerable capital visited the place, and being well pleased,
+purchased some of the water-power and built a large button-factory,
+Joel's views proved most judicious. By laying out the village on the
+ridge, he secured a beautiful site, which was relieved from a close
+proximity to shops and mills and factories, while it had really the
+support of all these. Several fine houses were now erected. Two stores
+were started, and a meeting-house built, for which Joel gave nearly all
+the lumber. Next a post-office was established, and the place called
+Burnsville. It was a beautiful spot, and how it grew and flourished! But
+Burnsville would have amounted to little had it not been for Slab City.
+Joel took care not to lose an opportunity for strengthening <i>it</i>.
+Water-power could always be had of him cheap. I forgot to say he erected
+a 'grist-mill,' which was much needed. Two other saw-mills beside his
+own were built a little way further up, but on his tract. Mr. Barron and
+family did move to Burnsville, as Mrs. B. intimated they might. He
+brought a good deal of money with him, and turned his enterprise to
+account. The families continued intimate. In ten years Burnsville became
+one of the most prosperous villages in the State. Joel Burns was a rich
+man, as well as <i>the</i> man of the place. These ten years had wrought no
+great changes in Joel's character or habits. To be sure he had become
+more engrossed in plans for future operations. By degrees he had
+narrowed his mind into the channel of <i>successful effort</i>. The
+circumference of his existence was probably more limited than when he
+brought his little wife into the pretty log-house on the ridge. (He now
+lived in the handsomest one in the village.) Still, he was more active,
+more perseveringly energetic, more effective than ever before. But the
+romance of which I spoke had faded, or was overshadowed, by the forms of
+active, busy, bustling life. Still Joel Burns was in the main the same
+ingenuous, honest-hearted fellow as ever. A happy man&mdash;happy in his
+home&mdash;happy because prosperous in his business&mdash;but by no means as happy
+as he might have been.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> Regarding him in this view, it was melancholy to
+see him so utterly engrossed in his pursuits and plans. He did not take
+time to look about him and enjoy. The Sabbath to him was a dull,
+wearisome, restless day. He had too much respect for it to desecrate it
+by even a private attention to his affairs, and he had very little idea
+of any spiritual wants. He was active in erecting a church and securing
+a good preacher, on whose ministrations he attended regularly with his
+family. Yet it was a great relief to him when Sunday was over, and he
+welcomed the succeeding morning with a renewed zest.</p>
+
+<p>Joel Burns became a very popular man; he was universally beloved; he was
+generous and public-spirited. He was unselfish in his ordinary dealings,
+and always ready to lend a helping hand to those about him. His success
+was not owing to a close, hard, grasping nature, but was the result of
+fine business abilities, coupled with extraordinary energy and
+perseverance.</p>
+
+<p>Joel Burns was unjust to no one but himself. He neglected to cultivate
+his moral nature, and left it in danger of being choked by the cares he
+voluntarily assumed. He had one safeguard, however. I have observed that
+he was happy in his family. This consisted of his wife, and one child&mdash;a
+daughter named Sarah, after Joel's mother. When with them, Joel <i>did</i>
+forget his business life. His love for his wife and child was like a
+gushing fountain of pure water. It preserved his heart from becoming
+arid, and his nature from ossification.</p>
+
+<p>Twelve years passed, and found Burnsville more nourishing than ever, and
+Joel Burns yet without any interruption to his fortunes or his
+happiness.</p>
+
+<p>Late in summer, typhus fever&mdash;a dreadful visitor in this part of
+New-England&mdash;made its appearance, and became more prevalent than usual,
+and assumed a severer type. Mrs. Burns was among the first attacked, and
+with great severity.</p>
+
+<p>Joel felt the foundations of his soul giving way when the possibility
+presented itself that his wife <i>might</i> die. He called to mind with a
+shudder the scene at the village tavern in Sudbury, when, a child, he
+stood by his mother's bedside and heard, awe-struck, her incoherent
+ravings while the delirium of fever was on her. 'O my God! she will die,
+she will die!' he exclaimed, as he rushed out of the room, unable to
+control his feelings.</p>
+
+<p>The country was scoured for doctors. An eminent medical man from
+New-Haven was sent for. He was unable to come; but the house was filled
+with consulting physicians. Alas I they knew little in those days how to
+treat this terrible malady, or rather how to skillfully let it alone.
+Day after day, Joel paced up and down, now in this room, now in that,
+all over the house. At night he watched by his wife. He insisted on
+doing so; no argument or entreaty could prevail on him to leave her a
+moment. She was delirious nearly all the time. Then her voice would be
+strong, her eyes glassy bright, her cheeks flushed and burning. She
+recognized neither husband nor child.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>It was in the middle of the night. The 'watcher' who sat up in company
+with Joel, slumbered in his chair. He did not slumber, but sat with eyes
+fixed on his wife, who for some time seemed to be resting easier than
+before. Presently her lips moved. Her husband bent over her.</p>
+
+<p>'Joel.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am here, my darling.'</p>
+
+<p>'Joel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, dearest.'</p>
+
+<p>'We have not lived right'</p>
+
+<p>'No, dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'You do not think we have lived right, do you?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, oh! no.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am going to die, Joel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do not speak in that way!' and the poor fellow groaned, in spite of
+every effort to control himself.</p>
+
+<p>'I must, Joel, I must. We have not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> lived right <i>You</i> will live right
+when I am gone. You will teach Sarah to live right, won't you?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't want to live at all if you do not live!' was the passionate
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>'For our child's sake, Joel.'</p>
+
+<p>No reply.</p>
+
+<p>'What a kind, loving husband you have been to me&mdash;been to me always! I
+loved you&mdash;loved you before you knew it, Joel.' Here she opened her eyes
+languidly, and essayed to turn them on him. 'But we have not lived
+right.'</p>
+
+<p>There was still no response, save by audible sobs.</p>
+
+<p>'I think I have made my peace with God. Are you glad, Joel?'</p>
+
+<p>'Now I don't care what happens, if you only feel happy!' he cried. 'But
+to have you die in distress of mind! It would drive me crazy.'</p>
+
+<p>'Give God the praise, Joel. I <i>am</i> happy. It is so sweet to trust in
+Him! You won't neglect&mdash;neglect&mdash;you won't&mdash;&mdash;' She fell into a stupor,
+from which she never fully awoke. Although she lived another day, she
+exhibited no signs of consciousness. Joel fancied that she was aware of
+his presence; but she never spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>The funeral was attended by a large concourse of people&mdash;very different
+from that of Joel's mother, whom three selectmen followed to the grave.
+When it was over, Joel and his daughter went back to their desolate
+house, while the village set to work to speculate as to whom the widower
+would marry. '<i>Such</i> a match! <i>So</i> rich, and only one child! Emily Parks
+would make him a good wife; only Emily was rather old&mdash;at least
+twenty-seven or eight&mdash;and Mr. Burns would marry a young girl, of
+course. Why shouldn't he, with the amount of money he had? He might take
+a fancy to Julia Davis&mdash;she had just left school.' 'Why shouldn't he
+marry Lizzie?' said Mrs. Barron to herself. And Lizzie was sent over
+that very day to 'see to things' for Mr. Burns.</p>
+
+<p>His trials were not ended. Sarah, who was now in her twelfth year, was
+taken ill the following week. The fever was no doubt going through the
+family, said the doctors. Joel's faith in medical men was a good deal
+shaken, but he had to call them in, and Sarah grew worse. Three weeks
+she lay, submitting to the old treatment, waiting for the 'crisis.' Joel
+could endure it no longer. He started for New-Haven, changing horses
+every ten miles. He found the doctor he went in quest of at home; but he
+said it was impossible for him to go.</p>
+
+<p>'I have lost my wife, and shall lose my child,' said Joel Burns
+hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>'My friend,' said the doctor in a mild tone, 'people are dying every
+where. I have my own patients, whom I ought not to neglect.'</p>
+
+<p>'Go with me, I, implore you,' urged the despairing man; 'I have relays
+of horses, and I will drive ten miles an hour.' Joel's importunity
+prevailed. The distance was accomplished in a marvelously brief time.</p>
+
+<p>It was a hot, sultry day, the second week of September, about noon, when
+Joel, accompanied by the doctor, entered the sick-room.</p>
+
+<p>'How is Sarah?'</p>
+
+<p>'No better,' whispered Miss Barron, who had remained in the house. 'The
+doctor left half an hour ago. He says he thinks she will go as her
+mother went.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am awake, father!' (He had approached the bed very carefully, so as
+not to disturb her.) 'It seems a great while since you went away.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have brought a doctor to cure you, my child,' said Joel. He knew the
+value of hope and confidence.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the physician was glancing around the room. As I have said, it
+was a close, sultry day; but the windows were all closed, so that not a
+breath of air could circulate through the apartment. The doctor quietly
+threw up every one of them. Perceiving a cot standing near, he ordered
+it made up with fresh sheets. Going to the bedside of his little
+patient: 'How do you feel, my child?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know.'</p>
+
+<p>'Bring me a bowl of water and a soft napkin.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Warm water, I suppose?' said the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>'Cold.' He threw off the heavy blanket from the bed, and unbuttoning the
+night-dress, which came close around her, he bathed the child's face and
+neck with the grateful fluid.</p>
+
+<p>'You feel better now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't you want any thing, my dear?'</p>
+
+<p>'I want some water.'</p>
+
+<p>'Give her water, nurse,' said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>The woman stared in utter amazement. If she had been ordered to cut the
+child's throat, she could not have been more astounded.</p>
+
+<p>'I say, bring a tumbler of water.'</p>
+
+<p>This was done, and the nurse offered the patient a few drops in a
+tea-spoon.</p>
+
+<p>'Give me the glass,' and he took it out of her hand. Tenderly he raised
+the sick child to a comfortable position, and placed it to her lips.
+'Take as much as you like, my dear. Water was made to drink.'</p>
+
+<p>He now directed a complete and speedy change of garments, and then he
+himself took Sarah in his arms and laid her on the other bed. In fifteen
+minutes, she was sleeping, while a gentle perspiration showed the crisis
+had passed. Joel Burns stood still, regarding the doctor as he would a
+being from another world. When he saw him doing just what was invariably
+prohibited, doing it with such an air of decision and self-confidence
+yet with no peculiar ostentation, he felt it would all be right. The
+nurse, at first, was in very bad humor; but nobody noticed her, so she
+concluded it was best to be good-natured and obey orders. The next day,
+the doctor pronounced little Sarah out of danger, provided she was
+properly nursed, and after leaving special directions, which he charged
+Joel to see to personally till he could hear from him, he returned home
+as rapidly as he came. When the man who accompanied him came back, he
+brought the doctor's favorite student, who had directions to devote
+himself to the 'case,' in which the doctor took so strong an interest.
+The good man had another motive. He believed the fever was about to
+attack Joel, and he determined to exert his skill to save him, if
+possible. To have advised him of his fears, would have been injudicious.
+He therefore dispatched a young man in whom he had great confidence,
+after giving him minute instructions. Little Sarah, watched and tended
+with great care, grew rapidly better. But when the excitement produced
+by the scenes through which Joel had passed was at an end, a great
+reaction took place, which left him in a very weak state. In that
+condition, he was seized by the terrible malady, which found a fit
+subject in his weakened frame and broken spirits. For weeks Joel Burns
+lay balancing between life and death. It seemed as if a feather's weight
+on either side would turn the scale. Morning after morning, the question
+was put by the whole village: 'Is Mr. Burns alive?' Twice, on occasions
+which seemed specially urgent, did our worthy doctor come from
+New-Haven, spend a few hours, and return. The medical student kept his
+post manfully. It was something to go counter to the opinions and
+judgments of all the physicians about, far and near. Especially when, if
+the patient should die, the voice of authority would proclaim that a
+murder had been committed. [Now, it would be considered murder to follow
+the old method.] But the doctor was firm, his pupil an enthusiastic
+believer in his master's genius, and the course was persisted in. At
+length, the daily reports were modified. First, Mr. Burns was 'no
+worse.' After that, he was 'a little more comfortable.' Then came the
+announcement that he was 'better.' The medical men round about were
+excessively chagrined; but every body else rejoiced at the good news.</p>
+
+<p>All this time, what of Joel Burns? How did he do? Not what was the
+history of his physical malady. But what was his state morally,
+mentally, religiously before God! Recollect, the man had never had a
+check in his whole ca<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>reer before. The circumstances of his childhood
+served rather to give strength and firmness to his nature. The sudden
+failure and death of his benefactor only threw him the more on his own
+resources, with which he was amply provided. His plans had been
+successful. His friends were many. His hopes for the future were large,
+yet not unreasonable; while on all sides, as we have said, he was
+regarded as <i>the</i> man of the community in which he lived.</p>
+
+<p>Joel had scarcely time for reflection, after the death of his wife,
+before his child was taken ill, and ere she was really out of danger, he
+himself was stricken down. All that long, weary time, during days and
+nights of fever and delirium, of exhaustion and weakness, of
+convalescence and recovery, the whisper of his dying wife was constantly
+heard:</p>
+
+<p>'Joel, we have not lived right! Do you think we have lived right, Joel?'</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Lived right</i>!' What did that mean? Was Joel Burns a dishonest man? Was
+he not kind-hearted, generous, loving toward his wife, affectionate to
+his child, charitable and public-spirited?</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Lived right</i>.' Joel had answered his wife instantly, not daring then
+and there to soothe her by equivocation, but replying truthfully out of
+his soul: 'No, oh! no.' What did he mean by that? Of what did he stand
+convicted, and wherefore? These were the thoughts which occupied his
+mind, especially after the fever had left him, during the long weeks of
+his recovery. Joel was a man of extraordinary perceptive faculties. The
+situation in which he had been placed, the remarkable health which he
+had enjoyed, (for he had never been ill in his life,) and the success
+which had attended every plan and effort, served to still more develop
+all his practical talents, and were at the same time unfavorable to
+reflection or serious thought. Now he could do nothing else but reflect
+and think. He looked about him. His wife was gone, and his happiness
+wrecked. What was he to do? Should he make haste to push on the schemes
+which his sickness had brought to a stand? The idea was loathsome to
+him. He had seen how completely they were liable to interruption and
+blight. The thought of his daughter was the only comfort left, but she
+might be taken&mdash;then <i>what</i>?</p>
+
+<p>Ah! Joel Burns! how long and wide you searched to answer that question
+when the answer was so near at hand and so easy to discover. He did
+discover it at last. His wife, with her latest breath, had given him the
+clue. He examined himself more carefully. What are the relations between
+me and my Maker? Do I recognize any?... When Joel Burns rose from his
+sick-bed and could walk abroad, all things wore to him a new and pleased
+aspect. The current of his hopes were changed. He no longer revolved
+around himself as a centre. He was conscious of his error before God,
+and sought and found 'peace in believing.' He now regarded all things in
+the light of His providence and felt submissive to His will.</p>
+
+<p>Joel was no longer indifferent to his affairs. There was so much he
+could do to benefit every body. What a happy feeling to try to be
+working out good for some body all the time! When, however, he was able
+actively to engage in business, there was very little difference between
+his course of action and in what he did and his old course and what he
+used to do. The fact is, Joel <i>did</i> about what was right before. We have
+already related that he was kind, charitable, generous, and
+public-spirited. The difference, however, was, that Joel <i>himself</i> was
+changed. The <i>springs</i> of life and conduct were new: this is why he
+seemed to himself to be living so differently. And he <i>was</i> living
+differently. There was no similitude between the Joel Burns who,
+impelled by an active brain and an energetic purpose, was successfully
+prosecuting certain plans with reference solely <i>to</i> those plans, and
+the Joel Burns who had learned to feel that the chief <i>object</i> of
+existence lay above and beyond, and was centred in the Omnipotent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Sarah recovered rapidly from the fever, and before her father was
+himself convalescent the bloom of health had returned to her cheeks.
+Joel's love for his child was increased ten-fold. She became, as she
+grew up, an inseparable companion. It was evident he had no thoughts of
+marrying. The people of the village decided <i>that</i> at the end of a year.
+The widower gave none of the ordinary tokens that he was seeking a new
+wife, that is, he did not 'brush up' any, and took no special pains with
+his personal appearance, but went about much as usual. It was a great
+pity, every body said, for a man as young as he&mdash;hardly
+three-and-thirty&mdash;to live without a wife. Sarah required a motherly care
+over her, her father was spoiling her. Yes, it was a great pity Mr.
+Burns did not marry. The fact was, strange as it will seem, Joel could
+not forget his wife, though she was dead. A sweet and solemn link bound
+him to her since the night he stood over her to catch her last words,
+and it would appear his affections were not to be diverted from her
+memory. He did not send Sarah away to school. He could not reconcile
+himself to her absence, but he supplied her abundantly with teachers,
+and personally took great pains with her education.</p>
+
+<p>Two years after the death of Mrs. Burns, Joel and his daughter stood up
+together before the assembled church and congregation, and made a public
+profession of religion. It was a touching sight. And when after the
+services father and child took their way homeward, every eye followed
+them with looks of deepest interest and with feelings of almost
+universal kindness and regard. Joel had delayed presenting himself from
+a desire to test his feelings, having great fear of bringing reproach on
+the church by entering it unworthily. And now he had an increased joy
+that he could bring his darling into the fold with him.</p>
+
+<p>It was very natural, as she was situated, that Sarah should acquire an
+accurate knowledge of her father's affairs. She enjoyed listening to the
+story of his early life, the rise and progress of Burnsville, with
+explanations of his many undertakings. As she grew older, this interest
+took a more practical turn. She would copy letters and arrange
+confidential papers, and perform various services of a like nature.</p>
+
+<p>Two or three years more passed. Things went on as usual, at Burnsville.
+It is true that Joel Burns did not display that sharp faculty of
+acquisition which he formerly did, though he was never more active or
+energetic; but it was noticeable that those in his employ got on better
+than before, while the general prosperity of the village exceeded that
+of any former period.</p>
+
+<p>Sarah was almost a young lady. She was growing up a beautiful girl. She
+had her father's brilliant complexion and her mother's fine form and
+regular features. Of course, with so much youth and beauty, and such
+'brilliant prospects,' (by which, I suppose, was meant her father's
+death and a large fortune to the child,) Sarah already became an object
+of much attention. I will not say that her peculiar position did not
+produce something of an independent manner which some called hauteur,
+and others exclusiveness. Part of this was owing to her education, part
+to the necessity of repelling sometimes the advances of conceited
+coxcombs. But she was really a most interesting girl, with much of her
+father's spirit, resolution, and ability. Her affection for him was only
+exceeded by his for her. True, their lives were centred in each other
+too much. But it was very beautiful to behold.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the condition of Burnsville, and such the situation of Joel
+Burns, when Hiram Meeker sought to remove to that place and enter his
+service.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_MERCHANTS_STORY" id="A_MERCHANTS_STORY"></a>A MERCHANT'S STORY.</h2>
+
+<p class='center'>
+'All of which I saw, and part of which I was.'
+</p>
+
+<h3><a name="MERCHANTS_I" id="MERCHANTS_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It is a dingy old sign. It has hung there in sun and rain till its
+letters are faint and its face is furrowed. It has looked down on a
+generation that has passed away, and seen those who placed it there go
+out of that doorway never to return; still it clings to that dingy old
+warehouse, and still Russell, Rollins &amp; Co. is signed in that dingy old
+counting-room at the head of the stairway. It is known the world over.
+It is heard of on the cotton-fields of Texas, in the cane-brakes of
+Cuba, and amid the rice-swamps of Carolina. The Chinaman speaks of it as
+he sips his tea and handles his chop-sticks in the streets of Canton,
+and the half-naked negro rattles its gold as he gathers palm-oil and the
+copal-gum on the western coast of Africa. Its plain initials, painted in
+black on a white ground, float from tall masts over many seas, and its
+simple 'promise to pay,' scrawled in a bad hand on a narrow strip of
+paper, unlocks the vaults of the best bankers in Europe. And yet, it is
+a dingy old sign! Men look up to it as they pass by, and wonder that a
+cracked, weather-beaten board that would not sell for a dollar, should
+be counted 'good for a million.'</p>
+
+<p>It is a dingy old warehouse, with narrow, dark, cobwebbed windows, and
+wide, rusty iron shutters, which, as the bleak November wind sweeps up
+old Long Wharf, swing slowly on their hinges with a sharp, grating
+creak. I heard them in my boyhood. Perched on a tall stool at that old
+desk, I used to listen, in the long winter-nights, to those strange,
+wild cries, till I fancied they were voices of the uneasy dead, come
+back to take the vacant seats beside me, and to pace again, with ghostly
+tread, the floor of that dark old counting-room. They were ever a
+mystery and a terror to me; but they never creaked so harshly, or cried
+so wildly, as on a bleak November night, not many years ago, when I
+turned my steps, for the last time, up the trembling old stairway.</p>
+
+<p>It was just after nightfall. A single gas-burner threw a dim, uncertain
+light over the old desk, and lit up the figure of a tall, gray-headed
+man, who was bending over it. He had round, stooping shoulders, and
+long, spindling limbs. One of his large feet, encased in a thick,
+square-toed shoe, rested on the round of the desk, the other, which was
+planted squarely on the floor, upheld his spare, gaunt frame. His face
+was thin and long, and two deep, black lines under his eyes contrasted
+strangely with the pallid whiteness of his features. His clothes were of
+the fashion of some years ago, and had, no doubt, served long as his
+'Sunday best,' before being degraded to daily duty. They were of plain
+black, and though not shabby, were worn and threadbare, and of decidedly
+economical appearance. Every thing about him, indeed, wore an economical
+look. His scant coat-tails, narrow pants, and short waistcoat, showed
+that the cost of each inch of material had been counted, while his thin
+hair, brushed carefully over his bald head, had not a lock to spare; and
+even his large, sharp bones were covered with only just enough flesh to
+hold them comfortably together. He had stood there till his eye was dim
+and his step feeble, and though he had, for twenty years&mdash;when handing
+in his semi-annual trial-balances to the head of the house&mdash;declared
+that each one was his last, every body said he would continue to stand
+there till his own trial-balance was struck, and his earthly accounts
+were closed forever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As I entered, he turned his mild blue eye upon me, and taking my hand
+warmly in his, exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>'My dear boy'&mdash;I was nearly forty&mdash;'I am glad to see you.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am glad to see <i>you</i>, David.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, bless me, Mr. Kirke, is that you?' exclaimed a much younger man,
+springing from his seat near the other, and grasping me by both hands.
+'What has brought you to Boston?'</p>
+
+<p>'Business, Frank. I've just arrived, and go back to-morrow. Come! my
+wife is in the carriage at the door, and wants you to spend the evening
+with us.'</p>
+
+<p>'I can't&mdash;I'm very sorry,' and he added, in a lower tone, '<i>she</i> has
+just heard of her father's death, and goes home to-morrow. I have
+engaged to pass the evening with her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Her father dead! how was it?'</p>
+
+<p>'He was thrown from his horse, and died the same day. She knew nothing
+of it till yesterday. I can not neglect her now. I will spend to-morrow
+with mother.'</p>
+
+<p>He always called her <i>mother</i>, though he was not her son. He had done it
+when a child, and now that he was a man, hers was the dearest name he
+knew. He loved her as his mother, and she loved him as her son. But any
+woman might have loved him. His straight, closely-knit, sinewy frame,
+dark, deep-set eyes, and broad, open forehead, overhung with thick,
+brown hair, were only the outshadowing of a beautiful mind, of an open,
+upright, manly nature, whose firm and steady integrity nothing could
+shake.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm sorry to hear it,' I replied; 'but go down and see her, while I
+speak to Mr. Hallet.'</p>
+
+<p>Rapping at the door of an inner office, separated from the outer one by
+a ground-glass partition, I was admitted by a tall, dark man, who, with
+a stiff and slightly embarrassed manner, said to me:</p>
+
+<p>'I am glad to see you, Mr. Kirke. Pray, be seated.'</p>
+
+<p>As he pointed to a chair, a shorter and younger gentleman, who was
+writing at another desk, rose, and slapping me familiarly on the back,
+exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>'My dear fellow, how are you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, Cragin, how are you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Good as new&mdash;never better in my life&mdash;how goes the world with you?'</p>
+
+<p>The last speaker was not more than thirty-three, but a bald spot on the
+top of his head, and a slight falling-in of his mouth, caused by
+premature decay of the teeth, made him seem several years older. He had
+marked but not regular features, and a restless, dark eye, which opened
+and shut with a peculiar wink that kept time with the motion of his lips
+in speaking. His clothes were cut in a loose, jaunty style, and his
+manner, though brusque and abrupt, betokened, like his face, a free,
+frank, manly character. He was ten or twelve years the junior of the
+other, and as unlike him as one man can be unlike another.</p>
+
+<p>The older gentleman, as I have said, was tall and dark. He had a high,
+bold forehead, and wore heavy gray whiskers, trimmed with the utmost
+nicety, and meeting under a sharp, narrow chin. His face was large and
+full, and his nose pointed and prominent, but his mouth was small, and
+gathered in at the corners like a rat's; and, as if to add to the
+rat-resemblance, its small, white teeth seemed borrowed from the jaws of
+that animal. There was a stately precision in his manner, and a stealthy
+softness in his tread, that would have impressed a stranger unfavorably;
+but <i>I</i> knew him. We had been boys together, and he loved me as he loved
+his own son. How well he loved <i>him</i>, the reader will learn, if he
+follows the course of my story.</p>
+
+<p>These two gentlemen&mdash;Mr. Hallet and Mr. Cragin&mdash;were the senior partners
+in the great house of Russell, Rollins &amp; Co.</p>
+
+<p>Replying satisfactorily to the inquiry of Mr. Cragin, I turned to the
+older partner, and said:</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Mr. Hallet, how does Frank get on?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Oh! very well&mdash;knows a little too much, like most young men of his age,
+but he does very well.'</p>
+
+<p>''Very well,' Mr. Ballet! d&mdash;d if he don't&mdash;he's the smartest boy
+living&mdash;made a clean forty thousand for us not two months ago&mdash;forced it
+on Hallet against his better judgment!' And Mr. Cragin laughed till he
+showed all that was left of two rows of tobacco-stained teeth.</p>
+
+<p>'How was it Cragin?' I asked, greatly pleased.</p>
+
+<p>A short rap came at the office-door, and Frank entered, his hat in his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother insists on my taking supper with her&mdash;will you go now, sir?' he
+said, addressing me.</p>
+
+<p>Before I could reply, Mr. Hallet, rather sharply, asked:</p>
+
+<p>'Have you finished your letters for the steamer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'What have you said to Maclean, Maris &amp; Co., about the gum-copal?'</p>
+
+<p>'I will show you, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>And going into the other room, Frank returned in a moment with an open
+letter, still wet from the copying-press. Mr. Hallet took it and read it
+over slowly and carefully, then handing it back, he said, in the
+slightly pompous tone which was natural to him:</p>
+
+<p>'That will do&mdash;you can go.'</p>
+
+<p>I was rising to bid them 'good-evening,' when the senior said to me:</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Kirke, I dislike to trespass on your time, but I would like to
+confer with you for a moment, on a private matter.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly, sir.' And I added: 'Frank, tell your mother I will meet you
+at the hotel in half an hour.'</p>
+
+<p>'But I must be in Cambridge by eight o'clock,' replied the young man,
+looking a little chop-fallen.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, don't wait for me&mdash;I will see you to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<p>Bidding me 'good-night,' he left; and Mr. Cragin, seeing that his
+partner would be alone with me, left shortly afterward. As soon as
+Cragin was gone, Mr. Hallet, opening the door, called:</p>
+
+<p>'David!'</p>
+
+<p>The book-keeper entered, and took a seat beside me.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Kirke,' said Mr. Hallet, when the other was seated, 'I want to talk
+with you and David about Frank. He has entangled himself with that
+Southern girl, and, I hear, means to marry her. I strongly object to it.
+I've not a particle of influence with him, and <i>you</i> must prevent it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why should we prevent it?' I asked, rather sharply. 'What is there
+against the young woman?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing against her character, but she'd not be a fit wife for Frank.
+These Southern women are educated with wrong ideas&mdash;they make poor wives
+for poor men. He must marry a rich girl, or one brought up with
+New-England habits. This one would bring him nothing, and spend all he
+made.'</p>
+
+<p>'But she is an only child, and her father is rich.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pshaw! that is bosh! Preston always lived high, and I'll guarantee his
+estate is bankrupt. I'm sorry for it, for he owes us.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is that so! Largely?' 'No, not largely; how much is he overdrawn,
+David?'</p>
+
+<p>'Eighty-two hundred and odd.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm surprised at that,' I said. 'The old house did not allow such
+things.'</p>
+
+<p>'Neither do we; 'twas Cragin's work. He thought 'twould annoy Frank if
+the drafts went back, and'&mdash;he hesitated a moment&mdash;'he insisted upon
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am opposed to interfering in such matters. I always taught Frank to
+think for himself,' I remarked.</p>
+
+<p>'You taught him to think too much for himself. He is self-willed and
+headstrong to a fault.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps his father might have trained him better, if&mdash;he had tried,' I
+replied, with a slight sneer.</p>
+
+<p>'Pardon me, Mr. Kirke, I meant no reflection on your management of him.
+I only feel that this is a most important step, and he ought to be
+advised. He should marry rich, for he has nothing, and can not rely upon
+me.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'He does not rely upon you; but he is a partner now, and his income
+ought to enable him to support a wife.'</p>
+
+<p>'His income is uncertain; he may not remain long in the concern,'
+replied Mr. Hallet coolly.</p>
+
+<p>David started; his face reddened to the roots of his hair, and he asked
+in a sententious way, showing even in his expenditure of breath the
+close economy that was the rule of his life: 'Who told you that, Mr.
+Hallet?'</p>
+
+<p>'No one,' replied that gentleman, seemingly surprised at the abrupt
+question; 'I am deliberating on it myself. He is sowing dissension
+between Cragin and me. The lowest boy in the office; even you, David,
+pay more heed to him than to <i>me</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>'That may be your own fault,' I said, a little sarcastically; 'if you
+should treat him as Cragin and David do, you might have nothing to
+complain of.'</p>
+
+<p>'I treat him well, sir; but I make him <i>know his place</i>.' The last words
+were emphasized in a hard, wicked tone.</p>
+
+<p>Certain old recollections had been rushing across my memory during the
+latter part of this conversation, and this last remark brought me to my
+feet, as I said: 'You treat him like a dog, sir! I have seen it. If he
+were not your son, he should not stay with you another day! But I warn
+you, John Hallet&mdash;do not go too far. Cast that boy off&mdash;harm him to the
+extent of a hair&mdash;and, so help me God, I will strip you of the lying
+cloak in which you hide your false, hypocritical soul, and show men
+<i>what you are!</i>'</p>
+
+<p>In my excitement, I had crossed the room, and stood then directly before
+him. His face flushed and his eye quailed before my steady gaze, but he
+said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>David remarked, in a mild tone: 'Edmund, that an't the right spirit; it
+an't.'</p>
+
+<p>'You don't know the whole, David; if you did, even <i>you</i> would say he is
+the basest man living.'</p>
+
+<p>Hallet pressed his teeth together; his eyes flashed fire, and he seemed
+about to spring upon me; but mastering his passion, he rose after a
+moment and extended his hand, saying: 'Come, Mr. Kirke, this is not the
+talk of old friends! Let us shake hands and forget it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never, sir! I took your hand for the last time when I left this
+counting-room, twenty years ago. I never touch it again! I shall tell
+that boy <i>to-night</i> that you are his father.'</p>
+
+<p>'You will not do so imprudent a thing. I will do any thing for him&mdash;any
+thing you require. I promise you&mdash;on my honor,' and the stately head of
+the great house of Russell, Rollins &amp; Co., sank into a chair and bent
+down his face like a criminal in the dock.</p>
+
+<p>'I can not trust you,' I said, as I paced the room,</p>
+
+<p>'You can, Edmund; he means it. He is sorry for the wrong he's done,'
+said the old book-keeper, in that mild, winning tone which had made me
+so love him in my boyhood.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, let him <i>prove</i> that he means it; let him tell you all; let him
+tell you how much he has had to repent of!'</p>
+
+<p>'I <i>have</i> told him all. I told him years ago.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did you tell him how you cast off that poor girl? how for years on her
+knees she vainly plead for a paltry pittance to keep her child from
+starving and herself from sin? Did you tell him how you forced her on
+the street? how you drove her from you with curses, when she prayed you
+to save her from the pit of infamy into which you had plunged her? Did
+you tell him,' and I hissed the words in his ear, while he writhed on
+his seat in such agony as only the guilty can feel; 'how, at last, after
+all those wretched years, she died of starvation and disease, with all
+that mountain of sin on her soul, and all of it heaped on her by YOU!'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! no! I did not&mdash;could not tell him that! I did not know I had done
+<i>that!</i>' groaned the stately gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>'You lie, John Hallet! You know you lie! and may God deal with you as
+you dealt with her,' and I took up my hat and laid my hand on the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Stop, stop, Edmund; don't go with those words. You would not have God
+do to <i>you</i> as you have done to others!' said David, in the same mild
+tone as before.</p>
+
+<p>'True, David. I ought not to wish him harm; but I loathe and detest the
+hypocritical villain. Frank shall leave him to-night, and forever!' and
+again I laid my hand on the door.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hallet looked up; his face was pale as marble, and his hands
+clenched tightly the arms of his chair, 'Don't go, Mr. Kirke,' he cried;
+'stay one moment. Can't this be arranged?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir. Sign a dissolution article at once&mdash;<i>here</i>&mdash;NOW, and give
+Frank your check for twenty thousand dollars.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, no! You don't mean that! It is too much&mdash;you can not ask <i>that</i>!'
+gasped the great merchant.</p>
+
+<p>'Too much for the son of a man worth a million? Too much to pay for
+starving his mother, and turning him adrift at six years old? It is not
+enough! He must have <i>thirty</i> thousand!'</p>
+
+<p>'You are mad, Mr. Kirke!' And he rose, and looked at me with a pleading
+face. 'I can not pay that amount down. It is impossible.'</p>
+
+<p>'David, how much has he in bank on private account?'</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hallet cast a beseeching glance at his book-keeper; but without
+moving a muscle, the old man quietly replied: 'Fifty-three thousand.'</p>
+
+<p>'I knew you lied, Hallet. It is natural to you.'</p>
+
+<p>'But I can't let Frank go without Mr. Cragin's consent.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will arrange with Cragin. Sign the check and draw the paper at once,
+or I go.'</p>
+
+<p>'But give me time to think&mdash;see me to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<p>'I shall never exchange a word with you after to-night. You can have ten
+minutes&mdash;not a second more,' and I took out my watch to count the time.</p>
+
+<p>He seated himself at his desk, and rested his head on his hand for a
+moment; then turning to me, he said: 'You promise that this interview,
+and all that has passed, shall never be mentioned by you?'</p>
+
+<p>'I do&mdash;never to your injury.'</p>
+
+<p>'David, please write the check,' said the senior partner, as he
+proceeded himself to draw up the agreement. In a few minutes he handed
+it to me. It was short, and merely recited that the co-partnership which
+had theretofore existed between John Hallet, Augustus Cragin, and Henry
+F. Mandell, under the name and style of Russell, Rollins &amp; Co., was on
+that day dissolved by mutual consent; said Mandell withdrawing, and
+assigning the control of all the assets of said firm to said Hallet and
+Cragin, and releasing to said Hallet any portion of its capital and
+profits to which he might be entitled.</p>
+
+<p>I read the document, and quietly handed it back. 'That will not do, Mr.
+Hallet. Thirty thousand dollars settles with <i>you</i>, his father. I have
+not, and <i>shall</i> not make any settlement with the firm. David must pay
+Frank what is his due&mdash;no more, no less.'</p>
+
+<p>'But,' began Mr. Hallet.</p>
+
+<p>'I have nothing more to say on the subject, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>He drew a deep sigh. The parting with an only son, and with thirty
+thousand dollars, at one and the same time, affected him deeply. He
+might have borne the loss of the son; but the loss of so much money rent
+his small, black soul into fragments. However, he rewrote the paper, and
+passed it to me. It was all right; and when he had signed and David had
+witnessed it, I placed it in my pocket-book. Then, with a trembling
+hand, he handed me the check. It was drawn to my order; and I remarked,
+as I took it: 'This is not what I require, sir. I want your check,
+indorsed by David.'</p>
+
+<p>'This is most unaccountable, Mr. Kirke. Do you question my check for
+thirty thousand dollars?' he asked, his face flushing with anger.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! no, sir, not at all; but you might stop its payment. With David's
+indorsement, you would not <i>dare</i> to do it.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'I will indorse it,' said David; and he quietly proceeded to write
+another.</p>
+
+<p>That cold, hard, soulless man had a wife and children; but that old
+book-keeper was the only being in all this wide world that he loved!</p>
+
+<p>Placing the check with the other paper, I shook David by the hand, and
+bidding him 'good-night', passed down the old stairway.</p>
+
+<p>As Frank is the hero of my history, I will, in another chapter, go back
+some seventeen years, and tell the reader how he came to be under my
+control, and how he rose to be a partner in the great house of Russell,
+Rollins &amp; Co.</p>
+
+
+<h2><a name="CORN_IS_KING" id="CORN_IS_KING"></a>CORN IS KING.</h2>
+
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Up among the Granite mountains,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">By the Bay State strand,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Hark! the paean cry is sounding</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Through all Yankee land.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">'Wave the stars and stripes high o'er us,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Let every freeman sing,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">In a loud and joyful chorus:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Brave young Corn is King!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Join, join, for God and freedom! Sing, Northmen, sing:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old King Cotton's dead and buried: brave young Corn is King.'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Southward rolls the cry of gladness,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">On past Washington;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Where the bond-slave stoops no longer,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">But stands up, a Man!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">O'er battle-fields of 'Ole Virginny,'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Floats the black man's song:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">'Brudders, God is takin' vengeance</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">For de darky's wrong!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shout, shout, for God and Freedom! Sing, darkies, sing!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ole Massa Cotton's dead foreber: Young Massa Corn am King!'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Through the Mississippi valley,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Down the river's tide,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Hosts of patriots rush to rally</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">On their Country's side;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">And across the green savannahs</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Of the Southern clime,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Armies, under Union banners,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">To this song keep time:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'March, march, for God and Freedom! Sing, soldiers, sing!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pallid Cotton's dead and buried: Yellow Corn is King!'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Let the tidings swell o'er ocean</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">To another shore,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Till proud England pales and trembles</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Where she scoffed before!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Ne'er again shall serpent-friendship</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Rise to hiss and sting!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Cotton leagues no more with <i>Traitors</i>:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Honest Corn is King!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Jubilate</i>! God and Freedom! Sing, Americans, sing</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tyrant Cotton's dead forever! Honest Corn is King!</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="LITERARY_NOTICES" id="LITERARY_NOTICES"></a>LITERARY NOTICES.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Among the Pines. By Edmund Kirke</span>. New-York: J. R. Gilmore,
+532 Broadway. 1862.</p></div>
+
+<p>Perhaps it is not altogether in rule to say much of a work which has
+appeared in our pages. But we may at least call attention to what others
+have said. And good authority&mdash;plenty of it, such authority as should
+make a reputation for any book&mdash;has declared <i>The Pines</i> to be in truth
+a work of the highest merit and of a new order. It is a perfectly
+truthful record of scenes and characters drawn from personal experience
+in the South; combining the accuracy of Olmstead's works with the
+thrilling interest of <i>Uncle Tom</i>. It should be fairly stated&mdash;as the
+author desires it should be&mdash;that every thing did not occur precisely in
+the order in which it is here narrated. But all is <i>true</i>&mdash;every page
+speaks for itself in this particular. No stronger piece of local
+coloring ever issued from the American press. We seem, in reading it, to
+live in the South&mdash;to know the people who come before us. All of them
+are, indeed, life-portraits. In one or two instances, the very names of
+the originals remain unchanged.</p>
+
+<p>In it the author deals fairly and honorably with the South. The renegade
+Yankee, and not the native planter, is made to bear the heaviest blow.
+The principal character, Colonel J&mdash;&mdash;, is one of nature's noblemen,
+struggling through aristocratic education and circumstance with an evil
+whose evil he cannot comprehend. Very valuable indeed are the sketches
+of life among the 'mean whites.' No descriptions of them to be compared
+with these in <i>The Pines</i> have ever yet appeared. They rise clear as
+cameo-reliefs on a dark ground, and we feel that they too are like the
+slave-holder, victims like the slave, of a system, and not with him,
+deliberate wretches. Their squalor, ignorance, pride, and
+dependence&mdash;their whole social <i>status</i>, inferior to that of the blacks
+whom they despise, appear as set forth, we do not say by a master-hand,
+but <i>by themselves</i>.</p>
+
+<p>This work, tolerant and just, yet striking, has appeared at the right
+time. While interesting as a novel, it is full of solid, simple
+facts&mdash;it is based on them and built up with them. Without attempting to
+set forth a principle, it shows beyond dispute that slavery does not pay
+in the South as well as free labor would, and that the blacks would
+produce more as free laborers than as slaves. It shows that Emancipation
+for the sake of the White Man is a great truth, and that the white man
+would be benefited by raising the sense of independence in the black,
+and by elevating him in every way in which he is capable of improvement.</p>
+
+<p>It may be said with great truth of <i>The Pines</i>, that it would be
+difficult to find a book in which such striking facts and vivid pictures
+are set forth with such perfect simplicity of language. There is no
+effort at fine writing in it, and no consciousness of its absence. The
+author never seems to have realized that a story could be told for
+effect, and the natural result has been the most unintentional yet the
+strongest effect. The practical eye of one familiar with planks and
+turpentine, building and farming, business and furniture, economy and
+comfort, betrays itself continually. He sees how things could be
+bettered not as a mere philanthropist would try to see them, but as one
+who knows how capital ought to be em<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>ployed, and he appreciates the fact
+that the sufferings of the people of every class in the South are really
+based on the <i>wastefulness</i> of the present system. That this spirit
+should be combined with a keen observation of local humor, and in
+several instances with narratives imbued with deep pathos, is not,
+however, remarkable. The man who can most vividly set forth facts and
+transfer nature to paper, seldom misses variety.</p>
+
+<p>We rejoice that this work has met with such favorable reception from the
+public, and are happy to state that the author will continue his
+contributions to these columns. He has already, by a single effort,
+established a wide-spread reputation, and we know that he has that in
+him which will induce efforts of equal merit and a future which will be
+honorably recorded in histories of the literature of the present day.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Thomas Hood's Works</span>. Volume IV. Aldine Edition. Edited by
+<span class="smcap">Epes Sargent</span>. New-York: G. P. Putnam. Boston: A. K.
+Loring. 1862.</p></div>
+
+<p>No better paper, no better type, can be desired than what is lavished
+upon these beautiful editions of Putnam's works. It is a pleasure to
+touch their silky, Baskerville-feeling leaves, and think that one
+possesses in the series one more work <i>de luxe</i>, which 'any one' might
+be glad to own. The present consists of The Whims and Oddities, with
+the&mdash;originally&mdash;two volumes of National Tales: the former piquant and
+variously eccentric; the latter written in a quaint, old-fashioned
+style, which the editor compares justly to that of <span class="smcap">Boccaccio</span>,
+yet which was really, till within some fifty years, so very common a
+form of narration, having so much in common with Spanish and French
+<i>nouvelettes</i>, that it is hardly worth while to suppose that
+<span class="smcap">Hood</span> followed the great. Italian at all. The whole work is one
+mass of entertainment, none the worse for having acquired somewhat of a
+game-y flavor of age, and for gradually falling a little behind the
+latest styles of humor. 'Mass! 'tis a merry book, and will make them
+merry who read it!'</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">The Works of Thomas Hood</span>. Edited by <span class="smcap">Epes Sargent</span>.
+Vol. V. New-York: G. P. Putnam. 1862.</p></div>
+
+<p>The present volume of Hood's writings is composed of dramatic sketches,
+odes, political satires, and miscellaneous pieces not generally
+contained in former collections of his works. Among these is the long
+and beautiful 'Lamia' in dramatic form; the 'Epping Hunt;' the poems of
+sentiment; the inimitable Odes and Addresses to Great People, and some
+scores of minor poems, mostly humorous, including, however, all of those
+on which his reputation as a true poet of the highest rank is based.
+Among these is the 'Lay of the Laborer,' a standing and bitter reproach
+to England&mdash;the England of millions of pounds of capital&mdash;the England of
+piety&mdash;the England of morality&mdash;the England of 'all the rights of man,'
+where there are more paupers and more miseries than in any other land on
+earth, and where there is accordingly the most social tyranny of any
+country.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Ay, only give me work,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And then you need not fear</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That I shall snare his worship's hare,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or kill his grace's deer.'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Where savage laws begrudge</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The pauper babe its breath,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And doom a wife to a widow's life</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Before her partner's death.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>When England shall have turned aside the reproach of this poem, it will
+be time for her to abuse America as 'uncivilized.'</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Agnes of Sorrento</span>, By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Harriet Beecher Stowe</span>.
+Boston: Ticknor and Fields. 1862.</p></div>
+
+<p>If there be, at the present day, an ungrateful task for an intelligent
+reader or a conscientious reviewer, it is to be obliged to deal with a
+work whose whole compass is merely that of a second-rate romance
+inspired by rococo sentimentalism. We regret to speak thus of a book by
+so eminent a writer as Mrs. Stowe; but when any one at this time
+undertakes to build up a novel out of such material as cloisters, monks,
+and nuns,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> Beato Angelico and frankincense, cavaliers and Savonarola,
+with the occasional 'purple patch' of a rhyming Latin hymn&mdash;in short,
+when we see the long-exhausted melo-dramatic style, which was years ago
+thoroughly quizzed in 'Firmilian,' revived in the year 1862 in a work of
+fiction, we can not refrain from expressing sorrow that a public can
+still be found to welcome such a bouquet of faded and tattered
+artificial flowers. There is something, indeed, almost painfully amusing
+in the liberal use of perfectly exhausted and thoroughly hackneyed
+elements of popular romance which appear in every page of <i>Agnes of
+Sorrento</i>. A writer has said of the heroine, that 'she is one of those
+ethereal females, only encountered in romance, who dwell on the brink of
+exaltation, and never eat bread and butter without seeming to fly in the
+face of Divine Providence.' But this feebly expresses the worn-out
+ornamental piety of the work. It would require but very little
+alteration to become one of the most intensely amusing books of the age.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Seventh Annual Report of the Insurance Commissioners of the
+Commonwealth of Massachusetts</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>An interesting collection of documents, which will be read or examined
+with great pleasure by all who devote their attention to the rapidly
+maturing science of insurance, a science which perhaps combines in its
+range of material as much of the curious and useful as any other known;
+the whole tending to one great lesson: that every thing should be
+insured and that <i>no insurance should be taxed by Government</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Twenty-Fourth Annual Report of The Board of Education</span>.
+Boston: William White. 1862.</p></div>
+
+<p>Apart from the vastly important testimony which these works bear to the
+efforts annually made in our good State in the cause of education&mdash;the
+great source, let us trust, of the politics to be&mdash;we seldom fail to
+find in them many useful hints as to the practical business of teaching,
+of which any writer on the subject would be glad to avail himself. Many
+such, at least, we detect in the volume before us, and sincerely trust
+that all will in due time bear their good fruit.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Concord Fight</span>. By <span class="smcap">S. R. Bartlett</span>. Second edition.
+Concord: Albert Tracy. Boston: Crosby, Nichols &amp; Co. 1862.</p></div>
+
+<p>A poem of thirty-two pages, devoted to setting forth the incidents of
+Concord and Lexington fights, in the Revolutionary days, and therefore
+very appropriate to our own time. The 'plan' is excellent; the incidents
+well devised, while many little lyrical touches here and there are truly
+admirable. For instance, 'The White Cockade.'</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Firm hearts and true, strong bands to do,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For liberty;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fierce old strain rings once again:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Come death or victory!'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'The lips that woke the dawning note</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Are passed away;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the <i>echoes</i> of the 'White Cockade'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ring round our hills to-day.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Long may they ring, and long may the descendants of the men of '76 prove
+that they still hear in spirit 'the dawning notes.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="EDITORS_TABLE" id="EDITORS_TABLE"></a>EDITOR'S TABLE</h2>
+
+
+<p>The English journals and statesmen, in their excessive anxiety to
+regulate every thing for the world in general and for America in
+particular, quite lose sight of the fact, that before interfering in a
+neighbor's affairs, it is best to know what the state of affairs may
+really be. Of late, we have seen these makers of public opinion making
+mischief through gross ignorance, to a degree well-nigh unparalleled in
+history. On the strength of flying rumors, unfinished events imperfectly
+reported, and through Secession slanders, their great leaders, both
+representative and editorial, have ventured to spread before the masses
+statements which must unavoidably tend to greatly exasperate and
+alienate the people of our respective nations. They are blindly running
+up scores of hatred, which at some day may call for fearful settlement.
+Their influence is very great on the rank-loving multitude in their own
+country&mdash;a multitude which, after all, is, in the majority, more
+miserable and nearly as ignorant as that of any realm in Europe, or even
+the East, for there are fewer paupers in Turkey or Syria than in wealthy
+England. Yet, quite unheeding this, they continue to express sympathy
+for the South, declare with Brougham that the bubble of Democracy has at
+length burst, and chuckle over every Northern defeat. All of which shall
+be duly remembered.</p>
+
+<p>The grossest error into which these men have fallen, is that of
+continually regarding our war not as a struggle between two great
+principles, or as an unavoidable necessity, but simply as a strife
+between two factions. Nearly every London editorial which we have seen
+for weeks proves this. 'What will the North gain if it conquers the
+South? What will the South make? What are <span class="smcap">WE</span> to benefit by a
+victory of either?' It is perfectly natural, however, for a monarchy,
+virtually without 'politics,' devoid of great progressive ideas, and
+smothered by 'loyalty' and faith in an aristocracy, to see, as men did
+in the middle ages, nothing but a dispute of rival forces in every
+battle. It is 'Brown <i>vs</i>. Brown' to them, and nothing more. With the
+exception of Bright and his friends, no one in England seems to
+comprehend that our North has in itself the vital, progressive energy
+which <i>must</i> give it victory&mdash;the same spirit which enables English
+civilization to gain on the Hindoo or the New-Zealander&mdash;the spirit of
+science and intelligence, which conquers ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>The fact that English statesmen can talk so calmly of the possibilities
+of Southern victory, and weigh with such equanimity the claims of the
+combatants, simply proves their ignorance of the real condition of the
+United States. And they <i>are</i> indeed very ignorant of us. Perhaps
+ignorance and thoughtlessness were never more decidedly manifested than
+in Brougham's late rhodomontade on the failure of Democracy in this
+country. For, in fact, there is not difference enough between the
+representative <i>power</i> of England and that of America to make a
+question. Between Commons and our House of Representatives&mdash;the most
+influential legislative bodies&mdash;there is no such great difference.
+English writers have asserted that our government is actually the
+strongest monarchy of the two, because our President possesses far
+greater power of patronage and personal influence than the Queen. The
+real difference is not between the forms of government, but between the
+innate flunkeyism of the Briton and the independence of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> American.
+If we had the British government in every detail, and if John Bull were
+to adopt our system, the countries would stand where they were, and each
+gradually 'reform' itself, according to its ideas of reform, back into
+the old routine. The Englishman, needing 'my Lord' and 'Her Gracious
+Majesty,' and as unable to live without his golden calves of 'superiors'
+as bees are to exist without a queen, would soon create them; while the
+American blood, sprung from the republican Puritan, and developed into
+strength on a continent, would very soon, after a nine days' f&eacute;te to his
+new f&eacute;tish, kick it over, and instituting caucuses and primary
+ward-meetings, or 'town-meetings,' (a ceremony which no European in
+existence, save the Russian, is capable of properly managing,) would
+soon have all back again in the old road.</p>
+
+<p>Democracy among the 'Yankees' as well as all North-Americans who are
+free from a servile respect for simple rank and money, is something very
+different from that mere form which Brougham, and with him nearly all
+Europe, believe it to be. We are not Frenchmen, or Englishmen, or
+Orientals, to quietly sit down under any kind of government which chance
+may impose, and exclaim: 'It is fate.' Democracy with us is not the mere
+form which they imagine. It is, like the English government, like the
+German, like the Pachalik of the Oriental, something as much a part of
+us as our national physiognomy. A very great proportion of the
+Englishmen who come here, remain flunkeys to the end&mdash;an American, other
+than a soul-diseased disciple of Richmond sociology, or some weak
+brother or sister dazed by court ball-tickets&mdash;quite as generally remain
+a despiser of men who acknowledge other men as their betters by mere
+birth. A love of freedom is in our blood, in our life, in our habits. We
+are fond, it is true, of temporarily lionizing great people, but we soon
+reduce them to our own level. America has shaken down more eminencies
+into notorieties than any other country in the world&mdash;it is a severe and
+terrible ordeal for great foreigners. Our eagerness to behold them is
+simply a keen curiosity and a natural love of amusement which is soon
+appeased. An American would crowd foremost to see Queen Victoria for the
+first time in his life&mdash;the second opportunity would be neglected. But
+the London shop-keeper who has seen that lady perhaps hundreds of times,
+still rushes out in wild haste, with eyes wide open, to behold her when
+she drives past. 'They can never get enough of it.' As one of their own
+writers has observed, a London tradesman may have been swindled a
+hundred times by real or sham noblemen, and yet no sooner does some
+flaunting cheat with the <i>air noble</i> enter his shop, than the cockney
+bows low and implores patronage with a cringing zeal only equaled by his
+'uppishness' to humbler customers.</p>
+
+<p>The truth simply is, that English thinkers wrongly judge our people to
+be like their own, and as capable of promptly submitting to acknowledged
+superiors. In the same blindness and ignorance, they see only two
+parties, equal in all respects in this war, and realize nothing of the
+innate vitality and irresistibly accretive power of free-labor, science,
+and progress, when brought into opposition with a conservatism which
+scorns every thing pertaining to the rights of the majority. Misled by
+their associations, they believe that the 'Aristocratic' party must
+triumph in the end, forgetting that even in their own country capital is
+gradually destroying the old land-marks which divided the privileged
+classes from the masses. We who virtually occupy a higher stand-point in
+history, though, perhaps, we are newer dwellers in our domain and not as
+yet as comfortable in it as they in theirs, can, however, afford to
+laugh at their opinions and threats. A nation, whose utmost effort could
+not raise above thirty thousand men for a war in which the point of
+honor between themselves and the French was at stake, is not the one to
+lay down laws to the American North,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> which could&mdash;probably without
+drafting&mdash;bring its million into the field. It is worth remembering
+that, had they sent us their Warrior, as they threatened after the Mason
+and Slidell difficulty, she would have met with the Monitor!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Three hundred thousand men are wanted&mdash;and that right early!</p>
+
+<p>Let there be meetings, speeches, subscriptions&mdash;let every thing that is
+vigorous and impulsive and patriotic thrill the people forthwith: Let
+there be no lagging in the good cause. Never since the war begun was
+there a time when a fierce rally was more needed. We have it in our
+power to crush this rebellion to atoms, if the people will but once
+arouse in their might. Even this draft for three hundred thousand, when
+we come to portion it off among those remaining in our counties, becomes
+quite trifling.</p>
+
+<p>'More than shooting goes to making war.' All who are in the North can
+fight to good purpose, if they will, every man and woman of them, <i>do
+their best</i> to raise soldiers, equip them and take care of their
+families.</p>
+
+<p>Men! rise up and go forth. You will acquire a patent of nobility by
+serving in this war, which will be worth more to you and yours in coming
+days than any title on earth. You go to great risks&mdash;but not to any
+thing which can outweigh the good you can do for this truly holy cause.
+Have you lived lives 'of no great account'&mdash;<i>now</i> is the time to rise to
+a position&mdash;to be some body, and make your mark. Have you been a mere
+cipher in the great sum of life&mdash;a neglected trifle&mdash;now is the time to
+raise yourself to a real value. It can never be said of a man who served
+in this war that he was of no great account.</p>
+
+<p>Has your life been stained&mdash;by misfortune or your own faults? Now is the
+time to wipe out the old score and begin afresh. What cautious, timid
+Peace rejects as bad, bold, hearty War grasps at with eagerness and
+makes good and great.</p>
+
+<p>Are you poor, and dragging out a dull, base life, more sluggishly than
+your abilities deserve? Go to the war&mdash;in God's name, go to the war! Who
+knows what changes in life you may live through&mdash;what new opportunities
+may open before you! In that wide Southland lie a million homes, and
+there will be those left behind who&mdash;if you fight bravely&mdash;will give the
+matter no rest till you are richly rewarded. There is not a soldier in
+this war at this instant who is not acquiring what may be a fortune.
+<i>Somebody</i> must occupy the lands left vacant in the South!</p>
+
+<p>Are you a lover? Make her proud of you.</p>
+
+<p>Do not fear the risks. That is a poor, wretched life which has never run
+the chances of death.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Fast in battle the bullets fly,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But many a soldier the bullets pass by.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Arise all! Up, Guards, and at 'em! Let there be a general up-stirring
+and a hearty good-will in this matter. The enemy have brought every
+white man among them into the field&mdash;they are kept alive solely by the
+blacks. One tremendous effort, such as we are capable of making, would
+sweep them from the face of the earth. Another struggle and we reach the
+shore.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Many years ago, the South began to alienate itself from the Union, by
+blindly abusing every thing pertaining to the North as 'Abolition.' They
+wanted a grievance; they would have one, and so yelled 'Wolf! wolf!'
+till the wolf came in roaring earnest. In like manner, the Democratic
+dabblers in mischief are now yelling 'Radical,' abusing emancipation,
+and doing all in their power to hoist themselves into notoriety. They
+are determined to force separate parties into existence, and they will
+end by accomplishing their purpose, by being in a losing reactionary
+minority, which will bear the brand in later days of having been the
+most unprincipled, narrow-minded, and desperately selfish faction which
+this country has ever known.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Gentle reader, accept the following from a friend in the quaint spirit
+in which it is written, and understand not by bad company aught that is
+evil&mdash;for if we read the word of the enigma, the 'bad' among her
+'friends of the future' is indeed goodness-that saving salt which is
+often found among many who are too hastily banned as lost in the world.
+So, we pray you, judge it kindly:</p>
+
+
+<h4>FRIENDS OF THE FUTURE.</h4>
+
+<p class='center'>'There is no real amusement except in bad company.'&mdash;<i>Italian Proverb</i>.</p>
+
+
+<p>Reprehensible but real sentiment of your humble servant, O dearly
+beloved reader! Your lips reprove me, but your heart forgives and
+sympathizes! And that heart rebels with mine against that adverse Past
+which has given to us so little of 'real amusement' from 'bad company,'
+and demands, like mine, reparation from the Future for the sufferings we
+have endured from unexceptionable and perfectly good company!</p>
+
+<p>The representative men and women of that small and select bad company,
+(who have made the desert of our lives to blossom with roses, violets,
+strawberries and cream,) how distinctly they stand out on the horizon of
+memory! I see them&mdash;I count them, as easily as those few stately pines
+on yonder hill-top&mdash;one, two, three, four, five, six, <i>seven</i>. No more?
+What! not a delightful eight? Who has translated the murmur of the
+summer wind among the pines as 'No more?' '<i>No more?</i>' Alas! to-day they
+give that answer to me, as I seek for one other in that bad and beloved
+company! 'But he cometh'&mdash;<i>adveniat</i>&mdash;he cometh in the future. O eighth!
+your morning will yet dawn.</p>
+
+<p>Welcome, O Friend of the Future I whatever thy sex. Welcome! whether in
+cashmere and graceful crinolineaments, or in gray-suit and
+<i>grecio</i>!&mdash;only be 'more of the same sort.' Heaven is <i>not</i> so cruel! to
+give us five hundred dear twin-friends, on whom one has to tie five
+hundred different colored bows (I assure you, Monsieur, the
+ribbon-florists have this season produced <i>five hundred colors</i>) in
+order to distinguish one from another! Heaven would not do this cruel
+wrong without offering some apology&mdash;some mitigation.</p>
+
+<p>Ah! you sigh. Your heart, then, <i>does</i> forgive me&mdash;I knew it would. Give
+me your hand, (such a soft, white hand!) I confess the proverb did
+<i>sound</i> a little naughty, but it's not <i>really</i> so. At all events, it is
+the <i>truth</i>&mdash;and, you know, we</p>
+
+<p class='center'>
+'Can not tell a lie!' G. W.
+</p>
+
+<p>Ah! this hand, though soft and white, is no longer plump and
+unconscious; it has <i>suffered</i>! You, too, have been bored&mdash;ah! I <i>must</i>
+kiss it.</p>
+
+<p class='center'>
+'I, too, am human.'
+</p>
+
+<p>I also have been bored! Come, now, you mistrust me no longer-and I&mdash;I
+love you! I <i>love</i> you, and, therefore, I want to amuse you; perhaps, by
+Heaven's blessing, I may prove 'bad company' myself!</p>
+
+<p>For I can not but believe that somewhere in the purple Future, or latent
+amid the green leaves of the possible Fairy-dom, (in which some rich
+enchanter of an uncle is to lea-re us all an heritage,) there bide,
+waitingly, certain dear friends&mdash;delightful, daring, witty, and wicked
+creatures&mdash;like yourself, O reader I&mdash;with whom I am destined to be,
+spiritually, 'very much married indeed;' or if the expression sound too
+polygamatical, let me simply say <i>li&eacute;.</i> [For Heaven's sake, accept that
+as French, warm with an accent, and not as English, cold without one.]
+<i>Li&eacute;</i> means 'bound'&mdash;anchored, so to speak, to an intimate in an
+amicable manner. And it is in their friendship&mdash;in their kind and tender
+words and courteous deeds, and winsome ways, that I most truly <i>live</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Where these dearmost ones may bide, I know not. Seven&mdash;yes&mdash;seven I have
+met, whom I cherish like diamonds of delight in the cotton of memory. It
+is worth noting, my dear, in this connection, that <i>sev-en</i> is one of
+the conjugations in Turkish of the root <i>sev</i>, or 'loving,' and 'them
+old Turks,' you know&mdash;but I am digressing. Are there not still to come
+seven&mdash;yea, seventy times seven, (I have mislaid my Koran, in which the
+number is more accurately stated,) of my Friends of the Future!</p>
+
+<p>But I know what they are like. Oh! the charming, delightful wretches,
+how I enjoy looking at them&mdash;in fact, 'I admire to see' them&mdash;as they
+sweep along through the golden halls of my Schloss Dream-berg. Such nice
+clothes as they wear&mdash;the ducks! Such good things as they
+say&mdash;such&mdash;such&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>It is too warm to-day to attempt superla<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>tives. It were better to
+drink&mdash;say, iced lemonade, in which&mdash;for you, dear reader&mdash;by some
+mistake a <i>little</i> sherry has been cobblered. <i>Sherrare est humanum</i>.
+The Rabbis, we are told, forbade the children of Israel to puff the fire
+on the Sabbath with bellows, though they might keep it going by blowing
+through a straw. Wherefore, to this day, certain of the devout 'keep it
+a-going' by means of a straw&mdash;only by some strange mistake in
+interpretation, or by some vowel-points getting mislaid, they, instead
+of blowing <i>from</i> them in the straw, suck <i>toward</i> them. And their
+'society' is a large one.</p>
+
+<p>But we were talking of 'good company,' as they say in 'good
+society'&mdash;not of 'good society,' as they say in 'good company.' And,
+therefore, although <i>not</i> 'a retired clergyman,' and devoutly hoping
+that my 'sands of life' are not by a very long while 'run out,' (for I
+want to see my future friends,) I would yet (without these advantages)
+offer you 'some slight relief,' and would seek to assuage your
+sufferings resulting from too much good company; and since we have so
+few friends in the past who have amused us, turn we our 'regards' to the
+possible</p>
+
+
+<h4>FRIENDS OF THE FUTURE.</h4>
+
+<p class='center'>First among whom is</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><b>BAGNOLE.</b></span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Face such as would-be Byron youths all crave,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Impenetrable, gloomy as the grave;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Voice, a 'French-gray,' the promise of the face,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You'd swear he thought to <i>laugh</i>, a deep disgrace.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Behold the mask of a bacchantine soul,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Drinking deep draughts from life's enchanting bowl.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whether the bowl be from Cellini's hand.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If rude, still crowning it with Fancy's flowers,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Laughing at Time, and flirting with her Hours.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He is not pious, and to church won't go;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He says he <i>can't</i>&mdash;'tis so extremely slow.'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bagnol&egrave;! with the 'goats' you're set apart'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yet, how <i>can</i> we wish a 'change of heart'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In one like thee&mdash;great-minded, brave, and true!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah! <i>what</i> a world, if all were such as you!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I forget&mdash;he's tender to the weak:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the sad Magdalene he'll kindly speak</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Words of <i>pure gold</i>&mdash;not that base metal thing</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which falls like lead and gives no friendly ring;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Opening the wound, to see if it is deep,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arousing thought, to see if' tis asleep!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tendir and treue,' us Douglas was of old,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How far <i>they</i> see, who call thee 'tame and cold'!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tame! as a tiger: cold! as hot as flame!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Where</i> does he board, and what, oh! <i>what's</i> his name?</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><b>L'INCONNUE.</b></span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dark Passion-flower, with keen mimosa-leaves,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into my life your fate her shuttle weaves.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How long those wistful eyes have haunted mine&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brown eyes of earth&mdash;they have no light divine.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brown eyes! ye fill my soul with burning love&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Pantheon soul&mdash;lighted from above!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O sister mine! you'll come to me at last&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>That</i> shall atone for all our weary past.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So pure thou art, with soul so joyous, <i>free</i>.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The world could not forgive&mdash;and hated thee!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be 'unlike the world,' is thy dark sin.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You or 'the world'? the 'you' my heart shall win.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within that shrine, so delicately fair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Burns a bright spirit which 'a world' can dare;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She mocks 'the world,' but she would <i>die</i> for <i>me</i>.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her heart is fathomed by eternity;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yet she's always 'in the fashion' dressed,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And 'wants a cashmere,' (she to me confessed.)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! you can see her, almost any day,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hat of pale violet, dress of silver-gray.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She goes to parties and the 'Music-Hall;'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She eats her dinner, and she gives a ball.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You nod and smile: '<i>We know her now&mdash;we see</i>!'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Perhaps! Alas! she's <i>quite</i> <i>un</i>known to me!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><b>MARIE.</b></span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How can I tell you if her face be fair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While the gay sunshine of her smile is there?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How can I tell you of a brilliant mind,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When every word she speaks is angel-kind?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Need I describe her voice, so melting sweet?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or the small mouth, which is its passage meet!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I only know, while for her voice I wait,</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">I see fair pearls behind that rosy gate.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But when she speaks, her diamond-wit's so bright,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All other beauties vanish from our sight.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No need for <i>her</i> to fear 'the world's rebuff!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Too much of Marie's always just enough I</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She is 'bad company,' yet e'en 'the good'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can find no flaw in her fair maidenhood.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The saints don't doubt that she is in <i>their</i> fold&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It makes me laugh to think how they are 'sold.'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Nice</i>, <i>naughty</i> folks are <i>sure</i>, she's of <i>their</i> creed,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet she's no hypocrite, in word or deed.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What <i>is</i> she, then&mdash;this gem without a flaw?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She is&mdash;she is&mdash;a maid-en made of 'straw'!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Reader, have you in your house a <i>vivarium</i> or <i>aquarium</i>, or any other
+variety of animal curiosity-shop, under care of the younger members? If
+so, the subjoined sketch may awaken in your mind more than one vivid
+souvenir, We know, at all events, that some of its 'features' were
+founded on facts; that is, if a 'feature' can be 'founded.' However, we
+take the phrase from&mdash;but no, we are sufficiently abused by the
+Democratic editors, as it is.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Editor of the Continental</span>: Among the lesser joys of maternity,
+that of having your children interested in a vivarium is one of the
+least&mdash;in fact, it is an elephantine sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>James, my eldest son, is a genius; before he was twelve years old, he
+invented a rat-trap, which not only caught rats, but cut off their tails
+and&mdash;let them go. At thirteen, he spoke Italian so fluently that he
+caused a hand-organ grinder to throw a brick at him. At fourteen, he
+came home one day with six large panes of glass, some tin and putty, and
+made a vivarium, a thing full of mud, water, leeches, dirty weeds, and
+other improvements.</p>
+
+<p>When James had finished his glass case, he placed it in the front
+drawing-room window, so that the public might behold that exquisite
+process of nature, tadpoles turning into spring water-chickens, as they
+call frogs on hotel bill of fares. Unfortunately, the gold fish he put
+in with them killed the tadpoles while they still wiggled, and a
+pickerel that he had bought of a fellow-school-boy for half-price, its
+tail being ragged, ate up the gold-fish.</p>
+
+<p>If at any time vegetables bought for the table were missing, we all knew
+where they went to; in fact, that vivarium, from the time green peas
+came until cabbages were ripe, resembled a <i>soupe &agrave; la Jardini&egrave;re</i>, and
+in summer-time a second course of boiled fish might easily have been
+found there.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, when I had a little company, and while Fanny Schell was
+singing an aria, he caused her to conclude with an unusually high
+scream, by announcing at the top of his voice, while he pointed to the
+vivarium:</p>
+
+<p class='center'>
+'Ma, the leeches have all crawled out!'
+</p>
+
+<p>Imagine the feelings my little company had the rest of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>I shall never forget the fright James gave me one hot night in July; it
+was Saturday, I remember well, for that was one of my son's holidays,
+and he returned home toward night unusually covered with mud, from a
+long walk in the country, evidently having been taking practical lessons
+in ditching. He was so very quiet after he returned, that I might have
+known he was in mischief. However, when his bed-time came, he kissed me
+good-night, and said:</p>
+
+<p>'O ma! I have such a surprise for you in the morning.'</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, I had the surprise that night. Business called my husband
+away from the city that morning, and I was alone. Waking up from a sound
+sleep about midnight, I distinctly heard somebody working on an anvil,
+like a blacksmith, 'ching-a-ling! ching-a-ling!' It evidently came from
+the drawing-room, and my fears at once told me it was a thief trying to
+break into the house. Next I heard some one whistle, like a man calling
+a dog, 'wheh! wheh! wheh!' Finally a dog barking, 'woo, woo, wooh!'
+Thoroughly alarmed, I sprang to the front-window, and called: 'Police!
+thieves!' until I managed to arouse the neighbors. I had the key of the
+front-door in my chamber; this I threw down to a police-officer, and in
+company with two others he boldly entered the house, lit the gas, and
+found&mdash;that vivarium full of bull-frogs!</p>
+
+<p>My son banished the frogs and introduced cat-fish, (or, as they call
+them in Boston, 'horn-pouts.') One night, my great Angora cat, a cat
+born in the Rue de Seine, educated in the best French <i>&Eacute;cole des
+chattes</i>, and brought to this country by my husband, fell a victim to
+<i>la gourmandise</i>, by falling into the vivarium while fishing for
+cat&mdash;horn-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>pout&mdash;fish. James found her there in the morning, drowned,
+and partially eaten up by those she had hoped to eat. She went into the
+<i>boudoir</i> to Pout, and 'had done it.'</p>
+
+<p>That finished the vivarium. I sincerely hope these trials to mothers
+will never again become the rage, and that something dry will next tempt
+our children's mania for home amusements. <span class="smcap">Cornelia</span>.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>'The Kansas John Brown Song,' which lately appeared in these columns,
+and which we credited to the Kansas <i>Herald</i>&mdash;following the lead of the
+newspaper where we found it&mdash;was written by the Rev. William W. Patton,
+of Chicago, for the <i>Tribune</i> of that city.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Though so often trampled down by the heel of patriotism, the old serpent
+of treason and disunion still keeps lifting his head and hissing
+venomously. In New-York, Fernando Wood&mdash;that incarnation of Northern
+secession&mdash;the man who dared to issue a proclamation recommending the
+inhabitants of the city of which he was mayor to go off with the South,
+is plotting and planning (unpunished, of course) with spirits of kindred
+baseness, to build up the old order and reestablish the rule of
+corruption. At Washington, all the timid, time-serving, and place-hoping
+members of Congress have been holding 'Conservative' meetings, at which
+the most insolent or timid propositions have been put forth; some of the
+traitors manifesting clear as day their undisguised sympathy for the
+rebels, others speaking only to preserve their tattered characters as
+Unionists. The upshot of all was given in a resolution that Congress has
+no power to deprive a person of his property, unless that person has
+been duly convicted by a trial by jury.</p>
+
+<p>We are not through the war as yet. Possibly, ere the end come, the
+country may have something to say as to the propriety of our
+representatives holding meetings to protect and favor rebels in their
+'rights.'</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">What's</span> in a name? There was a great puzzle once in <i>one</i> name,
+as appeareth from the following:<br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: In a certain village not unknown to you,
+dwelleth one Alwright.</p>
+
+<p>It is a good thing to have a good name. His, you observe, is
+'petter as goot.'</p>
+
+<p>Not long ago, A. went to an auction and bought things.</p>
+
+<p>'What name, sir?' inquired the man with the hammer.</p>
+
+<p>'Alwright.'</p>
+
+<p>'What <span class="smcap">name</span>, I say?' was the irritated reply.</p>
+
+<p>'<span class="smcap">Alwright</span>, I say.'</p>
+
+<p>'All wrong, you mean. 'Spect you'll make it all right in the
+morning, hey?'</p>
+
+<p>'<span class="smcap">Al-wright</span>!' cried the purchaser.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, all right!' cried the crowd, taking the joke. 'All right-go
+ahead, old knock 'em down.'</p>
+
+<p>The auctioneer began to be profane.</p>
+
+<p>'<span class="smcap">A-l</span>, Al,' began Alwright.</p>
+
+<p>'Hold your tongue! Go&mdash;&mdash;' continued the auctioneer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">'A-l</span> Al, <span class="smcap">w-r-i-g-h-t</span> wright,' continued the
+buyer.</p>
+
+<p>'O&mdash;h, thunder!' exclaimed Hammer, on whom the laughter of the mob
+began to operate. 'That's it, is it! Beg pardon. James, put this
+gentleman's name down. All right, sir. Go ahead. Gentlemen, allow
+me to call your attention to this fine lot of leather. Did I hear
+twenty-five?&mdash;five&mdash;five&mdash;five&mdash;an' an' a ha'f, an' a ha'f, an' a
+ha'f&mdash;gone!'</p>
+
+<p class='center'>Yours truly,<br /></p>
+<p class='author'><span class="smcap">Constant Reader</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>There is often some fun at auctions. One of the queerest ever reported
+to us was held in a French-Spanish be-Germanized village on the
+frontier, where business was transacted in something of a polyglott
+manner, as follows:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'Gentlemen-Messieurs-Senores y meine Herrne, I've got here for
+sale&mdash;a vender&mdash;a vendre zum verkaufen eine Sch&ouml;ne B&uuml;chse a
+first-rate rifle un fusil sans pareil, muy hermosa! Do I hear fifty
+pesos, cinquante Thaler ge-bid pour this here bully gun? Caballeros
+mira como es aplatado&mdash;all silvered up, in tip-top style&mdash;c'est de
+l'argent fin messieurs&mdash;s'ist alles von gutem Silber, Gott
+verdammich wenn's nicht echt is. Cinquante piastres, f&uuml;nfzig,
+f&uuml;nfzig, fifty do I hear, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> a half an' a half an' a half e un
+demi piastre un d'mi un d'mi ein halb' und ein halb' und ein halb'
+un medio y tin medio&mdash;wer sagt six shillins, six escalins, six
+escalins, seis reales, sechs schillin!? For this beautiful gun,
+good for Injuns, deer, bar, buffalo, or to kill one another
+with&mdash;madre Dios! bueno por matar los Americanos&mdash;first-rate to
+kill a Greaser&mdash;womit Sie alles was nicht Deutsch ist zu todten.
+Fifty-one dollars, thanky sir&mdash;cinquante deux&mdash;Merci, Monsieur! Wer
+sagt drei und f&uuml;nfzig&mdash;ich glaube dass ein Deutscher bekommt's noch
+am Ende. Go it, Yankee, Dutch is a-gainin' on ye! and a half an' a
+half e trois quar' r' r' an' three quarters und drei Viertel y tres
+quartos&mdash;quelqu'un a dit fifty-three&mdash;fifty-<i>four</i>&mdash;going, going,
+gone, sir&mdash;at fifty-four&mdash;America ahead and Frenchy second-best.'</p></div>
+
+<p>It would take some time, we should think, to be able to reel it off in
+such a quadruple thread.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Two 'after-Norse' poems are ours this month-the first from an esteemed
+Philadelphia correspondent&mdash;the second from another of the same State,
+but more inland. The following, we may observe, is written in the
+measure which most prevails in Icelandic poems:</p>
+
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><b>THE VIKINGS.</b></span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through the brown waters</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dash the swift prows;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At the helm Valor stands,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Death at the bows:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vainly the foeman shrinks,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Palsied in fright,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vain are his struggles, yet</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Vainer his flight.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Triple defenses&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fire, water, and steel,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Guard the gate of the West</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From the Northerner's keel.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though defiant at midnight,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ere morning the wrath</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the terrible sea-kings</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Has leveled a path.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rampart and heavy gun</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From o'er the bay,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose broad waters stretch</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Twixt the ships and their prey:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But shattered the rampart lies,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Silent the gun,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the circle of living fire</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Madly rolls on.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wide yawn the timbers,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wild waters rush in,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the ship settles fast</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mid the fierce battle-din:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet her guns hurl defiance,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As, stern to the last,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sea sucks her in</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With her flag on the mast.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sons of the Northman,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whose banner of old</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Spread the shadow of terror</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From each grisly fold,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of his broad heritage</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Worthy are ye:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Win it and wear it well,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Kings of the sea.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<p>The next 'Norse' is longer. We find in it a brave ring of true poetry:</p>
+
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><b>1861.</b></span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Oh! dark and true and tender is the North.'</span>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Loud leaps the strong wind forth,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fierce from the caves of the mighty North,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Ages untold,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">O'er town and wold,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That rest 'neath a softer sky,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swept that blast in anger by,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in his wrathful eddies bore</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fiery song of Odin and Thor.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Then little avail,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">'Gainst the Vi-king's arm,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The maiden's tear, the warrior's mail,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Or the priestman's charm.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And o'er the bright South-land</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A shadow of dread was the North wind's course,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whene'er his surging currents fanned</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The raven banner of the Norse.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Years pass, and time new rays has brought,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yet still the Northman's heart is warm;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But light on his soul a change has wrought,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And he loves the calm as he loved the storm.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Another god than the fearful Thor</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In heaven's blue he saw,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he gave to Peace his might in war&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His anger to the law.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the strong hand holds the sickle now,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The anvil rings at morn;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And waving sunbeams tinge with gold</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The hues of the ripening corn.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the land he loves in peace has grown</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To be mighty in wealth and name;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But o'er its brightness a cloud has flown,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And evil men to its councils came.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all seemed locked in a deadly sleep,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">While treason walked in her halls of state,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And good men grieve, but hopeless weep,</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">And the song of the scoffer is loud at the gate.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'The nation must pass away.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For the Northman's blood is cold,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And little he recks of honor or name,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">If his hand may clutch the gold.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Work treason&mdash;work your will&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Divide our Fatherland;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hearts are craven, souls are base&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Tis fit for the traitor's hand.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Fear no more the Northman's rage,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The blood of the Vi-kings is old and worn;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No ancient mem'ry can stir him now,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To stand by the flag his fathers have borne.'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The words half-sung in silence fall,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Hushed in dread by a mightier call,</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That stays the hand&mdash;that throbs the heart;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cleaving the gloom, that wild war-note&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The traitor's foot is on your flag,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His bayonet at our throat.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And hark! the North-wind's sullen moan</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rises high to a sterner tone,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That sinks away, then bursts anew</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In joy, as 'mid its surges grew</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The shout, the stroke, the cannon's peal,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The tread of countless number.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the flash of a traitor's steel</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Has broken the nation's slumber;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sighing breeze and southern gale,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Seized by the fierce wind's grasp, are torn</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From gentle haunt by hill or dale,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in the whirling vortex borne.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There murm'ring on his hollow breast,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wond'ring at his wild unrest,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their shrieking echoes sounding far,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Loud swelled the Northman's shout to war;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For with death's dark shadows flitting by,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And the day as dark as night,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A nation's hands are raised on high</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To hold their ancient right.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the ages are rolled from the record of time;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For the years of peace with its soft'ning beam,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That soothed in love the Northman's heart,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Are now but the mists of a warrior's dream.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the tinsel of life is burned in the glow</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That flames in his heart as in years long ago,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Norman sea-kings swept the wave,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who loved the night, the storm, and bloody grave.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And through all the blue of heaven's vault,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Rolls the Vala's mystic charm,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swelled with strains of the mighty past&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Victory strikes with the Northman's arm.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">F.</span></p>
+
+
+<p>Truly the old Northman is not dead among us. He lived in the iron
+Monitor, of the descendant of Eric, and he lives in scores of thousands
+of brave hearts and strong arms who came and are still coming to the
+battle-call:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Northmen, come out!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forth into battle with storm and shout,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He who lives with victory's blest;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He who dies gains peaceful rest.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Living or dying, let us be</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still vowed to God and liberty!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Northmen, come out!'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The following poem is certainly <i>not</i> behind the times:</p>
+
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>PAYING THE SHOT.</b></span></p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><b>BY J. IVES PEASE.</b></span></p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yes, pay them! pay them in their chosen coin,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bomb-shell and cannon-balls, well served and hot;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ay, 'shell out' all the treasures of 'the mine,'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Since that's the way we've got to 'pay the shot.'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We 'owe them <i>one</i>!' and now's the time to settle,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And finish up the business to a dot;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A half a million <i>men</i>, upon their <i>metal</i>,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Accounts will soon square off, and 'pay the shot.'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We owe them one; but 'tisn't one for niggers;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Master or slave no more shall treason plot.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We've settled <i>that</i> account with steel and triggers,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And the two millions, daily, 'pay the shot.'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We owe them one for hemp, that, coil on coil,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Judge Lynch has tendered us, in noose and knot;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We've now a sort that's grown upon free soil,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That, properly paid out, soon 'pays the shot.'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There's a snug sum due on the Sumner books;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>That</i> must be paid, each tittle and each jot;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A good accountant no mistake e'er brooks,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But <i>strikes his balance</i> fair, and 'pays the shot.'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There's some old 'scores,' on tar-and-feather martyrs,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We've now the 'devil to pay,' the 'pitch all hot;'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In every Jack-tar, Jeff now finds a Tar-tar,</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bound to 'pitch in,' and bound to 'pay the shot.'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So, onward, mudsills! fanatics! vandals! vipers!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wipe out this treason <i>now</i>, nor leave one blot;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Dixie dances, Dixie must 'pay the piper;'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Enough for 'U. S.' that we must 'pay the shot.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>War stories and war songs are in vogue&mdash;for instance:</p>
+
+
+<h4>MY JOHNNY IS GONE FOR A SOLDIER.</h4>
+
+<p>The accomplished, fascinating, talented, and beautiful Miss H&mdash;&mdash;, as
+Jinkings calls her in his last Saratoga letter, has engaged her
+affections to Mr. John G&mdash;&mdash;, and they are to be married some time. In
+the mean time, she has done all in her power to induce her lover to go
+and fight the battles of his country; so far unsuccessfully, since Mr.
+John G&mdash;&mdash; deems it his duty to stay at home and keep things steady,
+especially billiards, which, as we all know, is an erratic game,
+requiring great watching.</p>
+
+<p>The other evening, Miss H&mdash;&mdash;, while assisting at a sociable at Madame
+V&mdash;&mdash;'s, was asked to sing. Seated at the piano, to the horror of
+expectant hearers of classic music, she began, with loudest voice, to
+sing:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'I'll trace these gardins o'er and o'er,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A med-i-tating on atche swate flowir,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A thinking on each bewcheous hour;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! Johnny is gone for a sol-di-er.'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>She then put her handkerchief to her eyes, pretended to sob bitterly,
+arose from the piano-stool, and sought an arm-chair.</p>
+
+<p>Solicited by her confidential friend, Miss Belrose, to confide her
+affliction, she only answered:</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! my Johnny G&mdash;&mdash;'s gone for a soldier&mdash;to play billiards with him!
+And&mdash;and I know that that fast Lieutenant Gamble will keep him there for
+hours and hours.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Young gentlemen, this is the time for bullets and not for balls; for
+cannons and not caroms; for rifle-pits to hole yourselves in, and not
+for 'pockets' wherein to hole your adversary. <i>Apropos</i> of which, listen
+to</p>
+
+
+<h4>THE WRONG KIND OF A BAND.</h4>
+
+<p>Colonel X&mdash;&mdash; raised a regiment in the Ri-too-lal Rural districts of
+New-Jersey, including a by no means bad brass band.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived in Washington with his force, he was unfortunate enough to meet
+with a wag, who at once told him he was afraid that he, the Colonel,
+would meet or rather come to grief shortly.</p>
+
+<p>'How so?' asked Colonel X&mdash;&mdash; excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>'H'm!' answered the wag, 'don't you see that those rural musicians of
+yours will be regarded as country-band of war?'</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel saw it!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Do our readers remember a beautiful poem on Gottschalk's playing&mdash;<i>Los
+ojos Criollos</i>&mdash;which appeared some time since in the <i>Home Journal</i>?
+They will not regret to see a lyric in our pages by the writer of the
+first referred to:</p>
+
+
+<h4>THE OLD SURGEON'S STORY.</h4>
+
+<h4>BY ELEANOR C. DONELLY.</h4>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twas in a Southern hospital, a week ago or more,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(God save us! how the days drag on, these weary times of war!)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They brought me, in the sultry noon, a youth whom they had found</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Deserted by his regiment upon the battle-ground,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bleeding his young life away through many a gaping wound.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Dark-haired and slender as a girl, a handsome lad was he,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Despite the pallor of his wounds, each one an agony.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A ball had carried off his arm, and zig-zag passage frayed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into his chest&mdash;so wild a rent that, when it was displayed,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I, veteran surgeon that I was, turned white as any maid.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">''There is no hope?' he slowly said, noting my changing cheek;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I only shook my head: I dare not trust myself to speak;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But in that wordless negative, the boy had read his doom,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And turned about, as best he could, and lay in silent gloom,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Watching the summer sunlight make a glory of the room.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">''My little hero!' said a voice, and then a woman's hand</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lay like a lily on his curls: 'God give you self-command!'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Mother!'&mdash;how full that thrilling word of pity and alarm&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'You here? my sweetest mother here?' and with his one poor arm</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He got about her neck and drew her down with kisses warm.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">''All the long, sultry night, when out&mdash;'(He shuddered as he said)&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'On yonder field I lay among the festering heaps of dead;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With awful faces close to mine, and clots of bloody hair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And dead eyes gleaming through the dusk with such a rigid stare;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through all my pain, O mother mine! I only prayed one prayer.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">''Through all my pain&mdash;(and ne'er I knew what suffering was before!)&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I only prayed to see your face, to hear your voice once more;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cold moon shone into my eyes&mdash;my prayer seemed all in vain.'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'My poor deluded boy!' she sobbed; her mother-fount of pain</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O'erflowing down her gentle cheeks in drops like thunder-rain.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">''Accursed be he whose cruel hand has wrought my son such ill!'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The boy sprang upright at the word, and shrieked aloud, 'Be still!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You know not what you say. O God! how shall I tell the tale!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How shall I smite her as she stands!' and with a moaning wail</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He prone among the pillows dropped, his visage ashen pale.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">''It was a bloody field,' he said, at last, like one who dozed;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'I know not how the day began&mdash;I know not how it closed;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I only know we fought like fiends, begrimed with blood and dust,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And did our duty to a man, as every soldier must,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gave the rebels ball for ball, and paid them thrust for thrust.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'But when our gallant General rode up and down the line,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sunlight striking on his sword until it flashed like wine,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And cried aloud (God bless his lips!) with such a cheery laugh,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Charge bayonets, boys! Pitch into them, and scatter them like chaff!'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One half our men were drunk with blood, and mad the other half.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">''My veins ran fire. O Heaven! hide the horrors of that plain!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We charged upon the rebel ranks and cut them down like grain.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One bright-haired man ran on my steel&mdash;I pierced him through and through;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The blood upspirted from his wound and sprinkled me like dew.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twas strange, but as I looked I thought of Cain and him he slew.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">''Some impulse moved me to kneel down and touch him where he fell,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I turned him o'er&mdash;I saw his face&mdash;the sight was worse than hell!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>There lay my brother</i>&mdash;Curse me not!&mdash;pierced by <i>my</i> bayonet!'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O Christ! the pathos of that cry I never shall forget&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Men turned away to hide their tears, for every eye was wet.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'And the hard-featured woman-nurse, a sturdy wench was she,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dropped down among us, in a swoon, from very sympathy.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'I saw his face, the same dear face which once (would we had died</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In those old days of innocence!) was ever by my side,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At bed or board, at school or play, so fresh and merry-eyed!</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">''And now to see it white and set&mdash;to know the deed was mine!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A madness seized me as I knelt, accursed in God's sunshine.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I did not heed the balls which fell around us thick as rain,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I did not know my arm was gone;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I felt nor wound nor pain,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I only stooped and kissed those lips which ne'er would speak again.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">''O Louis!' (and the lad looked up and brushed a tear aside,)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'O Louis! brother of my soul! my boyhood's fearless guide!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the bright heaven where thou stand'st&mdash;by thy big-hearted faith&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By these the tears our mother sheds&mdash;by this my failing breath&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forgive me for that murd'rous thrust which wounded thee to death.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">''Forgive me! I would yield my life to give thee thine, my brother!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What's this? Don't shut the sunlight out; I can not see my mother.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The air blows sweet from yonder field!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dear Lou, put up your sword.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let's weave a little daisy-chain</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">upon this pleasant sward&mdash;'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And with a smile upon his mouth, the boy slept in the Lord.'</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Such are the tragedies of civil war, the fearful probability of such
+events. But who has not heard of families with sons in either army,
+especially on the border, in Philadelphia, and Baltimore? We have heard
+<i>seven</i> such instances enumerated by one lady of the former city. Let us
+turn from tragedy to comedy:</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<h4>CAPPED THE CLIMAX.</h4>
+
+<p>The ladies of Christopher's Church, Philadelphia, have worked like
+true-hearted women for the wounded soldiers. Many a poor fellow has
+blessed them for their contributions to alleviate his pain and make the
+old hospital comfortable for him. In the congregation, one elderly
+maiden lady, who had so far given nothing, was called on by one of her
+energetic sisters in the church, and implored to do something for the
+poor soldiers. She was told that any thing that would render their
+sufferings less would be gratefully received.</p>
+
+<p>She promised to send a donation. Nothing more was heard from her for a
+couple of weeks, when one morning the ladies assembled in the
+vestry-room of the church received a large basket from the elderly
+maiden lady. On opening it, they found three dozen starched muslin,
+night-cape, with frills all round them, bows and long strings.</p>
+
+<p>'Did you ever?' asked Miss G&mdash;&mdash;. 'I declare Miss&mdash;&mdash; has set her Caps
+for the soldiers in earnest this time.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>We select the following as the best proposed completion of the
+unfinished poem by Fitz-James O'Brien, published in our July number:</p>
+
+<p class='author'><i>Detroit, Mich., June 22d, 1862.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Editors of Continental</span>: As you do not give the conclusion
+of that 'Watching the Stag,' I propose to finish it in this wise:</p>
+
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Watching my face with half-closed eyes,'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As I lean my head on the dappled stag</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That stiffens beneath a windward crag.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His flanks are black with the hardened sweat,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And a film has clouded his eye of jet;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">While a round, red wound that oozes still,'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Tells of his fate and my marksman's skill.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh! the granite crags shall no longer feel</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His fleet hoofs ringing like steel on steel,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And shepherd shall never again espy</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His antlers painted against the sky!</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The mountain tarn, so lone and cold,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The delicate shadow no more shall hold;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The fleetness has died in each rigid limb,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And never shall dun hound follow him!</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Stanch Hela blinks as she half recalls</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That savage chase through the mountain-walls,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And growls as she dreams how her white teeth sank</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With a thirsty grip in his shuddering flank.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dream on, good dog! through the night so chill,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Till sunrise surges over the hill,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Till the heather glows and the peaks are gay,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And then for our mountain-home hurra!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>We are indebted to L. H. Brook, of Cambridge for a version of</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<h4>MARGARET'S SONG.</h4>
+
+<h4>FROM 'FAUST.'</h4>
+
+
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="1" width="65%" cellspacing="0" summary="MARGARET'S SONG">
+<tr><td align='left'>Meine Ruh' ist hin,</td><td align='left'>My peace is gone;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mein Herz ist schwer,</td><td align='left'>My heart is sore;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ich finde sie nimmer</td><td align='left'>I find it never</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Und nimmermehr.</td><td align='left'>And nevermore.</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Wo ich ihn nicht hab',</td><td align='left'>Where him I crave,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ist mir das Grab;</td><td align='left'>To me's the grave;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Die gauze Welt</td><td align='left'>The world and all</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ist mir verg&auml;llt.</td><td align='left'>Seems turned to gall.</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mein armer Kopf</td><td align='left'>My wretched head</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ist mir verr&uuml;ckt,</td><td align='left'>Seems going mad;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mein armer Sinn</td><td align='left'>My wretched mind</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ist mir zerst&uuml;ckt.</td><td align='left'>Is torn and sad.</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Nach ihm nur schau' ich</td><td align='left'>For him I look</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Zum Fenster hinaus,</td><td align='left'>The casement out;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Nach ihm nur geh' ich</td><td align='left'>Him only seek</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Aus dem Haus.</td><td align='left'>The town about.</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sein hoher Gang,</td><td align='left'>His lofty step,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sein' edle Gestalt.</td><td align='left'>His noble form;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Seines Mundes L&auml;cheln,</td><td align='left'>The smile of his mouth,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Seiner Augen Gewalt.</td><td align='left'>His eye's strong charm.</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Und seiner Rede</td><td align='left'>And in his voice</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Zauberfluss,</td><td align='left'>The magic bliss,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sein H&auml;ndedruck,</td><td align='left'>His clasping hand,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Und ach! sein Kuss.</td><td align='left'>And ah! his kiss.</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Meine Ruh' ist hin,</td><td align='left'>My peace is gone;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mein Herz ist schwer,</td><td align='left'>My heart is sore;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ich finde sie nimmer</td><td align='left'>I find it never</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Und nimmermehr.</td><td align='left'>And nevermore.</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mein Busen dr&auml;ngt</td><td align='left'>My bosom swells</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sich nach ihm hin;</td><td align='left'>Toward him when near</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ach! d&uuml;rft' ich fassen</td><td align='left'>Ah! might I fold</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Und halten ihn!</td><td align='left'>And hold him there!</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Und k&uuml;ssen ihn</td><td align='left'>And could I kiss him</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>So wie ich wollt',</td><td align='left'>While I may,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>An seinen K&uuml;ssen</td><td align='left'>Upon his kiss</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Vergehen sollt'!</td><td align='left'>I'd die away!</td></tr>
+</table>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<p><br /></p>
+<h2>THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY.</h2>
+<p><br /></p>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The Continental Monthly</span> has passed its experimental ordeal, and stands
+firmly established in popular regard. It was started at a period when
+any new literary enterprise was deemed almost foolhardy, but the
+publisher believed that the time had arrived for just such a Magazine.
+Fearlessly advocating the doctrine of ultimate and gradual Emancipation,
+for the sake of the UNION and the WHITE MAN, it has found favor in
+quarters where censure was expected, and patronage where opposition only
+was looked for. While holding firmly to its <i>own opinions</i>, it has
+opened its pages to POLITICAL WRITERS <i>of widely different views</i>, and
+has made a feature of employing the literary labors of the <i>younger</i>
+race of American writers. How much has been gained by thus giving,
+practically, the fullest freedom to the expression of opinion, and by
+the infusion of fresh blood into literature, has been felt from month to
+month in its constantly increasing circulation.</p>
+
+<p>The most eminent of our Statesmen have furnished THE CONTINENTAL many of
+its political articles, and the result is, it has not given labored
+essays fit only for a place in ponderous encyclopedias, but fresh,
+vigorous, and practical contributions on men and things as they exist.</p>
+
+<p>It will be our effort to go on in the path we have entered, and as a
+guarantee of the future, we may point to the array of live and brilliant
+talent which has brought so many encomiums on our Magazine. The able
+political articles which have given it so much reputation will be
+continued in each issue, together with the new Novel by Richard B.
+Kimball, the eminent author of the 'Under-Currents of Wall-Street,' 'St,
+Leger,' etc., entitled,</p>
+
+<h3>WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?</h3>
+
+<p>An account of the Life and Conduct of Hiram Meeker, one of the leading
+men in the mercantile community, and 'a bright and shining light' in the
+Church, recounting what he did, and how he made his money. This work
+excels the previous brilliant productions of this author. In the present
+number is also commenced a new Serial by the author of 'Among the
+Pines,' entitled,</p>
+
+<h3>A MERCHANT'S STORY,</h3>
+
+<p>which will depict Southern <i>white</i> society, and be a truthful history of
+some eminent Northern merchants who are largely in 'the cotton trade and
+sugar line.'</p>
+
+<p>The UNION&mdash;The Union of ALL THE STATES&mdash;that indicates our politics. To
+be content with no ground lower than the highest&mdash;that is the standard
+of our literary character.</p>
+
+<p>We hope all who are friendly to the spread of our political views, and
+all who are favorable to the diffusion of a live, fresh, and energetic
+literature, will lend us their aid to increase our circulation. There is
+not one of our readers who may not influence one or two more, and there
+is in every town in the loyal States some active person whose time might
+be profitably employed in procuring subscribers to our work. To
+encourage such to act for us we offer the following very liberal</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<h4>TERMS TO CLUBS.</h4>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="1" width="70%" cellspacing="0" summary="Subscription Costs">
+<tr><td align='left'>Two copies for one year,</td><td align='left'>Five dollars.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Three copies for one year,</td><td align='left'>Six dollars.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Six copies for one year,</td><td align='left'>Eleven dollars.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Eleven copies for one year,</td><td align='left'>Twenty dollars.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Twenty copies for one year,</td><td align='left'>Thirty-six dollars.</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" align='center'>PAID IN ADVANCE</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<p class='center'><i>Postage, Thirty-six cents a year</i>, to be paid <span class="smcap">by the
+Subscriber</span>.</p>
+
+<h4>SINGLE COPIES.</h4>
+
+<p class='center'>Three dollars a year, <span class="smcap">in advance</span>. <i>Postage paid by the
+Publisher</i>.</p>
+
+
+<p class='center'>J. R. GILMORE, 532 Broadway, New-York, and 110 Tremont Street, Boston.</p>
+
+<p class='center'>CHARLES T. EVANS, 532 Broadway, New-York, <i>GENERAL AGENT</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/imgffl.jpg" alt="Finest Farming Lands" title="Finest Farming Lands" /></div>
+
+
+<h3>EQUAL TO ANY IN THE WORLD!!!</h3>
+
+<h4>MAY BE PROCURED</h4>
+
+<h3>At FROM $8 to $12 PER ACRE,</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>Near Markets, Schools, Railroads, Churches, and all the blessings of
+Civilization.</p>
+
+<h4>1,200,000 Acres, in Farms of 40, 80, 120, 160 Acres and upwards, in
+ILLINOIS, the Garden State of America.</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<blockquote><p>The Illinois Central Railroad Company offer, ON LONG CREDIT, the
+beautiful and fertile PRAIRIE LANDS lying along the whole line of their
+Railroad. 700 MILES IN LENGTH, upon the most Favorable Terms for
+enabling Farmers, Manufacturers, Mechanics and Workingmen to make for
+themselves and their families a competency, and a HOME they can call
+THEIR OWN, as will appear from the following statements:</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4>ILLINOIS.</h4>
+
+<p>Is about equal in extent to England, with a population of 1,722,666, and
+a soil capable of supporting 20,000,000. No State in the Valley of the
+Mississippi offers so great an inducement to the settler as the State of
+Illinois. There is no part of the world where all the conditions of
+climate and soil so admirably combine to produce those two great
+staples, <span class="smcap">Corn</span> and <span class="smcap">Wheat</span>.</p>
+
+<h4>CLIMATE.</h4>
+
+<p>Nowhere can the Industrious farmer secure such immediate results from
+his labor as on these deep, rich, loamy soils, cultivated with so much
+ease. The climate from the extreme southern part of the State to the
+Terre Haute, Alton and St. Louis Railroad, a distance of nearly 200
+miles, is well adapted to Winter.</p>
+
+<h4>WHEAT, CORN, COTTON, TOBACCO.</h4>
+
+<p>Peaches, Pears, Tomatoes, and every variety of fruit and vegetables is
+grown in great abundance, from which Chicago and other Northern markets
+are furnished from four to six weeks earlier than their immediate
+vicinity. Between the Terre Haute, Alton &amp; St. Louis Railway and the
+Kankakee and Illinois Rivers, (a distance of 115 miles on the Branch,
+and 136 miles on the Main Trunk,) lies the great Corn and Stock raising
+portion of the State.</p>
+
+<h4>THE ORDINARY YIELD</h4>
+
+<p>of Corn is from 60 to 80 bushels per acre. Cattle, Horses, Mules, Sheep
+and Hogs are raised here at a small cost, and yield large profits. It is
+believed that no section of country presents greater inducements for
+Dairy Farming than the Prairies of Illinois, a branch of farming to
+which but little attention has been paid, and which must yield sure
+profitable results. Between the Kankakee and Illinois Rivers, and
+Chicago and Dunleith, (a distance of 56 miles on the Branch and 147
+miles by the Main Trunk,) Timothy Hay, Spring Wheat, Corn, &amp;c., are
+produced in great abundance.</p>
+
+<h4>AGRICULTURAL PRODUCTS.</h4>
+
+<p>The Agricultural products of Illinois are greater than those of any
+other State. The Wheat crop of 1861 was estimated at 35,000,000 bushels,
+while the Corn crop yields not less than 140,000,000 bushels besides the
+crop of Oats, Barley, Rye, Buckwheat, Potatoes, Sweet Potatoes,
+Pumpkins, Squashes, Flax, Hemp, Peas, Clover, Cabbage, Beets, Tobacco,
+Sorgheim, Grapes, Peaches, Apples, &amp;c., which go to swell the vast
+aggregate of production in this fertile region. Over Four Million tons
+of produce were sent out the State of Illinois during the past year.</p>
+
+<h4>STOCK RAISING.</h4>
+
+<p>In Central and Southern Illinois uncommon advantages are presented for
+the extension of Stock raising. All kinds of Cattle, Horses, Mules,
+Sheep, Hogs, &amp;c., of the best breeds, yield handsome profits; large
+fortunes have already been made, and the field is open for others to
+enter with the fairest prospects of like results. Dairy Farming also
+presents its inducements to many.</p>
+
+<h4>CULTIVATION OF COTTON.</h4>
+
+<p>The experiments in Cotton culture are of very great promise. Commencing
+in latitude 39 deg. 30 min. (see Mattoon on the Branch, and Assumption
+on the Main Line), the Company owns thousands of acres well adapted to
+the perfection of this fibre. A settler having a family of young
+children, can turn their youthful labor to a most profitable account in
+the growth and perfection of this plant.</p>
+
+<h4>THE ILLINOIS CENTRAL RAILROAD</h4>
+
+<p>Traverses the whole length of the State, from the banks of the
+Mississippi and Lake Michigan to the Ohio. As its name imports, the
+Railroad runs through the centre of the State, and on either side of the
+road along its whole length lie the lands offered for sale.</p>
+
+<h4>CITIES, TOWNS, MARKETS, DEPOTS.</h4>
+
+<p>There are Ninety-eight Depots on the Company's Railway, giving about one
+every seven miles. Cities, Towns and Villages are situated at convenient
+distances throughout the whole route, where every desirable commodity
+may be found as readily as in the oldest cities of the Union, and where
+buyers are to be met for all kinds of farm produce.</p>
+
+<h4>EDUCATION.</h4>
+
+<p>Mechanics and working-men will find the free school system encouraged by
+the State, and endowed with a large revenue for the support of the
+schools. Children can live in sight of the school, the college, the
+church, and grow up with the prosperity of the leading State in the
+Great Western Empire.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h4>PRICES AND TERMS OF PAYMENT&mdash;ON LONG CREDIT.</h4>
+
+<p class='center'>
+80 acres at $10 per acre, with interest at 6 per ct. annually
+on the following terms:</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="65%" cellspacing="0" summary="Cost of Land">
+<tr><td align='left'>Cash payment</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'>$48 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Payment</td><td align='left'>in one year</td><td align='right'>48 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>in two years</td><td align='right'>48 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>in three years</td><td align='right'>48 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>in four years</td><td align='right'>236 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>in five years</td><td align='right'>224 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>in six years</td><td align='right'>212 00</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='center'>40 acres, at $10 00 per acre:</p>
+
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="65%" cellspacing="0" summary="Cost of Land">
+<tr><td align='left'>Cash payment</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'>$24 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Payment</td><td align='left'>in one year</td><td align='right'>24 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>in two years</td><td align='right'>24 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>in three years</td><td align='right'>24 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>in four years</td><td align='right'>118 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>in five years</td><td align='right'>112 00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>in six years</td><td align='right'>106 00</td></tr>
+</table>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<p><br /></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>The</h1>
+
+<h1>Continental</h1>
+
+<h1>Monthly</h1>
+
+
+<h3>Devoted to Literature and National Policy.</h3>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h3>SEPTEMBER, 1862.</h3>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p class='center'>NEW-YORK AND BOSTON:<br />
+J. R. GILMORE, 532 BROADWAY, NEW-YORK, AND 110 TREMONT STREET, BOSTON.<br />
+NEW-YORK: HENRY DEXTER AND SINCLAIR TOUSEY.<br />
+PHILADELPHIA: T. B. CALLENDEE AND A. WINCH.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>CONTENTS.&mdash;No. IX.</h3>
+
+
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="65%" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align='left'>Henry Thomas Buckle,</td><td align='right'>253</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Molly O'Molly Papers,</td><td align='right'>257</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hopeful Tackett&mdash;His Mark,</td><td align='right'>262</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>John Bull to Jonathan,</td><td align='right'>265</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Jonathan to John Bull,</td><td align='right'>265</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>American Student Life,</td><td align='right'>266</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Go In and Win,</td><td align='right'>274</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>John Neal,</td><td align='right'>275</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Soldier and the Civilian,</td><td align='right'>281</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Author Borrowing,</td><td align='right'>285</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Intervention,</td><td align='right'>289</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Maccaroni and Canvas,</td><td align='right'>290</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Anthony Trollope on America,</td><td align='right'>302</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Up and Act,</td><td align='right'>314</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Reminiscences of Andrew Jackson,</td><td align='right'>318</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Shakspeare's Caricature of Richard III.,</td><td align='right'>320</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Negro in the Revolution,</td><td align='right'>324</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Merchant's Story, By the author of "Among the Pines,"</td><td align='right'>328</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Shoulder-Straps,</td><td align='right'>342</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Children in the Wood,</td><td align='right'>354</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>National Unity,</td><td align='right'>357</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Was he Successful?</td><td align='right'>360</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Literary Notices,</td><td align='right'>366</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Editor's Table,</td><td align='right'>369</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The article in this issue on NATIONAL UNITY, is by the Hon. <span class="smcap">Horace
+Greeley</span>, who will hereafter contribute to each number of 'The
+Continental.'</p>
+
+<p>SHOULDER-STRAPS, by <span class="smcap">Henry Morford</span>, Esq., author of 'Rhymes of
+Twenty Years,' will be a sparkling commentary on 'Men, Manners, and
+Motives in 1862.' It will depict some prominent characters whose love of
+the UNION is shown in a decided penchant for 'shoulder-straps.'</p>
+
+<p>The future chapters of 'A MERCHANT'S STORY,' by the author of 'Among the
+Pines,' will be mainly descriptive of Southern life and society.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Entered</span>, according to Act of Congress in the year 1862, by
+<span class="smcap">James R. Gilmore</span>, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court
+of the United States for the Southern District of New-York.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No.
+2, August, 1862, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTINENTAL MONTHLY ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2,
+August, 1862, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2, August, 1862
+       Devoted to Literature and National Policy
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: November 27, 2006 [EBook #19927]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTINENTAL MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Janet Blenkinship and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+CONTINENTAL MONTHLY:
+
+DEVOTED TO
+
+LITERATURE AND NATIONAL POLICY.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VOL. II.--AUGUST, 1862.--No. II.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AMONG THE PINES.
+
+[CONCLUDED.]
+
+'My God! drowned herself and her child!' exclaimed the Colonel, with
+deep emotion.
+
+'Come, my friend, let us go to them at once,' I said, laying my hand on
+his arm, and drawing him unresistingly away.
+
+A pair of mules was speedily harnessed to a large turpentine-wagon, and
+the horses we had ridden the day before were soon at the door. When the
+Colonel, who had been closeted for a few minutes with Madam P--, came
+out of the house, we mounted and rode off with the 'corn-cracker.'
+
+The native's farm was located on the stream which watered my friend's
+plantation, and was about ten miles distant. Taking a by-road which led
+to it through the woods, we rode rapidly on in advance of the wagon.
+
+'Sort o' likely gal, thet, warn't she?' remarked the turpentine-maker,
+after a while.
+
+'Yes, she was,' replied the Colonel, in a half-abstracted manner,
+'_very_ likely.'
+
+'Kill harself 'case har man war shot by thet han'som overseer uv yourn?'
+
+'Not altogether for that, I reckon,' replied my host,' I fear the main
+reason was her being put at field-work, and abused by the driver.'
+
+'Thet comes uv not lookin' arter things yerself, Cunnel. I 'tend ter my
+niggers parsonally, and they keer a durned sight more fur this world
+then fur kingdom-cum. Ye cudn't hire 'em ter kill 'emselves fur no
+price.'
+
+'Well,' replied the Colonel, in a low tone, 'I _did_ look after her. I
+put her at full field-work myself.'
+
+'By--!' cried the native, reining his horse to a dead stop, and speaking
+in an excited manner; 'I doan't b'lieve it, 'taint 't all like ye; yer a
+d--d seceshener--thet comes uv yer bringin'-up; but ye've a soul
+bigger'n a meetin'-house, and ye cudn't hev put thet slim, weakly gal
+inter th' woods, no how!'
+
+The Colonel and I instinctively halted our horses, as the 'corn-cracker'
+stopped his.
+
+'It is true, Barnes,' said my host, in a low voice, 'I _did_ do it!'
+
+'May God Almighty furgive ye, Cunnel,' said the native, starting his
+horse forward, '_I_ wudn't hev dun it fur all yer niggers, by----.'
+
+The Colonel made no reply, and we rode on the rest of the way in
+silence.
+
+The corn-cracker's house--a low, unpainted, wooden building--stood near
+the little stream, and in the centre of a cleared plot of some ten
+acres. This plot was surrounded by a post and rail fence, and in its
+front portion was a garden, which grew a sufficient supply of vegetables
+to serve a family of twenty persons. In the rear, and at the sides of
+the dwelling, were about seven acres, devoted mainly to corn and
+potatoes. In one corner of the lot were three tidy-looking negro-houses,
+and close beside them I noticed a low shed, near which a large quantity
+of the stalks of the tall, white corn, common to that section, was
+stacked in the New-England fashion. Browsing on the corn-stalks were
+three sleek, well-kept milch-cows and a goat.
+
+About four hundred yards from the farmer's house, and on the bank of the
+little run, which there was quite wide and deep, stood a
+turpentine-distillery, and around it were scattered a large number of
+rosin and turpentine barrels, some filled and some empty. A short
+distance higher up, and far enough from the 'still' to be safe in the
+event of a fire, was a long, low, wooden shed, covered with rough,
+unjointed boards, placed upright, and unbattened. This was the
+'spirit-house,' used for the storage of the spirits of turpentine when
+barreled for market, and awaiting shipment. In the creek, and filling
+nearly one-half of the channel in front of the spirit-shed, was a raft
+of pine-timber, on which were laden some two hundred barrels of rosin.
+On such rude conveyances the turpentine-maker sent his produce to
+Conwayboro. There the timber-raft was sold to my wayside friend, Captain
+B--, and its freight shipped on board vessel for New-York.
+
+Two 'prime' negro men, dressed in the usual costume, were 'tending the
+still,' and a negro-woman, as stout and strong as the men, and clad in a
+short, loose, linsey gown, from beneath which peeped out a pair of
+coarse leggins, was adjusting a long wooden trough, which conveyed the
+liquid rosin from the 'still' to a deep excavation in the earth, at a
+short distance. In the pit was a quantity of rosin sufficient to fill a
+thousand barrels.
+
+'Here, Bill,' said Barnes to one of the negro men, as we pulled up at
+the distillery, 'put these critters up, and give 'em some oats, and when
+they've cooled off a bit, water 'em.'
+
+'Yas, yas, massa,' replied the negro, springing nimbly forward, and
+taking the horses by the bridles, 'an' rub 'em down, massa?'
+
+'Yas, rub 'em down right smart,' replied the corn-cracker; then turning
+to me, as we dismounted, he said: 'Stranger, thet's th' sort o' niggers
+fur ye; all uv mine ar' jess like him, smart and lively as kittens.'
+
+'He does seem to go about his work cheerfully,' I replied.
+
+'Cheerfully! d--d ef he doan't--all on 'em du! They like me better'n
+thar own young 'uns, an' it's 'case I use 'em like human bein's;' and he
+looked slyly toward the Colonel, who just then was walking silently
+away, in the direction of the run, as if in search of the drowned
+'chattels.'
+
+'Not thar, Cunnel,' cried the native, 'they're inter th' shed,' and he
+started to lead the way to the 'spirit-house.'
+
+'Not now, Barnes,' I said, putting my hand on his arm, 'leave him alone
+for a little while. He is feeling badly, and we'd better not disturb
+him.'
+
+The native motioned me to a seat on a rosin-barrel, as he replied:
+
+'Wal, he 'pears ter, thet's a fact, and he orter. D--d ef it arn't
+wicked to use niggers like cattle, as he do.'
+
+'I don't think he means to ill-treat them; he's a kind-hearted man.'
+
+'Wal, he ar' sort o' so; but he's left ev'ry thing ter thet d--d
+overseer uv his'n. I wudn't ha' trusted him to feed my hogs.'
+
+'Hogs!' I exclaimed, laughing; 'I supposed you didn't _feed_ hogs in
+these diggings. I supposed you 'let 'em run.''
+
+'_I_ doan't; an' I've got th' tallest porkys 'round har.'
+
+'I've been told that they get a good living in the woods.'
+
+'Wal, p'raps the' du jest make eout ter live thar; but my ole 'oman
+likes 'em ter hum. They clean up a place like, eat up all th' leavin's,
+an' give th' young nigs suthin' ter du.'
+
+'It seems to me,' I said, resuming the previous thread of the
+conversation, 'that overseers are a necessity on a large plantation.'
+
+'Wal, the' ar', an' thet's why thar ortent ter be no big plantations;
+God Almighty didn't make human bein's ter be herded togethar in th'
+woods. No man orter ter hev more'n twenty on 'em--he can't look arter no
+more himself, an' it's agin natur' ter set a feller over 'em what han't
+no int'rest in 'cm, an' no feelin' fur 'em, an' who'll drive 'em round
+like brutes. I never struck one on 'em in my life, an' my ten du more'n
+ony fifteen th' Cunnel's got.'
+
+'I thought they needed occasional correction. How do you manage them
+without whipping?'
+
+'Manage them! why, 'cordin' ter scriptur'--do ter 'em as I'd like ter be
+dun ter, ef I war a nigger. Every one on 'em knows I'd part with my last
+shirt, an' live on taters an' cow-fodder, 'fore I'd sell 'em; an' then I
+give 'em Saturdays for 'emselfs; but thet's cute dealin' in me, (tho'
+th' pore, simple souls doan't see it,) fur ye knows the' work thet day
+fur 'emselfs, an' raise nigh all thar own feed, 'cept th' beef and
+whisky, an' it sort o' makes 'em feel like folks, too, more like as ef
+the' war _free_--the' work th' better fur it all th' week.'
+
+'Then you think the blacks would work better if free?'
+
+'In _course_ I does--it's agin man's natur' to be a slave. Thet lousy
+parson ye herd ter meetin' a Sunday, makes slavery eout a divine
+institooshun, but my wife's a Bible 'oman, and she says 'tan't so; an'
+I'm d--d ef she arn't right.'
+
+'Is your wife a South-Carolina woman?'
+
+'No, she an' me's from th' old North--old Car'tret, nigh on ter
+Newbern--an' we doan't take nat'rally to these fire-eaters.'
+
+'Have you been here long?'
+
+'Wal, nigh on ter six yar. I cum har with nuthin' but a thousan' ter my
+back, slapped thet inter fifteen hun'red acres, paid it down, and then
+hired ten likely North-Car'lina niggers, hired 'em with th' chance uv
+buyin' ef the' liked eout har. Wal, th' nigs all know'd me, and the'
+sprung ter it like blazes; so every yar I've managed ter buy two on 'em,
+and now I've ten grow'd up, and thar young uns, th' still and all th'
+traps paid fur, an' ef this d--d secesh bisness hadn't a come 'long, I'd
+hev hed a right smart chance o' doin' well.'
+
+'I'm satisfied secession will ruin the turpentine business; you'll be
+shut up here, unable to sell your produce, and it will go to waste.'
+
+'Thet's my 'pinion; but I reckon I kin manage now witheout turpentine.
+I've talked it over 'long with my nigs, and we kalkerlate ef these ar
+doin's go eny furder, ter tap no more trees, but cl'ar land an' go ter
+raisin' craps.'
+
+'What! do you talk politics with your negroes?'
+
+'Nary a politic; but I'm d--d ef th' critters doan't larn 'em sumhow.
+The' knows 'bout as much uv what's goin' on as I du; but plantin' arn't
+politics, it's bisness, an' they've more int'rest in it nor I hev,
+'cause they've sixteen mouths ter feed agin my four.'
+
+'I'm glad, my friend, that you treat them like men; but I have supposed
+they were not well enough informed to have intelligent opinions on such
+subjects.'
+
+'Informed! wal, I reckon the' is; all uv mine kin read, an' sum on 'em
+kin write, too. D'ye see that little nig thar?' pointing to a juvenile,
+coal-black darky of about six years, who was standing before the 'still'
+fire; 'thet ar little devil kin read an' speak like a parson. He's got
+hold, sumhow, uv my little gal's book o' pieces, an' larned a dozen on
+'em. I make him cum inter th' house, once in a while uv an evenin', an'
+speechify, an' 'twould do yer soul good ter har him, in his shirt-tail,
+with a old sheet wound round him fur a toger (I've told him th'
+play-actors du it so down ter Charles'on,) an' spoutin' out: 'My name am
+Norval; on de Gruntin' hills my fader feed him hogs!' The little coon
+never seed a sheep, an' my wife's told him a flock's a herd, an' he
+thinks 'hog' _sounds_ better'n 'flock,' so, contra'y ter th' book, he
+puts in 'hogs,' and hogs, you knows, hev ter grunt, so he gits 'em on
+th' Gruntin' hills;' and here the kind-hearted native burst into a fit
+of uproarious laughter, in which, in spite of myself, I had to join.
+
+When the merriment had somewhat subsided, the turpentine-maker called
+out to the little darky:
+
+'Come here, Jim.'
+
+The young chattel ran to him with alacrity, and wedging in between his
+legs, placed his little black hands in a free-and-easy way on his
+master's knees, and looking up trustfully in his face, said:
+
+'Wal, massa?'
+
+'What's yer name?'
+
+'Dandy Jim, massa.'
+
+'Thet arn't all; what's th'rest?'
+
+'Dandy Jim of ole Car'lina.'
+
+'Who made ye?'
+
+'De good God, massa.'
+
+'No, he didn't; God doan't make little nigs. He makes none but white
+folks,' said the master, laughing.
+
+'Yas, he'm do; missus say he'm do; dat he make dis nig jess like he done
+little Totty.'
+
+'Wal, he did, Jim. I'm d--d ef _He_ didn't, fur nobody else cud make
+_ye!_' replied the man, patting the little wooly head with undisguised
+affection.
+
+'Now, Jim, say th' creed fur 'de gem-man.''
+
+The young darky then repeated the Apostles' Creed and the Ten
+Commandments.
+
+'Is thet all ye knows?'
+
+'No, massa, I knows a heap 'sides dat.'
+
+'Wal, say suthin' more; sum on 'em pieces thet jingle.'
+
+The little fellow then repeated with entire correctness, and with
+appropriate gestures and emphasis, though in the genuine darky
+dialect--which seems to be inborn with the pure, Southern black--Mrs.
+Hemans' poem:
+
+  'The boy stood on the burning deck.'
+
+'Mrs. Hemans draped in black!' I exclaimed, laughing heartily; 'How
+would the good lady feel, could she look down from where she is, and
+hear a little darky doing up her poetry in that style?'
+
+'D--d ef I doan't b'lieve'twud make her love th' little nig like I do,'
+replied the corn-cracker, taking him up on his knee as tenderly as he
+would have taken up his own child.
+
+'Tell me, my little man,' I said, 'who taught you all these things?'
+
+'I lamed 'em myseff, sar,' was the prompt reply.
+
+'You learned them yourself! but who taught you to read?'
+
+'I larned 'em myseff, sar!'
+
+'You couldn't have learned _that_ yourself; didn't your 'massa' teach
+you?'
+
+'No, sar.'
+
+'Oh! your 'missus' did?'
+
+'No, sar.'
+
+'No, sar!' I repeated; then suspecting the real state of the case, I
+looked him sternly in the eye, and said: 'My little man, it's wrong to
+tell lies, you must _always_ speak the truth; now, tell me truly, did
+not your 'missus' teach you these things?'
+
+'No, sar, I larned 'em myseff.'
+
+'Ye can't cum it, stranger; ye moight roast him over a slow fire, an'
+not git nary a thing eout on him but thet,' said the corn-cracker,
+leaning forward, and breaking into a boisterous fit of laughter. 'It's
+agin th' law, an' I'm d--d ef _I_ teached him. Reckon he _did_ larn
+himself!'
+
+'I must know your wife, my friend. She's a good woman.'
+
+'Good! ye kin bet high on thet; she's uv th' stuff th' Lord makes angels
+eout on.'
+
+I had no doubt of it, and was about to say so, when the Colonel's
+turpentine-wagon drove up, and I remembered I had left him too long
+alone.
+
+The coachman was driving, and Jim sat on the wagon beside him.
+
+'Massa K--,' said the latter, getting down and coming to me, 'Whar am
+dey?'
+
+'In the spirit-shed.'
+
+He was turning to go there, when I called him back, saying: 'Jim, you
+must not see your master now; you'd better keep out of sight for the
+present.'
+
+'No, massa; de ma'am say de Cunnel take dis bery hard, and dat I orter
+tell him I'se sorry for what I'se done.'
+
+'Well, wait awhile. Let me go in first.'
+
+Accompanied by the corn-cracker, I entered the turpentine-shed. A row of
+spirit-barrels were ranged along each of its sides, and two tiers
+occupied the centre of the building. On these a number of loose planks
+were placed, and on the planks lay the bodies of the metif woman and her
+child. The Colonel was seated on a barrel near them, with his head
+resting on his hands, and his eyes fixed on the ground. He did not seem
+to notice our entrance, and passing him without speaking, I stepped to
+the side of the dead.
+
+The woman's dress, the common linsey gown worn by her class, was still
+wet, and her short, kinky, brown hair fell in matted folds around her
+head. One arm hung loosely by her side; the other was clasped tightly
+around her child, which lay as if asleep on her bosom. One of its small
+hands clung to its mother's breast, and around its little lips played a
+smile. But how shall I describe the pale, sweet beauty of the face of
+the drowned girl, as she lay there, her eyes closed, and her lips
+parted, as in prayer? Never but once have I seen on human features the
+strange radiance that shone upon it, or the mingled expression of hope
+and peace and resignation that rested there, and that was in the
+long-gone time when, standing by her bedside, I watched the passing away
+of one who is now an angel in heaven!
+
+'Come, my dear friend, let us go,' I said, turning and gently taking the
+Colonel by the arm, 'the negroes are here, and will take charge of the
+dead.'
+
+'No, no!' he replied, rising and looking around as if aroused from a
+troubled dream; 'that is for _me_ to do!' Then he added, after a
+moment's pause, 'Will you help me to get them into the wagon?'
+
+'Yes, I will, certainly.'
+
+He made one step toward the body of the dead girl, then sinking down
+again on the barrel, covered his face with his hands, and cried out: 'My
+God! this is terrible! Did you ever see such a look as that? It will
+haunt me forever!'
+
+'Come, my friend, rouse yourself--this is weakness; you are tired with
+the long ride and excitement of the past few days. Come, go home; I will
+look after them.'
+
+'No, no! I must do it. I will be a man again;' and he rose and walked
+steadily to the dead bodies. 'Is there any one here to help?' he asked.
+
+Jim was standing in the doorway, and I motioned to him to come forward.
+The great tears were streaming down his face, as he stepped timidly
+toward his master, and said: 'I'll do dis, massa, don't you trubble
+yerself no more.'
+
+'It's good of you, Jim. You'll forgive me for being so cruel to you,
+won't you?' said the Colonel, taking the black by the hand.
+
+'Forgib ye, massa! _I_ war all ter blame; but ye'll forgib me,
+massa--ye'll forgib me!' cried the black, with strong emotion.
+
+'Yes, yes; but say no more about it. Come, let us get Julie home.'
+
+But the poor girl was already _home_--home where her sufferings and her
+sorrows were over, and all her tears were wiped away forever!
+
+We four bore away the mother and the child. A number of blankets were in
+the bottom of the wagon, and we laid the bodies carefully upon them.
+When all seemed ready, the Colonel, who was still standing by the side
+of the dead, turned to my new friend, and said: 'Barnes, will you loan
+me a pillow? I will send it back to-night.'
+
+'Sartin, Cunnel,' and the farmer soon brought one from the house.
+Lifting tenderly the head of the drowned girl, the Colonel placed it
+beneath her, and smoothing back her tangled hair, he gently covered her
+face with his handkerchief, as if she could still feel his kindness, or
+longer cared for the pity or the love of mortal. Yet, who knows but that
+her parted soul, from the high realm to which it had soared, may not
+then have looked down, have seen that act, and have forgiven him?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the first moments of grief the sympathy of friends and the words of
+consolation bring no relief. How much more harshly do such words grate
+on the ear when the soul is bowed down by remorse and unavailing regret!
+Then the wounded spirit finds peace nowhere but with God.
+
+I saw that the Colonel would be alone, and turning to him, as he
+prepared to follow the strange vehicle which, with its load of death,
+was already jolting its way over the rough forest road, I said:
+
+'Will you pardon me, if I remain with your friend here for a while? I
+will be at the mansion before dark.'
+
+'Oh! certainly, my friend; come when you feel disposed,' he replied, and
+mounting his horse, he was soon out of sight among the trees.
+
+'Now, Barnes,' I said, shaking off the gloomy feelings that had
+oppressed me; 'come, I must see that wife of yours, and get a glimpse of
+how you live.'
+
+'Sartin, stranger; come in. I'll give ye th' tallest dinner my 'oman can
+scare up, an' she's sum pumkins in th' cookin' line;' and he led the way
+to the farm-house.
+
+As I turned to follow, I slipped a half-dollar into the hand of the
+darky who was holding my horse, and asked him to put her again into the
+stable.
+
+'I'll do dat, sar; but I karn't take dis; massa doan't 'low it nohow,'
+he replied, tendering me back the money.
+
+'Barnes, your negroes have strange ways; I never met one before who'd
+refuse money.'
+
+'Wal, stranger,'tan't hosspetality to take money on yer friends, and
+Bill gets all he wants from me.'
+
+I took the silver and gave it to the first darky I met, who happened to
+be an old centenarian belonging to the Colonel. As I tossed it to him,
+he grinned out: 'Ah! massa, I'll git sum 'backer wid dis; 'pears like I
+hadn't nary a chaw in furty yar.' With more than one leg in the grave,
+the old negro had not lost his appetite for the weed: in fact, that and
+whisky are the only 'luxuries' ever known to the plantation black.
+
+As we went nearer, I took a closer survey of the farm-house. It was, as
+I have said, a low, unpainted, wooden building, located in the middle of
+a ten-acre lot. It was approached by a straight walk, paved with a
+mixture of sand and tar, similar to that which the reader may have seen
+in the Champs Elysees. I do not know whether my backwoods friend or the
+Parisian pavior was the first inventor of this composition; but I am
+satisfied the corn-cracker had not stolen it from the stone-cracker. The
+walk was lined with fruit-bearing shrubs, and directly in front of the
+house were two small flower-beds.
+
+The dwelling itself, though of a dingy-brown wood-color, was neat and
+inviting. It may have been forty feet square on the ground, and was only
+a story and a half high; but a projecting roof and a front dormer-window
+relieved it from the appearance of disproportion. Its gable ends were
+surmounted by two enormous brick chimneys, carried up on the outside, in
+the fashion of the South, and its high, broad windows were ornamented
+with Venetian blinds. Its front door opened directly into the
+'living-room,' and at the threshold we met its mistress. As the image of
+that lady has still a warm place in a pleasant corner of my memory, I
+will describe her. She was about thirty years of age, and had a fresh,
+cheerful face. To say that she was handsome, would not be strictly true;
+though she had that pleasant, gentle, kindly expression that sometimes
+makes even a homely person seem beautiful. But she was not homely. Her
+features were regular, her hair glossy and brown, and her eyes black and
+brilliant, and for their color, the mildest and softest I had ever seen.
+Her figure was tall, and in its outline somewhat sharp and angular; but
+she had an ease and grace about her that made one forget she was not
+molded as softly and roundly as others. She seemed just the woman on
+whose bosom a tired, worn, over-burdened man might lay his weary head,
+and find rest and forgetfulness.
+
+She wore a neat calico dress, fitting closely to the neck, and an apron
+of spotless white muslin. A little lace cap perched cosily on the back
+of her head, hiding a portion of her wavy, dark hair, and on her feet--a
+miracle, reader, in one of her class--were stockings and shoes! Giving
+me her hand--which, at the risk of making her husband jealous, I held
+for a moment--she said, making a gentle courtesy:
+
+'Ye ar welcome, stranger.'
+
+'I sincerely thank you, madam; I _am_ a stranger in these parts.'
+
+She tendered me a chair; while her husband opened a sideboard, and
+brought forth a box of Havanas and a decanter of Scuppernong. As I took
+the proffered seat, he offered me the refreshments. I drank the lady's
+health in the wine, but declined the cigars. Seeing this, she remarked:
+
+'Yer from th' North, sir, arn't ye?'
+
+'Yes, madam, I live in New-York; but I was born in New-England.'
+
+'I reckoned so; I knew ye didn't belong in Car'lina.'
+
+'How did you know that, madam?' I asked, laughing.
+
+'I seed ye doan't smoke 'fore wimmin. But ye mustn't mind me; I sort o'
+likes it; it's a great comfut to John, and may be it ar to ye.'
+
+'Well, I do relish a good cigar; but I never smoke before any lady
+except my wife, and though she's only 'a little lower than the angels,'
+she _does_, once in a while, say it's a shame to make the _house_ smell
+like a tobacco-factory.'
+
+Barnes handed me the box again, and I took one. As I was lighting it, he
+said:
+
+'Ye've got a good 'oman, hev ye?'
+
+'There's none better; at least, I think so.'
+
+'Wal, I'm 'zactly uv thet 'pinion 'bout mine; I wouldn't trade her fur
+all this worle an' th' best half uv t'other.'
+
+'Don't ye talk so, John,' said the lady. Then addressing me, she added:
+'It's a good husband thet makes a good wife, sir.'
+
+'Sometimes, madam, but not always, I've known some of the best of wives
+who had miserable husbands.'
+
+'An' I'm d--d ef _I_ made my wife th' 'oman she ar',' said the
+corn-cracker.
+
+'Hush, John, ye mustn't swar so; ye knows how often ye've said ye
+wouldn't.'
+
+'Wal, I du, an' I won't agin, by--.' But Sukey, whar's th' young uns?'
+
+'Out in the lot, I reckon; but ye mustn't holler'm in--they'r all dirt.'
+
+'No matter for that, madam,' I said, 'dirt is healthy for little ones;
+rolling in the mud makes them grow.'
+
+'Then ourn orter grow right smart, fur they'r in it allers.'
+
+'How many have you, madam?'
+
+'Two; a little boy, four, and a little gal, six.'
+
+'They're of interesting ages.'
+
+'Yas, the' is int'restin'; ev'ry uns own chil'ren is smart; but the'
+does know a heap. John was off ter Charl'ston no great while back, an'
+the little boy used ter pray ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' fur his fader ter
+cum hum. I larned 'em thet jest so soon as the' talked, 'cause thar's no
+tellin' how quick the' moight be tooken 'way. Wal, the little feller
+prayed ev'ry mornin' an' ev'nin' fur his fader ter cum back, and John
+didn't cum; so finarly he got sort o' provoked with th' Lord, an' he
+said God war aither deaf an' couldn't har or he war naughty an' wouldn't
+tell fader thet little Johnny wanted to seed 'im 'werry mooch,'' and
+here the good lady laughed pleasantly, and I joined in most heartily.
+
+Blessed are the children that have such a mother!
+
+Soon the husband returned with the little girl and boy and four young
+ebonies, all bare-headed and all dressed alike, in thick trowsers and a
+loose linsey shirt. Among them was my new acquaintance, 'Dandy Jim, of
+ole Car'lina.'
+
+The little girl came to me, and soon I had two white children on one
+knee and two black on the other, with Dandy Jim between my legs, playing
+with my watchchain. The family made no distinction between the colors,
+and as the children were all equally clean, I did not see why _I_ should
+do so.
+
+The lady renewed the conversation by remarking: 'P'raps ye reckon it's
+quar, sir, that we 'low ourn to 'sociate 'long with th' black chil'ren;
+but we karn't help it. On big plantations, it works sorry bad, fur th'
+white young uns larn all manner of evil from the black uns; but I've
+laboored ter teach ourn so one won't do no harm ter t'other.'
+
+'I suppose, madam, that is one of the greatest evils of slavery. The low
+black poisons the mind of the white child, and the bad influence lasts
+through life.'
+
+'Yas, it's so, stranger; an' it's the biggest keer I hev. It often
+'pears strange ter me thet our grow'd up men arn't no wuss than the'
+is.'
+
+In those few words, that unlettered woman had said what would--if men
+were but wise enough to hear and heed the great truth which she
+spoke--banish slavery from this continent forever!
+
+After a while, the farmer told the juvenile delineator of Mrs. Hemans
+and the other poets to give us a song; and planting himself in the
+middle of the floor, the little darky sang 'Dixie' and several other
+negro songs, which his master had taught him, but into which he had
+introduced some amusing variations of his own. The other children joined
+in the choruses; and then Jim danced breakdowns, 'walk-along-Joes,' and
+other darky dances, his master accompanying him on a cracked fiddle,
+till my sides were sore with laughter, and the hostess begged them to
+stop. Finally the clock struck twelve, and the farmer, going to the
+door, gave a long, loud blast on a cow's horn. In about five minutes,
+one after another of the field hands came in, till the whole ten had
+seated themselves on the verandah. Each carried a bowl, a tin-cup, or a
+gourd, into which my host--who soon emerged from a back room[1] with a
+pail of whisky in his hand--poured a gill of the beverage. This was the
+day's allowance, and the farmer, in answer to a question of mine, told
+me he thought negroes were healthier and worked better for a small
+quantity of alcohol daily. 'The' work hard, and salt feed doan't set 'em
+up 'nough,' was his remark.
+
+Meanwhile the hostess busied herself with preparations for dinner, and
+it was soon spread on a bright cherry table, covered by a spotless white
+cloth. The little darkies had scattered to the several cabins, and we
+soon sat down to as good a meal as I ever ate at the South.
+
+We were waited on by a tidy negro woman, neatly clad in a calico gown,
+with shoes on her feet, and a flaming red and yellow kerchief on her
+head. This last was worn in the form of a turban, and one end escaping
+from behind and hanging down her back, it looked for all the world like
+a flag hung out from a top turret. Observing it, my host said:
+
+'Aggy--showin' yer colors? Ye'r Union gal--hey?'
+
+'Yas, I is dat, massa; Union ter de back-bone,' responded the negress,
+grinning widely.
+
+'All th' Union _ye_ knows on,' replied the master, winking slyly at me,
+'is th' union yer goin' ter hitch up 'long with black Cale over ter
+Squire Taylor's.'
+
+'No, 'tan't, massa; takes more'n tu ter make de Union.'
+
+'Yas, I knows; it gin'rally takes ten or a dozen: reckon it'll take a
+dozen with ye.'
+
+'John, ye mustn't talk so ter th' sarvents; it spiles 'em,' said his
+wife.
+
+'No it doan't; do it, Aggy?'
+
+'Lor', missus, I doan't keer what massa say; but I doan't leff no oder
+man run on so ter me!'
+
+'No more'n ye doan't, gal! only Cale.'
+
+'Nor him, massa; I makes him stan' 'roun', _I_ reckon.'
+
+'I reckon ye du; ye wudn't be yer massa's gal ef ye didn't.'
+
+When the meal was over, I visited with my host the negro houses. The
+hour allowed for dinner[2] was about expiring, and the darkies were
+preparing to return to the field. Entering one of the cabins, where were
+two stout negro men and a woman, my host said to them, with a perfectly
+serious face:
+
+'Har, boys, I've fetched ye a live Yankee ab'lishener; now, luk at 'im
+all roun'. Did ye ever see sech a critter?'
+
+'Doan't see nuffin' quar in dat gemman, massa,' replied one of the
+blacks. 'Him 'pears like bery nice gemman; doan't 'pear like
+ab'lishener;' and he laughed and scraped his head in the manner peculiar
+to the negro, as he added: 'Kinder reckon he wudn't be har ef he war one
+of _dem_.'
+
+'What der _ye_ knows 'bout th' ab'lisheners? Ye never seed one; what
+d'ye 'spose the' luk like?'
+
+'Dey say dey luk likes de bery ole debil, massa; but reckon 'tan't so.'
+
+'Wal, the' doan't; the' luk wuss then thet; they'm bottled up thunder
+an' lightnin', an' ef the' cum down har, they'll chaw ye all ter hash.'
+
+'I reckon!' replied the darky, manipulating his wool and distending his
+face into a decidedly incredulous grin.
+
+'What do you tell them such things for?' I asked good-humoredly.
+
+'Lor' bless ye, stranger, the' knows th' ab'lisheners ar thar friends,
+jest so well as ye du; and so fur as thet goes, d--d ef the' doan't know
+I'm one on 'em myseff, fur I tells 'em ef the' want to put the' kin put,
+an' I'll throw thar trav'lin 'spenses inter th' bargin. Doan't I tell ye
+thet, Lazarus?'
+
+'Yas, massa; but none ob massa's nigs am gwine ter put--lesswise, not so
+long as you an' de good missus am 'bove groun'.'
+
+The darky's name struck me as peculiar, and I asked him where he got it.
+
+'_'Tan't_ my name, sar; but you see, sar, w'en massa fuss hire me ob ole
+Capt'in ----, up dar ter Newbern-way, I war sort o' sorry like--hadn't
+no bery good cloes--an' massa he den call me Lazarus, 'case he say I war
+all ober rags and holes, an' it hab sort o' stuck ter me eber sense. I
+war a'mighty bad off 'fore dat, but w'en I cum down har I gets inter
+Abr'am's buzzum, I does,' and here the darky actually reeled on his seat
+with laughter.
+
+'Is this woman your wife?' I asked.
+
+'No, sar; my wife 'longs to Cunnel J----; dat am my new wife--my ole
+wife am up dar whar I cum from.'
+
+'What! have you two wives?'
+
+'Yas, massa, I'se two.'
+
+'But that's contrary to Scripture?'
+
+'No, sar; de Cunnel say 'tan't. He say in Scriptur' dey hab a heap ob
+'em, and dat niggers kin hab jess so many as dey likes--a hun'red ef dey
+want ter.'
+
+'Does the Colonel teach that to his negroes?' I asked, turning to the
+native.
+
+'Yas, I reckon he do, an' sits 'em th' 'zample, too,' he replied,
+laughing; 'but th' old sinner knows better'n thet; he kin read.'
+
+'Do you find that in the Bible, Lazarus?'
+
+'Yas, massa, whar I reads it. Dat's whar it tell 'bout David and Sol'mon
+and all em--dey hab a heap ob wives. A pore ole darky karn't hab nuffin'
+'sides dem, an' he _orter_ be 'low'd jess so many as he likes.'
+
+Laughing at the reasoning of the negro, I asked:
+
+'How would _you_ like it, if your wife over at Colonel J----'s had as
+many husbands as _she_ liked?'
+
+'Wal, I couldn't fine no fault, massa; an' I s'pose she do, dough I
+doan't knows it, 'case I'se dar only Sundays.'
+
+'Have you any children?'
+
+'Yas, sar, Ise free 'longin' ter de Cunnel, an' four or five--I doan't
+'zactly know--up ter hum; but _dey'se_ grow'd up.'
+
+'Is your wife up there married again?'
+
+'Yas, massa, she got anoder man jess w'en I cum 'way; har ole massa make
+har do it.'
+
+We then left the cabin, and when out of hearing of the blacks, I said to
+the corn-cracker: 'That _may be_ Scripture doctrine, but _I_ have not
+been taught so.'
+
+'Scriptur' or no Scriptur', stranger, it's d----d heathenism,' replied
+the farmer, who, take him all in all, is a superior specimen of the
+class of small planters at the South; and yet, seeing polygamy practiced
+by his own slaves, he made no effort to prevent it. He told me that if
+he should object to his darky cohabiting with the Colonel's negress, it
+would be regarded as unneighborly, and secure him the enmity of the
+whole district! And still we are told that slavery is a _divine_
+institution!
+
+After this, we strolled off into the woods, where the hands were at
+work.
+
+They were all stout, healthy, and happy-looking, and in answer to my
+comments on their appearance, the native said that the negroes on the
+turpentine-farms are always stronger and longer-lived than those on the
+rice and cotton-fields. Unless carried off by the fevers incident to the
+climate, they generally reach a good old age, while the rice-negro
+seldom lives to be over forty, and the cotton-slave very rarely attains
+sixty. Cotton-growing, however, my host thought, is not, in itself, much
+more unhealthy than turpentine-gathering, though cotton-hands work in
+the sun, while the turpentine-slaves labor altogether in the shade.
+
+'But,' he said, 'the' work 'em harder nor we does, an' doan't feed 'em
+so well. We give ourn meat and whisky ev'ry day, but them articles is
+skarse 'mong th' cotton blacks, an' th' rice niggers never get 'em
+excep' ter Christmas-time, an' thet cums but onst a yar.'
+
+'Do you think the white could labor as well as the black, on the rice
+and cotton-fields?' I asked.
+
+'Yas, an' better--better any whar; but, in coorse, 'tain't natur' fur
+black nor white ter stand long a workin' in th' mud and water up ter
+thar knees; sech work would kill off th' very devil arter a while. But
+th' white kin stand it longer nor the black, and it's 'cordin' ter
+reason that he shud; for, I reckon, stranger, that the spirit and pluck
+uv a man hev a durned sight ter du with work. They'll hole a man up when
+he's clean down, an' how kin we expec' thet th' pore nig, who's nary a
+thing ter work fur, an who's been kept under an' 'bused ever sense Adam
+was a young un'--how kin we expec' he'll work like men thet own
+'emselfs, an' whose faders hev been free ever sense creation? I reckon
+that the parient has a heap ter du with makin' th' chile. He puts the
+sperit inter 'im: doan't we see it in hosses an' critters an' sech like?
+It mayn't crap eout ter onst, but it's shore ter in th' long run, and
+thet's th' way th' black han't no smarter nor he is. He's been a-ground
+down an' kept under fur so long thet it'll take more'n 'un gin'ration
+ter bring him up. 'Tan't his fault thet he's no more sperit, an' p'raps
+'tan't ourn--thet is, them on us as uses 'em right--but it war the fault
+uv yer fader an' mine--yer fader stole 'em, and mine bought 'em, an'
+the' both made cattle uv 'em.'
+
+'But I had supposed the black was better fitted by nature for hard
+labor, in a hot climate, than the white.'
+
+'Wal, he arn't, an' I knows it. Th' d----d parsons an' pol'tishuns say
+thet, but 'tan't so. I kin do half agin more work in a day then th' best
+nig I've got, an' I've dun it, tu, time an' agin, an' it didn't hurt me
+nuther. Ye knows ef a man hev a wife and young 'uns 'pendin' on him, an'
+arn't much 'forehanded, he'll work like th' devil. I've dun it, an' ye
+hev ef ye war ever put ter it; but th' nigs, why, the' han't got no
+wives and young 'uns ter work fur--the law doan't 'low 'em ter have
+any--the' han't nary a thing but thar carcasses, an' them's thar
+masters'.'
+
+'You say a man works better for being free; then you must think 'twould
+be well to free the negroes.'
+
+'In coorse, I does. Jest luk at them nigs o' mine; they're ter all
+'tents an' purposes free, 'case I use 'em like men, an' the' knows the'
+kin go whenever the' d----d please. See how the' work--why, one on 'em
+does half as much agin as ony hard-driv' nigger in creation.'
+
+'What would you do with them, if they were _really_ free?'
+
+'Du with 'em? why, hire 'em, an' make twice as much eout on 'em as I
+does now.'
+
+'But I don't think the two races were meant to live together.'
+
+'No more'n the' warn't. But 'tan't thar fault thet they's har. We han't
+no right to send 'em off. We orter stand by our'n an' our faders'
+doin's. The nig keers more fur his hum, so durned pore as it ar', then
+ye or I does fur our'n. I'd pack sech off ter Libraria or th' devil, as
+wanted ter go, but I'd hev no 'pulsion 'bout it.'
+
+'Why, my good friend, you're half-brother to Garrison. You don't talk to
+your neighbors in this way?'
+
+'Wal, I doan't;' he replied, laughing. 'Ef I dun it, they'd treat me to
+a coat uv tar, and ride me out uv th' deestrict raather sudden, I
+reckon; but yer a Nuthener, an' the' all take nat'rally ter freedum,
+excep' th' d----d doughfaces, an' ye aren't one on 'em, I'll swar.'
+
+'Well, I'm not. Do many of your neighbors think as you do?'
+
+'Reckon not many round har; but up in Cart'ret, whar I cum from, heaps
+on 'em do, though the' darn't say so.'
+
+By this time we had reached the still, and directing his attention to
+the enormous quantity of rosin that had been run into the pit which I
+have spoken of, I asked him why he threw so much valuable material away.
+
+'Wal, 'tan't wuth nothin' har. Thet's th' common, an' it won't bring in
+York, now, more'n a dollar forty-five. It costs a dollar an' two bits
+ter get it thar an' pay fur sellin on it, an' th' barr'l's wuth the
+difference. I doan't ship nuthin wuss no No. 2.'
+
+'What is No. 2?'
+
+He took the head from one of the barrels, and with an adze cut out a
+small piece, then handing me the specimen, replied:
+
+'Now hole thet up ter th' sun. Ye'll see though it's yaller, its clean
+and clar. Thet's good No. 2, what brings now two dollars an' two bits in
+New-York, an' pays me 'bout a dollar a barr'l; it's got eout o' second
+yar dip, an' as it comes eout uv th' still, is run through thet ar
+strainer,' pointing to a coarse wire-sieve that lay near. 'Th' common
+rosum, thet th' still's runnin' on now, is made eout on th' yaller
+dip--thet's th' kine o' turpentine thet runs from th' tree arter two
+yar's tappin'--we call it yallar dip 'case it's allers dark. We doan't
+strain common 'tall, an' it's full uv chips and dirt. It's low now, but
+ef it shud ever git up, I'd tap thet ar' heap, barr'l it up, run a
+little fresh-stilled inter it, an' 'twould be a'most so good as new.'
+
+'Then it is injured by being in the ground.'
+
+'Not much; it's jest as good fur ev'ry thing but makin' ile, puttin' it
+in the 'arth sort o' takes th' sap eout on it, an' th' sap's th' ile.
+Natur' sucks thet eout, I s'pose, ter make th' trees grow--I expec' my
+bones 'ill fodder 'em one on these days.'
+
+'Rosin is put to very many uses.'
+
+'Yes, but common's used mainly for ile and soap; th' Yankees put it
+inter hard yaller soap, 'case it makes it weigh, an' yer folks is up ter
+them doin's, and he looked at me and gave a sly laugh. I could not deny
+the 'hard' impeachment, and said nothing. Taking a specimen of very
+clear light-colored rosin from a shelf in the still-house, I asked him
+what that quality was worth.
+
+'Thet ar brought seven dollars for two hundred an' eighty pounds in
+York, airly this yar. It's th' very best No. 1; an' it's hard ter make,
+'case ef th' still gets overhet it turns it a tinge. Thet sort is run
+through two sieves, the coarse 'un, an' thet ar,' pointing to another
+wire strainer, the meshes of which were as fine as those of the
+flour-sieve used by housewives.
+
+'Do your seven field-hands produce enough 'dip' to keep your still a
+running?'
+
+'No, I buys th' rest uv my naboors who han't no stills; an' th' Cunnel's
+down on me 'case I pay 'em more'n he will; but I go on Franklin's
+princerpel: 'A nimble sixpence's better'n a slow shillin'. A great ole
+feller thet, warn't he? I've got his life.'
+
+'And you practice on his precepts; that's the reason you've got on so
+well.'
+
+'Yas, thet an' hard knocks. The best o' doctrins arn't wuth a d----n ef
+ye doan't work on 'em.'
+
+'That is true.'
+
+We shortly afterward went to the house, and there I passed several hours
+in conversation with my new friend and his excellent wife. The lady,
+after a while, showed me over the building. It was well-built,
+well-arranged, and had many conveniences I did not expect to find in a
+backwoods dwelling. She told me its timbers and covering were of
+well-seasoned yellow pine--which will last for centuries--and that it
+was built by a Yankee carpenter, whom they had ''ported' from
+Charleston, paying his fare, and giving him his living and two dollars
+and a half a day. It had cost as near as she 'cud reckon, 'bout two
+thousan' dollars.'
+
+It was five o'clock, when, shaking them warmly by the hand, I bade my
+pleasant friends 'good-by,' and mounting my horse rode off to the
+Colonel's.
+
+The family were at supper when I returned to the mansion, and, entering
+the room, I took my accustomed place at the table. None present seemed
+disposed to conversation. The little that was said was spoken in a low,
+subdued tone, and no allusion was made to the startling event of the
+day. At last the octoroon woman asked me if I had met Mrs. Barnes at the
+farmer's.
+
+'Yes,' I replied, 'and I was greatly pleased with her. She seems one of
+those rare women who would lend grace to even the lowest station.'
+
+'She _is_ a rare woman; a true, sincere Christian. Every one loves her;
+but few know all her worth; only those do who have gone to her in sorrow
+and trial, as----' and her voice trembled, and her eyes moistened----
+'as I have.'
+
+And so that poor, outcast, despised, dishonored woman, scorned and cast
+off by all the world, had found one sympathizing, pitying friend. Truly,
+'He tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.'
+
+When the meal was over, all but Madam P---- retired to the library.
+Tommy and I fell to reading, but the Colonel shortly rose and continued
+pacing up and down the apartment till the clock sounded eight. The lady
+then entered, and said to him:
+
+'The negroes are ready, David; will _you_ go, Mr. K----?'
+
+'I think not, madam,' I replied; 'at least not now.'
+
+I continued reading, for a time, when, tiring of the book, I laid it
+down, and followed them to the little burial-ground.
+
+The grave of Sam was open, and the plantation blacks were gathered
+around it. In the centre of the group, and at the head of the rude
+coffin, the Colonel was seated, and near him the octoroon woman and her
+son. The old preacher was speaking.
+
+'My chil'ren,' he said, 'she hab gone ter Him, wid har chile--gone up
+dar, whar dey doan't sorrer no more, whar dey doan't weep no more, whar
+all tears am wiped from dar eyes foreber. I knows she lay han's on
+harseff, and dat, my chil'ren, am whot none ob us shud do, 'case we'm de
+Lord's; he put us har, an' he'll take us 'way when we's fru wid our
+work, not afore. We hab no right ter gwo afore. Pore Juley did--but
+p'raps she cudn't help it. P'raps de great sorrer war so big in har
+heart, dat she cudn't fine rest nowhar but in de cole, dark riber.
+P'raps she warn't ter blame--p'raps,' and here his eyes filled--'p'raps
+ole Pomp war all ter blame, fur I tole har, my chil'ren'--he could say
+no more, and sinking down on a rude seat, he covered his face, and
+sobbed audibly. Even the Colonel's strong frame heaved with emotion, and
+not a dry eye was near. After a time the old man rose again, and with
+streaming eyes, and upturned face, continued:
+
+'Dar's One up dar, my chil'ren, dat say: 'Come unter me, all ye dat am
+weary an' a heaby laden, an' I will gib you ress.' He, de good Lord, he
+say dat; an' p'raps Juley hard him say it, an' dat make har gwo.' Again
+his voice failed, and he sank down, weeping and moaning as if his heart
+would break.
+
+A pause followed, when the Colonel rose, and aided by Jim and two other
+blacks, with his own hands nailed down the lid, and lowered the rude
+coffin into the ground. Then the earth was thrown upon it, and then the
+long, low chant which the negroes raise over the dead, mingling now with
+sobs and moans, and breaking into a strange wild wail, went up among the
+pines, and floating off on the still night air, echoed through the dark
+woods, till it sounded like music from the grave. I have been in the
+chamber of the dying; I have seen the young and the beautiful laid away
+in the earth; but I never felt the solemn awfulness of death as I did
+when, in the stillness and darkness of night, I listened to the wild
+grief of that negro group, and saw the bodies of that slave mother and
+her child, lowered to their everlasting rest by the side of Sam.
+
+The morning broke bright and mellow with the rays of the winter sun,
+which in Carolina lends the warmth of October to the chills of January,
+when, with my portmanteau strapped, and my thin overcoat on my arm, I
+gave my last 'God bless you' to the octoroon woman, and turned my face
+toward home.
+
+Jim shouted, 'All ready,' the driver cracked his whip, and we were on
+our way to Georgetown.
+
+The recent rains had hardened the roads, the bridges were repaired, and
+we were whirled rapidly forward, and at one o'clock reached Bucksville.
+There we met a cordial welcome, and remained to dinner. Our host pressed
+us to pass the night at his house, but the Colonel had business with one
+of his secession friends residing down the road--my wayside
+acquaintance, Colonel A----, and desired to stay over night with him. At
+three o'clock, bidding a kindly farewell to Captain B---- and his
+excellent family, we were again on our way.
+
+The sun was just sinking among the western pines, when we turned into a
+broad avenue, lined with stately old trees, and rode up to the doorway
+of the rice-planter. It was a large, square, dingy old house, seated on
+a gentle knoll, a short half-mile from the river, along whose banks
+stretched the rice-fields. We entered, and were soon welcomed by its
+proprietor.
+
+He received my friend warmly, and gave me a courteous greeting,
+remarking, when I mentioned that I was homeward bound, that it was wise
+to go. 'Things are very unsettled; there's no telling what a day may
+bring forth; feeling is running very high, and a Northern man, whatever
+his principles, is not safe here. By the way,' he added, 'did you not
+meet with some little obstruction at Conwayboro, on your way up?'
+
+'Yes, I did; a person there ordered me back, but when things began to
+look serious, Scipio, the negro whom you saw with me, got me out of the
+hobble.'
+
+'Didn't he tell the gentleman that you were a particular friend of mine,
+and had met me by appointment at Captain B----'s?' he asked, smiling.
+
+'I believe he did, sir; but I assure you, _I_ said nothing of the kind,
+and I think the black should not be blamed, under the circumstances.'
+
+'Oh! no; I don't blame him. I think he did a smart thing. He might have
+said you were my grandmother, if it would have served you, for that low
+fellow is as fractious as the devil, and dead sure on the trigger.'
+
+'You are very good, sir,' I replied; 'how did you hear of it?'
+
+'A day or two afterward, B---- passed here on his way to Georgetown. I
+had been riding out, and happened to be at the head of my avenue when
+he was going by. He stopped, and asked if I knew you. Not knowing then
+the circumstances, I said that I had met you casually at Bucksville, but
+had no particular acquaintance with you. He rode on, saying nothing
+further. The next morning I had occasion to go to Georgetown, and at Mr.
+Fraser's office accidentally heard that Scip--who is well known and
+universally liked there--was to have a public whipping that evening.
+Something prompted me to inquire into it, and I was told that he had
+been charged by B---- with shielding a well-known abolitionist at
+Conwayboro--a man who was going through the up-country distributing such
+damnable publications as the New-York _Independent_ and _Tribune_. I
+knew, of course, it referred to you, and that it wasn't true. I went to
+Scip and got the facts, and by stretching the truth a little, finally
+got him off. There was a slight discrepancy between my two accounts of
+you,' (and here he laughed heartily,) 'and B----, when we were before
+the Justice, remarked on it, and came d----d near calling me a liar. It
+was lucky he didn't, for if he had he'd gone to h----l before the place
+was hot enough for him.'
+
+'I can not tell you, my dear sir, how grateful I am to you for this. It
+would have pained me more than I can express, if Scip had suffered for
+doing a disinterested kindness to me.'
+
+Early in the morning we were again on our way, and twelve o'clock found
+us seated at a dinner of bacon, corn-bread, and waffles, in the 'first
+hotel' of Georgetown. The Charleston boat was to leave at three o'clock;
+and, as soon as dinner was over, I sallied out to find Scip. After a
+half-hour's search I found him on 'Shackelford's wharf,' engaged in
+loading a schooner bound for New-York with a cargo of cotton and
+turpentine.
+
+He was delighted to see me, and after I told him I was going home, and
+might never see him again, I took his hand warmly in mine, and said:
+
+'Scip, I have heard of the disgrace that was near being put upon you on
+my account, and I feel deeply the disinterested service you did to me;
+now, I _can not_ go away without doing _something_ for you--showing you
+in _some_ way that I appreciate and _like_ you.'
+
+'I likes _you_, massa,' he replied, the tears coming to his eyes; 'I tuk
+ter you de bery fuss day I seed you, 'case, I s'pose'--and he wrung my
+hand till it ached--'you pitied de pore brack man. But you karnt do
+nuffin fur _me_, massa; I doan't want nuffin; I doan't want ter leab
+har, 'case de Lord dat put me har arn't willin' I shud gwo. But you kin
+do suffin, massa, fur de pore brack man, an' dat'll be doin' it fur
+_me_, 'case my heart am all in dat. You kin tell dem folks up dar, whar
+you lib, massa, dat we'm not like de brutes, as dey tink we is. Dat we's
+got souls, an' 'telligence, an' feelin's, an' am men like demselfs. You
+kin tell 'em, too, massa--'case you's edication, and kin talk--how de
+pore wite man am kep' down har; how he'm ragged, an' starvin', an' ob no
+account, 'case de brack man am a slave. How der chil'ren can't get no
+schulein', how eben de grow'd-up ones doan't know nuffin--not eben so
+much as de pore brack slave, 'case de 'stockracy want dar votes, an
+cudn't get 'em ef dey 'low'd 'em larnin'. Ef your folks know'd all de
+truf--ef dey know'd how boff de brack an' de pore w'ite man, am on de
+groun', an' can't git up, ob demselfs--dey'd do suffin--dey'd break de
+Constertution--dey'd do _suffin_ ter help us. I doan't want no one
+hurted, I doan't want no one wronged; but jess tink ob it, massa, four
+million ob bracks, an' nigh so many pore w'ites, wid de bressed Gospil
+shinin' down on 'em, an' dey not knowin' on it. All dem--ebry one ob
+'em--made in de image ob de great God, an' dey driven roun' an' 'bused
+wuss dan de brutes. You's seed dis, massa, wid your own eyes, an' you
+kin tell 'em on it; an' you _will_ tell 'em on it, massa;' and again he
+took my hand while the tears rolled down his cheeks; 'an' Scip will
+bress you fur it, massa--wid his bery lass breaf he'll bress you; an' de
+good Lord will bress you, too, massa; he will foreber bress you, for
+he'm on de side ob de pore an' de 'flicted; his own book say dat, an' it
+am true, I knows it, fur I feels it _har_;' and he laid his hand on his
+heart, and was silent.
+
+I could not speak for a moment. When I mastered my feelings, I said: 'I
+_will_ do it Scip; as God gives me strength, I _will_.'
+
+Reader, I am keeping my word.
+
+This is not a work of fiction. It is a record of facts, and therefore
+the reader will not expect me to dispose of its various characters on
+artistic principles--that is, lay them away in one of those final
+receptacles for the creations of the romancer--the grave and matrimony.
+Death has been among them, but nearly all are yet doing their work in
+this breathing, busy world.
+
+The characters I have introduced are real. They are not drawn with the
+pencil of fancy, nor, I trust, colored with the tints of prejudice. The
+scenes I have described are true. I have taken some liberties with the
+names of persons and places, and, in a few instances, altered dates; but
+the events themselves occurred under my own observation. No one
+acquainted with the section of country I have described, or familiar
+with the characters I have delineated, will question this statement.
+Lest some one who has not seen the slave and the poor white man of the
+South, as he actually is, should deem my picture overdrawn, I will say
+that 'the half has not been told!' If the whole were related--if the
+Southern system, in all its naked ugliness, were fully exposed--the
+truth would read like fiction, and the baldest relation of fact like the
+wildest dream of romance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The overseer was never taken. A letter which I received from Colonel
+J----, shortly prior to the stoppage of the mails, informed me that Moye
+had succeeded in crossing the mountains into Tennessee, where, in an
+interior town, he disposed of the horse, and then made his way by an
+inland route to the free States. The horse the Colonel had recovered,
+but the overseer he never expected to see. Moye is now, no doubt,
+somewhere in the North, and is probably at this present writing a
+zealous Union man, of somewhat the same 'stripe' as the conductors of
+the New-York _Herald_ and the Boston _Courier_.
+
+I have not heard directly from Scipio, but one day last July, after a
+long search, I found on one of the wharves of South street a coasting
+captain who knew him well, and who had seen him the month previous at
+Georgetown. He was at that time pursuing his usual avocations, and was
+as much respected and trusted as when I met him.
+
+A few days after the tidings of the fall of Sumter were received in
+New-York, and when I had witnessed the spontaneous and universal
+uprising of the North which followed that event, I dispatched letters to
+several of my Southern friends, giving them as near as I could an
+account of the true state of feeling here, and representing the utter
+madness of the course the South was pursuing. One of these letters went
+to my Union acquaintance whom I have called, in the preceding pages,
+'Andy Jones.'
+
+He promptly replied, and a pretty regular correspondence ensued between
+us, which has continued, at intervals, even since the suspension of
+intercourse between the North and the South.
+
+Andy has stood firmly and nobly by the old flag. At the risk of every
+thing, he has boldly expressed his sentiments every where. With his life
+in his hand and--a revolver in each of his breeches-pockets, he walked
+the streets of Wilmington when the secession fever was at its hight,
+openly proclaiming his undying loyalty to the Union, and 'no man dared
+gainsay him.'
+
+But with all his patriotism, Andy keeps a bright eye on the 'main
+chance.' Like his brother, the Northern Yankee, whom he somewhat
+resembles and greatly admires, he never omits an opportunity of 'turning
+an honest penny.' In defiance of custom-house regulations and of our
+strict blockade, he has carried on a more or less regular traffic with
+New-York and Boston (_via_ Halifax and other neutral ports) ever since
+North-Carolina seceded. His turpentine, while it was still his property,
+has been sold in the New-York market, under the very eyes of the
+government officials, and, honest reader, _I_ have known of it.
+
+By various roundabout means, I have recently received letters from him.
+His last, dated in April, and brought to a neutral port by a shipmaster
+whom he implicitly trusts, has reached me since the previous chapters
+were written. It covers six pages of foolscap, and is written in
+defiance of all grammatical and orthographical principles; but as it
+conveys important intelligence in regard to some of the persons
+mentioned in this narrative, I will transcribe a portion of it.
+
+It gave me the melancholy tidings of the death of Colonel J----. He had
+joined the Confederate army, and fell, bravely meeting a charge of the
+Massachusetts troops, at Roanoke.
+
+On receiving the news of his friend's death, Andy rode over to the
+plantation, and found Madam P---- plunged in the deepest grief. While he
+was there, a letter arrived from Charleston, with intelligence of the
+dangerous illness of her son. This second blow crushed her. For several
+days she was delirious and her life despaired of; but throughout the
+whole, the noble corn-cracker, neglecting every thing, remained beside
+her.
+
+When she returned to herself, and had in a measure recovered her
+strength, she learned that the Colonel had left no will; that she was
+still a slave, and soon to be sold, with the rest of the Colonel's
+_personal property_, according to law.
+
+This is what Andy writes about the affair. I give the letter as he wrote
+it, merely correcting the punctuation and enough of the spelling to make
+it intelligible:
+
+'W'en I hard thet th' Cunnel hadent leff no wil, I was hard put what ter
+dew; but arter thinkin' on it over a spell, I knowed shede har on it
+sumhow; so I 'cluded to tell har miseff. She tuk on d----d hard at fust,
+but arter a bit, grew more calm like, and then she sed it war God's wil,
+an' she wudent komplane. Ye knows I've got a wife, but w'en the ma'am
+sed thet, she luk'd so like an angel, thet d----d eff I cud help puttin'
+my arms round har, an' huggin' on har, till she a'moste screeched. Wal,
+I toled har I'd stan' by har, eff evrithing went ter h----l, an' I wil,
+by----.
+
+'I made up mi minde to onst what ter dew. It war darned harde work tur
+bee 'way from hum jess then, but I war in fur it; soe I put ter
+Charleston, ter see th' Cunnel's 'oman. Wal, I seed har, an' I toled har
+how th' ma'am felte, an' how mutch shede dun at makein' th' Cunnel's
+money, (she made nigh th' hul on it, 'case he war alers keerles, an' tuk
+no 'count uv things; eff 't'aden't been fur thet, hede made a wil,) an'
+I axed har ter see thet the ma'am had free papers ter onst. An' whot der
+ye s'poze she sed? Nuthin', by ----, 'cept she dident no nuthin' 'bout
+bisniss, an' leff all uv sech things ter har loryer. Wal, then I went
+ter him--he ar one on them slick, ily, seceshun houn's who'd sell thar
+soles fur a kountterfit dollar--an' he toled me th' 'ministratur hadent
+sot yit, an' he cudent dew nuthin' till he hed. Ses I: 'Ye mean th'
+'oman's got ter gwo ter th' hi'est bider?' 'Yas,' he sed, 'the Cunnel's
+got dets, an' the've got ter bee pade, an' th' persoonal prop'ty muste
+bee sold ter dew it.' Then I sed, 'twud bee sum time 'fore thet war dun,
+an' the 'oman's 'most ded an uv no use now; 'what'll ye _hire_ har tur
+me fur.' He said a hun'red fur sicks months. I planked down the money
+ter onst, an' put off.
+
+'I war bilin' over, but it sumhow cum inter my hed thet the Cunnel's
+'oman cudn't bee _all_ stun; so I gose thar agin, an' I toled har what
+the loryer sed, an' made a reg'lar stump-'peal tew har bettur natur. I
+axed har ef she'd leff the 'oman who'd made har husban's fortun', who
+war the muther uv his chil'ren, who fur twenty yar hed nussed him in
+sickness an' cheered him in healtf, ef shede let _thet 'oman_ bee
+auckyund off ter th' hi'est bider. I axed al thet, an' what der ye think
+she sed? Why, jest this. '_I_ doan't no nuthin' 'bout it, Mister Jones.
+Ye raily must talke ter mi loryer; them matters I leaves 'tirely ter
+him.' Then I sed I s'posed the niggers war ter bee advertist. 'O yas!'
+she sed, (an' ye see she know'd a d----d site 'bout _thet_,) 'all on
+'em muss bee solde, 'case ye knows I never did luv the kuntry; 'sides
+_I_ cuden't karry on the plantashun, no how.' Then sed I: 'The Orleans
+traders 'ill be thar, an' she wun't sell fur but one use, fur she's
+hansum yit; an' ma'am, ye wun't leff a 'oman as white as you is, who fur
+twenty yar hes ben a tru an' fatheful _wife_ tar yer own ded husban', (I
+shudn't hev put thet in, but d----d ef I cud help it,) ye wun't put
+_har_ up on the block, an' hev har struck down ter the hi'est bider, ter
+bee made a d----d ---- on?'
+
+'Wal, I s'pose she haden't forgot thet fur more'n twelve yar the Cunnel
+hed _luv'd_ t'other 'oman an' onely _liked_ har; fur w'en I sed thet,
+har ize snapped like h----l, an' she screetched eout thet she dident
+'low no sech wurds in har hous', an' ordurd me ter leave. Mitey sqeemish
+thet, warn't it? bein' as shede been fur so mony yar the Cunnel's ----,
+an' th' tuther one his raal wife.
+
+'Wal, I _did_ leav'; but I leff a piece of mi mind ahind. I toled har
+I'de buy thet ar 'oman ef she cost all I war wuth and I had ter pawne my
+sole ter git the money; an' I added, jest by way uv sweet'nin' the pill,
+thet I owed all I hed ter har husband, an' dident furget _my_ dets ef
+she did _hern_, an' ef his own wife disgraced him, I'd be d----d ef _I_
+wud.
+
+'Wal, I've got th' ma'am an' har boy ter hum, an' my 'oman hes tuk ter
+har a heep. I doan't no w'en the sale's ter cum off, but ye may bet hi'
+on my bein' thar, an' I'll buy har ef I hev ter go my hull pile on har,
+an' borrer th' money fur ole Pomp. But _he'll_ go cheap, 'case the
+Cunnel's deth nigh dun him up. It clean killed Ante Lucey. She never
+held her hed up arter she heerd 'Masser Davy' war ded, fur she sot har
+vary life on him. Don't ye feel consarned 'bout the ma'am--I knows ye
+sot hi' on har. _I'll buy har_ shore. Thet an' deth ar th' onely things
+thet I knows on, in this world, jess now, that ar SARTIN.'
+
+Such is Andy's letter. Misspelled and profane though it be, I would not
+alter a word or a syllable of it. It deserves to be written in
+characters of gold and hung up in the sky, where it might be read by all
+the world. And it _is_ written in the sky--in the great record book--and
+it will be read when you and I, reader, meet the assembled universe, to
+give account of what _we_ have done and written. God grant that our
+record may show some such deed as that!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: The whisky was kept in a back room, above ground, because
+the dwelling had no cellar. The fluid was kept safely under lock and
+key, and the farmer accounted for that by saying that his negroes would
+steal nothing but whisky. Few country houses at the South have a
+cellar--that apartment deemed so essential by Northern housekeepers. The
+intervening space between the ground and the floor is there left open,
+to allow of a free circulation of air.]
+
+[Footnote 2: No regular dinner-hour is allowed the blacks on most
+turpentine-plantations. Their food is usually either taken with them to
+the woods or carried there by house-servants, at stated times.]
+
+
+
+
+SOUTHERN RIGHTS.
+
+
+  The right to poison bullets,
+  The right to rifle graves,
+  To cut our prisoners' gullets,
+  Or treat them like our slaves;
+  The right to use the savage
+  To aid us in our fight,
+  To freely scalp and ravage,
+  Each is a Southern right.
+  Call not these claims Satanic,
+  They're far beyond your ken:
+  How can a low mechanic
+  Know aught of gentlemen?
+
+
+
+
+MACCARONI AND CANVAS.
+
+VI.
+
+
+ON THE PINCIO.
+
+With that wise foresight, shared by all European rulers, the Roman
+Pincio was undoubtedly wedded to its purpose of keeping the idle ones
+very busy at the very time of day when revolutionary plots find the best
+hearing--before dinner. Whirling around its walks in carriages, or
+gently promenading under trees, among rose-bushes, and by fountains,
+while a large band of musicians play with spirit fine selections from
+the last operas, or favorite airs from old ones; the eye gratified by
+the sight of pleasant faces, or dwelling enraptured on the beautiful
+landscape spread before it--how can the brain disengage itself to think
+of Liberty, won through toil and battle, only to be preserved by
+self-denial and moral strength?
+
+But the traveler who travels only to travel, and has the means and
+spirit to find pleasure wherever he goes, thinking only of what he sees,
+enjoys to its fullest extent the luxurious seat of the hired,
+white-damask-lined carriage, drawn by stalwart, heavy-limbed, coal-black
+horses, with sweeping tails, the white foam flying from the champed
+silver bits, the whole turn-out driven by a handsome, white-gloved,
+black-coated Roman. In solemn state and swiftly, he winds up the zig-zag
+road leading from the piazza Popolo, (so-called from _popolo_, a
+poplar-tree, and not as the English will have it, from _popolo_, the
+people,) and at last reaches the summit of Roman ambition--the top of
+the Pincian hill. He passes other carriages filled with other strangers
+like himself, or with titled and fashionable Romans, and finally, his
+carriage drawn up to one side of the broad drive in front of the
+semi-circle where the band plays, he descends, to walk around and chat
+with the friends he may find there.
+
+Toward sunset the scene is full of animation. The sabres of the cavalry
+soldiers, on guard to prevent infraction of rules, gleam brightly; the
+old infantry soldiers are darting here and there, chasing away sundry
+ownerless dogs, who always make it a point to promenade the Pincio; the
+Italian nurses from Albano, or at least dressed in Albanese costume,
+shine conspicuous in their crimson-bodiced dresses; Englishmen going
+through their constitutional; Frenchmen mourning for the Champs Elysees;
+artists in broad-brim hats smoking cigars; Americans observing Italy, so
+as to be like Italians; ladies of all nations commanding the attention
+of mankind as they sweep along the hard-rolled gravel-walks; smiles,
+bows, looks of love, indignation, affection, coquetry; faces reflective
+of great deeds and greater dinners ... every face bright in the lambent
+amber light that streams from the sun dipping his head preparatory to
+putting on his night-cap, and bidding Rome _felicissima notte!_ a most
+happy night.
+
+Over the irregular walls of the subdued white and mellow gray houses and
+palaces, beyond the Tiber running red in the dying sunlight, over the
+round-walled castle of San Angelo, the dome of Saint Peter's rises full
+in the midst of the twinkling, hazy, red and golden light. Passing the
+stone-pines crowning Monte Mario, there gleam away to the left the far
+waters of the sea, over which the purple mist of young night tenderly,
+softly falls. Once thoughtfully noted, you will remember this glowing
+scene years after sublimer and wilder views are lost to memory or grown
+so faint that they are to you but as dull colors seen in dreams of old
+age compared to the flashing brightness of those presented to the closed
+eyes of youth.
+
+As the sun sets and those in carriages and on foot slowly leave the
+hights of the Pincio, and descend once more to the old city, you will
+hear, as the evening star shines brighter and brighter, the first
+liquid, thrilling notes of the nightingales; then as you lean over the
+stone parapet, dreamily looking into the dense foliage of trees and
+shrubs beneath you, you will feel the beauty of those lines:
+
+  Seek the nightingale's sequestered tower,
+  Who with her love-lorn melody
+  So bewitched thee in the vernal hour:
+  When she ceased to love, she ceased to be.
+
+It is from the months of May to November, when travelers have left Rome,
+and the city is in the hands of the Romans, that your walks on the
+Pincio will prove something more than a mere repetition of a stroll in
+Baden-Baden, or a revival of ideas common to the Prado or Prater. No
+longer the little prettinesses of the Medicean Venus flirt by you in the
+nervous silks that flutter along these walks, but something nobly
+womanly, of a solid past, slow and stately, moves solemnly, by. We know
+the lives of these copies of the Venus of Milos, we know its most
+commonplace and vulgar attributes, but we know, too, its strength! The
+city of Rome holds in its women the mothers of heroes, when Providence
+shall withdraw the black veil now hung over their rude minds, and let in
+the light of knowledge. We who laugh at their sad ignorance, think what
+we would be without liberty--our minds enslaved, geography tabooed!
+Egypt is a paradise compared to Rome.
+
+The advantages of foreign travel to an intelligent American are to teach
+him ... the disadvantages of living any where save in America. And
+though the artistic eye dwells with such loving repose on the soothing
+colors of Italy, and particularly on the subdued white and gray tones of
+Roman ruins and palaces, walls and houses, yet the owner of that
+artistic eye should restrain his wrath at the fiery red bricks of our
+own cities, for let him reflect that this color goads him on, as it doth
+a bull, to make valorous efforts--to do something!
+
+Looking down from the stone balustrade of the Pincio on the piazza
+Popolo, we note two churches, one on either side of the Corso; their
+architecture is neither more nor less hideous than nine tenths of the
+other three hundred and odd churches of Rome; the same heavy,
+half-cooked look about doors and windows, suggesting cocked-hats of the
+largest size on the heads of dwarfs of no size at all; the same heavy
+scroll-work, reminding one of the work of a playful giant of a
+green-grocer who has made a bouquet of sausages and cabbages, egg-plants
+and legs of mutton, and exhibits it to a thick-headed public as a--work
+of art. O Roman _Plebs!_ lay this nattering unction to your soul--we did
+not do that!
+
+The history of all nations seem to indicate successive ages of grub and
+butterfly-life; certainly Rome has been a grub long enough. Let us hope
+the sun of Victor Emmanuel, the King of Gallant Men, will hasten the
+time when the Romans shall wing their way to the light of Liberty. These
+mockeries of architecture shall then stand as warning fingers to the
+Romans of the sad days that were; the days when mind and body were
+enslaved, and the grinning monkey held the dove tight-clutched in his
+brutal grasp. Through sword and fire public taste must pass before it is
+purified: the mountain-stream, dashing along with bounding steps, is
+clear and sparkling, but in the long stretch of level pastureland or
+prairie it is still and--dirty.
+
+It may be well to descend and wander through those close and narrow
+streets where the waste-water of old Roman aqueducts makes green and
+damp the foundation stories of gloomy houses, and where the
+carefully-nurtured traveler sees sights of smoked interiors, dirt and
+rubbish in the streets, that terrify him; but let him remember that in
+the worst of these kennels the inhabitants have never forgotten that
+they had a Past, and the 'I am a Roman Citizen!' still rings in their
+ears, eats into their hearts, and is at their tongue's end. Monsieur
+About was in Rome when Caper was there; he saw these Romans through
+Napoleonic spectacles: while one foot was trying to stamp on Antonelli
+gently, the other was daintily ascending the shining steps leading to
+the temple of Gallic fame. He is impressed with the idea that the Romans
+are hangers-on of hangers-on to patricians, from which we are to infer,
+if the patricians are ever hung, there will be a heavy weight to their
+feet!
+
+Rocjean, one afternoon, after a walk on the Pincio, was returning to his
+studio, when, as he descended to the Via Babuino, he met a Roman artist
+named Attonito, who cultivated the English.
+
+'Ow arr you toe-day, my dear?' he asked Rocjean.
+
+'Quite well, except a slight attack of bad English, from which I hope to
+recover in a few minutes.'
+
+'Pray tell unto me th-hat weech is bad Englis.'
+
+'Haven't you been on the Pincio?'
+
+'Yas, I tak' consteetutionails up there avery afternoons; it is a
+costume Englis' th-hat I vary moche cotton to.'...
+
+'W-hat! Cotton to? Why, that is a clear Americanism; where did you pick
+it up?'
+
+'Meester Caper of Noo-York, he told unto me it am more elegant as to
+say, I love, or I affection. Bote, 'ave you saw that bu-tee-fool
+creechure with 'air of flags?'...
+
+'What!'
+
+''Air of flags; 'ow you name eet? _Capellatura di lino?_'
+
+'Oh! you mean tow-head?'
+
+'Toe! no, no! I mean _lino_.'
+
+'Ah! yes, flaxen hair.'
+
+'_Benissimo!_ Vary well, flagson 'air and blue eyze. Shhe was in
+carri-adge with Lady Blumpudy. I go avery afternoons to inspect her as
+she takes the airs on the Pincio, Eet would gife me great pleasures to
+ally myself to her in marriage compact, bote I do not know eef she has a
+fortune. Do you know any theengs?'
+
+'Yes, a great many; one of which is that it is my dinner-time, and as I
+turn down the Condotti--good afternoon.'
+
+'Goo-ood by, my dear,' answered Attonito, as he slowly wandered up the
+Piazza di Spagna.
+
+Another example of the beneficial effects of the Pincio on the
+_bourgeoise_, thought Rocjean. When will the alarm-bell in the clock of
+Roman time ring out its awaking peal?
+
+
+ROME BY NIGHT.
+
+If one would realize the romantic side of Rome in all its stately
+grandeur, and receive a solemn and ineffaceable impression of its
+beauty, by all means let him, like Quevedo's hero, sleep 'a-daytime' and
+do his sight-seeing by moonlight or star-light; for, save in some few
+favored quarters, its inspection by gaslight would be difficult.
+Remember, too, that all that is grandly beautiful of Rome, the traveler
+has seen before he reaches the Imperial City--with the eyes of
+understanding, with the eyes of others--in books.
+
+Nothing but a heap of old stones, bricks, and mortar is there here for
+the illiterate tourist--he can have six times as jolly a time in Paris
+for half the money that he pays 'in that old hole where a fellow named
+Culius Jaesar used to live.'
+
+As if the night were not sufficiently dark in this city, there are
+always those who stand ready with the paint-brush of fancy to make it
+even of a darker hue; whisperings among the travelers in hotels of
+certain Jim Joneses or Bill Smiths who have been robbed. Yes, sir, early
+in the evening, right there in the Corso: grabbed his watch and chain,
+struck him on the head. You know he was a powerfully built man; but they
+came behind him, and if he hadn't have done so and so, the rascally
+Italians would have killed him, and so forth.
+
+'Re-al-ly; well, you won't catch me out at nights!'
+
+There rises up, as I write, the figure of a slim young man, of the
+day-time negro-minstrel style of beauty, who once dwelt three weeks in
+Rome. I know that he was profound in knowledge of trick and vice, and
+that he had an impediment in his speech--he could never speak the
+truth. He told a fearful tale of a midnight robbery in the Piazza di
+Spagna--himself the victim. It was well told, and I ought to know, for I
+read it years before in a romance, only the scene was, in type, laid in
+Venice. According to this negro-minstrel style of youth, he had been
+seized from behind, held, robbed of watch and elegant gold chain, red
+coral shirt-studs, onyx sleeve-buttons, and a porte-monnaie containing
+fifty scudi, etc., etc. He was the theatrical hero of the hotel for two
+days, and the recipient of many drinks. Time, the cater of things, never
+digested this falsehood, and months after the youth had left, I learned
+that he had lost all his jewelry and money at--twenty-deck poker.
+
+A few nights after Caper was domiciled in the Via Babuino, Rocjean
+called on him, and as he entered his room, carefully extinguished a
+taper, and was putting it in his pocket, when Caper asked him what that
+was for?
+
+'That! it's a _cerina_. Have you been two weeks in Rome, and not found
+out that? Why, how did you get up-stairs at night?'
+
+'There was a lamp in the entry.'
+
+'None there to-night, so I had to light this. It's only a long piece of
+wick, dipped in wax; you see you can roll it up in a ball, and carry it
+in your pocket, so! Without this and a box of matches, you can never
+hope to be a good Roman. You must have seen that where the houses have
+any front-doors, three quarters of them are open all night long; for, as
+on every floor of a house, there live different families, they find it
+saves trouble--trouble is money in Rome--to leave the door unclosed.
+These dark entries, for they are seldom lighted, offer a grand chance
+for intrigues, and when you have lived here as long as I have, you will
+find out that they--improve the chances. A _cerina_, in addition to
+keeping you from breaking your neck, by tumbling down stone stairs,
+gives light to avoid the stray dogs that sleep around loose, and to see
+if there is any enemy around who wants to give you a few inches of cold
+steel. You may laugh at robbers here; but you may cry for mercy in vain
+to a Roman who seeks _vendetta_--revenge, you know. Bad way to use
+foreign words; but we all do it here. Speak an Italianized English after
+a time, the effect of had examples. But come, if you want to see Rome by
+moonlight, it's time we were off.'
+
+As they reached the street, Caper asked Rocjean where he could buy the
+_cerina_.
+
+'At any _dragheria_' said the latter.
+
+'Good, there is a druggist's store up the street--Borioni's.'
+
+'A _dragheria_ means a grocery-store in Rome. If you want molasses,
+however, you must go to the _farmacia_ for it, [that is the Roman for
+druggist's shop,] and you will buy it by the ounce.'
+
+'Live and learn,' said Caper, as they entered the grocery and bought the
+_cerina_-price, one baioccho a yard.
+
+'And now let us walk out to Saint Peter's, and see the church by
+moonlight.'
+
+'The want of sidewalks in this city,' remarked Rocjean, 'compelling the
+Romans to walk over cobble-stones, undoubtedly is the cause of the large
+feet of the women, added to their dislike of being in pain from tight
+shoes or boots. For genuine martyrdom from tight shoes, French, Spanish,
+and Americans--but chiefly Cubans--next to Chinese women, are ahead of
+the world.'
+
+'But apart from the fact that they do walk on the narrow sidewalks in
+the Corso, I have noticed that in the side-streets, even where there is
+a foot-walk, nobody takes advantage of it at night.'
+
+'For a good reason, as we shall probably see,' said Rocjean,' before we
+reach the bridge of San Angelo. But keep close to me in the middle of
+the street.'
+
+The moonlight shone brightly down the narrow street they were then
+walking through, which, but for this, the occasional dim light of an
+oil-lamp hung in front of a shrine, the light from a wine or grocery
+shop, and the ruddy blaze of a charcoal-fire, where chestnuts were
+roasting for sale, would have been dark indeed. The ground-floor of
+very few Roman houses is ever occupied as a dwelling-place; it is given
+up to shops, stables, etc., the families residing, according to their
+wealth, on the lowest up to the highest stories; the light purses going
+up and the heavy ones sinking. They had walked nearly to the end of this
+street, when, happening to look up at the fourth story of a house, he
+saw something white being reversed in the moonlight, and the next
+instant a long stream of water, reminding him of the horse-tail fall in
+Switzerland, came splashing down where a sidewalk should have been.
+
+'What do you think of the middle of the street now?' asked Rocjean.
+
+'Let's stick to it, even if we stick in it. I'm going to buy an
+umbrella, _and spread it too_, when I go out of nights, after this.'
+
+They reached the bridge of San Angelo, and studied for a short time the
+fine effect of the moonlight shining on the turbid, slow-flowing Tiber,
+and lighting up the heavy pile of the castle of San Angelo. Then they
+reached the Piazza of Saint Peter's, and here the scene was imperial.
+Out and in through the semi-circular arcade of massive pillars the
+moonlight stole to sleep upon the soft-toned, gray old pavement, or was
+thrown in dancing, sparkling light from the two noble jets of water
+tossed in the clear night-air by the splashing fountains. In all its
+gigantic proportions rose up, up into the clear blue of the spangled
+sky, the grand thought of Michael Angelo--the dome of Saint Peter's.
+
+Returning from Saint Peter's, Rocjean proposed to walk through the
+Trastevere, the other side of the Tiber, and to cross over the river by
+the ponte Rotto or broken bridge. They found the street along the river
+very quiet; here and there a light showed, as on the other side, a
+wine-shop or coffee-room; but the houses had few lights in them, and
+spite of the moonlight, the streets looked gloomy and desolate.
+
+'They seem to keep dark this side of the river,' said Caper.
+
+'Yes,' answered Rocjean, 'and live light. They go to bed for the most
+part early, and rise early; they economize fifty-one weeks in a year, in
+order to live like lords for the fifty-second--that is Carnival-week.
+Then you shall see these queenly Trasteverine in all their bravery,
+thronging the Corso. But here is a clean-looking wine-shop, let us go in
+and have a foglietta.'
+
+They found the shop full of thirsty Romans--it is safe to say
+that--although the number of small flasks showed they could not indulge
+their taste so deeply as they wished to. The centre of the listening
+group of Romans, was a bright-eyed, black, curly-haired man, who was
+reciting, with loud emphasis:
+
+  THE LIFE AND DEATH
+
+  OF THE PERFIDIOUS ASSASSIN,
+
+  ARRIGO GARBETINGO OF TRENTO,
+
+  Who slew nine hundred and sixty-four grown
+  persons and six children.
+
+He had already got through his birth and wicked childhood, and had
+arrived at that impressive part where he commences his career of brigand
+at large, accompanied by a 'bool-dog':
+
+  'He had a bull-dog of the English breed, oh!
+  More savage than all others that we've seen, oh!
+  Close at his side it always walked, indeed, oh!
+  And never barked! but then his bite was keen, oh!
+  When on some poor man straight he sprung, take heed, oh!
+  His soul from body quickly fled, I ween, oh!
+  Because with cruel, gnashing teeth he tore, oh!
+  Him all to pieces, in a manner sore, oh!'
+
+The reciter here stopped to drink another tumbler of wine, upon which
+Caper and Rocjean, having finished their pint, paid their scot and
+departed.
+
+'Was that an improvisatore?' asked Caper.
+
+'He might pass for such with a stranger of inflammable imagination, who
+didn't know the language,' answered Rocjean. 'He is, in fact, a
+reciter, and you can buy the poh, poh-em he was reciting at any of the
+country fairs, of the man who sells rosaries and crucifixes. It is one
+of the cent-songs of the Papal States, published _con licenza_, with
+license; and a more cruel, disgusting, filthy, and demoralizing tendency
+than it must have on the people can not well be imagined; and there are
+hundreds of worse.'
+
+While Rocjean was talking they had crossed the ponte Rotto, and as he
+finished his sentence they stood in front of the ruined house of--Cola
+di Rienzil, 'Redeemer of dark centuries of shame--the hope of Italy,
+Rienzi, last of Romans!'
+
+'Well,' said Rocjean, as he halted in front of the ruined house, and
+looked carefully at the ornamented stones still left, 'when Saint
+Peter's church shall be a circus, this house shall be a shrine.'
+
+'That being the state of the case,' spoke Caper, 'let us walk up to the
+Trevi fountain and see the effect by moonlight of its flashing waters,
+and inhale the flavor of fried fish from the adjacent stands.'
+
+They stood in front of the wild waters dashing, sparkling over the grand
+mass of tumbled rocks reared behind the wall of a large palace. Neptune,
+car, horses, tritons, all, stone as they were, seemed leaping into life
+in the glittering rays of the moonlight, and the rush and splash of the
+waters in the great basin below the street, contrasted with the silence
+of the city, left a deep impression of largeness and force on the minds
+of the two artists.
+
+'Let us go down and drink the water, for he who drinks of it shall
+return again to Rome!'
+
+'With all my heart,' said Caper; 'for if the legend has one word of
+truth in it, Garibaldi will be back again some _bello giorno_----'
+
+'_Bello giorno_ means fine day; _giorno di bello_ means a day for war: I
+drink to both!' spoke Rocjean, dipping water up in his hand.
+
+They returned to the street, and were walking toward the Piazza di
+Spagna, when they overtook two well-dressed men evidently none the
+better for too much wine. As they passed them, one of the men said to
+the other:
+
+'J-im! I don't see but what we-we-'ll have to r-r-roost out-tall night.
+I don't know 'ny 'talian, _you_ don't know 'ny 'talian, we-we-'re
+nonpl'sh'd, I'm th-think'ng.'
+
+'Ary borry boutere spikinglish?' said the other one to the two artists,
+as they were walking on.
+
+'Yes,' said Caper, 'four of 'em. If you've lost your way we'll set you
+right. Where's your hotel?'
+
+''Tel? Why, 'Tel Europe p'aza Spanya. Are you English?'
+
+'No, sir! I'm an American born, bred and--buttered,' said Caper.
+
+'B-bullyf'ryou! We'resame spishies--allrite--d-driv'on!'
+
+'Look here,' said the one of the two men who was least tipsy, 'if this
+tother g-gen'leman and I could stick our heads into c-cold water we'd
+come out tall right.'
+
+'It's only a block or two back to the Trevi fountain,' answered Caper,
+'and if your friend will go with you, you'll find water enough there.'
+
+They went back to the fountain, and descending the steps with some
+difficulty, the two men soon had their heads pretty well cooled off, and
+came up with cleared intellects and improved pronunciation. In the
+course of conversation it appeared that the two travelers, for such they
+were, after rather too much wine at dinner in their hotel, had been
+invited to the German Club, where Rhine wine, etc., had finished them
+off: attempting to return to their hotel alone, they had lost their way.
+As the four walked along, it came out that one of them owned a painting
+by Rocjean, and when he discovered that one of his guides was no other
+than that Americanized Frenchman, the whole party at once fraternized,
+and disregarding any more moonlight effects, walked at once to Caper's
+rooms, where over cigars and a bottle of Copalti's wine they signed,
+sealed, and delivered a compact to have a good time generally for the
+week the two travelers intended devoting to Rome. The moral of which is
+... that you make more friends than meet enemies--walking round Rome by
+night.
+
+
+THE MYSTERIOUS IN ART.
+
+They were in the presence of a man with flowing hair, flowing beard, and
+flowing language, in a studio, all light from which was excluded by
+heavy curtains, except enough to display an easel on which was placed a
+painting, a background of dark blue where were many apparently spider
+and crow-tracks.
+
+'Those who in the profundity of their darkness incline to the belief
+that the vitality of art, butterfly-like, has fled from this sunny
+world, have made the biggest kind of a mistake,' said Mr. Artaxerxes
+Phlamm, the Mystic Artist, to Caper. The hit was evidently intended for
+Rocjean, but that descendant of the Gauls, for some reason, did not
+smite back again; he contented himself with the remark:
+
+'Art is long.'
+
+'Yes, sir,' continued Mr. Phlamm, 'not only it has length, but breadth,
+breadth, broadness--it extends from--yes--from--pole to pole.'
+
+'Like a clothes-line,' said Caper.
+
+'Ah!' continued Phlamm, with a pickled smile, 'Fancy, ever Fancy, but it
+is Imagination that, as it were, brings man to a level with his destiny
+and elevates him to the Olympium hights of the True, and all that rises
+much above the meedyochre. But I must not forget that this is your first
+visit to me studeeyoh. The painting on the easel is a view of Venice on
+the Grand Canal.'
+
+'But,' said Rocjean, 'I do not see the canal.'
+
+'When you are gazing at the stars do you see your boots?' asked Phlamm.
+
+'I always do,' spoke Caper quickly, 'always gaze at 'em at night--smoke
+a cigar--put my feet higher than my head--sit in a chair--stars
+reflected in boots--big thing!'
+
+'You are full of life and spirits, Caper,' continued Phlamm, 'full of
+'em; but Rocjean is more serious, more imbued with his nobil calling. My
+illustration, as he understands, would convey the idea that such a thing
+as foreground in a painting is false; it's a sham, it's a delusion, and
+all that. It may do for pre-Raffleites, but for a man who looks Naychure
+in the face, he sees her operating diversely, and he works according. I
+repeat it again, when I was on the Grand Canal in Venice, I didn't see
+the Grand Canal.'
+
+'Neither did I,' spoke Caper, 'we're just alike; I kept my head all the
+time out of the gondola-window looking for pretty girls--and I saw
+them!'
+
+'May I ask why you dead-color your canvas blue, and then make your
+drawing in black outline?' asked Rocjean.
+
+'What is the color of the sky? Is it not blue? Is not blue a cold color;
+is it not the negative to the warmth, the balance to the scales, the one
+thing needed on which to rear the glorious fabric that Naychure reveals
+to the undimmed vision of man? I know your answer, and I refute it. I
+have studied Art from its roots, and now I'm in the branches, and I
+grasp the fruit. My manner is peculiar--I have no patent for it--I ask
+for none. The illimitable passes the legitimate, and the sw-word is
+carried by the hero--for me the bruzh, the paint-bruzh. You see that
+painting before you--it is my child--I lavish on it my intentions--I am
+going to work three years on that picture!'
+
+'I bet you a new hat you sell it, and a dozen more, and send 'em off
+before six months. You're all the rage now since you sold old Goldburg a
+picture,' quoth Caper.
+
+'I don't bet, I am opposed to betting. But look that picture of mine in
+the face, in the face! Here is a finished painting, The Lake of Zurich;
+see those clouds floating mistily away into the far distance--there's
+atmosphere for you--there's air! You can't cut those clouds into slices
+of cheese as you can them of that humbug of a Cloud Lowrain. Cloud
+Lowrain! he's a purty painter! Naychure is my teacher. I go out
+mornings and hear the jackdaws chatter, and see trees and all that;
+sometimes I walk around in a garden for ten minutes and commune with
+Naychure--that's the way to do it. Look at clouds before you paint
+'em--I know it's hard when the sun's in your eyes, but do it--I've spent
+a week at a time out-doors, like Wordsworth and the great, the grand,
+the colossial Ruzking.'
+
+'I like that water,' said Rocjean, alluding to that of the painting.
+
+'Water is my peculiar study; I am now engaged experimenting on it--see
+there!' Here Phlamm pointed to a basin.
+
+'Been washing your hands?' asked Caper.
+
+'Scientifically experimenting, not manually. Water is
+soup-or-fish-all--earth is not soup-or-fish-all.'
+
+'Our dinners are, during Lent,' quoth Caper, 'unless we're heretics.'
+
+'I don't understand your frivolity--what do you mean?'
+
+'Didn't you say, 'Soup or all fish?''
+
+'Pshaw! You will never make an artist--never, never--_you_ are too, too
+superficiall, too much of the earth, dirty.'
+
+'Oh! now I understand,' answered Caper; 'give it to me, I deserve it.'
+
+'I was studying water, its shadows and its superficiality, in that
+basin,' continued Phlamm, 'and I study the ocean there, and have
+devolved great principles from it. What makes my pictures sought for by
+the high and the low, wealthy? What? It's the Truth in 'em, the Mystery,
+the Naychure. The old masters were humbugs, they weren't mysterious,
+they had no inner sight into the workings of Naychure. Who'd buy one of
+their pictures when he might have a Turner for the same price? Nobody.'
+
+'Wouldn't he?' asked Caper. 'Try him with a Raphael, just a small one.'
+
+'Raphael? You mean Raffaele. Ah! he _was_ a painter, he wasn't one of
+the old masters, however, he was a middle-age master. What sweetness,
+what a kind of--sweetness generally; what a blending of the prayerful
+infant with the enthusiastic beauty; the--the polished chastity of his
+Mad-donas; the folds of his drapery, and--the drapery of his folds.
+Truly enchanting, and so very uncommonly gentlemanly in his colors.'
+
+'The Chesterfield of oil-colors?' suggested Rocjean. 'But _a propos_ of
+Nature, you never paint a picture directly from her, do you?'
+
+'Never! Does a great historical painter use the model? No, sir; he draws
+on his imagination for his figures. He scorns to copy from a model. I
+convey the impression of mystery that Naychure gives me; I am no servile
+copyist. And I claim to leave an impression on the minds of the
+beholders of my works. Why, even Caper, I believe, can see what I wish
+to tell, and read my poems on canvas. Tell me, Caper, what idea does
+even that rough sketch of Venice awake in your imaginative faculties,
+and all that?'
+
+Caper's face wore a deeply thoughtful look, as he answered: 'I do see
+it; I do claim to read the lesson you would teach----'
+
+'Speak it out,' interrupted Phlamm, 'I knew you would feel the deep,
+mysterious sentiment as is in it.'
+
+'Spider-tracks and crows' feet on the blue mud of a big marsh,' spoke
+Caper resolutely.
+
+'Pshaw!' exclaimed Phlamm impetuously; 'you have no Faith, and without
+that, all Art is a sealed thing. Goldburg, to whom I lately sold a
+painting, had faith; he saw the grand idea which I explained to him in
+that picture; he knew that the Earl of Bigbarns had purchased a work of
+mine, and he said to me: 'The opinion of such a man is an opinion as
+should be a valuable opinion to a business man, and govern the
+sentiments of those who worship Art.' Other artists see Naychure, but
+_how_ do they see her? I answer, blindly! They don't feel her here!'
+(Phlamm struck his waistcoat in fearful proximity to a pocket in it, and
+altogether too low for his heart.)
+
+'Nay-chure,' said Caper to Rocjean, as they left this studio of the
+mysterious one, 'ruined a good Barnum to make a poor Phlamm, when she
+made him.'
+
+
+A BATH-HUNT.
+
+It is a mournful sight to see a city of one hundred and eighty thousand
+five hundred and thirty-nine inhabitants, including one thousand three
+hundred and thirty-one priests, two thousand four hundred and four
+monks, and eight hundred and fifty-four Jews, Turks, and heretics, as
+the census had it, attacked with hydrophobia. But it is so. A
+preternatural dread of water rages among all the inhabitants of Rome,
+from the untitled down to the titled.
+
+'Madame,' said Rocjean to a distinguished female model, 'I assure you
+that, in the sixth century, [or as Sir Gardiner Wilkinson has it, in the
+five hundred,] there were nine thousand and twenty-five baths in this
+city.'
+
+'Those must have been good times,' replied she, 'for the washerwomen,
+_seguro!_ There are a good many clothes of the _forestieri_ [strangers]
+washed here now; but not so many different places to wash them in.'
+
+'I mean places to bathe one's self all over in.'
+
+'_Mai!_ Never, never!' exclaimed the woman with horror; 'never! 'twould
+give them the fever, kill them dead!'
+
+Mr. Van Brick, of New-York, arriving in Rome early in the morning,
+demanded of the porter at the hotel where he could find a _bagno_, or
+place where he could get a bath. He was directed to go down the Babuino,
+and at such a number he would find the establishment. Forgetting the
+number before he was three steps from the hotel, he inquired of a man
+who was driving a she-jackass to be milked, where the bath was. As he
+spoke very little Italian, he had to make up by signs what he wanted in
+words. The man, probably believing he wanted a church, and that his
+motions signified being sprinkled with water, pointed to the Greek
+church, and Van Brick, thinking it was a solemn-looking old _bagno_,
+strode in, to his astonishment finding out as soon as he entered that he
+was by no means in the right place. As he turned to go out, he saw an
+amiable-looking young man, with a black cocked hat in his hand, and a
+black serge shirt on that came down to his heels, and had a waist-band
+drawing it in over his hips. He asked the young man, as well as he could
+in Italian, where there was a _bagno_.
+
+'The signore is English?' asked the youth in the black shirt.
+
+'I want a bath,' said Van Brick, 'which way?'
+
+'Have patience, signore. There are a great many English in Rome.'
+
+'Farewell!' quoth Van Brick, turning on his heel, reflecting: 'That
+youth talks too much; he does it to conceal his ignorance; he don't know
+what a bath is.' Coming out of the church, he met a good-natured looking
+Roman girl, without any bonnet, as usual, going along with a bottle of
+wine and a loaf of bread.
+
+'Can you tell me where the bath is?'
+
+'_Chi lo sa_, signore.'
+
+This CHI LO SA, or, 'who knows?' of the Romans, is a shaft that would
+kill Paul Pry. It nearly throws an inquisitive man into convulsions. He
+meets it at every turn. The simplest question is knocked to pieces by
+it. So common is it for a Roman of the true _plebs_ breed to give you
+this for an answer to almost every question, that Rocjean once won a hat
+from Caper in this wise: they stood one evening in front of a grocer's
+store, down by the Pantheon; it was brilliantly illuminated with
+hundreds of candles, displaying piles of hams, cheese, butter, eggs,
+etc., etc. Chandeliers constructed of egg-shells, where candles shone
+brightly, particularly struck Caper.
+
+'You see,' said Rocjean, 'as anyone else can see, that those chandeliers
+are made of egg-shells. Now, I will bet you a hat that I will ask four
+men, one after another, who may come to look in this window, what those
+chandeliers are made of, and three at least, if not all four of them,
+will answer, 'Who knows?' (_Chi lo sa._)
+
+'Done!' said Caper.
+
+Rocjean asked four men, one after another. All four answered; 'Who
+knows?'
+
+But to continue the bath-hunt: Van Brick was thrown over by the girl's
+answer, and next asked an old woman, who was standing at the door of a
+house, buying broccoli from a man with a hand-cart.
+
+'Can _you_ tell me where the bath is?'
+
+'The bath?'
+
+'Yes, the bath.'
+
+'Is it where they boil water for the English?'
+
+'That must be the shop,' quoth Brick.
+
+'That's the place,' pointing with her finger to a house on the opposite
+side of the way.
+
+Van Brick crossed over, and after five minutes' hunt over the whole
+house, was coming down disheartened, when he saw a pretty girl, about
+eighteen years old, standing by the doorway.
+
+'Can you tell me where the bath is?'
+
+'_Seguro!_ I attend to them. You can't have a warm bath for two or three
+hours yet, for there is no fire; but you can have a cold one.'
+
+'Well, let me have it as quickly as possible.'
+
+'Yes, sir. We have no soap for sale, but you can get it two doors off.'
+
+Van Brick went out, and after a time returned with a cake of soap.
+
+'Signore,' said the girl, when he went back, 'the water is all running
+out of the hole in the bottom of the tub, and I can't stop it.'
+
+'H'm! Show me the tub; I am a splendid mechanic.'
+
+The hole being stopped, the tub was rapidly filling with water. Van
+Brick, in anticipation, was enjoying his bath; when in rushed the
+attendant.
+
+'Signore, you will have to wait a few minutes--until I wash some
+towels.'
+
+Van Brick was in extremis. Taking a gold scudo, one of those dear little
+one-dollar pieces the Romans call _far-falle_ (butterflies) from his
+pocket, he thus addressed her:
+
+'Maiden, rush round the corner and buy me a yard of any thing that will
+dry me; I don't care what it is, except salt fish.'
+
+'Oh! but these English are bursting with money,' thought the girl, and
+thus thinking, she made great haste, only stopping to tell three or four
+friends about the crazy man that was round at her place, who didn't want
+salt fish to make him dry.
+
+'Behold me back again!' said the girl, 'I flew.'
+
+'Yes,' said Van Brick, 'and so did time; and he got ahead of you about
+half an hour. Give me the towels.'
+
+'Si, signore, behold them! See how fine they are! What an elegant fringe
+on them; and only twenty-five baiocchi a piece, fringe and all
+included.'
+
+Van Brick, at last left in peace, plunged into the bath.
+
+When he came out, he found he had half a scudo to pay for the water,
+half a scudo for towels, quarter of a scudo for soap, and another
+quarter scudo for a _buono mano_ to the bath-girl. Total, one dollar and
+a half.
+
+'Now,' soliloquized Van Brick, as he dressed himself, 'I have an
+arithmetical question to solve. If a Roman, by hard scratching, can earn
+twenty cents a day, and it costs him twenty-five cents for board and
+lodging, how long will it be before he saves up a dollar and a half to
+take a bath? But that intelligent maiden will tell me, I know.' He asked
+her.
+
+'Signore, the Romans never bathe.'
+
+'You mean the Catholic Romans, for the Pagan Romans didn't do any thing
+else.'
+
+'They're all burning up in the _inferno, Seguro_!' said the maiden.
+
+'But they had fifteen aqueducts to keep them cool when they were alive,'
+spoke Van Brick.
+
+'_Chi lo sa_. We have three aqueducts, we Romans, and we have more
+water, yes, more water than we can--drink.'
+
+'Yes, while there's wine about. _Adio, bella ninfa!_'
+
+
+
+
+GLANCES FROM THE SENATE-GALLERY.
+
+II.
+
+
+We considered, in the last number of THE CONTINENTAL, some of
+the leading orators and statesmen who, in the last Congress, represented
+the States now in rebellion against the Constitution. It can not be
+denied that, by their secession from the floor of the Senate, that body,
+which undoubtedly exhibits the best specimens of American eloquence, was
+deprived of several of its fairest ornaments; but we believe that a
+consideration of those Senators who remained faithful to the interests
+of their country, will discover the fact that in them was displayed at
+least equally conspicuous merit in oratory and legislation. A distinct
+contrast was discernible between Northern and Southern eloquence; the
+latter being of an impulsive and passionate character, unadorned
+generally by the graces which mental culture lends to that art, (which
+might be inferred from their well-known temperament,) while the former
+appears to be more deliberate and thoughtful, indicating by its elegance
+and harmony the refining and systematizing influence of education, and
+partaking of the natural phlegm peculiar to inhabitants in colder
+regions. While Southern eloquence seemed to endeavor to elicit feeling
+and passion, Northern orators looked for their success rather to the
+conviction of the understanding than to the indulgence of the weaker
+elements of human nature. By pleasing and subtle sophistries, by
+enthusiastic ebullitions of resentment and indignation, or by the more
+amiable contrivances of patriotic and virtuous sentiment, Benjamin and
+Davis sought, if they could not convince legislators, at least to
+attract to their peculiar doctrines the impulsive and credulous masses
+among their own people. On the contrary, it was apparent that Northern
+statesmen, confident in the exercise of intellectual resources, relied
+on the intelligence and reason of their auditors and constituents, and
+seldom resorted to that species of oratory which was employed by their
+adversaries, and which may be called in a manner strategetic, when
+logical accuracy was likely to meet with more satisfactory and more
+permanent success. Before we proceed to notice the eminent Senators from
+the North, we propose to dwell briefly upon several who, though
+representing slave States, were, in the last Congress at least, loyal to
+the Government; several of whom, however, are now engaged in treason,
+while others remain true to their allegiance.
+
+The person who, both from the position he held in the Senate and from
+his imposing personal appearance, first attracted the attention of the
+visitor, was the Vice-President, Breckinridge, of Kentucky. His later
+treachery has made him justly the object of bitter popular odium,
+inasmuch as his delinquency was aggravated by his former professions of
+loyalty. It was hoped by many who had witnessed his early elevation to
+the highest dignities, his undoubted ability both as an orator and as an
+administrative officer, and his apparently manly and ingenuous bearing,
+that talents which promised to be of so great service to his country
+would, in the approaching struggle, be exerted in behalf of its entirety
+and honor. Southern 'chivalry' in him was exhibited in a nobler and more
+amiable light than in his more petulant and less generous colleagues. A
+certain graceful dignity was united with the most attractive felicity of
+manner, and one could not help regarding him, when viewed in private
+society, as a perfect model of a gentleman. His courtesy and delicacy
+were exhibited to all alike, and strangers could not help admiring one
+who had at so early an age been raised to so giddy a hight, and yet who
+had retained such condescension of manner and such continual good-nature
+to every body who approached him. His personal appearance, as we have
+already said, was highly imposing; in which was combined a manliness of
+demeanor and a strikingly handsome countenance and figure. His peculiar
+fitness as a presiding officer made him popular in that capacity.
+Seldom, indeed, has a Vice-President occupied the chair with such
+perfect ease and such stately dignity. His oratory was worthy of a
+Senator, elevated, earnest, and partaking less of passion and rancor
+than other Southern speakers; but it rather lacked the substance and
+solidity which a maturer stage of life would undoubtedly have given to
+it. He seemed to be a fair representative of the Kentucky aristocracy,
+possessing a delicate sense of honor, a bold spirit, though hardly
+enthusiasm of soul. Evidently absorbed in a selfish ambition for power,
+this fault is in some degree palliated by the circumstance of the early
+age at which he was promoted to the public counsels. That this passion,
+unduly encouraged, has led him into a deplorable and fatal mistake, is
+now evident; and from what we have recently heard of him, we doubt not
+that a similar conviction has made him wretched and desperate.
+
+The father of the Senate, Mr. Crittenden, so well known during the last
+weeks of his term as the would-be pacificator, by compromise, of the
+impending rupture, was the last of the generation of statesmen of whom
+Webster and Clay were the leading cotemporaries. His long service in the
+national legislature procured him on all occasions a respectful and
+attentive hearing, and were it not for this circumstance, the earnest
+impressiveness of his declamation, at times relieved by sparks of
+old-fashioned wit, would have attracted the notice of his auditors. He
+was singular in his personal appearance, and a peculiarly fierce
+expression of face frequently gave an erroneous idea of his character,
+which was, making allowance for age and a life of turmoil, affable and
+good-natured. He always reminded us of the portraits of Lord Chancellor
+Thurlow, whose bushy eyebrows and stern countenance used to terrify
+young barristers in Westminster eighty years ago. Rather negligent in
+his dress, and far from elegant in manner, he would hardly be noticed at
+first as one of the leading members of the body. As a lawyer, he has
+been acute and learned; as a statesman, generally able, though hardly
+profound; as an orator, not graceful, but forcible and earnest. His
+patriotism was, no doubt, zealous and entirely disinterested; but
+certainly ill-directed, and not adapted in the application it made of
+principles to the exigencies of the times. Representing the most
+respected and most prosperous of slave States, and being considered in a
+manner as the statesman upon whose shoulders had fallen the mantle of
+the illustrious Clay, his influence was considerable, both with
+adherents and antagonists.
+
+With sincere satisfaction, we turn to contemplate the character of a
+true-hearted and undaunted Southern patriot, Andrew Johnson, of
+Tennessee. Coming as he did from a section in which secessionism
+predominates, and representing a mercurial and sensitive people, he
+stood out fearlessly and zealously in behalf of the maintenance of the
+Union at all hazards. He is an admirable example of the self-made man,
+having received no education in his youth, and owing to the application
+of maturer years the historical and political information he now
+possesses. Born and bred among the lower classes of society, and
+engaging in an occupation suited to his humble sphere, by perseverance
+and patience and a very superior natural ability, he has won a deserved
+place in the United States Senate. He is universally considered as one
+of the leading intellects in that body, and by his speeches during the
+last Congress, in which his enthusiasm as a patriot lent brilliancy and
+energy to his naturally forcible declamation, he attracted to himself
+the confidence and affection both of his auditors and of the country.
+His personal appearance is rather ordinary, not at all imposing, and yet
+his countenance indicates a sound judgment and a pure heart. His whole
+manner is open and frank, his bearing that of a gentleman by nature, and
+socially he is universally liked. His oratory is also of an ingenuous
+character, calculated to impress one at once with his thorough honesty
+and humanity. Sometimes he rose to admirable passages of virtuous
+indignation and scathing rebuke, as he warmed with the subject of
+Southern delusion, actuated by unprincipled leaders, and few of the
+Senators who sat on the Democratic side escaped from his truly
+formidable denunciation. Lane, of Oregon, a compound of conceit,
+ridiculous ignorance, and servility to Southern masters, was totally
+annihilated by the sturdy Tennesseean, for his imbecile attempts to
+excuse his pusillanimous submission to his chivalrous dictators. So
+successful was he in conjecturing and exposing the designs of the
+malcontent Senators, that the boldest of them feared to meet him in
+forensic discussion, and recoiled from the honesty and acuteness of one
+who knew them and did not hesitate to hold them up to ignominy. Through
+all the dangers which have beset the neighborhood from which he came, he
+has stood firm in the assertion of patriotic principles; nor to save his
+own household from disaster, has he yielded a jot to the demands of
+traitor tyrants. At present, he is provisional Governor of Tennessee,
+and is doing good service in bringing that once-honored State back to
+the folds of the Union. Of few public men can we say, what may be
+confidently said of him, that he has shown himself ready to sacrifice
+every private interest to subserve the interests of his country, and has
+given us a certain and practical example of a heroism unknown before the
+present crisis to Americans, except in the colored narratives of
+history.
+
+Senator Green, of Missouri, was justly regarded as one of the clearest
+thinkers and speakers in the Upper House. Irregularity of life had
+somewhat blunted what must once have been a very superior mind. His
+statesmanship was of a high order; his oratory ingenuous, generally
+courteous and conciliatory, and always entertaining, from its lucidness
+and keenness. He was decidedly popular in social circles, genial and
+good-natured, and full of animal spirits. His excesses, indeed, rather
+tended to make him the more companionable, though they undoubtedly
+undermined an uncommonly fine intellect; and certainly nothing can be
+more sickening than to see one so highly endowed, and who might command
+the applause of listening senates, gradually sinking below the level of
+manhood by habitual indulgences. In personal appearance, he was rather
+awkward, of an ungainly figure, his countenance not highly intelligent,
+but cheerful and rather pleasing. After the ostracism of the great
+bulwark of Democracy, Douglas, from the councils of his party, Senator
+Green became the leader of that side of the house, assuming the place on
+the Committee on Territories made vacant by the Illinois statesman. As a
+manager of party tactics, and as a bold, shrewd, and energetic leader,
+few could equal and none surpass him. His rise to so high a
+consideration among his political friends was rapid, but proved, in the
+event, well deserved.
+
+We have occupied more space than we had intended, in considering the
+Senators from the slave States, and will now attempt to speak of some of
+the more prominent Northern statesmen, in this paper, and perhaps
+continue their consideration more at length in a future number.
+
+The present Secretary of State was long regarded as the leading
+Free-Soil Senator, and after the present Republican party came into
+existence, he naturally assumed a prominent position among its
+advocates. In caution, in profound foresight, in coolness and affability
+of temper, and in perspicuity and logical shrewdness of oratory, he has
+been without a superior since the death of Webster. He somewhat
+resembles Earl Russell in the prudence and care with which he treats
+political questions, and the vigilance with which he notices every
+symptom of popular tendencies and popular desires. His circumspection is
+constant, and the imperturbability of his character enables him to be
+ever on his guard, and protects him from the enunciation of an unpopular
+idea. Never permitting himself to be annoyed at ever so bitter a taunt,
+perfectly self-possessed, and always mindful of the courtesy due to his
+colleagues, and the respect due to the most dignified body in the
+nation, he has generally succeeded in completely disarming his less
+prudent antagonists. In general debate, his coolness and mental balance
+enabled him to cope with the most formidable opponents, and although at
+times the overwhelming eloquence of Douglas got the better of the more
+philosophic orator, such an occurrence was rare, and a triumph was
+gained over him only by the greatest exertions of the greatest orators.
+His labored speeches, as will be testified to by all who have perused
+them, are rich in profound thought, a clear discernment and
+comprehension of events, causes, and results, and occasionally in
+passages of stately and brilliant eloquence. Graceful rhetoric and
+shrewd logic appear to be ever at his command, as he has occasion, in
+the course of argument, to resort to one or the other, to illustrate or
+to enforce his reasoning. In person, Mr. Seward is of about medium
+hight, rather stooping, with reddish-gray hair, an aquiline nose, and
+dull, sleepy, blue eyes. His countenance is hardly intellectual, and no
+one would suppose, on seeing him for the first time, that he was a man
+of conspicuous ability. He is affable to every one, and enters freely
+into conversation with all who call upon him; nevertheless, he is
+extremely guarded at all times in expressing his opinions, and will
+never betray himself into an unguarded sentiment. His manner of speaking
+is extremely easy, and occasionally dull; and when in the Senate, he
+used to take his position by leaning against the pillar behind his seat,
+twirling in one hand his spectacles, while with the other he enforced,
+by slight gestures, the more striking passages of his speech. His
+delivery was far from animated, and his intonation was rather
+conversational than declamatory. He has a quiet dignity at all times,
+which is yet consistent with a polite and amiable demeanor; and while
+the former inspires the respect, the latter elicits the esteem of all
+who approach him.
+
+The present Vice-President was, during the last Congress, Senator from
+Maine. He was long known as an able Democratic politician, and in 1856
+was elected Governor of Maine by the Republicans, in a hotly-contested
+election. He is remarkable rather for a sound judgment and practical
+good sense than as an orator or in the higher arts of statesmanship. He
+was always listened to with attention, because all looked upon him as
+well informed in the everyday duties of the Senate, and as one whose
+opinion was formed from accurate observation and a clear head. He is in
+no sense an orator, his delivery not being pleasant or his sentiments
+couched in graceful or forcible language. He is of a dark complexion,
+rather tall, with jet-black hair, a little bald, and would not be
+selected as one of the leading men in the Senate from his personal
+appearance. As a presiding officer, he ranks well, being apparently
+posted on parliamentary law and impartial in his decisions, although he
+has not the dignity and grace which lent _eclat_ to Mr. Breckinridge's
+performance of the office.
+
+Senator Fessenden, of Maine, is considered one of the first statesmen
+now prominent before the country; and the ability he has exhibited, not
+only in the practical details of his position but in the wider range of
+comprehensive statesmanship, entitles him to a place superior to most
+and equal to any of his contemporaries. Since the retirement of Senator
+Hunter from the Finance Committee, (which may be considered as the most
+important in the Senate,) Mr. Fessenden has executed the duties of its
+chairmanship with an accuracy and vigilance which has elicited the
+praise of all sides of the house. His superiority as a financier is
+marked; but not more marked than his high capacity for comprehending and
+elucidating the great national issues, which swallow up all minor ones
+in the magnitude of their importance and the intensity of their
+interest. For maturity of judgment, deliberateness of thought and
+manner, fearlessness of speech, a presence of mind never lost, and
+bitterness of invective, no one ranks above him in the Chamber. His
+oratory is of that substantial and yet spirited character which at once
+convinces and interests and engages the attention of the mind, without
+wearying it by unrelieved exertion. Always the master of every topic on
+which he attempts to enlighten, he is neither foiled by the sophistries
+nor embarrassed by the bravadoes of his opponents. His eloquence is not
+demonstrative, but calm, dignified, and earnest, apparently confident in
+the correctness of his views, and yet cautious to avoid giving offense
+to others. He is always listened to with the utmost respect, and his
+opinions are of much weight among his political friends. His appearance
+is dignified and highly intellectual; his forehead being broad and
+indicative of great ability, and his general manner being in harmony
+with the prominence and responsibility of his office. Never resorting,
+in default of argument, to the petty malice of personal abuse, his
+course has been liberal, consistent, and uniformly courteous. In private
+life, he retains the dignity which appears to be natural to him; but is
+yet affable and sociable, attracting one alike by the rich products of
+thought and the courtesy of his manner.
+
+Benjamin F. Wade, Senator from Ohio, is a noble specimen of a self-made
+statesman. He migrated, at a very early age, from New-England to his
+present residence, being entirely without means and devoid of every
+thing except his own invincible spirit, with which to secure a
+livelihood. The qualities which made him successful sooner than his most
+sanguine expectations taught him to hope for, appear in all their
+maturity in the character of the Senator. A perseverance the most
+constant, a firmness approaching to stubbornness, a courage which never
+feared man, and a power of application wonderful in a mind disciplined
+only by rude nature, are the component elements which have promoted him
+to and maintain him with conspicuous honor in the Senate of the United
+States. His honest and intrepid advocacy of principle has won him an
+enviable position in his party, and no one possesses the entire
+confidence of the country to a greater degree than he. He was
+particularly prominent in the last Congress for the bluntness and
+severity with which he handled the Southern Senators, and the little
+hesitation with which he exposed their delinquencies in the strongest
+light. His harangues were full of impulsive, strong, and fearless
+invective, and he never stopped to consider the delicacy of chivalrous
+sensitiveness, when treason and conspiracy were to be exposed. Probably
+no man was more feared by the other side of the Chamber, for he could
+neither be cowed by threats nor restrained within the limits of
+punctilious courtesy. He dealt with them in the plainest language, and
+combined with powerful effect argument, sarcasm, and eloquent
+denunciation. Strong sense is a leading feature of his character, and a
+practical wisdom which renders him eminently capable in the discharge of
+details. In private life, he is genial and always good-natured, ready
+for a joke at all times, and enjoys his leisure hours with a zest which
+is quickened by previous earnest toil. Although as bitter and
+unconciliatory as any of his colleagues in his treatment of the Southern
+statesmen on the floor of the Senate, he always manifested the utmost
+good temper toward them in social intercourse, and was frequently seen,
+after a sharp and irritating episode in debate, laughing and talking
+with Green or Benjamin in the most cheerful manner imaginable.
+
+We hope to present more sketches of Northern Senators in a future
+number.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAST DITCH.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is't where the James goes rolling by
+  Used-up plantations worn and dry,
+  Where planters lash and negroes breed,
+  And folks on oyster memories feed?
+  Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
+  To find it you must further go.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that 'last ditch,' his final stand?
+  Is't where the Mississippi runs
+  His mighty course for many suns,
+  To where New-Orleans fills the flat?
+  [Ben Butler's taken charge of _that_]
+  'Tis ours--to the Gulf of Mexico,
+  So that can't be the ditch, you know.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  _Is_ that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is it about Fort Donelson,
+  Where Floyd 'skedaddled,' _minus_ gun,
+  Packed up his traps and stole away
+  By night--as he had done by day?
+  Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
+  To find it you must further go.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is it at Nashville, Tennessee,
+  Once more a city of the free,
+  Where Isham Harris and his tools
+  Thieved just two millions from the schools?
+  Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
+  To find it you must further go.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is't at Montgomery, where in May
+  Hell's blackest tricks were put in play,
+  Where right and might were overruled,
+  And people into treason fooled?
+  Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
+  To find it you must further go.
+
+  Where in the Southron's fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is it at Charleston? Time shall prove
+  How much that precious nest we love,
+  When, crushed to dust and damned to shame,
+  We give the place another name.
+  Yet 'tis not there, I tell you, no!
+  Much further off its waters flow.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Is it at Natchez, high or low,
+  Or Newbern, where the pine-trees grow?
+  Is it where ladies 'dip' and snuff,
+  And white men feed on dirt enough?
+  Not there, not there; far down below
+  And further off its waters flow.
+
+  Where in the Southron's Fatherland
+  Is that last ditch--his final stand?
+  Knowest thou a stream folks call the Styx,
+  Round a plantation of Old Nick's,
+  In which, as Beauregard once swore,
+  His horse should drink when all is o'er?
+  There, there, my Southern friend, you'll find
+  A ditch exactly to your mind.
+
+  Ay, there in truth. God! can it be
+  That falsehood, sin and tyranny,
+  Though eighteen hundred years be past,
+  Still roar and revel wild and fast?
+  Well, let them rave; thou knowest the way--
+  'Tis darkest ere the dawn of day,
+  And well we know, whate'er befall,
+  Where runs the ditch to hide them all!
+
+
+
+
+PATIENCE.
+
+  Patience! why,'tis the soul of peace;
+  Of all the virtues, the nearest kin to heaven.
+  It makes men act like gods. The Best of Men
+  That e'er wore earth about him was a Sufferer,
+  A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit,
+  The first true Gentleman that ever breathed.
+
+
+
+
+REWARDING THE ARMY.
+
+
+It is a brave thing that we can truly say, after more than a year of
+fierce hostilities, the war in which this country is engaged goes on
+with undiminished--nay, with increasing Northern spirit. The enemy has
+been obliged to resort to forced conscription, and to declare every man
+within its limits a soldier, while we have not as yet had recourse to
+drafting; nor, as the late sudden call showed, nearly exhausted our
+volunteers. A thousand, and even fifteen hundred dollars have been
+offered in Virginia newspapers for a substitute, and yet behind this
+there has followed an Executive order for enrolling every man in the
+army whether he have purchased a substitute or not. 'Our flag floats
+over Nashville and Natchez, over Memphis and New-Orleans, over Norfolk
+and Pensacola, over Yorktown and Newbern.' We have girded them in on the
+Mississippi, on the Atlantic, and on the Gulf. We know that they are
+destitute of almost every thing save mere food and arms, and that every
+month sinks them deeper and deeper in destitution and misery. The war is
+on their own soil, and their own armies are a scourge and a curse to
+their own estates. Every where the plantation and the farm are made
+desolate--every where the direst distress is taking the place of
+comfort. And all this they brought on themselves by the most determined
+will. They believed that Northern men were all cowards and
+half-traitors--their allies and friends among us promised them easy
+victories and certain independence--they thought that the greed of money
+was stronger among us than the sense of dignity and honor--and now they
+are reaping their reward.
+
+Yet despite the bitter need into which they have brought themselves, it
+does not seem that those of the South who are in earnest have lost any
+of their desperation, or gained a better opinion of their foes. Their
+journals still trumpet the loudest lies and the mass still believe that
+sooner or later their shattered bark will outride the battle and the
+storm, and float safely into the broad sea of independence. Would that
+they could see the North as it is, in all its comparative prosperity,
+with millions still left to volunteer, and with thousands of foreigners
+eagerly seeking for places in the fray. We have found it necessary to
+instruct our ministers and consuls abroad that we can not accept for the
+present any more of the many military officers of different nations who
+desire to fight for the stars and stripes. We have money in abundance,
+and there is no flinching at taxation--indeed, the great source of
+apprehension at present is an excess of 'flush times' such as is too apt
+to bring on a reaction. When the war broke out we had, indeed, divided
+counsels. The old Southern Democrats whined and yelped, and attempted
+'peace-parties' and the like; but they have vanished, and traitors now
+confine themselves to less offensive measures, while their ranks have
+been woefully thinned. We may have disasters; nay, we can hardly hope to
+escape them. But in the present state of the war we may fairly boast of
+having the upper-hand. And the Northern tenacity which did not yield
+when misfortune lowered around, will not be likely to loose its hold now
+that it has learned to measure its might, man for man, with the arrogant
+enemy.
+
+Under the wise and judicious policy inaugurated by President Lincoln, we
+see Slavery, the great cause of this trouble, in a fair way to disappear
+in a manner which can give offence to no one. His 'remuneration
+message'--the shrewdest document which ever emanated from an American
+Executive--shows itself, as events proceed, to be a master-stroke of
+genius. The longer the cotton States prolong their resistance, the more
+precarious does slave property become, and the more inclined are the
+men of the tobacco States to sell their human chattels. Already in
+Kentucky, Tennessee, Maryland, and Delaware, people are longing to
+'realize' something on what bids fair to become altogether intangible
+amid the turns and tides of skirmishes and battles. Meanwhile with every
+day's delay Emancipation, as a predetermined necessity, gains ground
+among the people, and very rapidly indeed in the army. It was the lowest
+and most tyrannical form of an aristocracy--that of slaveholding
+planterdom--which caused and is still causing all this trouble, and it
+is beginning to work its way into the minds of the multitude that it is
+hardly worth while to risk every thing, and see the real criminals
+reinstated after all in their privileges and possessions, when the one
+can only serve to continue the old sore, while the other might be better
+employed in free labor. And better employed, we may add, in rewarding
+those noble men whose lives were risked in defense of our liberties.
+
+This consideration brings us to the very important question: How shall
+we reward our army, and what should be its future mission in the
+reconstruction which every freeman will be called to aid?
+
+There is no use in disguising facts, shirking inevitable issues, or
+trying to cheat either destiny or honest labor. We have got this
+question of rewarding our soldiers with the property of rebels, before
+us, and must meet it squarely. The pro-slavery Democratic press may
+oppose it, as they have been doing, with all the malignity which their
+treasonable friendship for the South may inspire; but we have an
+inevitable road before us over which we _must_ travel, and it would be
+well to consider it betimes, that we may tread it fairly and smoothly,
+and not be dragged along shrieking, by a pitiless destiny.
+
+There are two good reasons why we should begin to consider betimes, the
+expediency of rewarding our army with Southern lands. The one is the
+necessity of a future Northern policy; the other the claim of the army
+to such reward.
+
+If when this war is concluded, our Government is to have a policy or a
+principle, it should manifestly be that of reinstating itself in power,
+in consolidating that power, and in acting as a powerful unity,
+according to the letter and the spirit of the Constitution. The
+CONSTITUTION--bear that word well in mind--the Constitution
+which suffers no State to usurp a single power belonging to the General
+Government, and which was expressly framed for the purpose of making all
+its freemen the citizens of one great nation. Let the reader consult the
+Constitution, study its unmistakable plan of national integrity and of
+state subordination, and then reflect whether, according to its spirit,
+any and every mere state privilege which may be claimed should not yield
+to the paramount claim of _the Union_?
+
+If this war has demonstrated any thing, it has been, firstly, the fact
+that the South SHALL stay in the Union, and secondly, the folly
+of permitting the old Southern system to control us in politics, in
+social life, and in every thing. We have had enough of it. Manufactures,
+free labor, science, schools, the press, learning, new ideas, social
+reforms, the whole _progress_ of the age, inspiring twenty millions, can
+no longer be cuffed and scouted in the Senate and snubbed in the _salon_
+or public meeting by the private interests of half a million of the most
+illiberal and ignorant conservatives in existence. Henceforth the North
+must _rule_. 'Must' is a hard nut, but Southern teeth must crack it,
+whether they will or no. We may shuffle and quibble, but to this it must
+come. Every day of the war renders it more certain. The farm must
+encroach on the plantation, the rural nobility give place to the higher
+nobility of intelligence; social culture based on mudsills must make way
+for the mudsills themselves--for lo! the sills which they buried are not
+dead timber, neither do they sleep or rot--they were fresh saplings,
+and with the reviving breath of spring and at the gleam of the sun of
+freedom, they will shoot up into brave, strong life.
+
+Let them talk, dispute, hem and haw, that will--we can not set aside the
+great fact that in future our Government will be united in its policy,
+great in its strength, and no longer impeded by the selfish arrogance of
+a petty planterdom. Labor and capital are bursting their bonds--the
+Middle Class of North-America which Southerners and Englishmen equally
+revile, is becoming all-powerful and seeks to substitute business
+common-sense for the aristocratic policy which has hitherto guided us.
+It is no longer a question of radicalism, of poor against rich, of
+lazzaroni and royalists, but of a new element--that of labor and of
+intellect combined--the guiding-spirit of the North. And the question
+is, how to best aid this element in its progress?
+
+The army of the United States at the present day contains within itself
+the best part of such free labor and intellect as is needed to reform
+the South. That dashing and daring energy which gladly enters on new
+fields, and loves bold enterprises, has streamed by scores of thousands
+from the farm and factory toward the camp and the battle-field. There it
+is doing brave service for God and for freedom. Every day sees martyrs
+for the holy cause drawn from the ranks of these good and noble
+volunteers. They die noble--ay, holy deaths, and as they die new
+aspirants for honor step forward to fill their places. When the war
+shall be over, it is to the army that we should look to revive the
+wasted South, to farm its exhausted plantations and employ its blacks.
+Is there no significance in the numerous anecdotes which reach us of
+Northern intellect already displaying itself in a thousand forms of
+restless activity? The newspaper before us states that General Shepley,
+in New-Orleans, has threatened that if the bakers of his conquered city
+do not supply bread more cheaply he will remodel their whole business
+and employ bakers from the army. 'Bakers from the army!' Ay, smiths,
+engineers, editors, and every thing else are there, amply capable of
+reoerganizing the whole South--of tilling its fields to greater
+advantage, of developing its neglected resources, of making the old,
+desolate, lazy, dissolute Southland hum with enterprise. Let them do it.
+
+_We_ may as well do it betimes with a good grace, for it is very
+doubtful if those who venture to oppose the settlement of our soldiers
+in the South, will not stir up such a storm of trouble as this country
+never saw. An army of half a million after a year or two years of
+battle-life, will not calmly return to its wonted avocations,
+notwithstanding all that has been said to that effect. A warrant for
+Western lands, which will possibly bring a hundred dollars, will seem
+but a small matter to men who have seen unlimited paths to competence in
+the rich fields of the South. They will not comprehend why the enemy
+should be allowed to retain his possessions while they themselves have
+been thrown out of employment. There is to be some end to this
+protecting the rights and property of rebels. And it is very certain
+that a vast number of those who were non-combatants will perfectly agree
+with them.
+
+It is pleasant to see the process of reconstruction going on so well in
+New-Orleans under the bayonets of our troops. But neither in New-Orleans
+nor elsewhere has it any vitality save under Northern direction, aided
+by Northern industry. The hatred of the South for the old Union is
+insane, terrible, and ineradicable. The real secessionists will never
+come back, they will never be conciliated. They will oppose Union,
+oppose free labor, hinder our every effort to benefit them, and be our
+deadly foes to the last. We might as well abandon now and forever any
+hope of reconstruction to be founded on reformed secessionists. A large
+party there is--and it will, if properly protected, become much
+larger--who will join the Union for the sake of preserving their
+property. _But this party will not be increased a single man by our
+neglecting to punish those who have been active rebels_, while on the
+other hand it will dwindle to nothing if left exposed to temptation and
+enmity. We must proceed with the utmost energy, and our only hope is in
+a complete reoerganization of the South, by infusing into it Northern
+blood, life, ideas, education, and industry. And the only effective
+means of doing this will be to settle our army in the South. The task
+before us is a tremendous one, but so is the war, and we must not flinch
+from it.
+
+We have come to an era of great ideas and great deeds, such as rarely
+overtake nations in history, and which when they do, either crush them
+to the dust or elevate them to the topmost pinnacle of glory. Petty
+expediency, timid measures, small politics, will no longer help this
+country. There is a great cause of evil in America--slavery--which is
+destined to disappear, and which _will_ disappear whether we legislate
+for or against it. It _is_ disappearing now under the influences of the
+war. Beyond it lies the equally great evil of Southern hatred, inertia,
+laziness, ignorance, and depravity. We must learn to live in the great
+ideas of making all this disappear before superior intelligence,
+industry, and humanity. The great principles of free labor, scientific
+reforms and culture, the enlargement of capital, the feeding and
+teaching the poor, should become as a deep-seated religion in our
+hearts, and we should live and labor to promote this great and holy
+faith which is in reality the practical side of Christianity--that great
+shield of the poor. To extend these doctrines over the whole continent
+is a noble mission, and one not to be balked or hindered by foolish
+scruples or weak pity for a pitiless foe.
+
+He who can raise his mind to the contemplation of the government of
+North-America, ruling over a perfectly _free_ continent, may see in the
+future such a picture of national greatness as the world never before
+realized. _Every_ State attracting the eager labor of millions of
+emigrants--for there will be no cause in future for the foreigner to
+carefully shun the slave hive--the native American directing as ever the
+enterprises--one grand government spreading from ocean to ocean--the
+whole growing every year more and more united through the constant
+increase of industrial interests and mutual needs--this is indeed a
+future to look forward to. And it is no idle dream. It will be something
+to be an American when we count one hundred millions of _united_
+freemen.
+
+The first step in this advance lies right before us. It will be in
+'Northing' the South and in completely sweeping away, by means of free
+labor and free schools every trace of the foul old negro-owning
+arrogance. And to do this we must begin by finding or making a way to
+induce a large portion of the army to remain in the South and reform it.
+It is a grand scheme, but we live in the day of great deeds, and should
+not flinch from them.
+
+It is, however, tolerably clear to him who looks to the future, that
+whether we boldly embrace this scheme or not, it will force itself upon
+us or else entail some great disaster. It is more to our interest to
+reward the army with Southern land-grants than it is even for theirs to
+accept them. The longer we bolster up in its possessions an insolent
+enemy, so much the longer shall we have to support an army and pay
+taxes. The sooner we weaken the enemy by introducing industrial rivals
+into his country, the better it will be for us.
+
+If it be difficult to settle our army all over the South, let there be
+at least a vigorous beginning made in Texas, and other States. With
+Texas thoroughly colonized from the North and from Europe, sedition
+would be under constant check, and its boasted cotton supremacy
+completely held in by an unlimited rival supply of free-labor cotton.
+Every Southern port should be held and governed as New-Orleans is now
+being treated. In due time there would spring up a new generation of
+Southrons who would think of us as something else than cowardly,
+vulgar, stingy serfs, and learn that social merit is conferred not by
+being born on this or that piece of 'sacred' dirt, but by full
+development and exercise of the talents with which God has gifted us.
+
+But to do all this there must be _no flinching_. This is not the time to
+prate of the 'unrepresented rights' of traitors, or wince at the
+prospect of reducing to poverty the men who have labored for years to
+reduce us to utter ruin!
+
+
+
+
+JOHN McDONOGH THE MILLIONAIRE.
+
+
+In the year 1850, and for nearly forty years previous, there could be
+seen almost every day in the streets of New-Orleans, a very peculiar and
+remarkable looking old gentleman. Tall and straight as a pillar, with
+stern, determined features, lit up by eyes of uncommon, almost unnatural
+brilliancy, with his hair combed back and gathered in a sort of queue,
+and dressed in the fashion of half a century ago, to wit, an old blue
+coat, with high collar, well-brushed and patched but somewhat 'seedy'
+pantaloons, of like date and texture, hat somewhat more modern, but
+bearing unmistakable proof of long service and exposure to sun and rain;
+old round-toed shoes, the top-leathers of which had survived more soles
+than the wearer had outlived _souls_ of his early friends and
+companions; a scant white vest, ruffled shirt, and voluminous white
+cravat, completed the costume of this singular gentleman, who, with his
+ancient blue silk umbrella under his arm, and his fierce eye fixed on
+some imaginary goal ahead, made his way through the struggling crowds
+which poured along the streets of New-Orleans.
+
+The last time this strange and spectral figure was seen making its
+accustomed rounds was on the twenty-sixth of October, 1850. On that day,
+a very remarkable event occurred, which attracted the notice of
+passers-by and was even snatched up as an item by the ever-vigilant
+reporters of the daily press; this consisted simply in a notable
+variation from the routine and habits of the old gentleman in the
+long-tailed blue. He was seen to stop on Canal street, to hesitate for a
+few moments, and then deliberately enter an omnibus bound for the lower
+part of the city. Such an occurrence created quite a sensation among
+street-corner gossippers. There must really be some new and pressing
+emergency, which could produce this departure from the custom and
+invariable habits of forty years; so said every one who knew the old
+gentleman. The omnibus stopped at the court-house; the subject of these
+observations and his blue umbrella emerged from it, and both soon
+disappeared in the corridor leading to the so-called halls of justice.
+
+That was the last that was ever seen of the strange old gentleman on the
+streets of New-Orleans. The evening journals of the next day contained
+the following obituary:
+
+     'Died this morning, the twenty-seventh of October, 1850, at
+     McDonoghville, opposite the city of New-Orleans, after a short
+     illness, John McDonogh, a native of Baltimore, but for forty years
+     a resident of Louisiana.'
+
+And the strange old man, who could not ride a few squares in the omnibus
+without attracting the attention of every body and exciting public
+curiosity to such a degree, was the millionaire, the Croesus of the
+South, the largest land-owner in the United States. He had reached the
+advanced age of seventy, and his remarkable vigor and health had never
+given way under the pressure of the severest and most incessant labor.
+Generation upon generation had lapsed into the grave under his eye. A
+few, a very few shriveled old men were known to him as cotemporaries.
+Suddenly, while pursuing so eagerly his imaginary goal, he was seized
+with faintness on the street. Other men would have taken a cab, and
+ridden home, or at least to a physician's; but when did John McDonogh
+turn aside from business to relieve any weakness or want? He had an
+important document to file in court. It must be done that day. He is too
+weak to walk. There is the omnibus; the fare is only a dime; but that
+dime is so much taken from the poor, for John McDonogh is only an agent
+for the poor, so appointed and called of God. Such were the reflections
+that passed through his mind before he could be induced to perpetrate
+this serious violation of the settled rules of a life, this single blot
+and stain on a career of unbroken self-abnegation. With a sigh, he took
+his seat in the omnibus.
+
+It was his last ride.
+
+In a cold, desolate, dreary, brick building, constituting almost the
+only visible sign of the existence of the town of McDonoghville, situate
+on the right bank of the Mississippi, opposite to the centre of
+New-Orleans, and in a large room, the furniture of which was
+old-fashioned, worn, and time-stained, there lay on a small hard
+mattress the gaunt figure of the millionaire, tortured with pain and
+fast sinking under the ravages of that terrible disease, the Asiatic
+cholera. The only beings near were negroes; no white persons were ever
+allowed to spend the night under that roof. Those negroes were the rich
+man's slaves in law, but companions and friends in fact. His immense
+business, his vast estates were administered through them. Even his
+documents were copied by them. They were true to him in his moment of
+distress and sickness. All that their limited knowledge of medicine
+could suggest was done for his relief. At last, in disregard of his
+command, a physician was brought from the city, who pronounced his
+condition a very critical one. The doctor's first demand was for brandy.
+
+'Massa, there an't bin no brandy in this house for twenty years,' was
+the reply of an old, gray-headed domestic.
+
+A servant was dispatched to the nearest grocery; but it proved to be too
+late. The dying man perceived his condition, and requested that his
+lawyer should be sent for. In an hour that gentleman arrived. He was
+just in time.
+
+'Roselins,' he said, addressing one of the most eminent of the lawyers
+of the New-Orleans bar, as he held his hand, 'You see I am going; you
+see I am not afraid to die. Take care of the estate; 'tis not mine,'tis
+God's and the poor's.' And thus, without a struggle, the soul of John
+McDonogh passed to its Maker.
+
+His death was truly a desolate one. No devoted relatives or friends
+gathered around his couch to cheer his last moments with those tender
+tokens of love and sorrow which so sweeten the otherwise bitter cup of
+death. No soft hand of woman smoothed his pillow or relieved the agony
+of pain and suffering by the timely opiate or emollient. No weeping
+little ones were there to cheer his heart with the assurance that on
+their dear pledges of affection his name and virtues will live after
+him. His lawyer, physician, and his servants were the only witnesses to
+the mortal agony of one who could have commanded troops of devoted
+friends, and who possessed the qualities which might have adorned the
+domestic and social circle.
+
+So departed this life the rich and eccentric possessor of acres
+sufficient to have made a duchy or a kingdom, and of money adequate to
+the maintenance of the dignity and power of such a position.
+
+But if his death and funeral were attended by so few witnesses, an
+occasion quickly followed which was honored by the presence of a large,
+eager, curious crowd. It was when his will was probated and read in
+court. Intense was the curiosity of the public to know what disposition
+the eccentric old man had made of his enormous property. This feeling
+was soon gratified. The will was produced. It was a curious document,
+written on stout foolscap by the testator himself, in a remarkably neat,
+clear hand, with the lines as close as type, and his autograph signed to
+every page. Being an holographic will, under the law of Louisiana it
+required no witness. Ever since 1838, this will had lain among certain
+old papers of the deceased; and yet, during all this time, it had been
+'the thought by day and dream by night' of the devoted old millionaire.
+In its preparation, he had consulted the most eminent lawyers and
+studied the most approved law-books bearing on his grand scheme. Truly,
+a curious, bold, and gigantic scheme it was. But let us to the will. In
+a slow, solemn and impressive tone, the judge proceeded to read to an
+eager and interested multitude this remarkable testament.
+
+After setting forth, in the usual form, his nativity, his present
+residence, his belief in God and in the uncertainty of life, and that he
+has no heirs living in the ascending or descending line, and directing
+an inventory of his property to be taken immediately after his death, he
+proceeds to bequeath to the children of his sister, a widow lady in
+Baltimore, a ten-acre lot in Baltimore, the usufruct to remain in the
+widow, with six thousand dollars in cash. He then emancipates his old
+servants, ten in number, whom he designates. The rest of his slaves he
+provides shall be sent to Liberia. Certain of them are to be sent after
+serving those who shall succeed to his estate for fifteen years. The
+slaves to be sent to Liberia are to be supplied with plows, hoes,
+spades, axes, clothing, garden-seeds, etc.; also with letters of
+recommendation to the colonists, and with a copy for each of the volume
+of the Holy Gospel of the Old and New Testament, as the most precious of
+all the gifts we have it in our power to give or they to receive. The
+will then proceeds to provide:
+
+     'And for the more general diffusion of knowledge and consequent
+     well-being of mankind, convinced as I am that I can make no
+     disposition of those worldly goods which the Most High has been
+     pleased so bountifully to place under my stewardship, that will be
+     so pleasing to him as that by means of which the poor will be
+     instructed in wisdom and led into the path of virtue and holiness.'
+
+He gives all the residue of his estate to the corporations of
+New-Orleans and Baltimore, in equal proportions of one half to each, for
+the several intents and purposes set forth, and especially for the
+establishment of Free Schools for all classes and castes of color,
+wherein they shall all be instructed in the knowledge of the Lord and in
+reading, writing, arithmetic, history, geography, etc., provided that
+the Bible shall be used as one of the class-books, and singing taught as
+an art.
+
+And now comes the ingenious scheme which had engaged the constant
+thought and study of the testator for forty years, by which the grand
+passion of his soul for accumulation might survive the dissolution of
+his mortal frame and still direct and control the acquisitions of his
+life. Of his real estate, no part is ever to be sold; but it is all to
+be let out on leases, never to exceed twenty-five years, to be improved
+by the tenants or lessees. At the expiration of those leases, the
+property is to revert, free of cost, to his estate, to be thereafter
+rented out by the month or year. All his personal property is to be sold
+and converted into real estate, the aggregate of which is styled his
+general estate, which is 'to constitute' a permanent fund on interest,
+as it were, namely, a real estate, affording rents, no part of which
+fund (of the principal) shall ever be touched, divided, sold, or
+alienated, but shall forever remain together as one 'estate.'
+
+The net amount of rents to be divided equally between the two cities, to
+be applied as follows:
+
+1. An annuity for forty years of one eighth part, or twelve and a half
+per cent of the net yearly revenue of rents of the whole of the estate,
+to the American Colonization Society, provided the sum does not exceed
+twenty-five thousand dollars a year.
+
+2. For an asylum for the poor of both sexes, of all ages and castes of
+color, where they may be sheltered, clothed, fed, and taken care of,
+made useful according to their respective degrees of health, strength,
+and capacity, and mendicity thereby be banished from the streets of the
+cities, he gives one eighth, or twelve and a half per cent of the net
+revenue of rents, until the sum shall reach six hundred thousand
+dollars, when it shall cease. This legacy is to be received by
+commissioners appointed by the corporations, who, as they receive, shall
+invest the amount in bank stocks or other good securities, on landed
+estate on interest, so as to augment the amount thereof by the
+accumulation of interest to the largest possible amount up to the time
+when the last of the annuity shall be received, when the commissioners
+shall proceed to take such part of said sum, not to exceed one third of
+the whole of principal and interest, and invest in the purchase of real
+estate and buildings, furniture, etc., essential for the asylum; the
+residue to be invested in real estate, which is never to be sold, but
+always rented out for the support of the asylum. The locality and
+character of the buildings are particularly described. It is recommended
+that the persons who shall reside in this asylum be employed in the
+cultivation of the mulberry-trees, (this was during the _morus
+multicaulis_ mania.)
+
+3. For the Orphan Boys' Asylum in New-Orleans--an existing
+institution--one eighth, or twelve and a half per cent of the net yearly
+revenue of rents. This annuity is to be set aside and deposited in some
+bank-paying interest, until it reaches four hundred thousand dollars,
+when it shall cease. This fund as it accumulates is to be invested in
+real estate, which is never to be sold, but rented out, and the rents
+devoted to the charity.
+
+4. For a School-Farm in the city of Baltimore, on an extensive scale,
+for the destitute and the poorest of the poor of the city of Baltimore,
+Maryland; secondly, of every town and village of said State; and
+thirdly, of all the great maritime cities of the United States, of all
+classes and castes of color, from four years to sixteen, where they
+shall be sheltered, lodged, clothed, fed, instructed in the Christian
+religion, and a plain education given them, and taught husbandry
+practically, as well as the science of agriculture, providing that the
+Bible shall be read and singing taught, especially 'divine psalmody,'
+one eighth part, or twelve and a half per cent of the whole revenue of
+the general estate, to be paid until it shall amount to three millions
+of dollars, when it shall cease. This sum, too, as it accrues, is to be
+invested in real estate, until the whole amount of three millions is
+received. One sixth of the rents from this investment is to be applied
+to the purchase of the School-Farm, the other five sixths to be invested
+in lots in Baltimore, which shall be leased out and the rents applied to
+the support of the farm.
+
+The modes in which these various institutions are to be governed and
+directed are then set forth in tedious detail, interlarded with many
+rather trite and moralizing reflections on the importance of having the
+young reared up in habits of virtue and industry. A complex system of
+government is arranged, and great care taken that the funds thus
+bequeathed to charitable institutions shall never be controlled by the
+corporations of the two cities. It is also provided, that
+
+     'No compromise shall ever take place between the Mayor, Aldermen,
+     and inhabitants of the city of Baltimore, in Maryland, and the
+     Mayor, Aldermen, and inhabitants of the city of New-Orleans, nor
+     shall any agreements be made between these two cities contrary to
+     the directions of the will. If such compromise or agreement be
+     made, these legacies shall be void, and the States of Maryland and
+     Louisiana shall receive the general estate half and half, for the
+     purpose of educating the poor of said States, and in case of any
+     lapse of the legacies to the cities, the States shall inherit the
+     general estate.'
+
+After these dispositions and directions, the testator proceeds:
+
+     'Now, with the view of setting forth and explaining more fully and
+     particularly (if it is possible) my desires and intentions as
+     expressed in the foregoing dispositions of this my last will and
+     testament, in relation to my general estate, I will add, that the
+     first, principal, and chief object I have at heart, (the object
+     which has actuated and filled my soul from early boyhood with a
+     desire to acquire fortune,) is the education of the poor (without
+     the cost of a cent to them) in the cities of New-Orleans and
+     Baltimore, and their respective suburbs, in such a manner that
+     every poor child and youth of every color in those places may
+     receive a common English education, (_based, however, be it
+     particularly understood, on a moral and religious one_, that is,
+     the pupils shall on particular days he instructed in morality and
+     religion, and school shall be opened and closed daily with prayer.)
+     And in time, when the general estate will yield the necessary
+     funds, (for in time its revenue will be very large,) over and above
+     what will be necessary to the education of the poor of those two
+     cities and their respective suburbs, it is my desire and request
+     that the blessings of education may be extended to the poor
+     throughout every town, village, and hamlet in the respective States
+     of Louisiana and Maryland, and was it possible, through the whole
+     of the United States of America.'
+
+After paying off all the annuities, which the testator thinks will be
+completed in forty years, the net annual revenue of rents of the general
+estate is to be equally divided, one half to each, between the said two
+cities of Baltimore and New-Orleans, for the purpose of educating the
+poor.
+
+The testator then proceeds to inculcate a better feeling between the
+poor, and rich, declaring that the latter are 'reservoirs in which the
+Most High makes to flow the rich streams of his beneficence, to be laid
+up and husbanded for his all-wise and all-seeing purposes, and for
+seasons of distress and affliction to the poor. Instead, then, of
+looking on them as their greatest enemies, they should, on the contrary,
+consider them as they really are, their best friends. This is the
+position of all rich men, whose hearts occupy the right place in their
+bosoms, stand toward the poor.'
+
+Then follows a remarkable and consoling confession of the superior
+happiness of the poor man:
+
+     'Besides, let the poorer classes of the world be consoled, assured
+     that the labor-loving, frugal, industrious, and virtuous among them
+     possess joys and happiness in this life which the rich know not and
+     can not appreciate; so well convinced am I (after a long life and
+     intercourse with my fellow-men of all classes) of the truth 'that
+     the happiness of this life is altogether on the side of the
+     virtuous and industrious poor,' that had I children, (which I have
+     not,)' [how lively and sagacious the apprehension of the old
+     millionaire lest some putative offspring might come forward to
+     disturb his darling bequests!] 'and a fortune to leave behind me at
+     death, I would bequeath, after a virtuous education, (to effect
+     which nothing should be spared,) a very small amount to each,
+     merely sufficient to excite them to habits of industry and
+     frugality, and no more. As the poor man's friend, then, I recommend
+     to him to honor and respect the virtuous rich, and to lay these
+     observations to their heart and to store them up in their mind. And
+     to the rich, I would say, (if they own feelings, and worthy of
+     their regard,) 'Give them an occasional reflection.' Hoping
+     thereby, that the world may advance in happiness, in virtue, and
+     holiness.'
+
+Lastly, the old man grows tender, sentimental, and poetic, He who for
+forty years had never been seen or known to manifest a single emotion of
+gentleness, of tender feeling or sentiment, of love of children, of
+nature, or any domestic affection, in his last will desires to be held
+in loving remembrance by the fresh young souls for whose benefit he
+declares he has led his long career of toil, of self-sacrifice, and
+devotion, to gain. The association of sweet flowers, sprinkled over a
+green grave by the hands of innocent children, with the life and
+character of one of the most intense, hard and severe devotees to Mammon
+that ever lived, is a strange and incongruous one, but it was a picture
+which appears to have been very distinctly sketched on the imagination
+of John McBonogh, as will appear from the following clauses in his will:
+
+     'I request my executors (hereinafter named) to see that my funeral
+     is plain, made without parade, and with the least possible
+     expenses. And (I was near forgetting that) I have still one small
+     request to make, one little favor still to ask, and it shall be
+     the last: It is, that it may be permitted annually to the children
+     of the free schools (situate the nearest to the place of my
+     interment) to plant and water a few flowers around my grave. This
+     little act will have a double tendency: it will open their young
+     and susceptible hearts to gratitude and love to their divine
+     Creator for having raised up (as the humble instrument of his
+     bounty to them) a poor, frail worm of earth like me, and teach them
+     at the same time, what they are, whither they came, and whence they
+     must return.'
+
+Such was John McDonogh's grand theory of philanthropy, which he had
+devoted so many years of sacrifice, study, and labor, to mature and
+prepare.
+
+Accompanying the will, and inclosed in the same box, were certain
+memoranda of instructions to his executors, who were distinguished
+citizens of Baltimore and New-Orleans, including Henry Clay, of
+Kentucky, and K. R. Gurley, of Washington City, These directions to his
+executors are very minute and specific. Certain observations in this
+document are worthy of being copied, as characteristic. His reasons for
+preferring to invest in land are thus stated:
+
+     'For the base of a permanent revenue, (to stand through all time,
+     with, the blessing of the Most High,) I have preferred the earth,
+     'a part of the solid globe.' One thing is certain, it will not take
+     wings and fly away, as silver and gold, government and bank-stocks
+     often do. It is the only thing in this world of ours which
+     approaches to any thing like permanency; or in which at least there
+     is less mutation than in things of man's invention. The little
+     riches of this world, therefore, which the Most High has placed in
+     my hands, and over which he has been pleased to place and make me
+     his steward, I have invested therein, that it may yield (its
+     fruits) an annual revenue to the purpose I have destined it
+     forever.'
+
+He also states his motives, as follows:
+
+     'My soul has all my life burned with an ardent desire to do
+     good--much good, great good--to my fellow-man, as it was chiefly by
+     that means, and through that channel, that I could bend, greatly
+     bend to the honor and glory of my Lord and Master,--which was my
+     soul's first, great, chief object and interest.'
+
+He says, however, he has much to complain of the world, and gives
+instances of its injustice, especially in suits, where his just claims
+were ignored because he was rich:
+
+     'They said of me: 'He is rich, old, without wife or child; let us
+     take from him, then, what he has.' Infatuated men! they knew not
+     that it was an attempt to take from themselves, for I was laboring,
+     and had labored all my life, not for myself, but for them and their
+     children. Their attempts, however, made me not to swerve either to
+     the right hand or to the left, although to see and feel so sorely
+     their injustice and ingratitude made me often lament the frailty,
+     the perversity, and sinfulness of our fallen nature. I persevered
+     in an onward course, determined, as the steward and servant of my
+     Master, to do them good whether they would have it or not. And I
+     have so strove, so labored, to the last. The result is in the hands
+     of Him who fixes and determines all results; he will do therewith
+     as seemeth good unto himself.'
+
+Who was John McDonogh, the maker of the foregoing will, and contriver of
+such a grand scheme of charity? The answer to this inquiry will be the
+most interesting part of this narrative. John McDonogh was born in
+Baltimore, Maryland, in 1779. The only incidents of his youth that are
+known are, that he was a clerk in a mercantile store in an inland town
+of Maryland; that he was noted then for eccentricities, and for an
+excess of imagination, which led to the apprehension that he was not
+entirely of sound mind. Still his energy and intelligence secured him
+employment and the confidence of his employers. About the year 1800 he
+was sent out to New-Orleans by a house in Baltimore, with a letter of
+credit and considerable resources. He engaged largely in business, but
+soon renounced his agency, and starting on his own account, became a
+leading and prosperous merchant. In a few years he accumulated a large
+fortune--say at least three hundred thousand dollars--then a vast amount
+in the colony. He was one of the nabobs of the city. His style of living
+and habits conformed to his position and resources. His mansion was one
+of the most showy and luxurious in the city. He kept his carriages and
+horses, his cellar of costly wines, and entertained on a scale of great
+extravagance and sumptuousness. He was, in fact, the centre of fashion,
+frivolity, sociability, and even of the fashionable dissipations of the
+day. His person, which even in extreme old age was remarkable for
+dignity, erectness, and courtliness, at the period we write of, was
+conspicuous for all the graces of manhood. Indeed, he was styled the
+handsomest man in the colony. That such a young man should attract the
+favorable notice of ambitious Creole beauties who then composed the only
+female society in New-Orleans, of managing mothers, desirous of
+providing for their daughters, or of fathers, who, in addition to the
+latter motive, might also desire to secure a connection which might
+promote their own business prospects, was quite natural. The handsome
+American merchant, with his still handsomer fortune, was, therefore,
+much courted. Though always gay, gallant, and polite, Mr. McDonogh
+proved for some time invulnerable to even the charms of Creole beauty.
+At last there were indications that a young Orleanoise of fortune equal
+to his own, and of personal charms that were the theme of general praise
+and admiration, had captured the obdurate Croesus. This young damsel
+was then emerging into sweet sixteen. She was the toast and heiress of
+the city. Her name and family were among the oldest in the French and
+Spanish colonies. Her father was the venerable Senor Don Pedro
+Almonastre, an old official under the Spanish government, who, by
+prudent investments, accumulated a large property in the very centre of
+New-Orleans. He it was who donated the ground on which the Cathedral of
+St. Louis now stands. It is for the rest of his soul that mass is
+offered up and the bells are tolled every Sunday afternoon in this
+venerable temple.
+
+The daughter and only child of Almonastre--her maiden name we
+forget--was born in the Colony, of a French Creole mother. She had
+attained the age of sixteen about the year 1811. It was then that Mr.
+McDonogh's propositions for an alliance were favorably considered, and
+all the arrangements were made for the betrothal of the parties.
+Suddenly, however, a new actor appeared on the stage, who overturned
+this well-arranged scheme. There resided in the city a grim, austere,
+and wealthy man, who had served in the French and Spanish armies, who
+was noted no less for his ferocity and pride--which had been displayed
+in several sanguinary duels--than for his wealth. He had an only son, a
+handsome, graceful, and fascinating young man, who, at the suggestion of
+his father, and perhaps at the prompting of his own heart, stepped
+forward to lay his claims at the feet of the lovely heiress of
+Almonastre. Fortunately for the cause of humanity, as will appear
+hereafter, though unfortunately for the American merchant, the young
+Frenchman supplanted him in the regard of the fair Creole.
+
+The alliance of two such wealthy families as the Pontalbas and
+Almonastres, was a great event in the city, and it was duly celebrated
+by many brilliant festivities, at the close of which the happy couple
+departed for Paris, accompanied by the father of the young man.
+Purchasing a splendid hotel in the Faubourg St. Germain, the Pontalbas
+gave themselves up to all the fashionable dissipations of that gay city.
+The younger Pontalba was appointed by Napoleon one of his pages, with
+the title of Count. Leaving them to continue their gay life, we return
+to New-Orleans.
+
+The day after the marriage of Miss Almonastre to young Pontalba, there
+stepped into the office of an old auctioneer on St. Louis street, no
+less an individual than the rich and elegant American merchant, John
+McDonogh, Esq.
+
+'Sir,' remarked the merchant to the auctioneer, at the same time handing
+him a voluminous roll of paper, 'there is the inventory of my furniture,
+carriages, horses, liquors, stores, plate, and all that pertains to my
+establishment in Chartres street I desire you to sell them all for cash,
+immediately. Accordingly in three days the extensive establishment of
+Mr. McDonogh was all converted into money, to the great surprise and
+deep regret of his many friends and guests. With the proceeds he
+purchased a small, lonely house, on the opposite bank of the river,
+where, with scarcely furniture enough to satisfy the most ordinary use
+and demands of humble life, he immured himself in perfect seclusion.
+From that period until his death--forty long years--he ceased to have
+any connection or association with the world except in the course of
+business. He would neither dispense hospitality himself nor share that
+of others. Purchasing all the land around him, he placed himself beyond
+the curiosity and annoyance of near neighbors. His negro servants alone
+were permitted to reside in his house, and they were the depositories of
+the secrets of his household, and acted as his clerks and agents in all
+his transactions with the outside world.
+
+Whilst thus socially secluded and morose, Mr. McDonogh continued to
+prosecute his acquisition of property with augmented vigor and ardor. It
+was about this time his passion for accumulating vast acres of waste and
+suburban land began to manifest itself. All his views regarded the
+distant future. The present value and productiveness of land were but
+little regarded by him. His only recreation and pleasure were in
+estimating the value of his swamp and waste land fifty, a hundred, and
+even a thousand years to come. This passion at last gained such an
+ascendency over him that he seemed to court and luxuriate in waste and
+desolation. He would buy cultivated places and allow them to go to ruin.
+He would build on his lots in the city miserable shanties and rookeries,
+which would taint the neighborhood and enable him to buy out his
+neighbors at low rates. One of his favorite plans of operation was to
+purchase the back-lands of plantations on the river, the value of which
+would be increased enormously by the improvements in front of them. So
+he eagerly pounced upon all the lands in the neighborhood of the towns
+and villages in the State. One of the most brilliant of his feats in
+this sphere was the completion of his lines of circumvallation around
+the city of New-Orleans. For many years he pursued this object with the
+greatest ardor and intensity. Commencing at the upper end of the city,
+he stole gradually around through the swamps, purchasing large belts of
+land, until at last, a few years before his death, meeting one of his
+old friends in the street, he slapped him on the shoulder, and with his
+face full of enthusiasm and joy,--exclaimed: 'Congratulate me, my
+friend; I have achieved the greatest victory of my life. I have drawn my
+lines around the city, and now entirely embrace it in my arms--all for
+the glory of God and the good of my race.'
+
+During all this eager pursuit of acres there was never any manifestation
+of selfishness or of the ordinary repulsive characteristics of grasping
+avarice. It is true, he was exacting, punctual, and opinionated. He
+pursued his own course in all matters, but there was no misanthropy or
+harshness in his manner or deportment. He rarely gave for charitable or
+other purposes, for the reason that he would never sell any property he
+acquired, because he said it was not his; that he was only the steward
+or agent of God for certain great designs. His agency, however, did not
+include a power to sell. Hence he could not be induced by any offer or
+consideration to alienate any property he had once acquired. Abstemious
+to a fault, withholding himself from all the enjoyments and associations
+of the world, he devoted his time to the care of his large estate, to
+the suits in which such acquisitions constantly involved him, working
+for seventeen hours out of the twenty-four, the greater part of which
+labor consisted in writing the necessary documents relating to his
+titles, in corresponding with his lawyers and overseers. For the fifty
+years of his residence in New-Orleans, he never left the State, and
+rarely, if ever, passed beyond the limits of the corporation. It was
+well known that he was entirely wrapped up in some grand scheme of
+charity, the nature of which, however, was only known to a few lawyers,
+with whom he consulted in regard to the legality of his proposed
+dispositions, though none of them knew the mode and form in which those
+dispositions were to be made.
+
+McDonogh's scheme was certainly a grand one. In the execution of it, a
+man of his character and mind might well feel and display the
+extraordinary zeal and enthusiasm that gave to his appearance, habits,
+and conduct the characteristics of a monomaniac. Without ever once
+turning aside for pleasure, ambition, curiosity, affection, or enmity,
+he steadily pursued his great design, until death released him from the
+severe servitude to which he had bound himself. But, save in this entire
+self-abnegation and social exclusion, Mr. McDonogh had none of the
+habits of the miser. He was not a usurer, a money-lender, or a
+speculator. He did not extort his riches from the distresses and
+weaknesses of his fellow-men. He acquired by legitimate purchase, by
+entries on public lands. He dealt altogether in land. Stocks,
+merchandise, and other personal securities were eschewed by him. The
+wonder is, how, with a comparatively small revenue, his property not
+being productive, and his favorite policy being to render his lands wild
+and unsuited for cultivation, he was able to go on every year expanding
+the area of his vast possessions. Such enormous accumulations are not
+surprising under the operation of compound interest on sums of money
+loaned; but when effected by purchases of unproductive lands, they
+constitute a puzzle which the most intimate of Mr. McDonogh's friends
+have found it difficult to unravel.
+
+So much for the labor and practice of realities of the life of the
+millionaire. We must not conclude our sketch without rounding off the
+romance of that life which is the starting-point in the strange career
+pursued by him for forty years, with such ascetic severity and
+undeviating fidelity. What became of the betrothed of the gay and
+wealthy young American, from whom he had experienced the shock and
+disappointment that threw so much gloom over and produced such a
+thorough change in his future life? She had left with her gallant young
+husband, in bright hopes of a brilliant future. For some years their
+life in Paris was one of gayety, pleasure, and joyfulness. In the course
+of a few years, the dissipations of Paris began to pall upon the taste
+of the young couple. With unbounded wealth and means of enjoyment, they
+grew _ennuyeed_, discontented, and finally contentious. Jealousy, like a
+serpent, stole into their household, and involved the mind of the
+husband in her snaky embrace. Rumors reached his ear which nourished
+this passion, until it exploded in a violent and irreconcilable quarrel.
+One of the chief instigators of the young Count, in this quarrel with
+his high-spirited wife, was his own father, who, in the retirement of a
+chateau near Paris, grew daily more morose and misanthropic. He had
+heard that his son had been dishonored, and his rage and bitterness were
+unbounded. The son abandoned his wife's hotel, and repaired to his
+father's chateau, where the two lived in seclusion and gloom. After they
+had been separated for some time, the Countess was either enticed by
+lures thrown out by the elder Pontalba, or of her own accord resorted to
+the chateau, for the purpose of consulting the Count relative to certain
+dispositions of their joint property, or certain arrangements for the
+education of their children, of whom there were three. The son was not
+at home; but the father, receiving her in the hall, invited her into his
+study. In a few moments afterward, the servants in the chateau were
+aroused by the report of a pistol, followed by the scream of a woman,
+and by another report; then all was silent. Rushing toward the study of
+Mr. Pontalba, they forced the door open--it had been locked on the
+inside--and there a terrible spectacle was presented. The Countess lay
+on the floor, bathed in blood, which gushed in torrents from a large
+wound in her breast, whilst her dress was burning from the nearness of
+the shot by which the wound had evidently been inflicted. But a still
+ghastlier object lay near. It was the body of the elder Pontalba, her
+husband's father, who had blown off the top of his skull with a large
+dragoon's pistol, which he still grasped in his hand. Though insensible,
+it was discovered that the Countess was not quite dead. A surgeon was
+soon obtained, and on examination it was discovered that though her
+wound was a terrible one--three buck-shot and one large bullet having
+entered her breast--yet there was some hope for her. After incredible
+suffering and long confinement, she recovered; though to the day of her
+death she will feel the effects of the terrible wound, to which was
+added the mutilation of her hand, which caught the bullet.
+
+The causes and circumstances of that tragedy were never unveiled to the
+world. Nor is there any great desire to penetrate the mystery. The
+Countess got well, and continued her fashionable life, appropriating a
+large portion of her great rental in New-Orleans to the purchase of
+property and the improvement of her elegant hotel in Paris. The
+Revolution of 1830 found the Countess a fierce Bourboniste, and produced
+such apprehension of confiscation, and danger to her life and liberty,
+that she concluded to return to New-Orleans. Here she found that her
+property had greatly augmented in value, and after a short sojourn in
+her native city, discovering that Louis Philippe's dynasty was an
+unproscriptive one, she returned to Paris, where she resided until the
+Revolution of 1848 again filled her with alarm for her large
+possessions. Beside, she was well known to be a conspicuous Legitimiste
+of the party of Henry V. Again she returned to New-Orleans, full of
+horror of Red Republicanism and Socialism, and with disgust for the
+fickleness of the French.
+
+Directing her attention, with characteristic energy and ardor, to the
+improvement of her property which incloses Jackson Square, the principal
+public place in New-Orleans, she built some forty elegant houses, and
+then assuming the government of the municipality, she succeeded in
+inducing the authorities to cut down the old trees on the square, and to
+have it laid off in the parterre style. The 'Woodman spare that tree'
+sentiment strongly opposed this reform; but it was vain to resist the
+Countess. The trees obstructed the view of her fine rows of houses, and
+down they must come, and down they did come, very much to the
+improvement of the city, and to the full justification of the taste and
+good sense of the Countess.
+
+After thus improving her property, and augmenting her resources, the
+Countess thought she might trust herself again in Paris, though a
+parvenu filled the throne which, in her view, was justly the property of
+the elder branch of the Bourbons.
+
+But before she left, an incident occurred which must close this
+desultory sketch. It happened one day, while the Countess was in a
+notary's office, for the purpose of signing some deeds, that a tall,
+grave, and eccentric-looking old gentleman entered, and seeing the
+notary engaged, took his seat to wait his turn. After completing her
+signature of the deeds, the Countess, raising her eyes from the
+parchment, perceived that she was the object of close and keen
+observation of the eccentric old gentleman with the very brilliant and
+piercing eyes. A single glance served to bring that face and form
+distinctly back to her memory. Rushing up to the old gentleman, she
+threw her arms around his neck, in an affectionate embrace, exclaiming:
+
+'Oh! Mr. McDonogh, is it you? I have not forgotten you during our long
+separation.' And after a pause, her emotions checking her utterance, she
+continued: 'We were once betrothed; it would have been better for both
+if we had married. Is it too late to repair that fatal error?'
+
+For the first time for forty years, the old man was deeply affected by a
+tender and human feeling. The ancient love was aroused from the deep
+recess of his heart, where it had kin dormant and forgotten, and for a
+moment triumphed over the passion which had been growing and expanding
+for the half of his lifetime, until it had gained the entire mastery of
+his soul. Greatly moved by this penitence of his once-loved betrothed,
+Mr. McDonogh begged to be permitted to consult his better judgment, and
+tearing himself from the bewitchments of the Countess, he repaired
+instantly to the office of his lawyer. Walking in with the appearance of
+great excitement, he paced the office of the lawyer in an anxious and
+excited manner for some time, to the profound astonishment of his
+ancient counselor. At last the cause of this emotion was explained,
+when, turning to his lawyer, Mr. McDonogh confessed that he was under a
+great excitement, produced by meeting his old love, the Countess. 'And
+what would you think now, R----, if I were to marry her?'
+
+'I should think,' replied the unsentimental counselor, 'that you had
+become crazy.'
+
+'Ah?' replied the millionaire interrogatively, and then pausing
+thoughtfully, he continued: 'And you would think right--you would think
+right; so let us to business.'
+
+
+
+
+HELTER-SKELTER PAPERS.
+
+
+In choosing a caption for the heterogeneous collection of reflections
+that are likely to be the result of the 'present writing,' the
+superscriber makes no apology for his title not being also a topic to
+any further extent than its consideration in this paragraph. The object
+held in view in giving _any_ name to the succeeding lucubrations was
+merely to obtain a starting-point; it being conceded that the
+commencement of a _tas_ of papers need have no greater influence on
+their course than the point of departure of a railroad-train exercises
+on its terminus and intermediate stopping-places. To resort then to my
+heading or its derivations for any indication of my purpose in what may
+follow, would be futile, and I am free to disclaim any premeditate
+purpose of governing my pen by either _hilariter_ or _celeriter_, save
+as accident may determine. This, at least, gives hope of variety in the
+consequences of my present step; but whether spiciness will also ensue,
+will depend entirely on the humor of the writer and the complaisance of
+the reader hereof. So with no further introduction, the following
+children of my moods are presented for the kind consideration of those
+under whose eyes they may fall.
+
+
+--HAS A MAN A RIGHT TO USE AN OLD PUN IN MAKING A NEW JOKE?
+This was a question which arose in the Quidnuncs coterie the other
+evening, after Muggins had sent in the following, for the comic column
+of a weekly paper, the editor of which had returned it gratefully but
+firmly, on the score of superannuation: 'If Truth lie at the bottom of a
+well, why should we be surprised that so many kick the bucket before
+they are able to reach it?'
+
+Slight sympathy was expressed for Muggins, but in my opinion that was
+owing rather to the depravity evinced in the particular attempt than to
+any condemnation of his conduct in making an old joke answer the purpose
+of a new one. I confess that I don't see why a good pun should be
+thrown aside after it has served as the soul of a single sentence. I am
+a supporter of the doctrine of Transmigration of Puns. For a true pun
+always has a humorous idea behind the verbal quip that is its prominent
+characteristic. And though the verbal quip may be 'old as the hills,'
+the joke may present a face fresh as that of a young maiden and bear a
+meaning merry as her eyes. Thus an adept in this art once renovated two
+veritable antiques:
+
+'I tell thee, Binks, that the proposition is incontrovertible; any thing
+that is worth doing is worth being _well done_.'
+
+'Well, then, brother Noggs, what hast thou to say to a beef-steak? Does
+not thy rule fail thee there?'
+
+'Truly it doth, Binks; but thou wilt grant me that thine is a _rare_
+exception?'
+
+'That will I, right readily.' And both laughed heartily, and went their
+ways.
+
+
+--'SIR, YOU ARE TREADING ON MY FAVORITE CORN,' was the mild
+protest of one in a crowd against the act of a neighbor who had
+encroached on his pedal extremities, by attempting to violate the
+philosophical axiom that two bodies can not occupy the same space
+simultaneously. The remark raised a laugh; yet it involved a great
+truth. Each of us has at least one pet infirmity, which we nurse as
+earnestly, with a view to its becoming chronic, (perhaps unwittingly,)
+as we strive earnestly to eradicate other morbid troubles. And the
+position is true regarding moral as well as physical invalids. Who has
+not often been doubly irritated by the removal of his source of
+irritation? Thus Paterfamilias Bloggs, having been 'riled' by the
+overcrowding of the omnibus in which he proceeds homeward, makes up his
+mind that if Materfamilias B. has not provided fish-balls for supper, he
+will 'raise a row.' And he so gloats in expectancy over the imaginary
+denunciation that he will inflict on that long-suffering female, that he
+is quite disappointed, on entering his basement, to discover at a glance
+that a dish of beautifully-browned fish-balls decks the evening table.
+So Bloggs' wrath is smothered, and smoulders for the rest of the
+evening, finding insufficient vent in boxed ears for the children, and
+short, crisp replies to civil questions from the older members of the
+family. Thus you see that removing a cause does not always do away with
+a consequence.
+
+
+
+--WHO EVER GAVE A SATISFACTORY EXCUSE FOR AN INOPPORTUNE LAUGH?
+Certainly, no child transgressing in this particular ever failed to
+receive less than ten-fold its due of punishment therefor, as many grown
+persons will join me in testifying. Especially is this true in instances
+of church cachinnation. I solemnly aver that I have felt a stronger
+tendency to hearty laughter in a church than I ever experienced in a
+theatre, and yet I could not and can not give any satisfactory reason
+for the inclination. I wanted to laugh for the child's reason,
+'Because.'
+
+Not many months since, in a land thousands of miles hence, I was
+stretched upon a bed of sickness. In pursuance of the humane duties of
+his calling, the minister of the Episcopal Church called upon me, and
+after a short conversation, proposed addressing the throne of grace.
+This he did in a few eloquent extemporaneous phrases, closing with the
+Lord's prayer. Now, from the outset, I felt an uncontrollable
+inclination to laugh; but for a time succeeded in restraining it. But
+when, in close succession upon the minister's words, there arose from
+the next room (separated from us by a thin board partition) a sepulchral
+echo in the voice of my room-mate, a grim and swarthy miner, who
+probably had not heard the prayer since he repeated it after his mother
+at her knee, and from the still potent though long dormant force of
+habit, now joined in its utterance, the incongruity of my surroundings
+overcame me, and I electrified the worthy priest by bursting into a
+guffaw. Looking back on the scene, I can see far more pathos than humor
+in it; but at the time, the scene was to me irresistibly ludicrous. And
+oh! the paltry excuse that I raked up. 'Nervousness,' I think. No
+matter, I had 'spoiled the whole party and broke up the ball!' 'Tis
+always the way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+--SOMEBODY HAS SAID THAT TO BE A SUCCESSFUL AUTHOR, IT IS ONLY
+NECESSARY TO FEEL WHAT YOU WRITE. This I deny, for many reasons
+which I might but will not cite, contenting myself with saying that to
+write what one feels, though much more gratifying and in a moral sense
+far more commendable than to conceal or falsify sentiments, is
+dangerous, and has been known to cause a writer to feel not only more
+than he wrote or could write, but more than he had any expectation or
+desire of feeling in such connection. Thus, whenever under an assumed
+but transparent title, I introduce my friend Scroggs into a little
+sketch of my production, I never express in that performance my actual
+estimate of Scroggs, physically or mentally. Nor in my glowing
+description of the incidents of a trip to Catskill Mountain House, do I
+confine myself to the expression of what I felt in viewing the many and
+varied scenes of rural beauty that presented themselves during the
+progress of that undertaking. Do you suppose that I would run the risk
+of conveying to Claribella, who was my only companion in that
+expedition, that I never was more bored in my life, and that my
+conversation was the result of operating with a constantly working
+though invisible pump at the well of common-places and platitudes, which
+a gentleman accumulates for such emergencies in the course of his social
+experience? Heaven preserve my hair, should I venture on such a step.
+
+'But you digress,' some impatient reader suggests.
+
+Digress! That is an impossibility in an article without a topic. But
+even if I plead guilty, my impatient critic; did you ever take a walk in
+the country, and if so, did you choose those broad roads that lead to
+churches and the village stores and the 'Academy,' or did you plunge, by
+some little modest path, into the recesses of a grove, careless whither
+your steps carried you, so content you were to yield to the enchanting
+guidance of accident? And what though, in following your bent, you were
+compelled to climb an occasional fence or cross a chance puddle, the
+satisfaction of coming suddenly upon some pleasant view, or unexpectedly
+entering an apparently previously unexplored nook, more than atoned for
+such trifling annoyances. Without digression in some degree, neither
+spoken nor written language can be made entertaining to the person
+addressed. Who is more discursive than the Autocrat, the Czar of
+table-talkers; and whose productions are more charming or wiser? We do
+not do our everyday thinking in strictly logical or consistent forms. It
+is sufficient to introduce hypotheses, premises, or syllogisms, when
+there are ends to be attained by such a course. Impulse is far more
+attractive than prim consistency in the character of those we love; and
+if this be true as to pet persons, why not in our favorite writings? So
+the most charming women I have met would be styled in Spanish _las
+inconsecuentes_. Therefore, when amusement is the aim of writing, let
+digression have full swing.
+
+
+--I ENVY A GOOD TALKER. There is no class of persons so
+generally underrated and vilified, yet this would be a dull world
+without them. And the faculty is not to be acquired. Really good talkers
+are born, not made. (And some, I hear a skeptic say, are not to be borne
+in certain contingencies.) Talk is like a river; it rushes onward, by
+expression of ideas, _making room for thoughts_ to follow, and the dull
+elf, whose mouth is a mill-dam, finds his fancies and thoughts
+accumulate on his brain, till that organ is dull and sodden as is his
+facial aspect. Why is it that some can only be fluent from the point of
+a pen, while others can only address their fellows effectively by word
+of mouth? Of course there are conversational monsters as well as other
+violations of nature's creative processes. And the more thought that
+talk holds in solution, the more grateful the offering. But I have
+often listened attentively and pleasurably to an hour's flow from the
+lips of a pretty, graceful woman, or an interesting child, just saying
+enough myself to prove that sleep had not seized me. And at the
+subsidence of the tide, I could not for the life of me recall a single
+idea to which verbal embodiment had been given. Perhaps I had been
+carried away by the music of tone, or the charming, ever-changing curves
+of the opening and closing lips, or the dimples in the cheeks, as they
+budded, blossomed, and faded in the light of the now laughing, now
+languishing eyes, that never lost their hold of mine, yet never bore
+mine down by that most intolerable of all social manifestations--a
+stare.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+--I have a friend, who declares that he has LOST A SMILE. Not
+one from his sweetheart, for that would be either recoverable or
+replaceable with another. The smile he mourns is--his own. To speak
+plainly, he has lost, through neuralgia, the control over the risible
+muscles of his face, and they not only refuse to obey him in his desire
+and design to beam upon all peaceful comers, but occasionally put in
+motion another set of facial strings, which give him a depressed and
+lachrymose air when he would fain appear most jubilant. He says he never
+till now knew how much of his facial aspect was artificial. His present
+condition is only relieved when he is under the control of some powerful
+emotion. _Then_ he can laugh as heartily and present the appearance of
+so doing as fully as ever. It is only the conventional smile, the bland,
+self-possessed smile of society, that is utterly gone from him. I
+elicited the confession by entering his room noiselessly one day, and
+detecting him in the act of making the gloomiest grimaces at a small
+boarding-house mirror on the wall. He was much confused, and at first
+denied any such employment; but ultimately admitted that he had been
+practicing facial gymnastics for the purpose of simulating the smile he
+had lost. Perhaps some of our fashionable dentists may be able to aid
+him by a suggestion. They certainly have more smiles at their command
+than any class of men that have come under my observation. How singular
+that the most ferocious quadrupeds and the blandest of men should evince
+their most contrasted characteristics--fierceness and amenity--by
+showing their teeth.
+
+I sometimes think those are blessed who are endowed with a coarse
+organization. Sensitive people are chronic martyrs. Their nerves are so
+many toes, that their neighbors and friends are perpetually treading on.
+Not only are the pangs of such more acute, but the occasions of injury
+are infinitely multiplied by super-susceptibility. Talk of the happy
+hours of childhood! Ask nine persons out of ten, who are of susceptible
+organization, at what period in life their sufferings were most intense
+and unremitting, and if they be gifted with good memories, their reply
+will be, 'before adolescence.'[3] For susceptibility of nerve implies
+also high mental capability, acute intelligence, vivid imagination, all
+of which go to intensify sensation, and thus to aggravate the mischief.
+And our sympathy is due to one who by one of those strange
+contradictions in human nature finds herself, a highly nervous creature,
+the victim of an affection for one of the coarser organizations to which
+I have alluded. I say victim, for such attachments seldom result
+happily. The effect produced, in the first instance, by the magnetism of
+a strong over a weak nature gradually dies away. With it die the
+brilliant colors in which the beloved has been invested by the belover,
+and life is thenceforward only lit up by the lamps that heaven sets in
+the eyes of the little children that sometimes cheer the darkness of
+these ill-assorted unions.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+--'SIR WE ARE TOO POOR TO BE ECONOMICAL.' These were the words
+which I once heard a woman use to a rich relative of her husband, who
+had followed up his refusal of assistance by allusions to many little
+short-comings which he had noted in the domestic details of the family.
+The phrase seems to involve a contradiction; but a little consideration
+will show even the most superficial thinker that it expresses a truth.
+Great is the power of ready money. Ready money can save by wholesale
+purchases. Ready money can save by choice of place of purchase. Ready
+money can save by choice of proper time for purchase. Ready money can
+save by discount obtained under threat of discontinuance of trade; a
+threat futile in the mouths of the poor. Ready money can save in
+furniture and wearing apparel, by being able to provide the best in
+fabric and construction, and therefore the most lasting. But it is
+needless to extend the catalogue of ready money's powers. None know them
+better than those who seldom are able to obtain their aid.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 3: Quevedo has broadly satirized his faith in 'Childhood's
+happy hour'. In his _Visions of Hell_, where Satan, wearied by the
+continual grumbling of the condemned, requests them to leave, go back to
+life, be born again, and live it all over. On due reflection, they
+conclude that rather than suffer the whippings, schoolings, and
+scoldings incident to boy and girlhood, they--would prefer to stay where
+they were.--NOTE BY EDITOR.]
+
+
+
+
+SKETCHES OF THE ORIENT.
+
+
+The world is undergoing a wonderful change. Even within the memory of
+some twenty-five years, what events have occurred to verify the remark.
+Civilization changes all the preconceived perfections of the past, and
+introduces new scenes of life; it reforms without injuring, and leaves
+us undecided as to the value of the progress made. New customs and new
+habits leave man where he was; his nature is still the same, and perhaps
+he has only engrafted on a faulty structure what neither embellishes nor
+improves, and shows how slow is the progress of the human mind toward
+this goal for which it has, since the commencement of time, been bent.
+
+This is peculiarly verified in the 'Orient,' the most ancient of climes
+and lands. Through the mist of so many centuries, so many thousands of
+years, the 'far East' has followed the 'even tenor of its way' through
+revolutions and systems; its usages have been consecrated by time, and
+the parent has handed down to his son the usages which were more nearly
+allied to the natural state of man than those of the more famed and
+progressing 'West.' The animal has had more sway than the intellectual
+part of his nature, and what the curious traveler most admires is the
+still primitive condition of the latter. Violence there reigns superior
+to reason, and if changes be made, the former consults but little the
+latter in the measures which it adopts for the prosecution of its plans.
+There is seldom any appeal made by the reformer to the understandings of
+the people to be reformed; they must blindly adopt the innovations
+offered, and this without the means of contrasting what they are thus
+compelled to receive at the hand of the bestower with what they forsake.
+Tossed in the billows of doubt, they are exposed to the rocks of
+misconception, and are too often wrecked through the total absence of
+any chart to guide them in their new voyage of life. The transitory step
+is always a dangerous one to a people who have not entire confidence in
+their leader, for his plans may inspire neither conviction nor approval,
+and if they fail, leave his followers exposed to all the fury of storms
+without any haven in which to seek a refuge.
+
+Sultan Mahmoud, believing that European civilization was superior to
+that of the East, imagined that he adopted it, when he only assumed its
+exterior, the costume of Frankistan. How little did he know of the
+defects to which this simplest part of it led. Luckily, he adopted only
+the habiliments of the male sex, leaving those of the female unchanged.
+The flowing robes, full of ease and comfort; the turban, soft to the
+head, and giving it protection from the colds of winter and the heats of
+summer; the commodious shoe, which leaves the feet uncrumpled and free
+from the results of the tighter and closer ones of the West, were laid
+aside for the dress of Europe. The only part of the garb which we use,
+that he did not assume and compel his people to accept, was the unseemly
+and uncomfortable hat, and this he would also have taken, had religion
+not interposed to prevent it. Of all parts of the Christian's costume,
+the hat is the most calculated to inspire disgust in the sight of the
+native of the Orient, and if ever he adopts it, it is because it is
+supposed to cover him with protection against the injustice of his own
+rulers, and not from any preference or even choice. It is always an
+object of ridicule, and serves to point many a remark of derision and
+contempt against the wearer. On the other hand, what is more noble and
+dignified than the turban, with its snowy white folds, or its varied
+hues of green or red? Just as the external appearance of the colored
+man, and the knowledge of his total deprivation of civil abilities
+perpetuates the existing prejudice against him, so does the dress of the
+Frank clothe him with all that is distasteful and revolting in the eyes
+of the native of the East, with his prejudices dating back to the
+earlier days of the prophets. To pass over the external appearances of
+the reformed Eastern, let us examine the results of the civilization of
+Europe with which his costume has clothed him. Tight clothes have
+unfitted him for the broad and soft luxury of the sofa, and many persons
+resume the flowing robe and full trowsers within doors, so as to be able
+to enjoy the comforts which they lost with them. For the same reason,
+they must sit at a high table, on a high chair. The sleeve of the tight
+coat scarcely permits of being rolled up, so that the man of the East
+can return to his primitive use of his fingers in place of the fork, and
+for this he rejects the coat for the flowing pelisse, or he goes to his
+meal in his shirt-sleeves. It is amusing to see the _homme de bureau_,
+or the humble clerk, endeavoring to sit on his sofa cross-legged, with
+his writing paraphernalia before him as formerly, or to examine the
+broad chair which he has had to invent, so as to suit himself to his new
+transitory state. It may even be doubted whether he has gained any thing
+by the change, as a _cavalier_, for the full trowsers were far more
+comfortable than the present tight pantaloons, and any one who has seen
+the Bedouin horsemen, with their commodious saddles and flowing robes,
+must have given them his entire approbation in point of contrasted
+beauty.
+
+As yet the Oriental has made no innovation in his domestic life and
+habits, or if any, it is that his ladies wear the slender _botine_ of
+the Christian lady in place of the loose slipper of former years. As yet
+there is no commingling of the sexes, no excursions by land and sea in
+boats or carriages together, in undisturbed and unrestricted familiar
+intercourse. The lady of the house has not yet met her husband's friends
+at the dinner-table, at the social _soiree_, or in the ball-room. He is
+quite willing to go to these, at the house of his Frank friend, but he
+has not been convinced of the propriety of the change, and his sovereign
+has not carried his reforms into harem life. It will require some years
+yet to fit the Oriental for witnessing the displays of female beauty at
+such places with the calm indifference of the more accustomed native of
+Frankistan. He is willing, however, to commingle with the females of his
+European neighbors' household, even to embrace them in the mysteries of
+the mazy polka or waltz; but he hesitates admitting that such are the
+advantages or benefits of civilization. Indeed, it may be doubted
+whether his own wife and daughters would suffer such, were they told
+that they might do so without fear of reproach; for it is mostly to the
+mothers and wives that the Eastern world owes its tardy progress in the
+civilization of the West. Some time since, during the late Carnival,
+there was a Persian ambassador present at a ball given by the Italian
+minister, attended by the ambassador extraordinary of the Shah of
+Persia, who had never been to Europe or in a 'civilized European'
+society. Being asked by a foreign gentleman how he was, and how he liked
+the ball, he frankly replied, that such an exhibition as that of the
+beautiful ladies assembled there _decolle_, etc., had taken him quite by
+surprise; that it was more than his nerves could stand, and he felt so
+bad that he thought of leaving the ball and retiring to his own
+quarters. The same gentleman, to induce him to remain, jocosely told him
+that it was the paradise of the Christian, whilst his (that of
+Mussulmans) was in the life to come. At this he smiled, and turning
+toward a bevy of very handsome young ladies, dressed in the hight of the
+fashion, his eyes gloating on the fair scene, answered, that he admired
+the Christian paradise very much, and as the other was somewhat
+uncertain, he thought he could be satisfied with the persons now around
+him. It is quite possible that, except for the loss of dignity which
+would have attended the act, the Shah's ambassador might easily have
+been induced to join in a polka with one of the infidel houris then
+present.
+
+Many of the Mussulmans (Turks) of Stamboul come over the Golden Horn to
+Pera, to witness the merry scenes of the Christian Carnival. They do not
+select the most fashionable places of resort, and consequently fall into
+rather doubtful company. They come sometimes with a companion or two,
+but prefer to have only their own people with them, or at most a _toady_
+or two to keep them in countenance. Such a person finds a conspicuous
+place, where he can see what is going on, throws off his more than half
+European coat, puts on his loose pelisse, calls for his _Tchibook_, or
+pipe, and, it must be added, something very much like hot punch, and
+goes in for the full enjoyment of the evening. In an hour or two, he is
+rather 'pulverized,' and very disregardful of what he says and does. The
+true semi-barbarian then comes to view; he becomes very ostentatious,
+and is disposed to act the fast man; a friend will always find him a
+lady, whom he invites to accompany him over to his _konak_, (private
+dwelling in Stamboul,) which she refuses; he urges her to play _faro_ or
+_rouge et noir_ with _his_ money, which she does, until his purse is
+rather light, and by this time our Turk is so far insensible as to
+require to be conveyed to his carriage by the toadies or private
+attendants above mentioned. This he thinks is all right, and calls it _a
+la Franka_, or conformably with European civilization and fashion.
+
+The Armenian and Greek ladies, too, are adopting the same ideas of
+reform and improvement in social life. One of the former, a fair,
+married lady, of good family, having lately fallen in with a young and
+handsome foreigner attached to one of the legations, allowed his visits
+to become more and more frequent, so that one day her husband, returning
+home rather sooner than expected, caught the couple in _flagrante
+delicto_. This was carrying European civilization somewhat to a delicate
+point; but she shielded herself against the husband's reproaches by the
+assertion that it was _a la Franka_, and the matter was compromised
+without any 'secession movement.'
+
+The late Sultan built a theatre, and had a corps of ballet-girls for
+private amusement. He frequently gave entertainments at the former to
+the foreign legations, and one season even attended a _bal pare_ at the
+British Embassy, and a _bal en ordinaire_ at the French. This rather
+startled some of his subjects; but as such things were considered _a la
+Franka_, it passed over without any serious results. At the former, it
+is said, an amusing incident occurred, which, if not altogether true,
+is _bon troveto_. The late Sultan was extremely sensitive about coming
+in close contact with non-believers in the principles of the blessed
+Prophet. He never could touch the letter accrediting a foreign
+ambassador without hastening to perform ablutions, and as to conforming
+to the custom of shaking hands with an infidel, it was too horrible to
+be thought of for a moment. All animals, except horses, he held in
+abhorrence, and changed his entire costume several times a day, if he
+happened to have occasion to expose himself even to the winds blowing
+from the direction of the infidel hill on which Pera, the residences of
+the Christians, are built. On his arrival at the ball in question, he
+was, as is customary, shown into a private apartment, for a moment's
+repose previous to entering the salon in which hundreds of gay visitors
+were collected. The apartment happened to be that of the lady of the
+Ambassador, in fact, her _boudoir_, in which her poodle-dog, _Bijou_,
+had been accustomed to stay. Scarcely had the Sultan taken a seat,
+before poor Bijou made his appearance, and was at once driven away by
+some of the frightened attendants; but soon after returning unnoticed,
+the spiteful brute approached the Sultan, and offered the greatest
+indignity in his power to the pantaloons of the sensitive monarch.
+Imagine the indignation which occurred, and the designs of the wily
+British Ambassador to civilize the Turkish Sultan would have been wholly
+frustrated had not the chief gardien of the Sultan's wardrobe
+fortunately brought with him a full fresh suit for his master, in case
+of eventualities.
+
+On the same occasion, the British Ambassador, for the same laudable
+purpose of civilizing the various clergy of the Ottoman capital, had
+insisted upon the Armenian, Greek, and Catholic Armenian Bishops and the
+Greek Rabbi of the Jews appearing at his _bal pare_ in their canonicals!
+Against this they strongly remonstrated, but the influence of the
+Ambassador was greater than their own, and they had to make their
+_debut_ at his ball in full dress. But this was, however, soon
+forgotten, as it was all _a la Franka_.
+
+Some years ago, the late Sultan, on the occasion of the circumcision of
+one or two of his sons, gave a series of entertainments to his own
+functionaries, and one to the foreign diplomatic corps, in one of the
+valleys on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus, called Hyder Pacha. With
+the view of properly amusing the foreign legations, _a la Franka_, the
+Sultan got up an extemporary theatre, adjoining the splendid pavilion,
+in which his guests were assembled. The play selected as best calculated
+for the purpose, was the _Milliner's Shop_, the like of which the Sultan
+had noticed while passing through the great street of Pera--the windows
+filled with bonnets, dress-caps, crinolines, etc., and very handsome
+dolls, some quite as 'large as life,' _decolle_, and thanks to the
+miniature crinolines, often showing very well-made chaussures and
+ankles. The little stage was not much raised above the green sward of
+the valley--a ditch had been dug out for the use of the orchestra, and
+the counter of the milliner separated this from the audience. As the
+whole affair had been got up rather hurriedly, the _entrepreneur_ had
+not been able to procure a sufficient number of blocks on which to
+exhibit the bonnets and caps, and as men were readily obtained for the
+purpose, holes were cut in the counter, through which these thrust their
+heads, and on them rested the articles in question. A man also figured
+against the wall, on whom to hang up a ready-made dress or two, while
+his head also served as a block for a first-rate bonnet with flowers and
+feathers to suit the occasion. Now the weather had threatened a change,
+and much to the regret of the Sultan and his Court, who had it at heart
+to give such an entertainment to the diplomatic corps of Europe as would
+tell largely in the papers, and prove the great progress made by him in
+civilization, just as the play commenced, the rain began to fall in
+torrents. In their pavilion, the foreign ambassadors, etc., were
+somewhat secure, but not so the _dramatis personae_. The ditch soon
+filled with water, and the orchestra had to hold their instruments above
+their heads, while the water rose to their waists, and finally drove
+them to open 'secession.' But the man-blocks which supported the
+millinery were still more to be pitied. Their heads were fast in the
+holes made, and partially closed again in the centre, so that they were
+unable to escape from the rain which deluged the whole affair. The water
+fell in torrents over the gay bonnets, caps, crinolines, etc., until
+they became a mass of tawdry, and the bare pates of those under them
+came ludicrously into view. It required the assistance of a carpenter
+and his aids to get the poor fellows free from their bondage, and enable
+them to seek safety in flight. As to the man fastened against the wall,
+he bore his torture, and the merriment which he occasioned among the
+audience, for some time, but finally was compelled to put an end to his
+part of the entertainment by a timely retreat.
+
+Sultan Mahmoud was the first reformer of the Ottoman Empire, and his
+second son, Sultan Abd-ul-Aziz, the last. The reforms of the late
+Sultan, Abd-ul-Mejid, nearly ruined him, and the consequence is, that
+the present sovereign has wisely concluded to fall back upon some of the
+older fashions of his people. Mahmoud thought to drive away the
+remembrance of the Dervish-Janissaries whose violences seldom allowed a
+Sultan to die of disease, and never of old age. To effect this, he
+disbanded their several corps, and created new ones, in another dress.
+Perhaps this was wise at the time, but the object once reached, he
+might--or his successor, at most--have restored the broken spirit of his
+people, by a return to their national costume. It was only by force and
+fear that he induced his new troops to adopt the dress of the deeply
+detested Ghiaours, and the measure greatly alienated the respect and
+affections of his subjects, especially those of the interior of the
+empire. The higher classes of the capital assumed it with less reserve,
+on account of the economy which it admitted, and because it was _a la
+mode_, but the lower were less disposed to lay that one aside which had
+been worn by their ancestors, and served to designate the true
+Mussulman. The picturesque costume of the natives of Arabia, of Egypt,
+Syria, and Albania, had to be thrown aside for the tight pantaloons and
+coat of the Infidel, and Mahmoud went so far even as to require the
+_Bombardiers_ of his army to wear a head-dress, black, and tall as a
+hat, differing from it by the absence of a rim, and open on the top,
+covered only with a bag of dark silk, drawn together with a cord. This,
+how-ever, disappeared in the reign of his successor.
+
+The present Sultan has adopted a middle course. Without either restoring
+the costumes of the Janissaries, or even assimilating the habiliments of
+his troops to that which they wear in their own country, which would
+have inspired a strong and useful _esprit de corps_, he has accepted the
+uniform of the Zouave and Turcos of the French army. It is sufficiently
+Oriental to meet the object desired, and is very popular in the Sultan's
+army. It leaves to the wearer the free use of his limbs, but as a
+parade-dress will not show so favorably, to European eyes, as the more
+dignified dress of the Guards. The most difficult part of a military
+costume is the head-dress; and the common red cap of the Turks, called
+the _Fez_, is even more objectionable than the unseemly slouched hat
+worn in the regular army of the United States. Around this cap the
+Sultan has had a small turban bound, in one or two folds, which is a
+relief to the eye, and easily kept in order. It is readily taken off, in
+case of need, and may be bound around the waist as a sash, or girdle.
+
+This change in the dress of his army has given to his people the idea
+that their new Sultan is anti-Christian, and will restore the Ottoman
+Empire to its former state and condition. How far this will be verified,
+still rests to be seen. Reforms not entirely needed, and but half
+carried out, leave the recipients in that transitory state which weakens
+and demoralizes without effecting any permanent and real benefit. An
+external change is certainly less efficient than a moral one, but it
+goes far toward influencing the feelings of patriotism and loyalty which
+are so essential to man in his political condition, and it is more than
+probable that the anti-reforms of Sultan Abd-ul-Aziz will effect more
+real good in his capital, and elsewhere, than the boasted reforms of his
+illustrious father.
+
+
+
+
+WITCHES, ELVES, AND GOBLINS.
+
+
+The creative power of man, though so much boasted, is after all but a
+mere phantom--a vapor which rises from the ground and floats with little
+change of form from place to place. The diapason which we thought so
+extensive, appears, on inquiry, to consist of only a few notes, and the
+changes that may be rung upon them, may almost be counted upon the
+fingers. Homer's fables are near of kin to those of Shakspeare; the
+legends of ancient Greece find their details mirrored exactly in the
+traditions of Spain, Scotland, and Scandinavia. Whether in the remoter
+fogs of the past some glimmering traces of light may lead us to discover
+a common origin, a universal fountain, whence proceed pure and limpid
+all the streams that are contaminated by baser contact in their later
+course, is a question which might mightily task the most powerful minds.
+The gods of Greece and Rome are reproduced in Odin and Thor, Freia, and
+Gerda and Tduna. Aphrodite at Athens, Venus on the Seven Hills, Freia in
+the North, differ but in name. Dark hair and coal-black eyes, and a
+warm, sunny beauty may please the ardent inhabitants of Greece and Rome;
+the Swedes and Germans may bow before golden hair and blue eyes, fair
+and blooming cheeks. But transport the Grecian Aphrodite to the
+Dofrefield glaciers, and she will soon grow white as their snow, her
+eyes will fade to the pale cold blue of their skies, and with the winter
+frosts her hair will turn like fall leaves, golden yellow; and under the
+sun of Italy, Freia will tan to the burning, dark-hued, voluptuous Venus
+of the South. The two soils naturally breed the one cold statues, the
+other passionate life, but these two different phases are in themselves
+identical, Thor's hammer, and the various wonderful exploits of the
+Northern gods and goddesses, their dim, ill-defined notions of creation,
+of time and space, and of future worlds, are but natural growths from
+the nature of the North. Their gods, like their men, are all action, and
+to raise their actions above those of the human race, they naturally
+invest them with peculiar supernatural physical endowments, and a
+strange, mysterious mode of action. The powers of magic come to their
+aid; they are not absolutely omnipotent. Dwarfs forge them invincible
+arms in subterranean caverns; earth, air, fire, and water, conspire to
+assist them. The elements rage or are appeased at their command.
+
+In the same way the gods of Greece and Rome are all repose. Their
+actions acquire a superiority over those of man not by supernatural
+agencies or extraordinary developments of physical power; their
+preeminence lies in the quiet assumption of power, in the immediate
+sequence of action on volition. Their divinity is esoteric, consisting
+in attributes innate and not assumed. Action with them is power; but in
+the North power must be superadded.
+
+Thus we find all the various attributes embodied in the gods of the
+South, likewise deified and modified in the North, Thus Loke is the
+Mercury of the ancients. He is the same sly rogue as Hermes, though he
+has not some of the better qualities of that god. He is essentially the
+god of deceit. His deceptions are more subtle and deep-laid than those
+of the Grecian adept. He combines with the Pagan element something of
+the old Christian Satanic element. Without the horn and hoof of the
+Christian devil, he has all his peculiar mental qualities, and uses them
+to the great prejudice and harm of the other gods. So, likewise, with
+many of the more human [Greek: muthoi]. We find the same ideas to spring
+up in the agora of Athens, the wilds and snows of Norway, and the
+heathers and hills of Scotland. The fable of the Sirens finds an exact
+counterpart in the North. Like Ulysses, Duke Magnus and innumerable
+others escape with difficulty from the charms and enticements of
+sea-nymphs. Sometimes it is their wonderful song which the earth and
+the elements obey as they did Orpheus, that attracts them. Sometimes it
+is by more sensual blandishments, and sometimes by sweet and tender
+persuasion, _suadae medulla_. Mountain elves start from the ground, and
+from unseen caverns, and attempt to entice brave knights to their ruin;
+they dance round them beneath the trees, and endeavor to make them join
+in their dances. The natural fortitude of the stalwart champions is
+rarely able to resist the temptation, and they are always on the point
+of falling, when some unoffending barn-yard fowl sounds the signal for
+retreat, or some Christian word is uttered, or sign made, and the fair
+visions vanish, either naturally or in divers shapes with odors of
+brimstone and sulphur. The differences between the Grecian and the
+Northern conceptions are striking. In the Greek the forms are clear and
+vivid. The sirens are beautiful women, with angelic voices and vulture's
+talons. There are nothing but conceivable realities in their story.
+There is nothing strange or supernatural in their accessories. But in
+the Scandinavian elves the case is different. They vanish and reaeppear
+at different times; they have no actual, permanent existence. The crow
+of a cock or the sign of the cross is enough to drive them back to their
+hiding-places. They shun daylight and fixed, customary spots. They
+generally surprise casual travelers, and upon them in lone, romantic
+spots, practice all their arts of enticement and seduction. There is
+always something of magic, of the supernatural, connected with them. The
+Greek sirens are not like common women; but once conceive of their
+physical existence, and you understand them thoroughly. Their laws of
+action are purely human, and we do not find them one half so unnatural
+as our neighbor that has a splay foot or a hunchback. The Northern
+witches, however, are formed like human females, but obey unknown and
+mysterious powers. The commonest words and associations of men are bans
+to them. Only so long do they have power as nothing human disturbs and
+overthrows their supernatural spells.
+
+Again let us look for a moment at another division of Grecian fiction.
+The grim Cyclops who toils for Vulcan, working like mortal men, and
+forging divine things, it is true, like any Grecian blacksmith, has a
+counterpart of a somewhat different character in the North. The reality
+and vividness of the Greek changes as we approach the Pole. In deep
+caverns distorted, strange little dwarfs work by the aid of supernatural
+powers wondrous weapons, swords of incredible qualities, armor that
+defies mortal blades, bracelets of wondrous and cunning finish and
+singular properties--all here is miraculous, the workman, the process,
+and the work. The vividness with which Homer presents to us the one-eyed
+Polyphemus, with his tree-staff and his ponderous body, is exchanged by
+the Scandinavian for smallness, indistinctness of form and of power. The
+grand in the South is obtained by giving enlarged pictures of man as he
+is; in the North, by investing him with strange, magic, mysterious
+qualities. In mental as well as material nature, a general haziness of
+outline conveys the idea of greatness as strongly, though in another
+manner, as the sharp and perceptible outline of any thing really great.
+
+This peculiarity we shall find running through the literature, the
+character, and the mind of the two nations. The North is misty,
+undefined, illimited; the Greek is clear as crystal, sharp and angular,
+on every side. Its conceptions are never vague, but are tangible, real,
+and human. Thus with the Greek, a vast ocean, like that they know,
+encircles the whole earth, and fixes its bounds and the limits which man
+shall not pass; the Northerns compassed it about with a vast serpent of
+immense size, which bounded infinity and space, time and eternity,
+thereby mirroring, in some degree, as it were, the ancient symbol for
+time and space without end, the snake biting his own tail, the circle
+with no one beginning nor end. The heaven of the Greeks is the summit of
+one of their own mountains, known to every peasant and inhabitant.
+Accessible only to the gods, there they live, as unconcernedly as though
+the earth were not. Thor, and Odin, and Freia live in the 'Shining
+Walhalla,' whither go the souls of brave and good warriors. Their way
+thither is over the heavenly bridge, the many-colored rainbow, thrown
+over between heaven and earth for the passage of the happy souls. And
+there in this dim, ghostly Walhalla they sit like the Grecian gods, and
+drink mead instead of ambrosia and nectar. They do not share in the
+earthly vices of the Southern gods. Thor never begat such a progeny as
+Jupiter.
+
+Repose is also, as hinted at, a characteristic of Southern mythology,
+while action, assisted by supernatural agencies, is the feature of the
+Northern deities. Thus Jupiter sits majestic and silent upon Olympus and
+nods his head, and the whole earth shakes. He is human in his character,
+but of an ideal and superior human nature--man immensely magnified. The
+gods of Norway are also human, but they are, in themselves, _mere_ men.
+What makes them gods is the magic power which is joined with them, a
+mere adjunct not forming a part of them. They toil and act like
+men--they are never still. Thor bears the hammer, the emblem of physical
+strength, energy, and activity. He can at a draught half drain the sea,
+and cause the tides to rise and ebb; he can lift the serpent that
+surrounds the world; he can wrestle with Death himself, and almost come
+off victorious. The giants are his mortal enemies, and against them he
+wages war and bears deadly hatred, as Jupiter against the Titans. None
+but the warrior, who has fought long and well, enjoys the long dreamt-of
+mead of Walhalla. A death on one's own bed is almost as ignominious as
+that of the coward. The straw-death (_stroedod_) they will endeavor to
+avoid by opening their own veins and bleeding to death, and as the warm
+life-blood pours forth, they sing triumphant death-songs, and see the
+portals gradually open to receive them, and Braga the Scald, seated at
+the gate with his magic-sounding harp, his fingers running through the
+golden strings, and in such ecstasies they give up the ghost. The Greek
+dies in a more quiet, philosophical, and practical manner. He does not
+fear the shame of a warm and soft bed. Achilles, and Ajax, and Diomed,
+are not the only inmates of Elysium. Socrates, and Plato, and Homer,
+Apelles and Zeuxis, are all there too. The poet and the philosopher, the
+painter and the sculptor, rank as high through pen, pencil, and chisel,
+as the warrior by his blade and his bloody exploits. Art, in the North,
+finds no existence, and strikes no sympathizing chord in the bosoms of
+the sturdy Northmen. Art, to be perfect, requires a distinctness of
+conception, and an assimilation to human nature in its subjects,
+entirely at variance with the dim, mysterious character of the
+Scandinavian imagination. Painting is a thing utterly unknown, and
+sculpture, where found, deals in shapeless blocks and huge, massive,
+ill-proportioned forms, analogous to the primitive Egyptian art. In the
+Northern mythology and legendary history, minstrels play an important
+part. They are as indispensable as the Welsh bards, though not invested
+with the same authority as they. At the table of the gods, Braga strikes
+his wonderful harp and chants the triumphal hymns of dead warriors as
+they enter the Walhalla. Round the boards of the rougher Vikings, among
+the muscular, sun-browned champions, hardened to blood and strife, the
+minstrel is ever present, and as the huge cups pass around the long
+line, they sing the triumphs and praises of their hosts. They are like
+the old Grecian minstrels; like Phemius and Demodocus, they chant old
+memories of great sea-kings and champions, legends of magic elves and
+dwarfs, and wondrous and often touchingly beautiful stories of love and
+passion. The vague impressions of music seem to harmonize marvelously
+with the Northern nature. It is wild and weird in its character, for
+much of it, with the innumerable ballads of those days, have reached us
+from father to son, and vividly recall the times whence they date, and
+the men whose characters they mirror. There is often a magic element
+connected with their music. The music of the elves is like that of the
+sirens and of Orpheus, often irresistible. Through many of their ballads
+runs the same legendary undertone. A maiden's song moves the king's
+heart, and one by one he offers in vain every gift in his power, to the
+very half of his kingdom, and ends by placing a crown of gold upon her
+head, and seating her beside him on his throne as his lawful queen. The
+story of the two sisters, one ugly and one beautiful, reappears in the
+North in various forms. The younger and more lovely of the two is
+murdered, and the elder is to wed her bride-groom. Pilgrims who meet
+with the body, make a lyre from the bones, and string it with the golden
+hair of the maiden, and as they play at the bridal, each string tells
+its tale of horror in turn, while the unhappy sister sinks under these
+inanimate accusations.
+
+In the Greek myths we find none of these mysterious elements. The
+supernatural creations we meet with are innumerable, and no less strange
+in themselves. But there is nothing in Polyphemus, in Circe, in the
+Sirens, beyond their physical natures, which can make us look beyond
+ourselves to understand and fully sympathize with them. Once fully grasp
+their superhuman endowments, and you feel they act like men on a large
+scale. Not so with the Northern supernatural beings. In themselves they
+approach nearer to men, and are but little above them in endowments and
+character, but it is their mode of action which makes them superior to
+us; their divinity and power lie not in themselves, but in the agents,
+visible and mysterious, that they employ. They are not like Jupiter,
+omnipotent. They are brought to a stand quite as often as more humble
+mortals. Thor, without his hammer, is no longer Thor himself. His trusty
+Mjoelner is more to him than the thunderbolt of Zeus to the Grecian
+father of the gods. The eagle and thunderbolt of Jove, the aegis of
+Minerva, the girdle of Venus and Mercury's wands, are mere emblems of
+what powers their own natures give them. With the Northern deities their
+whole strength lies in the possession of these. Without them they are
+powerless, and in spite of all their might, they are often obliged to
+call on one another for assistance, and sometimes even stand in need of
+mortal aid. We may, perhaps, consider the Grecian gods as mere
+personifications and idealities, but those of the North are essentially
+real. They are the creations of a powerful but vague imagination, forms
+which resemble a Norwegian mountain, distinct in itself by its
+glittering snows and icy rocks, but which shrouds its head in a
+perpetual mist, except when some adverse wind with its indiscreet
+blowing, displays it in all its nakedness, and plain though grand
+reality.
+
+Analogous to the story of Circe and Ulysses is a myth which forms the
+foundation of some of the most beautiful and pathetic ballads of Sweden,
+Denmark and Norway. The mountain king bears to his cavern in the
+hill-side a fair maiden, and with him
+
+  'For eight long years, I ween, she lived in the mountain there,
+  And sons full seven she bore him, and eke a daughter fair.'
+
+And here the resemblance ceases, and the Northern legend assumes a more
+beautiful tone. The maiden longs for her mother and her old home, and
+goes from the mountain king with the promise not to mention her seven
+sons. She tells her tale, however, and the elf-king straightway appears,
+and strikes her till the life-blood flows. She then says:
+
+  'Farewell, dear father, and farewell, dear mother, too,
+  Farewell, my sister dear, and dear brother, farewell to you.
+  Farewell, thou lofty heaven, and the fresh, green earth, farewell!
+  Now wend I to the mountain where the mountain king doth dwell.'
+
+And so they ride to the mountain, through the long, wild, black wood,
+the mother weeping bitter tears, while the elf-king smiles. Her little
+daughter reaches her a golden chair:
+
+  'Oh! rest thee, my poor mother, so sad and woe-begone.'
+
+She takes the foaming mead in her hand,
+
+  'And scarce from out the mead-glass bright the first draught
+  does she take,
+    (The hour goes heavy by,)
+  Her eyes were sudden closed, and her weary heart it brake,
+    (Ah! well sorrow's burden know I.)'
+
+That the Greeks had similar ballads and legends can not be doubted, but
+to revive them from their present destruction is a task beyond the power
+of science and antiquarianism. Hardly more than a quarter of a century
+has elapsed since the first important steps were taken in the North of
+Europe to preserve these ballads which had thus been orally handed down
+from ages that vanish in the darkness of the past, and which in a few
+years more, with the gradual disappearance of primitive simplicity in
+Sweden and Norway, might have been, for the greater part, lost to us
+forever. Who knows but that in some remote corner of Greece, in spite of
+the revolutions and shocks which have convulsed it, there may still lurk
+an occasional shadow at least of some good old popular song?
+
+The refrains which accompany the Northern ballads, and which are, in
+fact, found among all nations whose ballad poetry has been preserved,
+merit some attention. Sometimes melancholy and sad, sometimes gay and
+joyous, they impart character wonderfully to the piece. There is
+something peculiarly mournful in the recurring of these sad, touching
+thoughts and words, and as the interest of the ballad deepens, their
+touching simplicity grasps more deeply into the soul, and affects us in
+a manner which nothing else could. When they are joyous--a rarer form,
+however--they impart to us also their own buoyancy and gayety. Sometimes
+they convey the moral of the piece, some simple yet profound reflection,
+which marks by itself the feeling that pervades the whole ballad; at
+other times they are merely descriptive of nature, and borrow their
+enlivening or heart-rending character from the assimilation or contrast
+they present with the groundwork of the poetry. The origin of this kind
+of refrain is evidently due to the manner in which the ballads were
+composed. Mainly extemporized, both words and music, by wandering scalds
+or minstrels, the refrain was a pause to enable the singer to compose
+the next line. The utter disregard of rhyme, alliterations the most
+slight and imperceptible, and words of no similarity of sound almost
+always taking their place, rendered this a very easy task. A thorough
+knowledge and mastery of legendary lore, and a little power and
+concentration of thought and imagery, were the only qualities requisite
+for a ballad-monger. Some of them bear the marks of superior minds, both
+by their wonderful vividness of description and by the tone of deep,
+genuine feeling which pervades them throughout.
+
+There is a wonderful affinity between the Scotch and the Norwegians and
+Swedes, especially in their traditionary literature, which marks a
+common origin and common customs at some remote period. We find among
+the genuine Scotch ballads many that are almost literal versions of the
+same Scandinavian legends no less indigenous in their own land. A large
+number of the most beautiful Scotch ballads plainly point to an
+extraneous Northern origin, and their exact counterparts in form, ideas,
+and words, we find circulating as popular songs among the Swedish,
+Danish, and Norwegian peasantry. These may often be traced back
+centuries, at the end of which they seem still to be as old and as
+thoroughly implanted in their native soil as they now seem. They have
+been sung from mouth to mouth, with the same wild old melodies and the
+same quaint language, as they were sung centuries ago among the scenes
+they so faithfully depict.
+
+The characteristics we have so briefly alluded to as marking the two
+classes of nations, namely, mysterious grandeur among the Northmen, and
+among the Greeks ideality, grandness, and vividness of conception, might
+by skillful hands be traced in more modern times under the influence of
+an ever-changing and growing civilization. I will only allude, in
+passing, to a few prominent points.
+
+The literature of Greece, as we know it, had already reached its hight,
+two thousand years before our time. It was already gray with years
+before the North had begun its infancy. Homer is the boundary which is
+insurmountably opposed to our further retrospection, and Homer is
+already the beginning of perfection in Greek letters. Of earlier periods
+we can but conjecture that there must have been such, bearing a
+character analogous to the relics of those nations whose fabulous
+history is better known to us. Northern literature can hardly be said to
+have had an existence till within the last hundred years. Before that
+time we must look for all phases of progress and germs of progress in
+the physical and animal character of the nation, their social and
+political features and relations. The vividness and ideality of the
+ancients find their natural change in the more purely impassioned style
+of more modern Southern poetry. Their creations have naturally lost with
+the fall of paganism, the supernatural endowments they had, and
+retaining in some their ideality, they have hightened and fired the
+human nature they depict by the addition of wilder and more flaming
+passions, of love that consumes, and ambition, revenge, and hatred that
+destroy. Thus we again obtain consistent characters governed by human
+laws, but raised above the ordinary mass of men by different qualities
+from those which ennobled ideal creations among the ancients. Repose
+still constitutes greatness in some instances; but the inner man is made
+all fire, and seething metal, ever-burning and quenchless. Elevation and
+subtlety of ideas naturally follow these causes, they are another
+natural growth of the simple ideality of conception.
+
+The Northern character at the present day has very different qualities.
+Though renowned for philosophical and metaphysical prose, yet their
+poetry they require to deal with realities and not with ideas; it must
+be clear as a fountain, and any opaqueness is an inexcusable flaw. They
+are yet in the infancy of literature, and the imagination is still more
+sensuous than acute and subtle. However much they court abstractions in
+prose, in verse they love only the actual, the real, the tangible.
+Nature, and not metaphysics, are the subjects of their poetry, and they
+still preserve a freshness and simplicity reminding of more ancient and
+ruder days, delightful amidst the hair-splitting of most modern poetry.
+Their infancy is like the infancy of all national literatures,
+peculiarly modified by the advanced state of civilization in which their
+birth was thrown. At first sight there seems something unnatural and
+unaccountable in this apparent contradiction in the character of the
+nation, manifested respectively in their prose and their poetry. But on
+farther examination all becomes clear as a spring day. Their prose was,
+as their whole literature might and should have been, contemporary with
+their civilization through its various phases. Metaphysics is the last
+refinement, or rather, corruption, which national literature undergoes.
+Their prose had naturally arrived at this stage when the true poetic
+feeling woke for the first time. And in spite of the rational tendencies
+of the age, it assumed that character of warm, bodily imagination which
+marks all early literatures. The tendency to the mysterious and the
+superhuman has mostly vanished, and more vivid conceptions of every
+thing have, under their Christian development, taken the place of dim
+magic and weird creations. Northern poets still delight in dealing with
+those wonderful poetical inventions of their own ancient mythology, and
+revel among the elves and dwarfs that surround the bosoms of mountains
+and woods. Lif, with her golden hair, Gerda, with cheeks like auroras,
+the cunning Loke, with his mixture of guile, wickedness and deceit,
+Thor's mighty Mjoelner, and the mead-horns of Walhalla--from among these
+wonderful beings, they have culled with a careless hand, and every sprig
+and flower is radiant with poetic beauty. The taste for old legends and
+traditions has revived within a few years, and scholars and antiquarians
+are now laying open unknown mines of treasure.
+
+
+
+
+A TRUE ROMANCE.
+
+
+Among my friends at Rome, during a few weeks that I spent there, was one
+old resident of the 'Eternal City' whom I had often begged to give me
+some authentic narrative of Catholic experience. He was naturally
+reserved, jealously truthful, a 'know-nothing' upon religious
+controversy, not at all the man to invent an exciting story, not fond of
+legends, Romish or Genevan, not a violent partisan of republicanism in
+church or state, and not familiar enough with American thought to
+suspect the use that might be made in the United States of such an
+incident as I am now to repeat. In fact, as I compare him with other
+sources of intelligence open to travelers, sure as I am that no one
+could question his belief of whatever he told, every weight that
+character, intelligence, years, experience, could confer, rests upon
+the only monkish secret which he professed to know. One night he
+invited me to a subterranean restaurant, famous for its excellent
+creature-comforts, and there over some royal English beer, without any
+graces of style or attempts to exaggerate the incidents, he unfolded
+what I believe to be a true record of unblessed love.
+
+General readers are familiar with the fact that many a nun immures
+herself for life under a sort of moral compulsion, because her high-born
+family has become too indigent to maintain its stately style of living,
+because the lady herself is in danger of contracting some degrading
+alliance, declines peremptorily such connection as her relations
+approve, or has committed some imprudence that clouds over her future
+prospects. The secret influences which entangle men in the Catholic
+orders correspond to this. It would be arrant bigotry to doubt that some
+offer up an unstained heart, in aspirations for usefulness or sighs for
+holiness; but many times a youth is led blindfold to the altar by
+ambitious relatives, like Talleyrand, and discovers too late his perfect
+unfitness for the vow he has assumed. And these last are they whose
+lives become a scandal to their profession, whose levity shocks so many
+Protestant observers, whose consciences have no true peace, who die
+sometimes in open unbelief and, living, are the worst enemies of the
+cause they advocate.
+
+As my story goes, at nearly the same time that a gallant young man of
+high family disappeared from the gay circles of Rome, a lovely girl of
+distinguished parentage had suffered her blonde tresses to be shorn, her
+graceful limbs draped in forlorn russet, her merry meetings with girlish
+spirits like herself exchanged for the tears of the confessional, the
+lengthened prayers of the cloister, the frequent fastings and sometimes
+scourgings of monastic life. The cause of this contemporaneous
+disappearance was known only to the most intimate friends of two
+celebrated but no longer wealthy families, who deemed the sacrifice
+necessary, and so recked not of the wounds it might make, the perjuries
+it might tempt, the life-struggle of duty with feeling it might cause.
+
+Time passed on. Forgotten by society, it was supposed these victims of
+artificial life had forgotten the circles they were wont to charm,
+forgotten almost themselves in a system most ingeniously arranged to
+blot out one's individuality and to make its subject a perfectly ordered
+part of a grand machine. But, unsuspected by their friends, unknown to
+their superiors, these two pledged hearts had met. Love will break
+through even convent-walls, will speak amidst monastic silence, will
+rise unbidden under ascetic discipline. No one can tell, very few can
+imagine how they agreed upon their trysting hour. Through a neglected
+drain, from some underground apartment, where she had been imprisoned
+for negligence, the slender form of the delicate maiden worked its way
+into the free air where her lover awaited her in the eagerness of a
+stolen pleasure; and the hours supposed to be given to prayer or repose
+flew fast in the worship of the 'winged god.' If I recollect rightly,
+there were deeply-shaded groves not far from their place of meeting, in
+which they felt secure from observation during the night season.
+
+But Love has always been blind to its own peril: a prudent lover would
+be indeed a black swan; if such there have been, these were not. And one
+night, when the beautiful nun would return through the friendly passage
+in season, that her absence might not be detected when the sisters were
+summoned to their matin service, the rain, whose torrents she had not
+noticed while her lover's arm sheltered her, had filled up the only
+pathway to her cell, and not even by the hazard of life could she
+recover her room once more. A few hours more, and her absence would
+inevitably come to light, would be fearfully punished, if not by a death
+such as Scott portrays in one of his poetical legends, by a disgrace far
+worse than physical suffering, from which nothing but the grave could
+give her relief. The alternative, flight, where no provision had been
+made, with no possible help from any friend, with the likelihood of
+treachery where they might least expect it, seemed impossible.
+
+In despair rather than hope, the forlorn lady recollected that her
+uncle, who had some spiritual supervision over the Roman convents,
+though he was sure to be more outraged by her misstep than any one else,
+had (besides the motive of shielding a family name from disgrace)
+perhaps some remaining affection for his favorite niece. At any rate, if
+she were to die, she thought it would be a satisfaction to die humanely,
+by the speedy stroke of offended honor than by such cruel penances as
+would slowly wear life away. And, what might she not hope, if there were
+still one humane drop in that aged bosom, one indulgent memory of
+youthful passion beneath that austere cowl, one fond thought of a
+childhood which seemed to herself a dream of paradise, when his hand
+blessed her curling head, and his lips gave a parting kiss, returned so
+heartily by herself.
+
+There was not a moment to lose--they hardly knew how time had sped, but
+they had never found his wings slow when they were together. So, hand in
+hand they hastened to the presence which was to be either deliverance or
+condemnation to them both; and when at last they reached the palace, and
+after some delay were admitted to kneel before his eminence, no words
+can paint the horror with which he exchanged his dreams of the papal
+chair for a sight of the apostate priest and self-doomed nun confessing
+in one breath that they had 'loved not wisely, but too well'--that God
+once brought together those whom cruel relatives tore asunder--that _he_
+was their only escape from double ruin, and infamy worse than death.
+
+The moments seemed hours while he who had approved the punishment of
+other celibates for no greater sins, sought how he might ward off a blow
+that struck so near his own bosom--that was to crush one the grace of
+whose childhood had not been more marked than her affection for
+himself--than the earnestness of the tone with which she was wont to
+declare herself 'his little daughter.' He had not the courage to hazard
+his position by espousing her cause or undertaking her escape. He felt
+that she had been more sinned against than sinning, in having been
+forced into a vow of perpetual virginity when she had already made
+another vow which her loving nature had rejoiced to keep.
+
+And yet, the preservation of his dignity was of infinite moment to his
+peace--nor could he help seeing that a flood of disgrace would sweep
+over the Church were such breaches widened by the public protection of
+the offenders, and, of course, the enemies of monastic institutions
+would seize upon the opening for fiercer assaults.
+
+Suddenly he dismissed the erring brother in too much trouble to bestow
+the admonition which the other was in too great anxiety to heed--threw
+over the trembling girl the cloak and hat of a common citizen--summoned
+his household servants together as quickly as possible, and hastened in
+the twilight of early dawn to the sleeping convent with as large an
+attendance as such hot haste would permit.
+
+For some time no admittance could be obtained; and the rain seemed to
+pour down in sheets, as if all the windows of heaven were open. But his
+orders were peremptory, his authority was ample, his excuse ingenuity
+itself: 'He had just heard that a man was secreted within those
+consecrated walls; he was determined to see for himself, if he had to
+tear one stone from another; under his supervision no such infamy should
+be so much as suspected.' And so, making a virtue of necessity, the
+panic-struck lady abbess yielded her dignity, and the _posse_ of
+pretended inspectors stood within the drowsy walls before one rose-tint
+in the East threatened their secret with exposure.
+
+So responsible an official could not be satisfied with seeing the nuns
+together, or witnessing their earliest chapel-service; he must enter
+every room, survey every cranny, and leave no possibility of deception,
+no corner for concealment. And posting some of his servants--whose
+excessive watchfulness might prove a little inconvenient--at the two
+principal entrances, with his remaining attendants he proceeded orderly
+from room to room, the superior refusing, as was expected, to sanction
+by her presence such an invasion of the sacred privacy of her
+institution. When they reached the cell adjoining that where our tale
+properly ends, the disguised nun was far enough in the rear of the
+feebly-lighted party, and they too busy in the pretended search, for her
+disappearance to be noticed--her uncle had made her see that this was
+the only chance--so, flinging the coat and hat through an open window
+into the yard, she glided with ghost-like tread into her own apartment,
+and when the drowsy servitors opened her door, she was seen upon her
+knees before the crucifix, praying more fervently than ever the jubilant
+prayer of a newly-rescued soul.
+
+The trouble threatened to lead to some farther difficulties. For these
+ladies were of the Roman aristocracy, and their honor had been
+impeached, their sanctuary invaded, their solemn asseverations had been
+disregarded, their protector had become their accuser. It might have
+gone hard with the father who had planned this ingenious device to save
+his name from disgrace and shield his niece from suffering. But, just
+before the party turned from the convent-gate, a keen eye detected the
+fallen mantle; and the trophy was exhibited to the agitated superior, in
+proof that some of the forbidden sex had been lurking around, and had
+stolen away in terror from so formidable a search; she was warned to new
+vigilance, and offered every assistance for the future which the papal
+guards could bestow.
+
+And so ends all that my informant knew of the love-lost girl. Her
+accomplice in guilt, who did not desert her till he saw there was hope
+in her uncle's face, was hurried away as a missionary to South-America;
+and, as the waves of the sea rolled between him and his only object of
+affection, he must have 'rejoiced with trembling' that the crimson waves
+of death had not mingled her and him in a common doom. He wanted the
+independence to detect the injustice of a system which made a pure
+attachment guilt, and its discovery condemnation; so he raised no
+protesting voice against it. Truly, the day of strange stories in Italy
+is not yet over.
+
+
+
+
+HUGUENOTS OF NEW-YORK CITY.
+
+
+Governor Stuyvesant was among the earliest to encourage the emigration
+of the Huguenots to New-York, and whose descendants for generations have
+ranked with our best and most honorable citizens. On the twenty-fourth
+of January, 1664, N. Van Beck, a merchant in New-Amsterdam, received
+letters from Rochelle, stating the wish of some French Protestants to
+settle in New-Netherland, as their religious rights had been invaded and
+their churches burned. The Governor and Council resolved to receive them
+kindly, and grant them lands gratuitously. In a letter of M. de
+Denonville to the French government, dated sixteenth November, 1686, he
+reports that fifty or sixty 'men, Huguenots,' arrived at New-Amsterdam,
+'who are establishing themselves at Manat, (New-Amsterdam,) and its
+environs. I know that some have arrived at Boston, from France.'
+Although the waves of the Atlantic divided the two countries, the French
+King does not seem to have forgiven his banished subjects in America. In
+his instructions to Count De Frontenac, respecting the expedition from
+Canada against New-York, and dated seventh June, 1689, he directs him to
+'send to France the French refugees, whom he will find there,
+_particularly those of the pretended Reformed Religion_,' or Huguenots.
+His royal but remorseless spirit was not gratified, however, as the
+French did not venture to attack New-York, and instead of their
+Protestant brethren being sent back to France, a few years afterward
+they erected a church for their own religious services. This was _Du
+Saint-Esprit_, and built on Pine street, directly opposite to the
+present Custom-House, by the Huguenots and Walloon settlers, the last of
+whom were a part of the French Protestants, although they emigrated to
+America from the river 'Wael.' An earlier French chapel had been erected
+on Marketfield street, then called Petticoat Lane, near the Battery. It
+was an humble edifice, but hither, every Lord's day, the Huguenots from
+the city, Staten Island, the Wallabagh, and New-Rochelle, by wagons, in
+which they lodged, were wont to assemble to worship God, without the
+fear of royal, persecuting edicts, or armed bands. _L'Eglise
+Saint-Esprit_ was founded in the year 1704, with a cemetery adjoining.
+It was a plain, neat, stone building, and nearly square--its bell the
+gift of Sir Henry Ashurst, of London. On its tablet in front was
+inscribed: AEDES SACRA GALLOR PROT. REFORM. FONDA. 1704. PENITUS REPAR.
+1741. In our day its sacred walls have been taken down, the dead
+removed, and the venerable spot, like many others in our busy city, is
+now devoted to Mammon. The successors of _Saint-Esprit_ long since
+united with the Episcopalians, and erected the beautiful marble church
+in Leonard street, where the doctrines of the ever-blessed Reformation
+continue to be declared in the same language in which they were so
+eloquently preached two centuries ago, by Claude, Laurin, and other
+Reformed French Ministers.
+
+The Rev. James Laboire was the first pastor of the _Saint-Esprit_, which
+soon numbered a flourishing congregation. Some of its members would walk
+from New-Rochelle, on Saturday night, to worship God in this place, and
+thus spending the holy day, would return home again in the evening,
+joyfully singing Marot's old French hymns to cheer them by the way. The
+Staten-Island Huguenots would make the same pious journey in their light
+skiffs and boats. For some years Mr. Laboire, the pastor, toward his
+support was 'allowed a yearly sallary of twenty pounds per ann. out of
+ye Revenue of this Province.' The religious services were here
+performed in the primitive manner of the French Calvinistic churches;
+but after the sovereignty of the English was established over the Dutch,
+the forms of their church worship were gradually introduced, until at
+length the Huguenot congregation united with the Protestant Episcopal,
+in this diocese.
+
+In the _Documentary History of New-York_, vol iii. p. 427, may be found
+an old curious article, entitled, 'A Full and Just Discovery of the weak
+and slender foundation of a most Pernicious SLANDER, raised
+against the FRENCH PROTESTANT REFUGEES, inhabiting the Province
+of New-York, generally, but more particularly affecting Captain
+BENJAMIN FANUEL, a person of considerable note amongst them.
+Printed and published by license of his Excellency Edward Viscount
+Cornbury, Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of the said Province, in
+favor of Justice.'
+
+It appears that one Morris Newinhuysen, a mate of a vessel, in 1706, was
+taken by the French, and a prisoner of war, at New-York, reported that
+the 'French Protestants' here corresponded with 'the inhabitants of
+France, tending to the taking and destruction of this city, by Her
+Majesty's declared enemies.' The New-York Huguenots considered this
+accusation a 'crime of so high a nature in itself,' and so 'altogether
+false and untrue,' as to petition Governor Burnet to cause 'the said
+Morris Newinhuysen, and all others who may appear concerned, to be
+strictly examined upon the same report, and if found out, be punished
+according to the nature of the crime.' This petition is dated 'February
+10, 1707/8,' and signed by 'Stephen D'Lancey, Elias Nezereau, Abraham
+Jouneau, Thomas Bayeux, Elias Neau, Paul Deoilet, Augustus Jay, Jean
+Cazale, Benjamin Fanuel.' These must have been leading Huguenots at the
+time. To another petition of a similar character, we find the names of
+Daniel Cromelin, John Auboyneau, Francis Vincent, Alexander Allaire. His
+Excellency the Governor, ordered the report to be considered, which was
+done, when his Council reported that there was not 'any ground to
+suspect Captain Faneuil of holding a correspondence with France.' This
+was cheering news to the 'French Refugees' in the Province of New-York,
+as such a slanderous report, to use their own language on the occasion,
+was 'of pernicious consequence to all the French refugees in general,
+and disturbs their peace and quiet, and obstructs that affection and
+familiarity which they had formerly enjoyed with the other inhabitants
+of this Province, to their just grief and resentment.'
+
+The Rev. Louis Rou was also a pastor of the 'Reformed Protestant French
+Church in New-York.' As early as the year 1713, among other names in its
+official records, are found John Barberie, elder, Louis Carre, ancien,
+Jean Lafont, ancien, Andre Fuyneau, ancien.' During the year 1724, there
+was great excitement in the French congregation, caused by a party
+question. Stephen De Lancey, a wealthy merchant, and patron of the
+church, with others became dissatisfied with the pastor. He was
+dismissed for want of zeal, and for innovations which they contended he
+had introduced into their church discipline; but the minister, with his
+friends, appealed from this decision to Governor Burnet and his Council,
+when they sustained him. Indignant memorials were published by both
+parties, and things went so far, that when De Lancey was elected to the
+Colonial Assembly, the Governor refused to administer his oath of
+office, alleging that he was not a subject of the British crown. De
+Lancey, the Huguenot, contended that he had left France before the
+revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and had received denization in
+England, under the great seal of James II. He was right, and the
+Assembly sustained his argument and claims against his Excellency the
+'Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of the Provinces of New-York,
+New-Jersies, and Territories thereon depending in America.'
+
+For the curious in old families, among the official friends of the
+French minister, we find James Gou, John Hastier, Elias Pelletreau, Jr.,
+Jean Va Chan, Andrew Foucault, Jacques Bobin, N. Cazalet, Samuel
+Bourdet, David Le Febrer, Francois Bourdet, Peter Morgat. They testify
+to Mr. Rou's 'exemplary piety and instruction for upwards of fourteen
+years,' which 'have rendered him exceedingly estimable to all who knows
+him, which can't but be acknowledged even by those who are now the
+occasion of this trouble.' We find a more general list of French
+families, his friends also, and dated thirty-first December, 1724, and
+they speak well of him, 'with edification, always leading an exemplary
+life:' James Bergerron, Francis Bosset, Daniel Girand, Daniel Gailliard,
+Elias Chardavoine, Paul Pelletreau, James Many, Gamaliel Guyele, Anthony
+Pintard, Jeremie La Touche, Samuel Bourdet, Jean Bachan, Elie Mainburt,
+Andrew Richard, James Belleveau, Peter Quintard, John Bosset, James
+Bobin, Daniel Bossuet, Charles Jardin, Amand Perot, William Huertin,
+John Vezier, Peter Dennys Doctr, John Many, Peter Tillou, Peter Ebrard,
+Henry Collier, John David, Noe Cazalet, Gabriel Le Boyteix, Jr., Elias
+Grosellier, Andrew Girand, Francis Baumier, James Des Brosses, James
+Renaudet, Lawrence Cornisleau, Daniel Mesnard, John Ganeau, Peter
+Monget, John Hastier, David Le Telier, Jean Le Chevalier, Philip
+Gilliot, Abraham Bertrand, Abraham Butler, Daniel Cromelin, John
+Pintard, Abraham Pontereau, Peter Burton, Stephen Bourdet, Paul Pinaud,
+Peter Fauconnier. As the same old chronicle says: 'Here followeth the
+names of the widow women, and others, members of the same church:'
+Rachel Ebrard, Elizabeth Heurtin, Marie Anne Ablin, Magdalene
+Fauconnier, Anne Bachan, Mary Perot, Susanne Magle Bosset, Mary
+Sergeran, Esther Bouniot, Marquise Boyteul, Martha Brown, Renee Mary
+Rou, Judith Morget, Martha Pentereau, Mary Bargeau, Susanne Boutecon,
+Susanne Ford, Mary Oaks, Mary Ellison, Martha Perot, Esther Masse,
+Elizabeth Tillou.
+
+At this period, a Rey. Mr. Moulinars was the assistant minister of Mr.
+Rou, and united with the party who opposed him, and they also have left
+records of their views, in which they claim to have paid Mr. Rou in
+full, and that then the Consistory could dismiss him when they saw fit.
+'We are not indebted unto Mr. Rou one farthing for all the time he hath
+served us,' is their language, and to their official act are the
+signatures of 'I. I. Moulinars, ministre, John Barheweeld, Louis
+Carreansien, Abraham Gouneau, ans., Fran. Cazalz, ans., Rene Het, ans.,
+January twenty-eighth, 1724.' Still the Council decided in favor of Mr.
+Rou, and were 'of opinion that the said congregation be admonished that
+every person in it do all in his power to preserve peace and unanimity
+in their congregation.' That body also advised 'that the ministers of
+the French congregation who shall officiate next Sunday be ordered to
+read publicly the said opinion and admonition, immediately after divine
+service in the forenoon.'
+
+All these efforts did not produce harmony in the French congregation.
+Moulinars evidently had a restless spirit, and was much opposed to the
+Church of England, at that time the established religion of the New-York
+Colony, and respected by many of the Huguenots. Through his efforts, a
+'meeting-house' was erected for the French refugees at New-Rochelle, and
+its members numbered one hundred persons. One old document (May twelfth,
+1725) records 'that the said Mr. Moulinars has declared (as can be
+proved) that he finds our Church (Episcopal) and that of Rome as like
+one another as two fishes can be ... and one of the chiefest reasons of
+this violence against Mr. Rou has no other ground than his constant
+affection to the Church, and the public approbation he has at all times
+given to its ceremonies and doctrines.' The churchmen also complained
+that Moulinars caused 'great prejudice in general to the Church of
+England, and in particular to that of New-Rochelle, where he would come
+quarterly from New-York, and plead among the people.' New-Rochelle was
+then a parish, and its rector, of course, considered the French preacher
+a dissenter. From the parochial account of the former, the town embraced
+two Quaker families, three Dutch ones, four Lutherans, and several of
+the French; and the Huguenots settling among them in the year 1726,
+gathered a congregation of 'about one hundred persons.'
+
+The Rev. Messrs. Daille and Labord appear early to have served the
+French Protestant Church in New-York; but of the latter we have learned
+nothing. The former had been pastor awhile to the French Protestants in
+Boston. About the year 1690, the Dutch Church Consistory employed Mr.
+Daille to preach to the French in their own language, at New-York, and
+also to conduct the religious services of the pulpit during a part of
+the Lord's day.
+
+In 1763, Jean Carll was the pastor of Du Saint-Esprit, for we discover
+his name, together with Peter Vallade and James Desbrosses, the present
+elders, Daniel Bounet and Charles Jardine, the present deacons of the
+French Protestant Church in the city of New-York, to a petition for a
+charter. Their church property, they state, was purchased agreeable to
+an act of the Legislature in 1703; 'a decent edifice for the public
+worship of Almighty God, according to the usage of the French Protestant
+Churches,' erected; 'and the residue they devoted to the use of the
+cemetery or church-yard for the interment of their dead.' 'Ever since,
+they have maintained a succession of ministers there, who have dispensed
+the ordinances of divine worship in the French tongue.' Besides this
+property, they received the rents of a house and parcel of ground in the
+township of Breucklin, on Nassau Island, near the ferry, and the French
+Church now asked from the legislative authorities a proper charter. With
+honest pride they boast, in their petition, of the most inviolable
+fidelity 'to all those indulgent states and powers who protected them
+from the merciless rage of their Popish persecutors. As your petitioners
+in particular are the descendants of a people who suffered the greatest
+hardships and flew from their native country to preserve the purity of
+the Christian faith and worship.' Eloquent and truthful words. The
+Huguenots were a great blessing to every land where they settled. The
+name of their body politic was 'the Ministers, Elders, and Deacons of
+the Protestant French Church of the City of New-York.'
+
+During the Revolutionary War, New-York became literally a city of
+prisons. The pews of the North Dutch Church in William street were used
+for fuel, and eight hundred American prisoners were incarcerated within
+its old walls, without fuel or bedding, and here many died from cold and
+starvation. The 'Brick Meeting,' in Beekman street, was also used at
+first for a prison, and afterward changed into an hospital. The
+Rose-street Friends' Meeting-house and the Wall-street Presbyterian
+church became hospitals also, and Du Saint-Esprit was made a depot for
+military stores. The Middle Dutch, the present Post-Office, stripped of
+its sacred furniture, was the abode of three thousand American
+prisoners. 'Here,' says John Pintard, himself a most respectable member
+of the Protestant French Church near by, and an eye-witness of the
+disgusting sight, 'the prisoners taken on Long Island and at Fort
+Washington--sick, wounded, and well--were all indiscriminately huddled
+together by hundreds and thousands, large numbers of whom died by
+disease, and many were undoubtedly poisoned by their inhuman attendants,
+for the sake of their watches or silver buckles.' The suffering inmates
+were afterward transferred to other places of confinement, and the
+venerable building turned into a riding-school for the British dragoons.
+Its floor was taken up, the ground covered with tan-bark, and the
+window-sashes removed for this sacrilegious purpose. The French Huguenot
+church remained in its original form one hundred and thirty years, until
+1834, when it was taken down, the grounds sold, and its dead disinterred
+and removed to other resting-places. In their native lands, the ashes of
+the Huguenots would sometimes be dug up, burned, and scattered by
+persecuting hands to the winds of the heavens; but in ours--Protestant
+and more favored--their sainted dust, wherever buried, is watched and
+preserved with pious care and affectionate fidelity. It would be a
+pleasant but an impossible duty to trace the histories of thousands of
+our most excellent New-Yorkers, whose pious ancestors worshiped God in
+the old sanctuary of Du Saint-Esprit, and whose ashes reposed, in
+Christian hope, alongside of its humble and venerable walls. But records
+are scarcely to be found. Still we may love their characters and strive
+to imitate their noble and generous virtues. Hallowed be those precious
+memories!
+
+The remains of many Huguenots repose among the innumerable dead of old
+Trinity church-yard, that vast home of the departed; and where can be
+found their memorials of honor, patriotism, and exalted piety. Here lie
+the ashes of the Rev. Elias Neau, near its northern porch. He was a man
+of more than ordinary eminence; his life useful, beneficial, and
+religious. Mr. Neau was the paternal ancestor of Mrs. Commodore Oliver
+H. Perry, of Rhode-Island.
+
+Previous to his escape from France, he suffered confinement for several
+years in the prisons and galleys, and while in his dungeons, learned by
+heart the liturgy, and became attached to the English Church service.
+When the Rev. Mr. Vesey was rector of Trinity, Mr. Neau was appointed
+catechist of that church. For a number of years, he faithfully
+discharged the duties of this important appointment among the Indians
+and the slaves, of whom some fifteen hundred were catechumens in the
+city of New-York. He could only collect them together on Sunday nights,
+after the last public services; and when properly prepared, would
+present them to Mr. Vesey, for baptism. Mr. Neau may be said to have
+founded the Free School of Trinity, an institution so useful and well
+known among the noble charities of New-York. Its former tablet is still
+preserved among the mementoes of the olden time. This excellent Huguenot
+closed his useful life in 1722, resting from his earthly labors
+alongside of God's holy temple, where he had so long worshiped and'
+served him.
+
+The Rev. Elias Neau, his wife Susannah, and daughter Judith, left
+France, for America, with the Huguenots, about 1685. Judith married a
+Rabineau in New-York, and their only child, Marie, married Daniel
+Ayrault; their issue was six sons and five daughters; and the second
+son, Daniel, married Susannah Eargrass, whose children were Daniel and
+Mary Ayrault. Mary married Benjamin Mason, and their children were two
+sons and two daughters. The eldest son, Benjamin Mason, M.D., was
+educated in England, marrying Margaret Champlin, of Newport, R. I., and
+their issue was three sons and one daughter. This daughter, Elizabeth
+Champlin Mason, became the wife of the patriotic and brave Captain
+Oliver Hazard Perry, of the United States Navy. From this last union
+were four sons and one daughter, Elizabeth Mason Perry. This daughter
+married the Rev. Francis Vinton; and their children, seven sons and
+three daughters, make the _eighth_ generation from their venerable,
+pious Huguenot ancestor; Mr. Vinton himself serving in holy things at
+the same sacred altar of old Trinity, where the Rev. Elias Neau
+worshiped, and after a lapse of one hundred and fifty years. How
+enduring is sacred truth! It will abide forever.
+
+Johannes Delamontagnie was another Huguenot refugee, who reached
+New-Amsterdam in 1773. Governor Kieft appointed him a member of his
+council, then the second office in the colonial government. He purchased
+a farm of two hundred acres at Harlaem, for seven hundred and twenty
+dollars, naming it' Vriedendel', (Valley of Peace.) The land was
+situated East of the Eighth Avenue, between Ninety-third street and the
+Harlem river. His grandson, named Vincent, died in May, 1773, at the
+very advanced age of one hundred and sixteen years. Numerous descendants
+are still among us from this early French Protestant emigrant, although
+some abbreviations have been made in the name.
+
+
+
+
+THE BANE OF OUR COUNTRY.
+
+
+While sharing the Provost-Marshal's office, in Portsmouth, Virginia, I
+was struck with the almost utter absence of cultivation of the
+understanding of the people living there or in the surrounding country,
+who entered to obtain passes, or for other purposes. Scarce one of them
+at first appreciated the nature of an oath, which they all shrank from
+taking, or objected to, when proposed as a condition of obtaining either
+the passes or the protection they wished. They were not merely
+illiterate and untaught, but showed also an extremely low grade of
+reasoning power. There was, indeed, in most cases, but little
+development even of those lower grades of intellectual ability which are
+so frequently seen in simply 'illiterate' persons. They hung back from
+committing themselves, in any way, as friendly to us, though they
+evidently did not feel that hatred or ill-feeling characteristic of the
+bolder secessionist. I afterward saw many more of these people, in
+Norfolk, at our office. With our continued occupancy of the city, and in
+the absence of any aggressive action by our Government, they presented
+themselves more frequently. Among them there was occasionally one who
+avowed himself, without reservation, for the Union. These people are, I
+am confident, the only ones in the rebellious States who are other than
+secessionists. Love of the Union--that which the reader identifies with
+patriotism and nationality--they had not, because this can nowhere be
+found in the rebellious States, except in isolated instances. That they
+remained silent and subdued under the progress of the acts of the
+secessionists, and never raised hand or voice in contradiction to them,
+proves in this class an absence of that force of character, or of that
+moral courage or 'energy' which is the distinguishing attribute of our
+Northern people, even the poorest, and this was also evinced when we
+first occupied the town. It was not peacefulness of disposition which I
+remarked, but the lack first, of _decision of character_, and next, of
+_decision of understanding_ respecting the questions at issue. In
+conversation they could express only very simple notions, nor could I
+promptly elicit more from them. Even their feelings lacked the qualities
+of force and intensity. Yet this class is next to the ruling and leading
+part of the population, which is composed of planters, cotton, tobacco,
+and produce factors' families, professional men, and others, who court
+patronage, including shopkeepers, small manufacturers, and
+money-lenders, and who support in political affairs _their_ own
+_clientele_ of supporters. The latter people constitute the determinedly
+rebellious. It is the first class only, that we can regard as the sole
+support to Unionism which there is in the rebellious States; but in them
+we shall find no moral force or power even when the reign of the leading
+class shall have ceased. These facts, I am aware, are in striking
+contrast to the usual estimation of the courage and daring of the people
+of the South. But the usual estimation is true only of the people who
+have a concert of interest in slavery, and who, whatever their petty
+disagreements may be, concur in their politics. Nowhere, therefore, is
+democracy less actual than in the rebellious States; a ruling and a
+subservient class exists precisely as in England or Austria. To increase
+the latter, comprising the people I first described, is by no means to
+increase the power and extend the domination of the other, but the
+contrary; and undoubtedly the diminution of their number by the
+sacrifice of their lives in the rebellion, is considered by the chief
+managers as desirable, in view of the success of their scheme of polity
+and government.
+
+Accordingly, in enforcing their plan of formally identifying the various
+States with secession--the form being the ordinance of secession--the
+suffrages and sense of this ruled class were ruthlessly unheeded, and
+denied validity.
+
+Hence we say that several of the rebel States did not 'secede,' it being
+true that a majority of the people expressed their aversion to
+rebellion--this majority being, for the occasion, the ruling one, in
+virtue of the principle to which _all_ equally deferred. But it is the
+_will_ of the ruling or aristocratic class in all similar cases, and not
+the forms of law or principle, which accomplishes such changes, whether
+according to the forms of law or in disregard of them. _This class are
+never respecters of principle_, but rule in virtue not of what
+principles empower them to do, as a majority, but of the power of might
+and dominant strength. It is obvious that were they to do the former,
+they would be destitute of any other power than pertained to the whole
+community, they in part, and others equally. Accordingly, they having,
+once for all, in their adhesion to the Constitution, and again on its
+eve, consented to an election, and therefore its issue, when a majority
+of the entire nation elected a representative of the Chicago
+declaration, they reverted to their power of might, and rebelled.
+
+It is, therefore, the subversion of an _un_principled (the term is of
+the strictest accuracy) ruling class, or aristocracy, and the
+obliteration of their peculiar power, that we have to accomplish. This
+power consists wholly of certain peculiar interests as masters. To
+deprive them of these, is the only possible terminus of the question at
+issue. So plain and palpable is the whole question, that we need hardly
+say that their whole scheme of government turns upon and clusters about
+this interest. For the preservation of this interest, which they thought
+touched by the advances of freedom, they rushed into war, and for the
+conservation of their power, they base all upon it.
+
+That the general question of property is at all affected by the
+obliteration of this interest, is an egregious error. The property, the
+possession of which is valid and inviolable, is the product of human
+skill, industry, labor, invention, or what not. Nor does it confer
+political dominance on its possessor. The slaveholders are the only
+class in the nation whose property interest does so; and reciprocally,
+the sole object of the maintenance of this interest is the maintenance
+of this dominant power. Whether it be or be not criminal to possess it,
+is not the point upon which the demand for the abrogation of this
+interest turns--at least, there is no legal precedent to so think of
+it--but it turns upon the fact that it is ruinous to a republican
+system. Not the whole force of republicanism can at once maintain itself
+and conserve and cherish _that_; and _if_ it, to a certain extent
+cherish it, it will do no more than continue the basis of the power of a
+class, who will use it in the only way it can be used, namely, in
+contesting whatever interests, principles, or practices are averse to
+it.
+
+Hence, for more than thirty years not a single widely beneficent measure
+of legislation has been allowed to pass and become operative by the
+representatives of this interest. So the South, the seat of this
+interest, has always been, in its own estimation, 'the South,' despite
+what we have said of a national Union; rendering it impossible that the
+republican patriot could _unite_ in one sentiment that which this
+particular interest _divided_ itself from.
+
+That humanity should dictate the freedom of the slave in the interests
+of morality, is but natural. With this we have nothing to do; but that
+the being of an 'aristocracy based on property' should be excluded from
+the bounds of a republic, is of an importance to it and mankind, not
+second to religion itself.
+
+
+
+
+THE MOLLY O'MOLLY PAPERS.
+
+VII.
+
+The Chinese thief, they say, greases himself and sticks knives in his
+queue, so that it is nest to impossible to catch him. Old Time is about
+as slippery a fellow as a Chinese thief. I don't know that he has a
+queue, and have fancied that when queues were worn, and Time was in the
+fashion, some old fogy, too slow to keep up with him, caught him by his
+queue. Time, who never yet was detained by mortal grasp, pressed on and
+left it behind. Since then he has cultivated only that _ungraspable_
+forelock. Fleet of foot as he is, it is thought that Young America, with
+his telegraphs, will, in the long run--that is, in the race round the
+world--come out 'a leetle ahead' of him. Indeed, Young America talks of
+annihilating Time. But, though he may have 'one foot on land and one on
+sea,' he has no commission to 'swear that time shall be no more.'
+
+We are a fast people--no mistake. Perhaps a little too fast. Did we only
+_anticipate_ Time, and pull down only what, with those sure sappers and
+miners of his, the years, he is certain to overthrow, it would be well
+enough. But we wish to destroy what he has left untouched, or would
+remodel it, would modernize it.
+
+The dear old creed of our fathers; _old_ creed, did I say? Ever _new_
+creed; for what Time passes by, never grows old. This we would change to
+suit ourselves, fancying we have outgrown it; or thinking it, like the
+Spartan iron coin, too cumbersome for general circulation, we would
+change it for lighter, and as we think, more precious metal. We deem
+this the age of gold.
+
+There is a great deal said about our progress toward mental and moral
+perfection. Some seem to think that education is all we need to make us
+perfect moral beings. 'Ignorance is the cause of all evil;' all things
+are as they should be; our minds are as the _camera obscura_, a darkened
+chamber which a few rays enter, and every thing only _appears_ upside
+down. All we need is more light, to see to set every thing straight. It
+is true that we see things in an inverted position; but in this
+prison-house, we shall never have light enough to see them as they are.
+There is a lens that corrects these false impressions, and the light
+that enters through it shows us many things upside down that we before
+saw right side up, and _vice versa_.
+
+Intoxicated with conceit, we fancy that we have but to eat of the tree
+of knowledge to become gods. Some go so far as to say that we are even
+now a part of divinity. 'The universe--it is God;' therefore we, as a
+part of the universe, are a part of God. The universe God? If it is a
+part of God, (which it is not,) it is so small a fraction that in all
+mathematical calculations, it would be called nothing. Were all the
+minds in the universe mingled into one, that one would be but as a drop
+to the ocean that girdles Infinity--God.
+
+You will think me too earnest. The O'Mollys were ever an earnest race
+and an orthodox race. With what earnestness did they, in the good old
+times, from those peculiarly Irish goblets, that wouldn't stand, drink
+Irish whisky, till they partook of the nature of the goblets and came to
+the floor with them--the goblets with a crash, but the O'Mollys got up
+as sound as a bell, and next morning were ready to attend mass, into
+which they entered with as much earnestness as into their revelry. No
+people equal the Irish in earnestness in _spiritual_ matters. It is
+perhaps not for a female O'Molly to record these roysterings; but I am
+the last of my race, I only am left to chronicle the glorious doings of
+my ancestors. Then, too, on our escutcheon is one of these same goblets.
+The origin of this escutcheon it has been a family task to trace, with
+but little success, however, till the present generation, I had a cousin
+who inherited all the family pride. He became a martyr to his devotion
+to the 'time-honored custom;' for alas! good old Irish whisky is as
+certainly among the 'things that were,' as are the Irish kings. Some
+have shrewdly thought that it was the only real Irish king. Well, then,
+it is owing to this cousin's loyalty to the usurper, or rather
+pretender, that I am the family chronicler. He was wonderfully
+ingenious; could from the slightest hint guess at the whole story; he
+was equal to those naturalists who from one bone can make out the
+animal. With the remains of an old family tradition for his clue, he
+traced the origin of the escutcheon. It was on this wise. One of the
+Irish kings, traveling incog., stopped at the castle of an O'Molly, who,
+though he knew not the rank of his guest, entertained him with the
+utmost hospitality. Freely the goblet circulated, and as they two only
+drank from it, it was soon broken. The king, next morning, revealed his
+rank to his host, and dubbed him _Knight of the Goblet_; hence the
+goblet on the shield, an emblem of hospitality. And never has there been
+a stain on the escutcheon of the O'Mollys.
+
+I said they were an orthodox race. Perhaps they were too bigoted in
+their adherence to the old customs and the old faith. But there is too
+much latitudinarianism in this nineteenth century. Too many think it
+matters but little what a man's belief is, if he is only sincere in it;
+as if the consequences of any thing could be averted by not believing in
+it. The hands of your clock may be so turned around that they will point
+to the wrong figures; does that change the time? Or, what amounts to the
+same thing, it may be so ill-regulated, the machinery may be so out of
+gear, that you are deceived. But morning, noon, and night do not
+regulate their face by your clock. There is a dial that unerringly marks
+'the stately stoppings' of the sun of suns--let us regulate our belief
+by it.
+
+Truth is not like the clouds that, it is said, take the form of the
+country over which they pass. It does not change to suit your condition
+or mind, and we can not change it, neither can we dilute it. What is
+not truth is falsehood, and this, as the acid dissolved the pearl which
+Cleopatra dropped into it, will dissolve truth and convert it into its
+own nature.
+
+How little we prize truth, even if we do not thus attempt to dissolve
+it. It lies in our heart unheeded. We are almost as unconscious of it as
+the oyster is of the pearl within his shell.
+
+A friend of mine, having a daughter 'to finish,' looked over
+advertisement after advertisement, till finally her eye lighted on the
+circular of Mrs. Smith's Female Seminary, situated in the quiet and
+salubrious village of----, within a few minutes' walk of three or four
+places of worship.... Great care taken of the health, manners, and
+morals of the pupils.... Exercise insisted on.... Those whose parents
+may wish it, allowed the use of a quiet saddle-horse.... The pupils
+under the immediate supervision of the principal.... They have all the
+comforts of Home, etc., etc. All this, in addition to a thorough course
+of instruction in every thing ever heard of, not forgetting the Use of
+the Globes.... Music on the piano and guitar; there are six pianos in
+the institution.... Drawing, Monochromatic, Grecian, Oriental, etc.,
+etc. Painting in oils and water-colors.... Embroidery, ten different
+kinds.... Terms, $--per annum. Then follows an imposing list of
+references, Reverends, Esquires, and Honorables.
+
+My friend, taken with this, decided that her daughter, Bessie, should go
+to Mrs. Smith's seminary. Accordingly, a short time before the
+commencement of the next term, she accompanied her there; was so pleased
+with Mrs. Smith's bland politeness toward herself, and her affectionate,
+almost matronly manner toward her daughter, that she came away relieved
+of all anxiety on Bessie's account.
+
+I hope I am not 'violating the sanctity of private correspondence,' in
+giving the following letter from Bessie:
+
+     'MY DEAR MOLLY: I received yours last evening, and hasten
+     to reply, though, to answer your numerous questions will take me
+     till after prayers. I shall consequently, as I am not the _model_
+     pupil, get an absence-mark. You inquire as to the advancement I am
+     making in my studies. One thing is certain, I shall not come home
+     the _encyclopedia_ mother expects. I'll not say that this
+     'flourishing institution' is a humbug; but will say that facts and
+     the circular do not exactly tally. A few of the facts I will give,
+     and you can judge for yourself.
+
+     'To begin with the supervision of the bland, portly principal. She
+     enters the school-room makes a few criticisms, asks a blessing at
+     the table; occasionally a misdemeanor is reported to her, when the
+     offender is cited to the august presence, and duly reprimanded, not
+     according to the quality of the offense, but, in an inverse
+     proportion, to the _quality_ of the offender. Her teachers do the
+     mental drudgery of the institution. Their life is about as varied
+     and pleasant as that of a churn-dog; that is, if the dog were kept
+     churning all day. The balancing of accounts with them, and the
+     making out of the bills for the patrons, are certainly 'under the
+     immediate supervision of the principal.' These bills, which fond
+     parents suppose amount to $--, have a rat-like appendage (excuse
+     the expression) of 'incidentals,' that wasn't drawn into the
+     _modest_ 'terms' of the circular. I nearly forgot her Friday
+     afternoon lectures, for which she sometimes substitutes _Hannah
+     More_, and the _Young Ladies' Own Book_. These lectures are as
+     commonplace as expatiations on the importance of cultivating the
+     mind and heart, interspersed with 'hence the necessity,' and
+     'highly essential,' can mate them. Last Friday, as she was
+     enlarging on the advantage of having had our birth in an
+     enlightened, Christian land, Jenny Dean wrote on a slip of paper,
+     and poked it over to me,'not _have_ our _berth_ in a Christian
+     land.' Mrs. Smith saw her, confiscated the paper, and gave her a
+     severe reprimand, for evincing such a disposition to trifle with
+     serious things. Jenny was right; if ours is a Christian berth,
+     commend me to heathendom. Mrs. Smith neglected to mention in her
+     circular the instruction in _entomology_ her pupils receive;
+     probably because they are, as 'the Autocrat' says every traveler
+     is, _self-taught_. I wish she would omit a few lessons in the 'Use
+     of the Globes,' and teach the servants the use of hot water,
+     corrosive sublimate, and roach-poison.
+
+     'I begin to understand why it is called a _finishing_ school. Don't
+     tell mother, or she will have me put in quarantine when I return.
+     But, really, I'm getting quite thin; the demand made on my system
+     being greater than the supply of 'plain wholesome food.' Now, I'm
+     not going to complain of this 'plain wholesome,' though the butter
+     is sometimes strong, the lamb (?) ditto, (see circular in regard to
+     home comforts.) But I wish you would suggest to mother the
+     propriety of sending me another box; the last we finished in short
+     metre. You know this is a _finishing_ school. Only one of the girls
+     of our hall is too mean to _treat_, and she gets _lots of things_
+     from home. Yesterday, she brought a beautiful basket of apples to
+     my room, just to show me how nice they _looked_. I suggested that
+     'the proof of the pudding was in the _eating_.' She was too obtuse
+     to take the hint. It is almost sacrilege to talk so about her; she
+     is Mrs. Smith's _model_ pupil, which, as I before informed you,
+     your humble servant is not. Jenny Dean and I are always getting
+     into trouble. Somehow, we've got a bad name, and our _slightest_
+     misdemeanor is noticed, so we think that we 'might as well be
+     killed for a sheep as a lamb:' in other words, if the camel's back
+     must be broken, it may as well be by a hundred-pound weight as a
+     feather.
+
+     'We have an Italian music-teacher, chiefly noticeable for his
+     length of limb, an exiled nobleman, of course. I hinted to Jenny a
+     doubt as to his nobility. She said, if he didn't belong to 'the
+     Brahmin caste,' he did to the _Bramah cast_, and that was the next
+     thing to it. He has become violently attached to the assistant
+     music-teacher, who is very thin. Now, he has been teaching us to
+     screech 'For Bonnie Annie Laurie.' Jenny persists in calling it,
+     For bony Annie Laurie. The gravity with which he each time corrects
+     her is amusing. Signor _executes_ to the admiration of patrons,
+     etc.; though music on those horrid pianos is rather like music on
+     the rack. Of the six inventoried, (see circular,) two are in the
+     garret, superannuated; two more ought to be; as for the remaining
+     two, on one of them your friend Bessie practices, and it is too
+     great a trial to her nerves to speak of them. You say that you have
+     music in your souls that I must learn to express for you; that you
+     can't turn a tune to save your life; that the attempt is like the
+     attempt to make a curve of straight lines, (you see how I remember
+     all you write or say.) If you were here, you would wish all the
+     melody of the institution _voiceless_, and that it wouldn't ooze
+     out at the finger-ends.
+
+     'As for drawing, (see circular,) this department, to save expense,
+     Mrs. Smith's _accomplished_ daughter has. She teaches crayoning and
+     pencilling--a few learn to daub in water-colors--but this she
+     rather discourages, as colored crayoning is much easier and quite
+     as _showy_--this is the word for everything here. Miss Smith also
+     teaches French--_Anglicized_. It is hardly worth while to mention
+     'the solids,' as these are shoved into a corner to give place to
+     the accomplishments.... As for the exercise--we do, two or three
+     times a week, file down the street, then file back again--are thus
+     exhibited to the admiring gaze of the Esquires, Reverends, and
+     Honorables, (see circular.) The 'quiet saddle-horse' (see circular)
+     is a 'poetic fiction,' a 'pious fraud'--as much a myth as Pegasus
+     himself. Though there is a tradition in the school that, a short
+     time after the founding of the establishment, the late lamented
+     husband of Mrs. Smith, who was fond of equestrian exercise, kept a
+     horse--which a parlor-boarder, niece of Mrs. Smith, was allowed to
+     ride--hence the provision in the circular. One part of it is
+     correct--he doubtless is now a _very_ quiet saddle-horse--that is,
+     if he had not the tenacity of life of the _lamb_ that, judging from
+     the savory odor, we are to have for dinner, ('what's in a name?')
+     Perhaps the 'late lamented' was as fond of his nag as was the man
+     who entertained his guests with his horse in the form of soup.
+     Jenny Dean says that is what she calls true _horse-pitality_.
+
+     'There goes the bell. Don't forget the box. Mrs. Smith--unlike many
+     principals--approves of them--the reason you can guess--the _fact_
+     please mention to mother. In haste,
+
+     BESSIE.'
+
+
+It seems hardly consistent with my regard for the 'dear reader,' to add
+any thing by way of remark on this true school-girl letter. But it is so
+suggestive. How many circulars do tally with facts? Even in those of the
+best schools, that need none of this clap-trap, there is a little
+humbug. But this is rather the fault of the patrons; like Bessie's
+mother, they will hardly look at a plain advertisement. The truth is, we
+love to be humbugged. Among the 'wants of the age' may be classed
+_humbug_.
+
+I have read of a painter with disproportionately short legs, who, in all
+his pictures of human figures--from Moses down to the Mayor, done in
+heroic style--substituted his own legs. Your thorough utilitarian,
+deficient in imagination, his idea of mental symmetry being his own
+mental proportions, thinks no mind well balanced that has not a similar
+deficiency. He is a believer in nothing but the real and the useful--all
+else is stuff and nonsense; to him a mountain is a high elevation of
+land; a plain, a level tract; a forest, so much timber in a green
+state; a cloud, a collection of vapor. He sees in every thing just what
+there is in it and nothing more. Why does any one see more? It has been
+a puzzle to me, the undefinable longing I have sometimes felt in looking
+at a beautiful scene; a feeling akin to this, though lower, is that
+awakened by the fragrance of some flowers--it is so unsatisfactory, you
+wish to _taste_ them. These somethings bring up a shadow of 'shadowy
+recollections,' an echo of an echo of a past so indistinct, so dimly
+distant, that it seems to have been a part of another life.
+
+It may be that all earthly things are but types of spiritual things in a
+future spiritual existence--hence the yearning; or they may be
+expressions of spiritual things in a past spiritual existence--hence the
+'shadowy recollections.' One thing is certain: all beauty and grandeur
+are faint expressions of the ideas of the All-Father; therefore, O
+utilitarian! you do wrong to ask of them: 'What use?' Better cultivate a
+taste for them, and with this taste an earnest desire to look into that
+Mind and read there thoughts of which Mont Blanc and the exquisite
+flowers are but feeble utterances.
+
+How the Great Teacher has lavished on us illustrations of his goodness,
+as if he would in some way make it plain to all, '_what use_.' There
+_must_ be a use in every thing he creates. Every dew-drop that the
+meanest weed has wooed and won from the atmosphere, is as tenderly cared
+for by him, as the stream is that supplies your mill-pond; every briny
+tear on the infant's cheek, as the ocean that bears on its bosom your
+merchant-vessels. What use? Have not some things been made useless--in
+your sense of the term--that they might be preserved from destruction?
+The gorgeous-plumed birds, and brightly-enameled fish of the tropics,
+are unfit for food--so, to your mind, of no use. I wonder if this holds
+good in cannibal countries; if so, it would be no protection to poor
+Molly O'Molly if she were there.
+
+I, too, am a believer in the real and the useful; but to me, the sphere
+of both is almost infinite. Are not the feelings awakened on viewing a
+beautiful sunset, as real as your satisfaction after eating roast-beef?
+Though I acknowledge that no one can thoroughly enjoy the one, who feels
+the need of the other; if then weighed in the scale, the sunset would
+'kick the beam.' All things 'by season seasoned are to their right
+praise and true perfection.' It would, for instance, be rather out of
+place to talk of the beauty of the stars to the houseless wanderer, for
+whom there were no 'cheerful lights of home;' to expatiate on the
+loveliness of the moon to him who must spend the chill night with no
+other covering than her 'silver mantle.'... Moonlight and memory are
+associated together in my mind--reflections of a set sun, wrapping in
+their calm, beautiful light, all things, even the graves of those we
+love.... I have thought that the murmur of the brook was the _voice of
+Silence_. Moonlight expresses to the eye--_silence_.... 'All this
+unreal?' I beg your pardon; I claim for my feelings the same reality
+that you claim for yours. Is only what is gross real? Is not the sky as
+real as the mountain that pierces it? Is there more reality in the chink
+of the dollar than in 'the music of the spheres'? This first is, I
+acknowledge, to me a pleasant sound, though only 'heard at rarest
+intervals.'... Yet I am rather inclined to believe in the reality of
+the music of the spheres; it is too ethereal, too spiritual a music for
+the ear to _sense_ it; the food and drink of the gods, ambrosia and
+nectar, even were we to swallow them, could our mortal palates taste
+them? Even thus may we drink in the music of the spheres, and, strange
+as it may seem, the more _ear_ we have, the less likely we will be to
+hear it.
+
+But--_not_ 'in this connection,' in no connection--the utilitarian also
+thoroughly despises cobweb theories, as he terms them. The world owes
+its greatest achievements to theories--cobwebs they may be. In caves
+have been found books of stone, whose nucleus was but cobweb; along
+these webs the calcareous solution ran, and hardened into stone. A
+cobweb theory has been the thread, on which, drop by drop, as it were,
+experiments have run and hardened into a possibility on which might be
+hung a _steam-boat_.
+
+There goes the night-train. Every morning as the engine with its train
+passes, the dark smoke rushing out of the chimney is touched by the rays
+of the rising sun and made glorious. I doubt not my enjoyment in looking
+at it is as real as that of the heaviest stockholder. Here I 'pitch my
+foot against'--as Paley says in his famous watch-argument--_a
+quotation_.
+
+  'Life is transfigured in the soft and tender
+  Light of love, as a volume dense
+  Of rolling smoke becomes a wreathed splendor
+  In the setting sun.'
+
+But this warm subject of love I avoid as the whale avoids the warm water
+of the Gulf Stream. So I will wheel about--first, one more digression:
+This love, like the Gulf Stream, softens many a climate naturally as
+cold as that of Labrador. I just throw out this hint for the sentimental
+reader to enlarge upon.
+
+That quotation from Alexander Smith reminds me of one other thing, for
+which your utilitarian has a sovereign contempt--that is _poetry_. What
+is poetry? Every thing that stirs the soul to its depths, or but crisps
+the surface, is poetry--every truth does this, therefore every truth is
+poetry. Mind, I don't say _conversely_, etc. There--that word
+'conversely,' suggests to you that now you have me; there is
+mathematical truth, you say; you might as well attempt to raise a tree
+from cube-root as to attempt to make poetry sprout from mathematics....
+Is there no poetry in the marked path of the vessel on the trackless
+ocean--no poetry in the magnificent sweep of suns and worlds through
+space--in the eccentric orbit of the faithful comet--faithful, for from
+the most distant errands he passes right by earth, and even Venus,
+lingers not a moment, but hastens back to his lord--is there no poetry
+in the icing over of the brook, (if you think not, read Lowell's _Sir
+Launfel_,) each icy crystal being an exact geometrical figure? When 'God
+geometrizes,' he also poetizes.
+
+Then if we can't say conversely all poetry is truth, yet poetry gives to
+every thing she touches with her magic wand, the charm of reality. Are
+not Ariel, Puck, Oberon, real characters, though but 'beings of the
+mind'? Shylock and Lady Macbeth are to me as real as John Wesley and
+Hannah More, and far more real than the dimly defined heroes of
+Plutarch, except those that Shakspeare has thrilled with his own
+life-blood--his very ghosts have an awful individuality--they are enough
+to make you believe in ghosts. But hark! what was that--pshaw! it is
+only a screech-owl on the maple near my window--Keats' 'owl, for all his
+feathers, was a-cold,' I should think this was, from his shivering
+notes. Listen again! how old is the dead Time, whose age the distant
+town-clock is tolling? I don't care to count--to tell the truth, that
+owl makes me nervous--and if it is 'the witching time of night,' I don't
+care to know it--so good-night.
+
+In haste, MOLLY O'MOLLY.
+
+
+
+
+WOUNDED
+
+  Up the quiet street in the early Sunday morning, came with slow
+    steps and silently, two wounded soldiers:
+  One with shattered arm and a cruel sabre-cut on his forehead;
+  One with amputated leg, hobbled slowly along on crutches.
+
+  In the thunder-storm and sharp crash of terrible battle, 'mid blood,
+    carnage, and death,
+  Comrades in arms, they fell side by side; one of them senseless, the
+    other feeling his life-blood flowing away...
+  Faintness came over him, breathing the sulphurous smoke, with the
+    tornado of battle stunning his brain--
+  Faintness--forgetfulness. A vision of childhood, of the sweet
+    Heaven-time of life, came to him...
+  He hoped it was death, coming as no king of terrors, but as a
+    beautiful flower-crowned child,
+  Bidding a hero welcome to the great halls of the laurel-wreathed
+    dead--those who died for their country.
+
+  From this dream of the Future came sharp awaking to life; rattling
+    away in the ambulance...
+  Crashing pains shooting wildly from leg to brains--the heart now and
+    then grasped with steel fingers and squeezed...
+  The knife and the tourniquet, the rapid surgical operation: the
+    poor, pale fellow maimed for life.
+
+
+  At home in a hospital kindly nursed and tended, hearing for the
+    first time in life the name of God--not taken in vain: seeing the
+    good DEEDS of true woman...
+  Knowing that should he die he would ask no gentler sounds to cheer
+    him on his road to the Hereafter, than the prayer he once heard
+    read by The Lady in Gray to a dying soldier in the same
+    hospital:... thus passed he back again to life.
+  Now convalescent he walks in the fresh morning up the quiet street,
+    under the leafy shadow of lindens... he and his comrade in battle.
+
+
+  In the faces of both you may see that they know how earnest is
+    life...
+  The Angel of Death on the battle-field raised the veil of the
+    Future: transient the glimpse, but they will never forget it...
+  The Angel of Mercy here in the hospital bound up their wounds,
+    cheering their hearts with kind looks and well-spoken words of
+    true sympathy...
+  Solemnly earnest and beautiful is Life to these two wounded soldiers.
+
+  The lame one is weary, and halts by the steps of a handsome house;
+    his comrade with one arm helps him sit down there, on the lowest
+    step, leaning against the white marble balustrade.
+  Through lace and silk curtains, from drawing-room window, looks down the
+    street a beautiful woman, waiting impatiently carriage, coachman, and
+    footman, to carry her grandly to church.
+  Up comes the carriage; wide open the doors of the house: Madame
+    descends...
+  How is this?... She stops by the two wounded soldiers.
+
+  I have two sons in the army, she thought; what if they were weary and
+   wounded like these?
+  Then she speaks to the comrades in battle, and learning where they were
+    going, insisted on their taking her carriage. She will have no refusal:
+    and now John the footman, inwardly groaning, assists the lame man to
+    enter, then the other one takes a seat...
+  Off they whirl to their hospital-home, with a blessing upon the fair lady
+    who dared follow the teachings of ONE whom that morning she worshiped
+    with words ... and with deeds.
+
+  Open your hands--and your hearts--ye who stand afar off from the battle!
+    Lo! the wounded and dying are here at your doors.
+  Slumber no more; but awake, AWAKE TO THEIR CRIES!
+
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+|Because of the length of the lines, the above piece has|
+|been formatted as in the original.                     |
++-------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+ASTOR AND THE CAPITALISTS OF NEW-YORK.
+
+
+The accumulation of wealth has always been a chief proclivity of our
+race. The earliest of all books (Job) mentions it with sharp reproof, as
+though even then it had become a theme with the moralist. In olden time,
+wealth was even more unreliable than at the present day, especially as
+the mere possession of gold was enough to endanger one's life. The
+modern capitalist avoids this by devolving the custody of his cash on
+some bank and holding its stock instead of a hoard of ingots. The
+science of wealth now takes a more philosophic turn, and may be summed
+up in one word, _debt_. To be rich is simply to have brought the
+community in debt to yourself; and the greater it is, the greater, of
+course, your riches. To be poor is simply to reverse this condition, and
+to be in debt to others. The richest of all mankind may not have on
+hand, in specie, at any one time, more than the amount of a single day's
+income, and may be only able to show for his entire capital sundry
+pieces of paper, representing value. This is a vast improvement upon
+antiquity, since then wealth was identified with the holding of bullion,
+for whose protection an especial deity was invented. By a strange
+coicidence, while Pluto was god of the lower regions, a slight change of
+the name represented his moneyed colleague, and Plutus presided over
+money. This connection is with sober wit hit off by Milton, who sets the
+fallen angels at once to work digging gold.
+
+                 'Soon had his crew
+  Opened into the hills a spacious wound
+  And digged out ribs of gold. Let none admire
+  That riches grow in hell: that soil may best
+  Deserve the precious bane.'
+
+The term 'almighty dollar' is stereotyped in modern slang, and yet the
+idea could not but have existed under other words in the days of those
+flush individuals, Midas and Croesus. The first of these moneyed
+gentlemen found gold too plenty for comfort, while the latter, by his
+unfortunate end, proved that even at that early time riches had learned
+to fly away. Gold entered very largely into the politics of antiquity,
+and by this means Crassus got a partnership in the grand triumvirate of
+which Mark Antony and Octavius formed the more active parties. Poor
+Crassus found, however, that to be a sleeping partner in a concern was
+quite a dangerous position.
+
+The danger in which money involves its possessor, is shown with dramatic
+power by Scott, in his splendid medieval dream, _Ivanhoe_--in the
+torture-scene, where the Jew is racked to obtain his gold. In connection
+with this, it may be noted as a surprising fact that while poverty has
+always been dreaded, it has ever been exempt from one term of peculiar
+wretchedness. With all his privation, who ever heard a poor man
+designated as a _miser_?
+
+Wealth is a matter of comparison. The original term applied by the
+New-England savages to the white was, _knifeman_; the possession of one
+implement making the latter rich in the view of the Indian. What a vast
+investment in wampum would such a weapon be? Carrying out the same
+comparative idea, it is reported as one of John Jacob Astor's sayings:
+'That a man worth fifty thousand dollars is as well off as though he was
+rich.' So strong is this comparative aspect, that the money-hunter finds
+his mark continually receding, and when he has attained his hundred
+thousand, he is appalled by finding himself but a mere beginner compared
+with others. He is but at the foot of the mountain which others have
+climbed, and which towers above him in
+
+  'Many a fiery, many a frozen Alp.'
+
+Hence, there is nothing more clearly proven in the psychology of man
+than that accumulation utterly fails to fulfil the idea attached to
+riches; that is, satiety or even satisfaction, and there is often a
+bitter poverty of soul gnawing the owner of millions. The organic
+thought crops out of great and small alike. It is said that the chief of
+Boston merchants of the olden time, William Gray, when asked what would
+satisfy him, replied, 'A little more;' while the Indian to whom the same
+inquiry was made, replied with aboriginal simplicity: 'All the whisky
+and all the tobacco in the world.' 'Nothing else?' added the inquirer.
+'Yes,' replied the Indian in an anxious tone, 'a little more whisky.'
+The same insatiable craving is shown in poor Isaac K----, the
+half-witted boy, whose droll sayings of a half-century ago are still
+remembered about Boston. 'Father,' he one day exclaimed, 'I wish every
+body was dead but you and me.' 'Why so, my son?' 'Why, then, father, you
+and I would go out and buy all the world.'
+
+The power of gold to inflict pain on its possessor suggests deep
+philosophical inquiry. Even at a superficial view, one can not but be
+struck by the fatal facility which it affords to vice on the one hand,
+while on the other, how many suffer untold distress from the miser's
+self-inflicted poverty? There are multitudes of ruined youth, who, had
+they been bound to labor instead of being reared to a life of affluent
+ease, would have become useful men. Indeed, by merely changing the
+costume of Hogarth's _Rake's Progress_, we may see it enacted by scores
+of young men in any of our leading cities. The writer once knew a
+worn-out debauchee of thirty, who, even at that early age, had got rid
+of an inheritance of a half-million.
+
+The miseries of poverty are severe, and such men as Johnson and De
+Quincey have painted them in colors drawn from their own experience; but
+what scenes vastly more terrible might they not have sketched had they
+held that master-key which unlocks the abodes of pleasure and summons
+the dreadful crew of temptation?
+
+One can not but pity the former of these, as he thinks of his wandering
+the live-long night through the streets of London, unable to buy a
+lodging, and eating each occasional meal, not knowing when he would get
+another. Yet, had as this might have been, how vastly more pitiable
+would his case have been, had he fulfilled the infernal career of some
+of his rich cotemporaries, such as Lord Lyttelton or Lord Euston, whose
+dying horrors Young has so thrillingly described in his _Altamont_.
+Horace, who had so thoroughly studied the philosophy of life, could
+refer to his lowly condition:
+
+  'Saeva paupertas et avitus apto
+  Cum lare fundus:'
+
+and then cite the race reared in poverty as those who saved the
+commonwealth, by defeating Hannibal. His deep-toned objurgations at the
+degeneracy of Rome are brought to mind by the increased dissipation and
+licentiousness of American youth.
+
+Who can read lines like these without thinking of our concert-saloons
+and other facilities of vice? (the former happily suppressed.)
+
+  Damnasa quid non immmuit dies.
+
+The history of capitalists would be interesting, if only as showing this
+single feature, namely, that the secret of great success lies in one's
+placing himself in some channel where the stream must soon flow, and
+thus anticipating the future.
+
+Johnson, in the midst of his cheerless poverty, had some golden dreams,
+was sensible of this fact, and illustrates it in one of those Oriental
+apologues which occur in the _Rambler_, where he shows the tiny rivulet
+gradually filling a lake. With the same idea permeating his mind, he
+exclaims, when Thrale's brewery was to be sold: 'Here are the means of
+wealth beyond the dreams of avarice.'
+
+The history of rich men also proves that it is not so much the art of
+getting as that of keeping which insures success. New-York and other of
+our great cities contain thousands of poor men who, but a few years ago,
+were heavy operators, and whose future seemed brilliant with promise.
+Yet here they are, now struggling for mere bread.
+
+Riches are winged creatures, which break cage with strange facility and
+are not to be whistled back again. The array of agents, brokers,
+book-keepers, and decayed gentlemen who but lately were numbered among
+merchants, bankers, and ship-owners, is quite a moving spectacle. Thus
+A. B----, for thirty years connected with trade, during most of which
+period he was a leading member of the great cloth house of----, has been
+worth two hundred thousand dollars, but is now a book-keeper for a
+concern in John street. I. S---- has been forty years in trade, and was
+considered successful beyond all liability to future risk; and for many
+years ranked among the rich men of the street, but has since failed, and
+is now poor. B---- and M----, princes in the dry-goods line, built two
+palatial stores in Broadway, have been immensely rich, but after
+battling honorably with adverse fortune, have failed. J. R----, a
+retired merchant, estimated at five hundred thousand dollars, holding at
+one time fifty thousand dollars in Delaware and Hudson Canal stock,
+subsequently got involved and lost all. Instances like these might be
+multiplied to volumes, but they are sufficient to illustrate the
+transitory nature of earthly possessions.
+
+The great capitalists of New-York are chiefly identified with its real
+estate, and their wealth has generally arisen from its advance in value.
+Few great fortunes have lasted long, when left to 'the caprices of
+trade, and the sons of our merchant-princes generally turn out poor men.
+The great estates of the city are of a very limited number, and are
+mainly included in the names of Whitney, Goellet, Lorrillard,
+Rhinelander, Stuyvesant, Lenox, and Astor. The first of these was so
+long an _habitue_ of Wall street, Front street, and Coenties Slip, that
+even now, when wandering along those thoroughfares, we almost momently
+expect to meet him. We can not but think that at the next turn we shall
+see that shrunken and diminutive form, that meagre, hungry-looking
+countenance, and that timid, nervous eye, which indicated the fear of
+loss or the dread approach of charity. His office was held for years in
+the second story of a warehouse in Front street, a spot in whose
+vicinity he had passed nearly three-score years. Thither he had come in
+his boyhood, a poor, friendless, New-Jersey lad, had found friends and
+employment, had at last got to be a grocer, and had gradually
+accumulated a large capital, by the closest economy. At this time the
+war of 1812 broke out, and cotton became very low, in consequence of the
+difficulty of shipping it to England. Mr. Whitney had at that time a
+vast amount of outstanding accounts in the Southern States, and his
+debtors were glad to pay him in this depreciated article. We have been
+informed that Jackson's cotton defences of New-Orleans were of his
+property. As neutral ships were permitted to sail between the
+belligerent ports, Mr. Whitney exported large quantities of cotton to
+England, and held the balance of his stock until the close of the war,
+when it advanced enormously. This advance, together with the proceeds of
+his exports, at once made him a millionaire, and the capital thus
+acquired never lost a chance of increase. Giving up the details of
+trade, Mr. Whitney bought large quantities of real estate, on which he
+erected warehouses and obtained a princely rental. In addition to this,
+he dealt more largely in commercial paper than any other man in the city
+and perhaps in the Union. His habits of industry continued, and were a
+theme of remark, as we observed him in his daily walk from his office to
+the great moneyed centre of America, where the price of paper and money
+rates regaled his ears. He was a good judge of paper, and needed no one
+to advise him. He touched nothing but what in commercial parlance is
+termed 'gilt-edged,' and of this he purchased almost daily for thirty
+years. These notes being made payable to the order of the drawers,
+needed no other indorsement, and hence might pass through an hundred
+hands without this fact becoming known. Mr. Whitney's bills receivable
+falling due in Wall street must have been at the rate of thirty thousand
+dollars per day, and his purchases of paper, of course, were at about
+the same rate. Much of this paper brought rates but little better than
+interest, but on others from one to two per cent per month was obtained.
+The secrets of this trade are deep and little understood, and few even
+of the best dealers knew that when their notes had been given for
+invoices of merchandise, they passed almost directly into the hands of a
+few bill-buyers, and that perhaps in Stephen Whitney's portfolio might
+be found almost the whole amount of good paper made in Front or South
+streets. Mr. Kimball's recent work, _Undercurrents_, throws much light
+on this traffic, and exhibits the result of deep study of our mercantile
+system.[4] Mr. Whitney's management of his estate soon brought him up to
+an estimate of ten millions. I used not only to meet him daily at the
+mart, but also attended the same church, (Dr. Alexander's.) He was a
+regular attendant, and a close listener, and I used to marvel how he
+could bear the plain truths that fell upon my ears. Here in the pulpit,
+at least, was one who was no money-worshiper. How well we remember the
+exclamation from that earnest preacher: 'Wealth! in comparison with this
+thing, (religion,) let it not be mentioned!' Whitney was a great admirer
+of plain preaching, though, we believe, he never got into the communion
+of the Church. Both the preacher and his millionaire listener are now
+dead, and the church has been pulled down, and the site is now covered
+by a block of splendid stores. Mr. Whitney's charities were on a very
+limited scale. When the congregation above referred to were building a
+mission-house, he was applied to, to head the subscription, which he
+did with a trifling sum. The gift was refused, and a larger one was
+demanded, as in better keeping with his position. 'Sir,' was his reply,
+'if you go on this way, there will not be a rich man left in the city of
+New-York.' It is also said that on a certain occasion, he was called on
+to aid a political movement with his subscription. 'Sir,' was his reply,
+'I have no money to spare, but I'll come and sit up all night to fold
+ballots for you.'
+
+The Lorrillard estate was chiefly acquired through an immense tobacco
+business which the patriarch of that house started nearly a century ago,
+and which led to the purchase of large landed property. The original
+identity of the name continues, and 'short cut' and 'ladies' twist' are
+still sold under the sign and brand of the Lorrillards. We presume that
+it is the oldest house in America.
+
+The Stuyvesant farm was a vast but unprofitable tract of marshes in the
+eastern part of New-York, but now covered by serried blocks, and among
+the most densely populated portions of the city. Forty years ago, these
+marshes were favorite skating-fields in winter, and here a lad was at
+that time actually drowned by the breaking of the ice. Being out of
+town, the drier portions were converted into an American Tyburn, and
+here the murderer Johnson was hanged. Such were the Stuyvesant meadows,
+whose worthless wastes have been raised to immense value by the growth
+of the city.
+
+Among those of our city capitalists who are more identified with general
+benevolence, the names of Stuart and Lenox are chief. Messrs. Stuart are
+two brothers, who are largely engaged in refining sugars, and who have
+in this business made large sums. The concern originated in a small
+shop, where, some fifty years ago, a Scotchwomen sold candy, with her
+two boys as clerks. Instead of that little candy-shop, there stands on
+the same spot an enormous refinery, whose operations employ hundreds of
+hands, and whose purchases are by cargoes. What would the worthy mother
+say to this transformation of her shop, as by some act of magic? But it
+is the magic of industry and enterprise. The Stuarts use their wealth
+with judicious liberality, and evidently mean that the world shall be
+better for their living in it. Their contributions are large, and their
+opportunities are great, for be it remembered, such men are under
+incessant solicitation. Indeed, there are few things more fatal to one's
+peace than a reputation for liberality, which lays one open to a siege
+of begging faces and an inundation of begging letters, whose demands
+would exhaust all resources. It is our opinion that, avoiding
+ostentation on the one hand and importunity on the other, the Stuarts
+contribute conscientiously to every worthy enterprise, in a proportion
+corresponding to their profits.[5]
+
+The name of Lenox appears among some of the early Scotch emigrants, such
+as the Irvings, Masons, Douglases, Grahams, etc. Robert Lenox became a
+distinguished New-York merchant. His profits were wisely invested in
+land, and this became very valuable. His only son, James, inherited the
+larger portion of this estate, whose increasing value made him a
+millionaire, and in its use, he has exhibited a remarkable benevolence.
+
+We say _exhibited_, for though acting with studied secresy and silence,
+his life has been so full of good works, that they can not be hid. In
+these benefactions, Mr. Lenox exercises close discrimination, and for
+this purpose has for years refused personal applications. This measure,
+indeed, was necessary, in order to escape a perpetual siege, which would
+soon have driven any man distracted. He has been in the habit of
+considering written applications, and of selecting such as seemed worthy
+of his patronage. Mr. Lenox annually disburses an enormous sum in a most
+useful as well as most quiet manner. Indeed, his mansion is one of the
+benevolent institutions of the day, and to all intents and purposes, its
+occupant is but an actuary driven by perpetual duties and working with
+assiduity to fulfil an important trust. He is a thoroughly practical
+man, posted on all the details of business, and, inheriting the peculiar
+abilities and energy of his father, puts them to the best of use.
+
+We may say that the whole purpose of his life is benevolence to all
+classes. Mr. Lenox will pardon us if we allude to his munificent gifts
+toward educational enterprise, and especially to those which enrich the
+institutions of Princeton. He has long been a trustee of Nassau Hall, in
+whose behalf he has expended large sums, and whose gallery is enriched
+with his portrait. The Theological Seminary is also an object of his
+affectionate care. A few years ago, he observed that it needed increased
+accommodation for its growing library. Carrying out a scheme which had
+its inception in this circumstance, he quietly employed an architect to
+draft plans, while at the same time a suitable range grounds was
+obtained, the materials hauled from New-York, and the present noble
+edifice, known as the Lenox Library, erected. That library has been of
+vast assistance to the institution, and not a student visits its
+alcoves, who does not gratefully remember its founder with a sentiment
+like that uttered by Gray in reference to Eton:
+
+  'Where grateful science still adores
+  Her Henry's sacred shade.'
+
+We understand that it has been recently decided to change this structure
+into an oratory, and to build another library, and we presume that in
+this also Mr. Lenox takes the initiative. We have referred to the fact
+that Mr. Lenox only considers written applications, but lest this
+statement should lead to their increase, we would add a word of
+explanation. Their number has already become so large as to create a
+great burden, and the daily task of reading these his begging letters is
+very annoying. Mr. Lenox is greatly overladen, and we advise any one who
+may think of his name as a _dernier resort_, to refrain from adding to
+the labors of an overworked philanthropist. Rest assured, dear reader,
+that Mr. Lenox will do all possible good with his money, and if it fails
+to reach you, it may flow to a more deserving object.
+
+Mr. Lenox is deeply interested in the Free Church of Scotland, and was
+one of its most efficient helpers at the time of its exodus. A
+correspondence between him and De. Chalmers conveyed his benefactions
+through the noblest of instrumentalities, and a portrait of the great
+Scottish theologian graces the mansion of his American friend. It was
+painted by Henry Inman, during his sojourn abroad, and is the finest
+picture of Chalmers we have ever seen. Mr. Lenox is a man of fine taste,
+and finds recreation in gathering rare books, of which he has a valuable
+collection, and he possesses, in addition, a splendid gallery of
+pictures. Among them are two of Turner's landscapes, and we know of no
+others in America.[6] We might say more of this estimable man, but will
+not too soon anticipate the voice of fame. Our statements are made
+mainly to correct some false impressions about one who, with all his
+reticence, is one of the public men of his day, and who fulfills the
+idea of the poet:
+
+  'Do good by stealth and blush to find it fame.'
+
+Such a man was George Douglas, one of the same circle of wealthy
+citizens of Scotch descent, who, though in a pecuniary view, hardly in
+the same rank with Mr. Lenox, was still very rich. Mr. Douglas preserved
+a studied retirement, and passed much of his time on his noble farm, but
+was still active in philanthropy. His estate can not be far from a
+half-million, yet it was used humbly in the service of his race.
+
+  'Though nursed in greatness, and to riches born,
+  Yet in earth's fairest flower he saw the thorn.
+  Beneath the finest linen sackcloth felt,
+  And bound his purple with an iron belt;
+  Lived Heaven's trustee, and lent, and gave away,
+  To God's own heirs who never could repay;
+  And died a rare example to the great,
+  Of lowly virtue in a high estate.'
+
+But among all American capitalists the name of Astor looms up in
+unapproachable solitude, and stands as it has stood for nearly forty
+years.
+
+We may get the better idea of the Astor estate by a comparative view.
+Thus, a man worth one hundred thousand dollars is a rich man; a man
+worth five hundred thousand dollars is a very rich man; a millionaire is
+still more the ideal of wealth. Mr. Astor, then, is, if rightly
+estimated, equal to twenty-five millionaires, or two hundred and fifty
+rich men of the class first mentioned. In the seven hundred thousand
+inhabitants of New-York, there are not more than two hundred men worth
+one hundred thousand dollars; not more than twenty-five of the second;
+not more than ten of the last. Approaching the assessment-roll, we may
+estimate the Astor estate at one thirtieth of the entire city. Thus he
+stands one seven hundred thousandth in the proportion of population, and
+one thirtieth in that of wealth; or in other words, he owns what would
+be a fair proportion for twenty-five thousand of his fellow-citizens.
+The commencement of this estate was, as is well known, by small
+beginnings.
+
+Among the emigrants who landed in New-York about the close of the French
+Revolution, was a rude German, from Baden Baden, whose life in the New
+World was commenced as a laborer. He afterward became a peddler of fancy
+goods, and eventually a dealer in peltries. In 1791 there appeared at
+Number 40 Little Dock street, the unpretending name of John Jacob Astor,
+and here the foundation of his estate was laid. Astor soon took fair
+rank among business men. He was prompt and snug in his dealing, honest
+and straightforward, and beside this, carried great weight of character
+in his countenance. No man could be much with him without being struck
+with his depth of character, and the solidity of his views. At that time
+the fur-trade was brisk along the Mohawk, and the peltries, after
+passing through the hands of frontier dealers, generally found their way
+into Astor's warehouse, in Liberty street. Here they were sorted with
+great care by his own hands, and prepared for foreign markets. An
+octogenarian merchant informed me that, calling once at Mr. Astor's
+store, he found him in an upper loft clad in a long, coarse wrapper, and
+engaged among his furs. 'I shall get for that,' said he, holding up the
+skin of a splendid silver fox, 'forty dollars, in St. Petersburg.' It
+probably cost him less than five dollars. Astor had no sooner gained a
+position as a thrifty trader, than he took a higher step by induction
+into Free-Masonry. We say a higher step, not with a view of glorifying
+this institution, but because at that time it was exceedingly popular
+and aristocratic, and gave tone to citizenship. Among the leading
+Free-Masons of New-York were Peter Irving and his brother William,
+Martin Hoffman, the founder of the great auction business, and father of
+the late L. M. Hoffman. Moving among these magnates, John Jacob Astor
+became Grand Treasurer. Mr. Astor had a brother of the same thrifty
+turn, though not so successful in acquiring wealth. He was a butcher by
+trade, and slaughtered himself into a pittance of one hundred thousand
+dollars, which, as he died early, he bequeathed to William B., his
+nephew. 'To him that hath shall be given.' Mr. Astor's oldest son is
+said to have been a very promising lad, but his brain became injured by
+a fall, and he soon fell into a state of derangement. A private asylum
+was arranged for his use years ago, and this, with its grounds, covers
+an entire block in the western part of the city.
+
+Mr. Astor's profits rolled in upon him at a rate which no one could have
+dreamed of, and he kept their amount a secret until he had so penetrated
+the frontier by his agencies that he controlled the whole trade, when he
+occasionally acknowledged a degree of wealth which astonished those who
+heard. For instance, we may state this fact in illustration: He had
+occasion at a certain time to use a large amount of cash, and what was
+very rare with him, applied to his bank for a heavy discount. The
+unusual circumstance and the sum demanded startled the cashier, who in a
+plain, business way, put the question: 'Mr. Astor, how much do you
+consider yourself worth?' '_Not less than a million_,' was the reply. _A
+million_! the cashier was overwhelmed. He supposed that he knew all his
+customers, and had rated Astor at hardly more than one tenth of that
+sum.
+
+Mr. Astor commenced at an early day to buy real estate, and the habit
+grew upon him until it became a passion. He was for years a leading
+character at sheriff and other land sales, and it was the commonest
+thing at such places to hear the closing words of the auctioneer: 'Last
+call--going, going--gone--to John Jacob Astor.' At that time many large
+estates were broken up, and among others, that of Aaron Burr was put
+into the market, and speedily became the property of Mr. Astor. It
+embraced a small suburban principality, whose mansion, 'Richmond Hill,'
+was Burr's country-seat. The whole property is now in the heart of the
+city and is worth millions, where once it brought thousands. Mr. Astor
+boldly bought those wild lands, including swamps, rocky knolls, and
+barren commons, which lay at waste from Canal street onward to
+Bloomingdale, and while others affected to laugh at his judgment, the
+correctness of that judgment is now quite apparent. A case similar in
+character is that of the late eccentric Jonathan Hunt. This man, who had
+accumulated a vast fortune South, was quite noted, a few years ago, for
+his dashing land purchases in New-York, and his relatives actually
+served on him a warrant _de lunatico inquirendo_, with a view of
+preventing him from wasting his estate. Subsequently, however, it turned
+out that these incessant purchases which had made him a leading man at
+the Merchants' Exchange, and an object of distrust to his family, were
+splendid operations. Poor Hunt's bid was subsequently refused by the
+auctioneers, on the score of insanity, while the lots he bought on
+Madison avenue and elsewhere, were, in fact, as speculations, superior
+to the operations of the most sagacious speculators.
+
+Astor's boldness increased with years. He bought government loans at a
+time when other capitalists shrunk, and the price had run down to the
+lowest mark. He bought claims against old estates--one of which paid an
+enormous profit, and would have been accounted a splendid fortune of
+itself--while the gradual increase of the city brought his waste lands
+into demand; and the opening of the Erie Canal may be said to have at
+one stroke added a million of dollars to the value of his estate.
+Whatever was bought was held with determined grasp, however small the
+prospect of advance. For instance, a friend of ours (now dead)
+purchased, in company with Mr. Astor, two lots on Broadway, of which
+they took separate deeds, and held for an advance. Year after year
+passed by, but no advance appeared, while assessments were continually
+made for city improvement. At the end of this period our friend called
+on Mr. Astor and stated that he was weary of such long delay in getting
+return for his investment, and asked him if he would not take the lot
+and give him its simple cost. Mr. Astor calmly acceded to the proposal.
+Had our friend held the same views as the great land operator, he would
+have realized a fortune from this single lot, since what then cost one
+thousand dollars is now worth fifty thousand dollars.
+
+The Napoleonic character of Mr. Astor's mind is shown by the great
+commercial schemes which shared the claims of real estate. He was
+extending the ramifications of his trade through the North-west
+wilderness and competing with the Hudson Bay Company for the peltry
+taken by the numerous tribes of savages, while at the same time a vast
+export trade was carried on with Europe, and also with China, whence he
+brought teas in exchange for furs. It was this broad ambition which
+prompted the grand scheme of a new station at the mouth of the Columbia.
+And this scheme, though it failed, was not without great national
+results. Its misfortunes were chronicled by the pen of Irving, and in
+his pages the story of the crew murdered, and the ship plundered and
+burned, was recorded among the tragedies of commerce.
+
+Mr. Astor lived to old age, and his life was one of few changes. From
+his humble shop in Little Dock street (now Water street near Coenties
+Slip) he removed his place of business to Liberty street, (Number 71,)
+and subsequently to Broadway. His longest place of abode was Number 223
+Broadway, now a part of the site of the Astor House, whence, after a
+residence in Hoboken, he removed up-town to a block in Broadway near
+Prince street. Here he remained until death, but he lived long enough to
+see the progress of the city covering his lands with dwellings, and
+bequeathed to his son the largest estate in America. Mr. Astor had a
+literary taste, and was fond of book-men. He gave Fitz-Green Halleck a
+snug and profitable clerkship, and on the death of the capitalist,
+William B. Astor presented to the poet the sum of ten thousand dollars.
+Mr. Astor also sought the acquaintance of Washington Irving on the
+return of that distinguished gentleman from Europe, and it was at his
+especial request that the _Astoria_ was written. The friendship between
+these two distinguished men continued until death, when it was found
+that Mr. Irving had been appointed one of the executors of the will. The
+fees connected with this office could not have been less than one
+hundred thousand dollars, and the executors (six in number) at one time
+received ten thousand dollars apiece.
+
+Mr. Astor's project of the library was conceived long before his death,
+and he had Dr. Cogswell for several years engaged in the collection of
+books for this purpose. The full provisions, however, were not known
+until the reading of the will developed the plan and funds. The plan was
+not carried out in detail, but was left to the judgment of the trustees,
+who modified it considerably, making an institution for reference
+instead of a mere circulating library.
+
+To the original bequest Mr. William B. Astor has since added a large
+conveyance of real estate, and the institution is nearly double its
+original size. Speaking of Mr. William B. Astor, we may be led to a few
+references of a personal nature. As the ordinary street-passenger is
+traversing Prince street, he is not likely to be struck by any of its
+surroundings. The street itself is but of third-rate character, and the
+houses are but of a common stamp. Near Broadway, however, one may notice
+a small brick office, neatly built, of one story, with gable to the
+street, but with doors and windows closed, and the whole appearance one
+of security. Near the door may be seen a little sign which reads thus:
+'Entrance next door: office hours from nine to three.' The next door, to
+which we are referred, is a plain three-story brick dwelling, with no
+name on the door, and might be taken for the residence of some
+well-to-do old-fashioned family. Hence one is quite startled to find
+that this is the headquarters of the chief capitalist of America.
+Entering the street-door, one will find himself in a small vestibule,
+neatly floored with checkered oil-cloth, and opening a door on his left,
+he will enter a well-lighted front-room, destitute of any furniture but
+a counting-house desk and a few chairs. At this desk stands an
+accountant (or perhaps two) working at a set of books, and evidently
+enjoying an easy berth. He will answer all ordinary inquiries, will do
+the duty of refusing charitable demands, and will attend to any thing in
+the ordinary run of business; but if one has any thing special on hand,
+he will point to a door opening into a rear office. This apartment is of
+moderate size and of simple furniture. On the table are a few books, and
+on opening one of them, which appears well thumbed, it will be found to
+contain maps of plots of city property, carefully and elegantly
+executed, and embracing the boundaries of an enormous estate. Seated by
+the table may generally be seen a stout-built man with large and
+unattractive features, and upon the whole an ordinary face. He is
+plainly dressed, and has a somewhat care-worn look, and appears to be
+fifty or sixty years of age. One naturally feels (that is, if he be a
+poor man) that it is quite a rare thing to address a capitalist, and
+especially when that capitalist is the representative, say of
+twenty-five millions of dollars. Such, at least, was our experience at
+our first interview with William B. Astor.
+
+Mr. Astor occupies an imposing mansion in Lafayette Place, and
+immediately adjoining is the magnificent library to which we have
+referred, and which should commemorate the name of the son as well as
+that of the father. At this house he spends that small portion of his
+time which is not occupied by his duties in Prince street, where he does
+a full day's work (Sundays excepted) every day in the week. Thus the
+daily routine of the richest man in America is a walk to and from home,
+of a half-mile or so, and close attention to business.
+
+The care of Mr. Astor's estate is a vast burden. His tenements of all
+grades number several hundreds, ranging from the dwelling at three
+hundred dollars per annum to the magnificent warehouse or hotel at
+thirty thousand dollars. To relieve himself from the more vexatious
+features of his business, he has committed his real estate collections
+to an agent who does the work well, and who is, no doubt, largely paid.
+He, with his clerks, collects rents, and makes returns of a rent-roll,
+whose very recital would be wearisome. As a matter of course, such a man
+must employ a small army of painters, carpenters, and other mechanics,
+in order to keep up suitable repairs. As Mr. Astor pays no insurance,
+the work of rebuilding after fires is in itself a large item.
+
+A large part of Mr. Astor's property consists of vacant lots, which are
+in continual demand, and which he generally prefers to hold rather than
+sell; hence he is much employed with architects and master-builders, and
+always has several blocks in course of erection. This is a very heavy
+burden, and were it not for the help derived from his family, would, we
+believe, crush him. However, his son, John Jacob, is quite a business
+man, and bears his share of the load. This young gentleman has shown his
+patriotism by serving in the army for the Union, in which he bears an
+important commission. In addition to this, Mr. Astor has the aid of a
+gentleman of business character and habits, once a member of one of the
+largest shipping houses in the city, who has become connected with the
+family by marriage. The labors of all these parties would not be more
+than adequate to the task of collecting interest on bonds, looking after
+dividends, etc., since that little fire-proof office in Prince street
+contains several millions of Government and State securities.
+
+In order to give something like an estimate of the immense income
+rolling in upon this family, we must commence with the fact that two
+dollars per day is considered fair wages for working men; that the man
+who makes five dollars per day all the year round may be considered very
+fortunate; that ten dollars per day is attained by that few who are more
+favored and gifted, and whose proportion to the mass is about one to a
+thousand. Starting from this estimate, we may be better prepared to rate
+Mr. Astor's position by comparing any of the above sums with six
+thousand dollars, which is said to be his daily income. Bless me! one
+can not but exclaim; here Croesus himself might die with envy. Yet we
+reply, after a moment's pause, let no one envy the man of gold. It is
+said that when John Jacob Astor was once congratulated by a certain
+person for his wealth, he replied by pointing to his pile of bonds, and
+maps of property, at the same time inquiring: 'Would you like to manage
+these matters for your board and clothes?' The man demurred to the idea.
+'Sir,' continued the rich man, '_it is all that I get_!' Hence, thinking
+on these things, we have never envied Mr. Astor, and would not bear the
+burden of his wealth for all its glory. It is not the possession but the
+use of money, which affords enjoyment, and this is a secret which the
+rich seldom learn. Alas! among the annals of moneyed men, how seldom do
+we meet a Stuart or a Lenox--men who have learned what Goldsmith calls
+'the luxury of doing good.'
+
+It is one of the peculiar misfortunes of the rich, to be subject to the
+attentions of parasites and flatterers, and hence they can not possess
+that same certainty of the value of friendship enjoyed by the poor. The
+latter of these classes know that when a kind act is done to them, it
+comes from a pure motive; the other seldom can be sure that it is not
+from selfish ends. To illustrate the idea which wealth suggests, as to
+the motive of friendly visitors, we may state that among Mr. Astor's
+class-mates in Columbia College was a young man who became a preacher.
+The students separated--the one to handle millions, and to touch the
+springs of the money-market, and become the colossus of wealth; the
+other to his flock, as a poor domestic missionary, whose history was
+indeed a 'shady side.' The latter struggled on through thick and thin,
+and never in all his privations thought of sending a begging-letter to
+his old class-mate. But being once upon a time in New-York, he yielded
+to the inclination to make him a visit. Mr. Astor received him
+courteously, and the two conversed on the scenes of their early days. As
+the pastor arose to depart, an idea struck the capitalist's heart, which
+we mention to his credit. '_Can I do any thing for you_?' he inquired.
+He had, in fact, misconceived the object of the visit, and supposed that
+under the guise of a friendly call, lurked an inclination to beg, which
+fear of refusal had suppressed. The poor clergyman at once perceived the
+drift of the question. Nothing could have been farther from his mind,
+and blushing at the thought, he acknowledged the suggestion with an
+expression of gratitude, and retired.
+
+Perhaps a view of the unrest of the human heart appears most terrible
+when contrasted with the almost fabulous heaps of surrounding wealth,
+and one is thus led to the conclusion arrived at by Goldsmith:
+
+  'Vain, very vain, my weary search to find
+  That bliss which only centres in the mind;
+  With secret course which no loud streams annoy,
+  Glides the smooth current of domestic joy;
+  Still to ourselves in every place consigned,
+  Our own felicity we make or find.'
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 4: _Undercurrents_ is not a romance, and although its author
+calls it a 'Romance of business,' it is a life-like presentation of the
+deep things of trade, a series of dramatic scenes, holding the mirror up
+to a terrible reality. The characters are no fictions; they exist, they
+labor, they suffer daily, and will continue to do so, go long as the
+present system obtains, Mr. Kimball boldly lays bare the secret disease,
+like a demonstrator of anatomy. He is the only author who has succeeded
+in this department of literature, and here he shows himself a master.]
+
+[Footnote 5: Since writing the above, we have heard of that masterpiece
+of munificence, the gift of fifty thousand dollars to the Theological
+Seminary of Princeton by the Messrs. Stuart.]
+
+[Footnote 6: Calling on Church lately, we found him finishing his
+Cotopaxi for Mr. Lenox. Price, six thousand dollars.]
+
+
+
+
+THUNDER ALL ROUND!
+
+  'When it once begins to thunder,
+  You will hear it all around!'
+  And we waited--till in wonder
+  Soon we heard the awful sound:
+  Crashing cannon, rifle-rattle,
+  Bowing many a traitor-head:
+  On, McClellan, with the battle!
+  Strike the Typhon-serpent dead!
+
+
+
+
+WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?
+
+    'Do but grasp into the thick of human life! Every one _lives_ it--to
+    not many is it _known;_ and seize it where you will, it is
+    interesting.'--_Goethe_.
+
+    'SUCCESSFUL.--Terminating in accomplishing what is wished
+    or intended.'--_Webster's Dictionary_.
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+SOME ACCOUNT OF JOEL BURNS OF BURNSVILLE
+
+You will find, as you travel through the country, but few very poor
+people in New-England. Rarely are the 'selectmen' called to act either
+on applications for admission as one of the 'town's poor,' or to 'bind
+out' a boy or girl till one-and-twenty.
+
+One evening--it was the close of a cold, raw day in the latter part of
+November--the stage deposited a woman, and a lad perhaps twelve years
+old, at the village tavern in Sudbury. She was intending to ride all
+night; indeed, she had paid her 'fare' through to New-Haven, but, seized
+with sudden illness, she was compelled to stop. Her malady proved to be
+typhus fever. The doctor was summoned, who subjected his patient to the
+terrific treatment then in vogue for that disorder, and in due course
+she died. It turned out on inquiry, that the woman, whose name was
+Burns, was on her way to a married sister's in Pennsylvania; further,
+that she was a widow, the lad her only child, and the sister in
+Pennsylvania the only near relation she had in the world. This sister
+was by no means in affluent circumstances, but she could offer a home to
+'Sarah,' which the latter was glad to accept. After disposing of the
+trifling articles unsuitable to carry with her, she had barely money
+enough to defray the expenses of herself and 'Joel' to their new abode.
+The poor woman's journey was interrupted, as we have explained, at
+Sudbury, and a new direction given to it. She departed for 'the
+undiscovered country,' leaving little Joel to cry himself asleep; for
+the time quite heart-broken, and desolate enough.
+
+There was not time to write to the married sister; so the selectmen,
+after ascertaining what money still remained in the purse of the
+deceased, undertook the burial. They ordered a cheap pine coffin,
+scantily 'stained.' It cost but a quarter of a dollar to dig the grave,
+and old Sally agreed to 'lay the woman out' for the comfortable dress
+she wore on arriving at the inn. Of the three selectmen of Sudbury, two
+were from the east part of the town--thrifty, hard-working farmers; the
+third was a Mr. Bellows, a popular store-keeper of the village. The
+latter had not interfered with the action of his colleagues, because he
+himself was very busy, and they, having very little to do at that
+season, were pleased with the excitement the affair afforded them. But
+passing the inn the morning Mrs. Burns was to be buried, Mr. Bellows
+stepped in a moment at the request of the landlord, who was a
+kind-hearted fellow, and did not feel quite satisfied with the
+arrangements. Ascending to the chamber, he saw a sad but
+handsome-looking boy standing over a rudely constructed coffin, a
+picture of sorrow and despair. The little fellow had witnessed the
+action of the coarse-hearted men who took the direction of the funeral.
+He heard their private discussion as to the 'cost of burying the woman.'
+He was a witness to their haggling with Aunt Sally about laying her out.
+He could hear various propositions as to what was to be done with _him_.
+He saw his mother hurriedly draped for the coffin and placed inside of
+it. He did not sob nor cry; a dreadful reality had so overcome him, that
+he lost the power of doing either. Once or twice, when every body had
+left the room, he had stolen softly up and kissed the face of the
+corpse, and some tears would then roll down his cheeks. It was at such a
+time that Mr. Bellows entered, and his heart smote him that he had not
+sooner looked in. He spoke kindly to Joel, which seemed to loose the
+flood-gates of his grief, and for a time he continued to cry in the most
+piteous manner. Mr. Bellows soon decided what to do. His own family was
+small; he had a wife and one child--a little girl nine years old. He
+took Joel in his lap, told him not to cry--that he should go home with
+him, and be _his_ boy. The tone in which this was uttered had more
+effect to soothe the lad than what was said to him. After a few minutes,
+Joel was persuaded to leave the room and to accompany his new friend to
+the house. Mr. Bellows then called on his minister, and requested him to
+perform the funeral rites at the grave; for so little interest had been
+shown in the fate of the strange woman, that her illness had not even
+been communicated to the clergyman, and the selectmen did not think it
+'worth while to have any funeral'! Mr. Bellows hurried hack to the inn.
+The coffin was placed in a wagon. It was followed by the clergyman and
+Mr. Bellows, the two other selectmen, the landlord of the inn, and his
+wife. The burying-ground was soon reached, a short prayer made, and the
+company dispersed, leaving the man to fill up the grave according to
+contract. Mr. Bellows and his two associates returned to the tavern
+together, in order, as the latter expressed it, to settle up the
+business. Going into the sitting-room, and taking seats around a small
+table, one of them opened the subject in a serious and important tone,
+indicative of the weight of responsibility he felt was resting on his
+shoulders, by asking what was to be done with the boy.
+
+'What do you think best to do with him?' said Mr. Bellows.
+
+'Well, I suppose there is room in the town-house. There is nobody there
+now but Aunt Lois and foolish Tom, and we can probably bind him out next
+spring.'
+
+'I don't think we have a right to charge the town with the expense,'
+said selectman number two. 'We know where the boy came from; the best
+way is to send him back to Granby.'
+
+'He has got an aunt,' said the other; 'hadn't we better write to her?'
+
+'Gentlemen,' said Mr. Bellows, 'I will cut this matter short. I will
+take the lad myself. You shall bind him out to me in the regular way. I
+do not think you need fear any interference from the town of Granby. As
+to his aunt, I propose first to write and get her consent. If she
+prefers to take the boy, why, she will send for him.'
+
+This question disposed of, the spokesman next proposed to go into the
+accounts; which meant his own and his neighbor's charge for time and
+personal expenses twice from East-Sudbury with horse and wagon. They
+thought six dollars about right.
+
+'How do you propose to be paid?' quoth Mr. Bellows.
+
+'Twenty dollars and seventy-two cents was in their possession, taken
+from the pocket of the woman after she died.'
+
+'And how did you dare interfere with property of any kind,' exclaimed
+Mr. Bellows, his smothered indignation bursting forth, 'without
+consulting with me? Don't you know the landlord has the first claim on
+every thing till his bill is paid? Don't you know, too, you are simply
+doing the town business, and if you have any claim, the town must pay
+you for it?'
+
+Well, that is so, I guess,' said the third. 'It _is_ agin the town. I'll
+take my chances, for one--had rather settle it that way, any how.'
+
+The result of the conference was, that the whole business, including the
+twenty dollars and seventy-two cents, was handed over to Mr. Bellows,
+leaving his colleagues to make out and collect their bill at leisure.
+Joel's aunt was written to, and freely gave her consent that the boy
+should go with his new friend. The latter promptly paid the bill at the
+inn, and the doctor for his services, and soon after paid his colleagues
+what they claimed, lest it might in the future be a subject of comment
+when Joel grew up.
+
+He was a good man, this Mr. Bellows; not specially refined in manner,
+but possessing a delicacy of character and a lively sensibility which
+placed him among the ranks of nature's noblemen. He had been fortunate
+in business, and owned the principal store in the place, where he
+exercised a decided influence.
+
+Little Joel gave promise of not disappointing his patron's expectations.
+In fact, he was a child of most engaging manners. His features were not
+regular, nor indeed handsome; but he had bright black eyes, a fine
+complexion, and an open, ingenuous countenance. He was treated by Mr.
+Bellows as considerately as if he were his own son. To be sure, Joel had
+some unpleasant scenes to pass through. As nothing is ever lost sight of
+in a small country village, the story of how he came to be living with
+Mr. Bellows was not forgotten. At school, occasionally, one of the boys
+would, on some slight provocation, point at him and call him 'Bellows's
+nigger,' or make faces and cry 'charity boy,' 'town's poor.' Now,
+fortunately, Joel had a happy, joyous nature--somewhat fiery and
+irascible, but still joyous--else he might have become morbidly
+miserable. As it was, these manifestations only provoked his anger, and
+led him forthwith into a rough-and-tumble fight, in which, whether
+victor or not, he always showed unquestionable pluck. If he came off
+second-best a dozen times, he went confidently into the thirteenth
+trial, brave as Bruce, and equally successful. At length the voice of
+gossip was hushed. Joel became the most popular lad in the village.
+Every body liked him, and what is better, he deserved it.
+
+But the evil days came at last to good Mr. Bellows--came after years of
+happy, moderate, unclouded prosperity. First his wife died. This was
+when Joel was twenty years old, and Ellen Bellows seventeen. The illness
+was short, and the daughter was summoned from boarding-school in time
+only to attend her mother's funeral. Mr. Bellows, after that, as every
+body said, was an altered man. He could not bring his mind to business.
+Some people thought at times he acted strangely, by which they meant he
+was a little out of his head. Still, his affairs could not suffer while
+such a young man as Joel Burns was about. The fact is, in some things
+matters were even better managed than before. But great mistakes were
+made in the purchase of goods, which Mr. Bellows continued to attend to,
+and which Joel had too much respect for his benefactor to criticise. The
+succeeding year, speculation in wool ran high. Mr. Bellows was anxious
+to go into it. Joel took the freedom of begging him not to do so. The
+latter appeared to be persuaded; but he did what was worse than engaging
+actively in purchases, for then he would have had Joel's tact and energy
+to aid him. He lent his name to an acquaintance, for a very large
+amount, who was to go extensively into the scheme with him and divide
+the profits. The result was disastrous. Wool fell rapidly. An attempt
+was made to borrow money on it and hold it over to the next
+season--worse and worse; Mr. Bellows was ruined.
+
+One morning, very early, several attachments were levied on his goods,
+and the store was shut up. One of the officers next proceeded to the
+house and took possession there, so that Mr. Bellows was now tied hand
+and foot.
+
+I suppose few of my readers can appreciate what it is for a man to 'fail
+up' in the country. In our large cities, it is regarded, to be sure, as
+a misfortune, but one to which every merchant is exposed; and the usual
+course is to propose a compromise, obtain a release, and set cheerfully
+to work again, with loss of property, doubtless, but _not_ with any
+damage to reputation. But in the country, failure is regarded as a
+disgrace, and a 'failed man' is looked and pointed at something as a
+felon would be.
+
+When Joel Burns awoke in the morning and found every thing in the hands
+of the sheriff, he was astounded, for Mr. Bellows had not told him a
+word about his last year's operations. He perceived the amounts were
+larger than could ever be realized. He took in the whole situation at a
+glance. He hastened to consult with Mr. Bellows, but he was listened to
+with entire apathy. The merchant would say but little, and that was so
+incoherent and unintelligible, it was evident he was laboring under
+mental aberration. He continued moody through the day, and the next
+morning was found dead in his bed. He had severed an artery.
+
+At this time Joel was in his twenty-second year. Already displaying
+extraordinary capacity in affairs, this event served to call out all his
+resources.
+
+I ought to have mentioned, before this, what every body will guess, that
+Joel was desperately in love with Ellen Bellows, without, however,
+giving her the least reason to believe so, beyond that silent,
+unobtrusive devotion which girls, after all, are not very apt to
+mistake. Joel felt that in his situation he had no right to attempt to
+win Ellen's affection; but he unconsciously took the very best way to
+win it. In his intercourse with her he was reserved, almost formal, and,
+I may say, apparently indifferent. Ellen, when she came home from school
+to spend her vacations, used to feel a good deal piqued that Joel was
+not more demonstrative in his welcome. I can not believe she did not
+comprehend pretty well how Joel really felt; but his manner annoyed her,
+nevertheless. For example, he would frequently step aside and permit
+another to wait on Miss Bellows, when Miss Bellows would much prefer
+Joel had not been so accommodating. In fact, she was vexed with him half
+the time for what she called his stupidity, and half the time tantalized
+by his 'studious reserve.' Meanwhile, Joel pursued his career of
+self-martyrdom, honest and true-hearted.
+
+Now the scene had changed, and Joel was no longer the diffident youth,
+but a man, competent and energetic. He took the direction of every
+thing; nothing was overlooked. Of course the relatives were sent for. It
+was the old story: they had paid great respect to their rich cousin, but
+they did not seem to care much for the memory of the broken-down
+insolvent.
+
+The day of the funeral arrived--a dreary November day. It was just
+eleven years from the day Joel's mother was buried and he himself taken
+to the house of Mr. Bellows. Joel did not forget it, and it gave
+additional strength to carry out what devolved on him. There was a very
+large attendance at the house. The circumstances of the failure and
+subsequent suicide, the situation of the only daughter, and the many
+petty incidents which were now the town talk, excited the curiosity of
+the good people, and there was an opportunity to gratify it by attending
+the funeral. They wanted to see how the corpse would look. They were
+crazy to know how Ellen Bellows would appear, and what Joel Burns would
+do. So the house was thronged. After all, there was not much to satisfy
+their curiosity. The corpse was not exposed; Ellen Bellows, contrary to
+all custom in New-England, remained in her chamber, for which, as you
+may believe, she was pretty thoroughly picked to pieces; and Joel Burns
+sat quietly, with sad but tranquil countenance, among the mourners.
+
+The next day Joel called Ellen aside and asked her whether she was not
+going home with her aunt.
+
+'Am I not to stay here?' she said.
+
+Joel could not explain to her just then the absolute ruin which stared
+her in the face. He simply answered: 'No, Ellen, you must go away for a
+few weeks. There is much to do, and for a time you had better be
+absent.'
+
+'Very well, Joel, if you advise it. I have nobody else to advise me,'
+and she burst into tears.
+
+Joel remained calm. He had previously made up his mind just what to do,
+and he brought all the energy of his nature to sustain him. His composed
+air helped to restore Ellen--she tried to be as calm as he.
+
+'But aunt, since she came, has not invited me return with her,' she
+said.
+
+'Oh! but she will, I am sure,' replied Joel, and he went out rather
+abruptly; for here was an obstacle to his plan which did not occur to
+him before. He proceeded at once to the aunt, and found her preparing to
+leave that afternoon.
+
+'You will take Ellen with you, I suppose?' he said.
+
+'I am sure I had not thought of doing it. You know all the children are
+home, and really we have no room at present.'
+
+Two weeks previous she had written a pressing invitation to Ellen to
+come at this particular time. Joel bluntly reminded her of it.
+
+'Yes, but circumstances alter cases. The fact is, I can't afford to
+maintain the girl, and I don't think I had better begin; and that's the
+English of it, Joel, if you force me to say so. You know very well there
+won't be a cent left.'
+
+'I think I know more about that than you do,' replied Joel, with an air
+which would have done credit to a _diplomat_, 'and, I assure you, Ellen
+will _not_ be left penniless; and if you will insist on her going with
+you for a short time--mind, I say _insist_--I promise before long to
+make certain disclosures which will satisfy you as to my assertion. But
+she must not be here while they are settling up. You understand.'
+
+The old lady did not understand, but Joel carried his point by the aid
+of the mystery with which he surrounded it. It put her on her good
+behavior at once, lest she should lose the promised revelation. She
+spoke even affectionately to Ellen, and declared she should not let her
+remain in the house alone, but she must go home with her.
+
+Before the two left Sudbury, Joel had a very long interview with Ellen.
+What passed at that interview never transpired, but the young girl's
+countenance, though very sad, did not wear the desolate and despairing
+expression which it exhibited before.
+
+The stage now drew up, the ladies got in, and it rolled away, leaving
+Joel and the deputy-sheriffs the sole possessors of the premises.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A few miles to the north-east of Sudbury the country, at the time I
+speak of it, had a wild and forbidding appearance. This was partly owing
+to the immense forest which stretched along a continuous ridge of land
+covering both sides of it and the plain below. On one side of this ridge
+the face of the country was very rough; on the other side, through a
+fine intervale, flowed a stream of respectable size called Pine Creek,
+which took its rise in the mountains at some distance, and was fed by
+innumerable springs and rivulets from the surrounding hills. Nearly a
+thousand acres of these lands were owned by an old merchant in New-York,
+who had taken them for debt many years before, and had become, as he
+said, tired of paying taxes on them.
+
+Joel had had his eye on the property for two or three years. What his
+views were, we shall presently see, for no sooner did Miss Bellows quit
+Sudbury with her aunt, than Joel, after remarking to the sheriff that he
+did not propose to interfere with him in any way, proceeded to pack his
+trunks, which he removed to the inn. Then he hired a horse and wagon for
+a week, and set off no one knew whither. He came back within the time
+limited, and found a committee of creditors awaiting his return. They
+wanted to engage him to sell out the stock of goods and to close up Mr.
+Bellows' affairs. Joel declined the service, although the offers were
+liberal and coupled with the intimation that it would be the means of
+starting him in business as the successor of Mr. Bellows. Joel
+resolutely declined. He knew the estate was hopelessly insolvent, and
+that he could not be of the least service to Ellen by any labors he
+should undertake; and besides, he did not care to even appear to thrive
+out of the broken fortunes of his patron. When still pressed by the now
+perplexed creditors, he turned sharply on them and said: 'Gentlemen,
+don't you think it would have been more judicious, not to say more
+humane, had you waited on Mr. Bellows in his lifetime, and requested
+_him_ to undertake this service instead of pouncing on his property,
+closing his store, and hurrying him into his grave? He was an honest
+man, and would have worked honestly for your benefit, and I would have
+aided him. As it is, I do not feel disposed to lift a finger for you.
+Good morning.'
+
+Joel left the same day for New-York, and did not again return to
+Sudbury. Some weeks afterward, in mid-winter, the report was circulated
+that he was living in the woods on Pine Creek. Then the story went
+abroad that the poor fellow was crazy and had turned hermit. This was
+followed by other rumors still more ridiculous.
+
+I have no desire to alarm the reader on Joel's account. It is time,
+therefore, I should say that he had formed extensive plans for the
+future, which he was proceeding to carry out. During his week's absence
+he went carefully over the entire tract owned by the old merchant in
+New-York. This lay on both sides of the creek, and extended to the
+eastward quite over the 'ridge.' It was well timbered and beautifully
+situated. After making these observations, Joel proceeded to New-York
+and called on the proprietor. He stated his object to be to purchase a
+hundred acres of the tract, for which he would pay five dollars an acre
+cash. He wanted, besides, the refusal of the rest of the property, for a
+certain time, at the same rate. The old merchant was pleased with Joel's
+ingenuous manner as well as with his intelligence. He questioned him
+minutely about the lands, for he had never seen them, and asked him what
+he proposed to do with his purchase. Joel answered promptly and
+truthfully. He put the owner in possession of every material fact.
+
+'And all you will give is five dollars per acre?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'Do you think that is all the lands are really worth?'
+
+'I hope to make them worth much more to me, else I would not seek to
+buy,' responded Joel. 'What they are worth to you, is for you to judge
+after what I have said about them.'
+
+Thereupon the old gentleman told Joel he would do better by him than he
+asked. He would sell him the whole, receive the five hundred dollars,
+and take back a mortgage for the balance. Joel would not accept this
+proposition. He wanted one hundred acres, and he wanted to pay for them,
+and the money was ready at five dollars the acre, and he desired the
+refusal of the balance at the same rate. The bargain was closed in this
+way, and Joel went on to his own property rejoicing. The plot selected
+by him was from that portion nearest to the road, which here was about a
+mile distant, and at a point of the stream most favorable for the
+erection of a _saw-mill_. This hundred acres Joel had had carefully
+surveyed before he went to New-York. It embraced a portion of the
+'ridge,' with a front on the stream. The old village was miserably
+situated, on the ancient principle of putting it in the centre of the
+township, and a new road had been talked of for some time, which would
+shorten the communication between two important points, and leave it to
+one side. This was also known to Joel, and it led him to greater energy
+in trying to secure the property. But he did not omit to mention this
+circumstance in his interview with the proprietor, though, if the truth
+be told, he was tempted to keep silent. Joel Burns had a fine moral
+sense, to violate which, gave him pain. Without going through any
+argument on the subject, he _felt_ that it would amount to a deception
+if he withheld the information.
+
+At the time of Mr. Bellows' death Joel was worth about twelve hundred
+dollars. His benefactor had not only paid him a full salary, but,
+besides this, perceiving that Joel displayed an aptitude for business,
+Mr. Bellows allowed him privileges by which he was able to make some
+money on his own account. The result was, he had accumulated the sum I
+have mentioned, from which had now been disbursed five hundred dollars
+for the land purchase.
+
+Through the winter Joel was very busy. He hired four stout, active
+lumber-men, built a rude log-hut, which was comfortable enough inside,
+and all set to work first to cut a road to the highway. Then they
+commenced clearing. The timber was magnificent first-growth pine. It cut
+up splendidly. The lumber-men now saw what Hiram was driving at. They
+began to respect the young fellow who looked so much like a boy, yet who
+showed such pluck, nerve, and sagacity. After a while, in a pleasant
+position on the ridge could be seen a very neat log-house in progress of
+erection. It contained four rooms--a spacious edifice for the woods--all
+of course on the ground floor, for there was no second story. Great
+attention was paid in a rude way to the interior, and by spring it was
+finished.
+
+During the winter Joel was twice absent from the 'settlement' for two or
+three days. He was making a visit to--- Ellen's aunt. That worthy woman
+had only been half-persuaded when she invited her niece home. Very soon,
+she began to think she had made a mistake in 'harboring' her, especially
+as the news spread abroad that Bellows' estate was a very great deal
+worse than nothing. To be sure Joel's presence reaessured her, he looked
+so competent, and spoke so confidently yet still so mysteriously. On his
+second visit, however, the lady pretty flatly intimated she was losing
+confidence in his assertions. She did not believe her brother had left
+Ellen a cent in any shape.
+
+'And I tell you what it is, Joel Burns, you need not think we are going
+to support her. She must earn her living like other folks.'
+
+'_I_ will be responsible for Ellen's board,' said Joel indignantly. 'I
+would have said that before, but I should feel mortified to have her
+know I had made the offer, or you had accepted it.'
+
+'You need not mount your high horse with me, Joel,' retorted the other,
+but in a mollified tone. 'You know I am just as kind to Ellen as any
+body would be under the circumstances.'
+
+'As kind as Mr. Bellows would have been to Tilly and Eliza, had they
+been left orphans, I suppose,' interrupted the still indignant Joel.
+
+'Yes, to be sure. You don't imagine I should have expected him to take
+care of my children!'
+
+'But he would have done it though.'
+
+'Well that may or may not be--he is dead and gone, poor man, and I have
+done my best to make it pleasant for Ellen, and she will tell you so. We
+have got along very well; I like her and her cousins like her, and I am
+satisfied after what you have said.'
+
+By the middle of April, the people of Sudbury had made up their minds
+that Joel Burns was neither crazy nor exactly a hermit, nor yet a fool,
+though some candidly admitted they had been fools when they so judged of
+him. For by the middle of April a saw-mill with a double set of saws had
+been put in operation, and was turning out the lumber rapidly. Quickly
+the knowing ones saw into it, (but they did not see into it till Joel
+had made his demonstration,) and now wondered why they had overlooked
+the speculation. One very keen fellow determined to make the most out of
+Joel's beginning. He examined the records at the office of the register
+of deeds and discovered that Joel had title to but a hundred acres.
+Thereupon he went to New-York with the object of purchasing the adjacent
+lands. Imagine his chagrin, when he was told Joel had the refusal of the
+whole tract. With a low cunning he endeavored to make the old merchant
+dissatisfied with the sale, by telling him that he had parted with his
+property for a quarter of its value--in fact, had given it away. He
+would have offered twice the money himself.
+
+'I am glad to hear you say so,' was the only reply the fellow received,
+'for I take a great interest in that young man. So he has got his mill
+a-going, has he? Good.'
+
+'But if I should offer you ten dollars an acre for the next
+hundred-acre-lot, don't you think you could manage to let me have it?'
+
+'No.'
+
+What an excitement there was when our smart man returned and gave an
+account of his trip. Then followed all sorts of rumors. Joel was in
+partnership with a rich old fellow in 'York,' who was going to let him
+have all the money he wanted. There was to be a new village right away,
+situated somewhere--on the ridge--on the stream--across the creek--on
+the plain--under the hill. What wouldn't the speculators give to know
+_just_ where! With the erection of the saw-mill, several little huts
+went up near it for the use of those employed there. These huts were not
+made of logs--there was plenty of lumber now--but cheaply constructed
+and clap-boarded with slabs. Some of the Sudbury wits derisively called
+the place 'Slab City.' The lumber-men seemed to like this name, for they
+at once adopted it, and it has never been known by any other.
+
+But before this, a remarkable event occurred, affording still greater
+food for town-talk and gossip generally. The neat log-house on the ridge
+had been comfortably furnished, and Ellen Bellows--now Ellen
+Burns--installed as its mistress.
+
+On his third visit the mystery was solved in a manner quite satisfactory
+to the aunt. To do that lady justice, we must say she was not half so
+selfish nor so calculating as she might have been. It is true she had
+not generosity enough to run the risk of offering Ellen a home as long
+as she might require one, whatever should happen. But she was tolerably
+kind to her, and when she heard that a wedding was to be speedily
+improvised, she entered into it heart and soul, and made every thing
+pass pleasantly, yes, happily. Furthermore, I am bound to record that
+she refused to take one penny for Ellen's 'board,' although Joel pressed
+her to do so.
+
+'Do you think I am an old hunks, Joel, because I did not feel able to
+undertake Ellen's support? Prudent I try to be, it is my duty. Haven't I
+my own children to look after? but because I _am_ prudent and do my
+duty, can't I show some kindness to my poor brother's only child? Don't
+talk to me about 'board,' and, Joel, don't say any thing to Ellen about
+our previous conversation. You know I have always been perfectly
+satisfied with every thing you told me.'
+
+Joel felt too happy then to question the fact, if indeed, it could be
+questioned. He reaessured the good woman on that head, and added he
+should in due time expect visits from Tilly and Eliza.
+
+'They will be delighted to go, and what is more Mr. Barron (her husband)
+has been thinking a good deal of leaving here, and I should not be
+surprised if he paid you a visit one of these days to see what chances
+offer, for we have all heard how smart _you_ have been.'
+
+It is essential I should explain to the reader why Joel Burns, who was
+ingenuous and truthful, and by no means fond of mystery or concealment,
+should make use of both in his intercourse with Ellen's aunt. We have
+previously stated how desperately he was in love with Ellen, and further
+how hard he tried to make himself believe his affection could never be
+reciprocated. When, however, the day of trial came suddenly on _her_,
+all the nonsense was scattered from Joel's brain like mist before the
+wind. But the romance in his heart was not dissipated, because romance
+is _not_ nonsense. Genuine romance is a real element in our natures, and
+so long as we preserve it, we are young. When Joel found himself placed
+in the position of Ellen's sole protector, he took prompt and decisive
+steps _for_ her protection. But while he hoped to win her for his wife,
+he could not endure the thought that possibly a part of his success
+might be due to the change in Ellen's fortunes, or that her choice
+should not be free and unrestrained. It was for this reason he mystified
+the aunt and procured for Ellen a cordial invitation to stay with her
+'till the business matters were settled,' thus mystifying Ellen also.
+She, poor girl, continued in happy ignorance of her absolutely
+destitute condition. She loved Joel dearly, and it was one of her
+happiest day-dreams to plan how she could aid him in his projects by
+putting him in possession of all she should have--yes, all.
+
+The evening before the wedding, after Joel had given a full history of
+the progress of the 'settlement' and what he hoped to do in the future,
+Ellen, overcoming the timidity which had before prevented her speaking,
+exclaimed:
+
+'O Joel! how much you have done--all alone, too! When you get what is
+coming to me, won't _that_ help you? and you shall have the whole of it,
+dear Joel, every dollar!'
+
+She stopped and blushed, half-frightened at her boldness. Tears came
+into Joel's eyes, he was so happy. He threw his arms around his beloved
+and pressed her to his heart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+People could now understand where the village was to be. The new road
+had been laid out and was in course of construction. It passed along the
+ridge near the centre. On computing the distances, it was found this
+point would be a convenient one for a stage-house, where passengers
+could pass the night. Joel sold to the stage company what lots they
+required, at a very low price, on condition that they would erect a
+first-rate public house. The water-power at 'Slab City,' three fourths
+of a mile distant, attracted attention. The 'fell' was large, and the
+supply of water abundant. One man started with a turning-machine, which
+was attached to the mill. Another, with more capital, established a
+fulling-mill, and so on. Joel avoided the ordinary errors of
+landholders. He did not attempt to carry on all sorts of business
+himself, neither did he hold his lots at too high prices. To actual
+settlers he sold very cheap; to speculators he would not sell at all.
+The old merchant continued his friend. By his recommendation a man with
+considerable capital visited the place, and being well pleased,
+purchased some of the water-power and built a large button-factory,
+Joel's views proved most judicious. By laying out the village on the
+ridge, he secured a beautiful site, which was relieved from a close
+proximity to shops and mills and factories, while it had really the
+support of all these. Several fine houses were now erected. Two stores
+were started, and a meeting-house built, for which Joel gave nearly all
+the lumber. Next a post-office was established, and the place called
+Burnsville. It was a beautiful spot, and how it grew and flourished! But
+Burnsville would have amounted to little had it not been for Slab City.
+Joel took care not to lose an opportunity for strengthening _it_.
+Water-power could always be had of him cheap. I forgot to say he erected
+a 'grist-mill,' which was much needed. Two other saw-mills beside his
+own were built a little way further up, but on his tract. Mr. Barron and
+family did move to Burnsville, as Mrs. B. intimated they might. He
+brought a good deal of money with him, and turned his enterprise to
+account. The families continued intimate. In ten years Burnsville became
+one of the most prosperous villages in the State. Joel Burns was a rich
+man, as well as _the_ man of the place. These ten years had wrought no
+great changes in Joel's character or habits. To be sure he had become
+more engrossed in plans for future operations. By degrees he had
+narrowed his mind into the channel of _successful effort_. The
+circumference of his existence was probably more limited than when he
+brought his little wife into the pretty log-house on the ridge. (He now
+lived in the handsomest one in the village.) Still, he was more active,
+more perseveringly energetic, more effective than ever before. But the
+romance of which I spoke had faded, or was overshadowed, by the forms of
+active, busy, bustling life. Still Joel Burns was in the main the same
+ingenuous, honest-hearted fellow as ever. A happy man--happy in his
+home--happy because prosperous in his business--but by no means as happy
+as he might have been. Regarding him in this view, it was melancholy to
+see him so utterly engrossed in his pursuits and plans. He did not take
+time to look about him and enjoy. The Sabbath to him was a dull,
+wearisome, restless day. He had too much respect for it to desecrate it
+by even a private attention to his affairs, and he had very little idea
+of any spiritual wants. He was active in erecting a church and securing
+a good preacher, on whose ministrations he attended regularly with his
+family. Yet it was a great relief to him when Sunday was over, and he
+welcomed the succeeding morning with a renewed zest.
+
+Joel Burns became a very popular man; he was universally beloved; he was
+generous and public-spirited. He was unselfish in his ordinary dealings,
+and always ready to lend a helping hand to those about him. His success
+was not owing to a close, hard, grasping nature, but was the result of
+fine business abilities, coupled with extraordinary energy and
+perseverance.
+
+Joel Burns was unjust to no one but himself. He neglected to cultivate
+his moral nature, and left it in danger of being choked by the cares he
+voluntarily assumed. He had one safeguard, however. I have observed that
+he was happy in his family. This consisted of his wife, and one child--a
+daughter named Sarah, after Joel's mother. When with them, Joel _did_
+forget his business life. His love for his wife and child was like a
+gushing fountain of pure water. It preserved his heart from becoming
+arid, and his nature from ossification.
+
+Twelve years passed, and found Burnsville more nourishing than ever, and
+Joel Burns yet without any interruption to his fortunes or his
+happiness.
+
+Late in summer, typhus fever--a dreadful visitor in this part of
+New-England--made its appearance, and became more prevalent than usual,
+and assumed a severer type. Mrs. Burns was among the first attacked, and
+with great severity.
+
+Joel felt the foundations of his soul giving way when the possibility
+presented itself that his wife _might_ die. He called to mind with a
+shudder the scene at the village tavern in Sudbury, when, a child, he
+stood by his mother's bedside and heard, awe-struck, her incoherent
+ravings while the delirium of fever was on her. 'O my God! she will die,
+she will die!' he exclaimed, as he rushed out of the room, unable to
+control his feelings.
+
+The country was scoured for doctors. An eminent medical man from
+New-Haven was sent for. He was unable to come; but the house was filled
+with consulting physicians. Alas I they knew little in those days how to
+treat this terrible malady, or rather how to skillfully let it alone.
+Day after day, Joel paced up and down, now in this room, now in that,
+all over the house. At night he watched by his wife. He insisted on
+doing so; no argument or entreaty could prevail on him to leave her a
+moment. She was delirious nearly all the time. Then her voice would be
+strong, her eyes glassy bright, her cheeks flushed and burning. She
+recognized neither husband nor child.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was in the middle of the night. The 'watcher' who sat up in company
+with Joel, slumbered in his chair. He did not slumber, but sat with eyes
+fixed on his wife, who for some time seemed to be resting easier than
+before. Presently her lips moved. Her husband bent over her.
+
+'Joel.'
+
+'I am here, my darling.'
+
+'Joel.'
+
+'Yes, dearest.'
+
+'We have not lived right'
+
+'No, dear.'
+
+'You do not think we have lived right, do you?'
+
+'No, oh! no.'
+
+'I am going to die, Joel.'
+
+'Do not speak in that way!' and the poor fellow groaned, in spite of
+every effort to control himself.
+
+'I must, Joel, I must. We have not lived right _You_ will live right
+when I am gone. You will teach Sarah to live right, won't you?'
+
+'I don't want to live at all if you do not live!' was the passionate
+answer.
+
+'For our child's sake, Joel.'
+
+No reply.
+
+'What a kind, loving husband you have been to me--been to me always! I
+loved you--loved you before you knew it, Joel.' Here she opened her eyes
+languidly, and essayed to turn them on him. 'But we have not lived
+right.'
+
+There was still no response, save by audible sobs.
+
+'I think I have made my peace with God. Are you glad, Joel?'
+
+'Now I don't care what happens, if you only feel happy!' he cried. 'But
+to have you die in distress of mind! It would drive me crazy.'
+
+'Give God the praise, Joel. I _am_ happy. It is so sweet to trust in
+Him! You won't neglect--neglect--you won't----' She fell into a stupor,
+from which she never fully awoke. Although she lived another day, she
+exhibited no signs of consciousness. Joel fancied that she was aware of
+his presence; but she never spoke again.
+
+The funeral was attended by a large concourse of people--very different
+from that of Joel's mother, whom three selectmen followed to the grave.
+When it was over, Joel and his daughter went back to their desolate
+house, while the village set to work to speculate as to whom the widower
+would marry. '_Such_ a match! _So_ rich, and only one child! Emily Parks
+would make him a good wife; only Emily was rather old--at least
+twenty-seven or eight--and Mr. Burns would marry a young girl, of
+course. Why shouldn't he, with the amount of money he had? He might take
+a fancy to Julia Davis--she had just left school.' 'Why shouldn't he
+marry Lizzie?' said Mrs. Barron to herself. And Lizzie was sent over
+that very day to 'see to things' for Mr. Burns.
+
+His trials were not ended. Sarah, who was now in her twelfth year, was
+taken ill the following week. The fever was no doubt going through the
+family, said the doctors. Joel's faith in medical men was a good deal
+shaken, but he had to call them in, and Sarah grew worse. Three weeks
+she lay, submitting to the old treatment, waiting for the 'crisis.' Joel
+could endure it no longer. He started for New-Haven, changing horses
+every ten miles. He found the doctor he went in quest of at home; but he
+said it was impossible for him to go.
+
+'I have lost my wife, and shall lose my child,' said Joel Burns
+hoarsely.
+
+'My friend,' said the doctor in a mild tone, 'people are dying every
+where. I have my own patients, whom I ought not to neglect.'
+
+'Go with me, I, implore you,' urged the despairing man; 'I have relays
+of horses, and I will drive ten miles an hour.' Joel's importunity
+prevailed. The distance was accomplished in a marvelously brief time.
+
+It was a hot, sultry day, the second week of September, about noon, when
+Joel, accompanied by the doctor, entered the sick-room.
+
+'How is Sarah?'
+
+'No better,' whispered Miss Barron, who had remained in the house. 'The
+doctor left half an hour ago. He says he thinks she will go as her
+mother went.'
+
+'I am awake, father!' (He had approached the bed very carefully, so as
+not to disturb her.) 'It seems a great while since you went away.'
+
+'I have brought a doctor to cure you, my child,' said Joel. He knew the
+value of hope and confidence.
+
+Meanwhile the physician was glancing around the room. As I have said, it
+was a close, sultry day; but the windows were all closed, so that not a
+breath of air could circulate through the apartment. The doctor quietly
+threw up every one of them. Perceiving a cot standing near, he ordered
+it made up with fresh sheets. Going to the bedside of his little
+patient: 'How do you feel, my child?' he asked.
+
+'I don't know.'
+
+'Bring me a bowl of water and a soft napkin.'
+
+'Warm water, I suppose?' said the nurse.
+
+'Cold.' He threw off the heavy blanket from the bed, and unbuttoning the
+night-dress, which came close around her, he bathed the child's face and
+neck with the grateful fluid.
+
+'You feel better now?'
+
+'Yes,' she whispered.
+
+'Don't you want any thing, my dear?'
+
+'I want some water.'
+
+'Give her water, nurse,' said the doctor.
+
+The woman stared in utter amazement. If she had been ordered to cut the
+child's throat, she could not have been more astounded.
+
+'I say, bring a tumbler of water.'
+
+This was done, and the nurse offered the patient a few drops in a
+tea-spoon.
+
+'Give me the glass,' and he took it out of her hand. Tenderly he raised
+the sick child to a comfortable position, and placed it to her lips.
+'Take as much as you like, my dear. Water was made to drink.'
+
+He now directed a complete and speedy change of garments, and then he
+himself took Sarah in his arms and laid her on the other bed. In fifteen
+minutes, she was sleeping, while a gentle perspiration showed the crisis
+had passed. Joel Burns stood still, regarding the doctor as he would a
+being from another world. When he saw him doing just what was invariably
+prohibited, doing it with such an air of decision and self-confidence
+yet with no peculiar ostentation, he felt it would all be right. The
+nurse, at first, was in very bad humor; but nobody noticed her, so she
+concluded it was best to be good-natured and obey orders. The next day,
+the doctor pronounced little Sarah out of danger, provided she was
+properly nursed, and after leaving special directions, which he charged
+Joel to see to personally till he could hear from him, he returned home
+as rapidly as he came. When the man who accompanied him came back, he
+brought the doctor's favorite student, who had directions to devote
+himself to the 'case,' in which the doctor took so strong an interest.
+The good man had another motive. He believed the fever was about to
+attack Joel, and he determined to exert his skill to save him, if
+possible. To have advised him of his fears, would have been injudicious.
+He therefore dispatched a young man in whom he had great confidence,
+after giving him minute instructions. Little Sarah, watched and tended
+with great care, grew rapidly better. But when the excitement produced
+by the scenes through which Joel had passed was at an end, a great
+reaction took place, which left him in a very weak state. In that
+condition, he was seized by the terrible malady, which found a fit
+subject in his weakened frame and broken spirits. For weeks Joel Burns
+lay balancing between life and death. It seemed as if a feather's weight
+on either side would turn the scale. Morning after morning, the question
+was put by the whole village: 'Is Mr. Burns alive?' Twice, on occasions
+which seemed specially urgent, did our worthy doctor come from
+New-Haven, spend a few hours, and return. The medical student kept his
+post manfully. It was something to go counter to the opinions and
+judgments of all the physicians about, far and near. Especially when, if
+the patient should die, the voice of authority would proclaim that a
+murder had been committed. [Now, it would be considered murder to follow
+the old method.] But the doctor was firm, his pupil an enthusiastic
+believer in his master's genius, and the course was persisted in. At
+length, the daily reports were modified. First, Mr. Burns was 'no
+worse.' After that, he was 'a little more comfortable.' Then came the
+announcement that he was 'better.' The medical men round about were
+excessively chagrined; but every body else rejoiced at the good news.
+
+All this time, what of Joel Burns? How did he do? Not what was the
+history of his physical malady. But what was his state morally,
+mentally, religiously before God! Recollect, the man had never had a
+check in his whole career before. The circumstances of his childhood
+served rather to give strength and firmness to his nature. The sudden
+failure and death of his benefactor only threw him the more on his own
+resources, with which he was amply provided. His plans had been
+successful. His friends were many. His hopes for the future were large,
+yet not unreasonable; while on all sides, as we have said, he was
+regarded as _the_ man of the community in which he lived.
+
+Joel had scarcely time for reflection, after the death of his wife,
+before his child was taken ill, and ere she was really out of danger, he
+himself was stricken down. All that long, weary time, during days and
+nights of fever and delirium, of exhaustion and weakness, of
+convalescence and recovery, the whisper of his dying wife was constantly
+heard:
+
+'Joel, we have not lived right! Do you think we have lived right, Joel?'
+
+'_Lived right_!' What did that mean? Was Joel Burns a dishonest man? Was
+he not kind-hearted, generous, loving toward his wife, affectionate to
+his child, charitable and public-spirited?
+
+'_Lived right_.' Joel had answered his wife instantly, not daring then
+and there to soothe her by equivocation, but replying truthfully out of
+his soul: 'No, oh! no.' What did he mean by that? Of what did he stand
+convicted, and wherefore? These were the thoughts which occupied his
+mind, especially after the fever had left him, during the long weeks of
+his recovery. Joel was a man of extraordinary perceptive faculties. The
+situation in which he had been placed, the remarkable health which he
+had enjoyed, (for he had never been ill in his life,) and the success
+which had attended every plan and effort, served to still more develop
+all his practical talents, and were at the same time unfavorable to
+reflection or serious thought. Now he could do nothing else but reflect
+and think. He looked about him. His wife was gone, and his happiness
+wrecked. What was he to do? Should he make haste to push on the schemes
+which his sickness had brought to a stand? The idea was loathsome to
+him. He had seen how completely they were liable to interruption and
+blight. The thought of his daughter was the only comfort left, but she
+might be taken--then _what_?
+
+Ah! Joel Burns! how long and wide you searched to answer that question
+when the answer was so near at hand and so easy to discover. He did
+discover it at last. His wife, with her latest breath, had given him the
+clue. He examined himself more carefully. What are the relations between
+me and my Maker? Do I recognize any?... When Joel Burns rose from his
+sick-bed and could walk abroad, all things wore to him a new and pleased
+aspect. The current of his hopes were changed. He no longer revolved
+around himself as a centre. He was conscious of his error before God,
+and sought and found 'peace in believing.' He now regarded all things in
+the light of His providence and felt submissive to His will.
+
+Joel was no longer indifferent to his affairs. There was so much he
+could do to benefit every body. What a happy feeling to try to be
+working out good for some body all the time! When, however, he was able
+actively to engage in business, there was very little difference between
+his course of action and in what he did and his old course and what he
+used to do. The fact is, Joel _did_ about what was right before. We have
+already related that he was kind, charitable, generous, and
+public-spirited. The difference, however, was, that Joel _himself_ was
+changed. The _springs_ of life and conduct were new: this is why he
+seemed to himself to be living so differently. And he _was_ living
+differently. There was no similitude between the Joel Burns who,
+impelled by an active brain and an energetic purpose, was successfully
+prosecuting certain plans with reference solely _to_ those plans, and
+the Joel Burns who had learned to feel that the chief _object_ of
+existence lay above and beyond, and was centred in the Omnipotent.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sarah recovered rapidly from the fever, and before her father was
+himself convalescent the bloom of health had returned to her cheeks.
+Joel's love for his child was increased ten-fold. She became, as she
+grew up, an inseparable companion. It was evident he had no thoughts of
+marrying. The people of the village decided _that_ at the end of a year.
+The widower gave none of the ordinary tokens that he was seeking a new
+wife, that is, he did not 'brush up' any, and took no special pains with
+his personal appearance, but went about much as usual. It was a great
+pity, every body said, for a man as young as he--hardly
+three-and-thirty--to live without a wife. Sarah required a motherly care
+over her, her father was spoiling her. Yes, it was a great pity Mr.
+Burns did not marry. The fact was, strange as it will seem, Joel could
+not forget his wife, though she was dead. A sweet and solemn link bound
+him to her since the night he stood over her to catch her last words,
+and it would appear his affections were not to be diverted from her
+memory. He did not send Sarah away to school. He could not reconcile
+himself to her absence, but he supplied her abundantly with teachers,
+and personally took great pains with her education.
+
+Two years after the death of Mrs. Burns, Joel and his daughter stood up
+together before the assembled church and congregation, and made a public
+profession of religion. It was a touching sight. And when after the
+services father and child took their way homeward, every eye followed
+them with looks of deepest interest and with feelings of almost
+universal kindness and regard. Joel had delayed presenting himself from
+a desire to test his feelings, having great fear of bringing reproach on
+the church by entering it unworthily. And now he had an increased joy
+that he could bring his darling into the fold with him.
+
+It was very natural, as she was situated, that Sarah should acquire an
+accurate knowledge of her father's affairs. She enjoyed listening to the
+story of his early life, the rise and progress of Burnsville, with
+explanations of his many undertakings. As she grew older, this interest
+took a more practical turn. She would copy letters and arrange
+confidential papers, and perform various services of a like nature.
+
+Two or three years more passed. Things went on as usual, at Burnsville.
+It is true that Joel Burns did not display that sharp faculty of
+acquisition which he formerly did, though he was never more active or
+energetic; but it was noticeable that those in his employ got on better
+than before, while the general prosperity of the village exceeded that
+of any former period.
+
+Sarah was almost a young lady. She was growing up a beautiful girl. She
+had her father's brilliant complexion and her mother's fine form and
+regular features. Of course, with so much youth and beauty, and such
+'brilliant prospects,' (by which, I suppose, was meant her father's
+death and a large fortune to the child,) Sarah already became an object
+of much attention. I will not say that her peculiar position did not
+produce something of an independent manner which some called hauteur,
+and others exclusiveness. Part of this was owing to her education, part
+to the necessity of repelling sometimes the advances of conceited
+coxcombs. But she was really a most interesting girl, with much of her
+father's spirit, resolution, and ability. Her affection for him was only
+exceeded by his for her. True, their lives were centred in each other
+too much. But it was very beautiful to behold.
+
+Such was the condition of Burnsville, and such the situation of Joel
+Burns, when Hiram Meeker sought to remove to that place and enter his
+service.
+
+
+
+
+A MERCHANT'S STORY.
+
+  'All of which I saw, and part of which I was.'
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+It is a dingy old sign. It has hung there in sun and rain till its
+letters are faint and its face is furrowed. It has looked down on a
+generation that has passed away, and seen those who placed it there go
+out of that doorway never to return; still it clings to that dingy old
+warehouse, and still Russell, Rollins & Co. is signed in that dingy old
+counting-room at the head of the stairway. It is known the world over.
+It is heard of on the cotton-fields of Texas, in the cane-brakes of
+Cuba, and amid the rice-swamps of Carolina. The Chinaman speaks of it as
+he sips his tea and handles his chop-sticks in the streets of Canton,
+and the half-naked negro rattles its gold as he gathers palm-oil and the
+copal-gum on the western coast of Africa. Its plain initials, painted in
+black on a white ground, float from tall masts over many seas, and its
+simple 'promise to pay,' scrawled in a bad hand on a narrow strip of
+paper, unlocks the vaults of the best bankers in Europe. And yet, it is
+a dingy old sign! Men look up to it as they pass by, and wonder that a
+cracked, weather-beaten board that would not sell for a dollar, should
+be counted 'good for a million.'
+
+It is a dingy old warehouse, with narrow, dark, cobwebbed windows, and
+wide, rusty iron shutters, which, as the bleak November wind sweeps up
+old Long Wharf, swing slowly on their hinges with a sharp, grating
+creak. I heard them in my boyhood. Perched on a tall stool at that old
+desk, I used to listen, in the long winter-nights, to those strange,
+wild cries, till I fancied they were voices of the uneasy dead, come
+back to take the vacant seats beside me, and to pace again, with ghostly
+tread, the floor of that dark old counting-room. They were ever a
+mystery and a terror to me; but they never creaked so harshly, or cried
+so wildly, as on a bleak November night, not many years ago, when I
+turned my steps, for the last time, up the trembling old stairway.
+
+It was just after nightfall. A single gas-burner threw a dim, uncertain
+light over the old desk, and lit up the figure of a tall, gray-headed
+man, who was bending over it. He had round, stooping shoulders, and
+long, spindling limbs. One of his large feet, encased in a thick,
+square-toed shoe, rested on the round of the desk, the other, which was
+planted squarely on the floor, upheld his spare, gaunt frame. His face
+was thin and long, and two deep, black lines under his eyes contrasted
+strangely with the pallid whiteness of his features. His clothes were of
+the fashion of some years ago, and had, no doubt, served long as his
+'Sunday best,' before being degraded to daily duty. They were of plain
+black, and though not shabby, were worn and threadbare, and of decidedly
+economical appearance. Every thing about him, indeed, wore an economical
+look. His scant coat-tails, narrow pants, and short waistcoat, showed
+that the cost of each inch of material had been counted, while his thin
+hair, brushed carefully over his bald head, had not a lock to spare; and
+even his large, sharp bones were covered with only just enough flesh to
+hold them comfortably together. He had stood there till his eye was dim
+and his step feeble, and though he had, for twenty years--when handing
+in his semi-annual trial-balances to the head of the house--declared
+that each one was his last, every body said he would continue to stand
+there till his own trial-balance was struck, and his earthly accounts
+were closed forever.
+
+As I entered, he turned his mild blue eye upon me, and taking my hand
+warmly in his, exclaimed:
+
+'My dear boy'--I was nearly forty--'I am glad to see you.'
+
+'I am glad to see _you_, David.'
+
+'Why, bless me, Mr. Kirke, is that you?' exclaimed a much younger man,
+springing from his seat near the other, and grasping me by both hands.
+'What has brought you to Boston?'
+
+'Business, Frank. I've just arrived, and go back to-morrow. Come! my
+wife is in the carriage at the door, and wants you to spend the evening
+with us.'
+
+'I can't--I'm very sorry,' and he added, in a lower tone, '_she_ has
+just heard of her father's death, and goes home to-morrow. I have
+engaged to pass the evening with her.'
+
+'Her father dead! how was it?'
+
+'He was thrown from his horse, and died the same day. She knew nothing
+of it till yesterday. I can not neglect her now. I will spend to-morrow
+with mother.'
+
+He always called her _mother_, though he was not her son. He had done it
+when a child, and now that he was a man, hers was the dearest name he
+knew. He loved her as his mother, and she loved him as her son. But any
+woman might have loved him. His straight, closely-knit, sinewy frame,
+dark, deep-set eyes, and broad, open forehead, overhung with thick,
+brown hair, were only the outshadowing of a beautiful mind, of an open,
+upright, manly nature, whose firm and steady integrity nothing could
+shake.
+
+'I'm sorry to hear it,' I replied; 'but go down and see her, while I
+speak to Mr. Hallet.'
+
+Rapping at the door of an inner office, separated from the outer one by
+a ground-glass partition, I was admitted by a tall, dark man, who, with
+a stiff and slightly embarrassed manner, said to me:
+
+'I am glad to see you, Mr. Kirke. Pray, be seated.'
+
+As he pointed to a chair, a shorter and younger gentleman, who was
+writing at another desk, rose, and slapping me familiarly on the back,
+exclaimed:
+
+'My dear fellow, how are you?'
+
+'Very well, Cragin, how are you?'
+
+'Good as new--never better in my life--how goes the world with you?'
+
+The last speaker was not more than thirty-three, but a bald spot on the
+top of his head, and a slight falling-in of his mouth, caused by
+premature decay of the teeth, made him seem several years older. He had
+marked but not regular features, and a restless, dark eye, which opened
+and shut with a peculiar wink that kept time with the motion of his lips
+in speaking. His clothes were cut in a loose, jaunty style, and his
+manner, though brusque and abrupt, betokened, like his face, a free,
+frank, manly character. He was ten or twelve years the junior of the
+other, and as unlike him as one man can be unlike another.
+
+The older gentleman, as I have said, was tall and dark. He had a high,
+bold forehead, and wore heavy gray whiskers, trimmed with the utmost
+nicety, and meeting under a sharp, narrow chin. His face was large and
+full, and his nose pointed and prominent, but his mouth was small, and
+gathered in at the corners like a rat's; and, as if to add to the
+rat-resemblance, its small, white teeth seemed borrowed from the jaws of
+that animal. There was a stately precision in his manner, and a stealthy
+softness in his tread, that would have impressed a stranger unfavorably;
+but _I_ knew him. We had been boys together, and he loved me as he loved
+his own son. How well he loved _him_, the reader will learn, if he
+follows the course of my story.
+
+These two gentlemen--Mr. Hallet and Mr. Cragin--were the senior partners
+in the great house of Russell, Rollins & Co.
+
+Replying satisfactorily to the inquiry of Mr. Cragin, I turned to the
+older partner, and said:
+
+'Well, Mr. Hallet, how does Frank get on?'
+
+'Oh! very well--knows a little too much, like most young men of his age,
+but he does very well.'
+
+''Very well,' Mr. Ballet! d--d if he don't--he's the smartest boy
+living--made a clean forty thousand for us not two months ago--forced it
+on Hallet against his better judgment!' And Mr. Cragin laughed till he
+showed all that was left of two rows of tobacco-stained teeth.
+
+'How was it Cragin?' I asked, greatly pleased.
+
+A short rap came at the office-door, and Frank entered, his hat in his
+hand.
+
+'Mother insists on my taking supper with her--will you go now, sir?' he
+said, addressing me.
+
+Before I could reply, Mr. Hallet, rather sharply, asked:
+
+'Have you finished your letters for the steamer?'
+
+'Yes, sir.'
+
+'What have you said to Maclean, Maris & Co., about the gum-copal?'
+
+'I will show you, sir.'
+
+And going into the other room, Frank returned in a moment with an open
+letter, still wet from the copying-press. Mr. Hallet took it and read it
+over slowly and carefully, then handing it back, he said, in the
+slightly pompous tone which was natural to him:
+
+'That will do--you can go.'
+
+I was rising to bid them 'good-evening,' when the senior said to me:
+
+'Mr. Kirke, I dislike to trespass on your time, but I would like to
+confer with you for a moment, on a private matter.'
+
+'Certainly, sir.' And I added: 'Frank, tell your mother I will meet you
+at the hotel in half an hour.'
+
+'But I must be in Cambridge by eight o'clock,' replied the young man,
+looking a little chop-fallen.
+
+'Well, don't wait for me--I will see you to-morrow.'
+
+Bidding me 'good-night,' he left; and Mr. Cragin, seeing that his
+partner would be alone with me, left shortly afterward. As soon as
+Cragin was gone, Mr. Hallet, opening the door, called:
+
+'David!'
+
+The book-keeper entered, and took a seat beside me.
+
+'Mr. Kirke,' said Mr. Hallet, when the other was seated, 'I want to talk
+with you and David about Frank. He has entangled himself with that
+Southern girl, and, I hear, means to marry her. I strongly object to it.
+I've not a particle of influence with him, and _you_ must prevent it.'
+
+'Why should we prevent it?' I asked, rather sharply. 'What is there
+against the young woman?'
+
+'Nothing against her character, but she'd not be a fit wife for Frank.
+These Southern women are educated with wrong ideas--they make poor wives
+for poor men. He must marry a rich girl, or one brought up with
+New-England habits. This one would bring him nothing, and spend all he
+made.'
+
+'But she is an only child, and her father is rich.'
+
+'Pshaw! that is bosh! Preston always lived high, and I'll guarantee his
+estate is bankrupt. I'm sorry for it, for he owes us.'
+
+'Is that so! Largely?' 'No, not largely; how much is he overdrawn,
+David?'
+
+'Eighty-two hundred and odd.'
+
+'I'm surprised at that,' I said. 'The old house did not allow such
+things.'
+
+'Neither do we; 'twas Cragin's work. He thought 'twould annoy Frank if
+the drafts went back, and'--he hesitated a moment--'he insisted upon
+it.'
+
+'I am opposed to interfering in such matters. I always taught Frank to
+think for himself,' I remarked.
+
+'You taught him to think too much for himself. He is self-willed and
+headstrong to a fault.'
+
+'Perhaps his father might have trained him better, if--he had tried,' I
+replied, with a slight sneer.
+
+'Pardon me, Mr. Kirke, I meant no reflection on your management of him.
+I only feel that this is a most important step, and he ought to be
+advised. He should marry rich, for he has nothing, and can not rely upon
+me.'
+
+'He does not rely upon you; but he is a partner now, and his income
+ought to enable him to support a wife.'
+
+'His income is uncertain; he may not remain long in the concern,'
+replied Mr. Hallet coolly.
+
+David started; his face reddened to the roots of his hair, and he asked
+in a sententious way, showing even in his expenditure of breath the
+close economy that was the rule of his life: 'Who told you that, Mr.
+Hallet?'
+
+'No one,' replied that gentleman, seemingly surprised at the abrupt
+question; 'I am deliberating on it myself. He is sowing dissension
+between Cragin and me. The lowest boy in the office; even you, David,
+pay more heed to him than to _me_.'
+
+'That may be your own fault,' I said, a little sarcastically; 'if you
+should treat him as Cragin and David do, you might have nothing to
+complain of.'
+
+'I treat him well, sir; but I make him _know his place_.' The last words
+were emphasized in a hard, wicked tone.
+
+Certain old recollections had been rushing across my memory during the
+latter part of this conversation, and this last remark brought me to my
+feet, as I said: 'You treat him like a dog, sir! I have seen it. If he
+were not your son, he should not stay with you another day! But I warn
+you, John Hallet--do not go too far. Cast that boy off--harm him to the
+extent of a hair--and, so help me God, I will strip you of the lying
+cloak in which you hide your false, hypocritical soul, and show men
+_what you are!_'
+
+In my excitement, I had crossed the room, and stood then directly before
+him. His face flushed and his eye quailed before my steady gaze, but he
+said nothing.
+
+David remarked, in a mild tone: 'Edmund, that an't the right spirit; it
+an't.'
+
+'You don't know the whole, David; if you did, even _you_ would say he is
+the basest man living.'
+
+Hallet pressed his teeth together; his eyes flashed fire, and he seemed
+about to spring upon me; but mastering his passion, he rose after a
+moment and extended his hand, saying: 'Come, Mr. Kirke, this is not the
+talk of old friends! Let us shake hands and forget it.'
+
+'Never, sir! I took your hand for the last time when I left this
+counting-room, twenty years ago. I never touch it again! I shall tell
+that boy _to-night_ that you are his father.'
+
+'You will not do so imprudent a thing. I will do any thing for him--any
+thing you require. I promise you--on my honor,' and the stately head of
+the great house of Russell, Rollins & Co., sank into a chair and bent
+down his face like a criminal in the dock.
+
+'I can not trust you,' I said, as I paced the room,
+
+'You can, Edmund; he means it. He is sorry for the wrong he's done,'
+said the old book-keeper, in that mild, winning tone which had made me
+so love him in my boyhood.
+
+'Well, let him _prove_ that he means it; let him tell you all; let him
+tell you how much he has had to repent of!'
+
+'I _have_ told him all. I told him years ago.'
+
+'Did you tell him how you cast off that poor girl? how for years on her
+knees she vainly plead for a paltry pittance to keep her child from
+starving and herself from sin? Did you tell him how you forced her on
+the street? how you drove her from you with curses, when she prayed you
+to save her from the pit of infamy into which you had plunged her? Did
+you tell him,' and I hissed the words in his ear, while he writhed on
+his seat in such agony as only the guilty can feel; 'how, at last, after
+all those wretched years, she died of starvation and disease, with all
+that mountain of sin on her soul, and all of it heaped on her by YOU!'
+
+'Oh! no! I did not--could not tell him that! I did not know I had done
+_that!_' groaned the stately gentleman.
+
+'You lie, John Hallet! You know you lie! and may God deal with you as
+you dealt with her,' and I took up my hat and laid my hand on the door.
+
+'Stop, stop, Edmund; don't go with those words. You would not have God
+do to _you_ as you have done to others!' said David, in the same mild
+tone as before.
+
+'True, David. I ought not to wish him harm; but I loathe and detest the
+hypocritical villain. Frank shall leave him to-night, and forever!' and
+again I laid my hand on the door.
+
+Mr. Hallet looked up; his face was pale as marble, and his hands
+clenched tightly the arms of his chair, 'Don't go, Mr. Kirke,' he cried;
+'stay one moment. Can't this be arranged?'
+
+'Yes, sir. Sign a dissolution article at once--_here_--NOW, and give
+Frank your check for twenty thousand dollars.'
+
+'No, no! You don't mean that! It is too much--you can not ask _that_!'
+gasped the great merchant.
+
+'Too much for the son of a man worth a million? Too much to pay for
+starving his mother, and turning him adrift at six years old? It is not
+enough! He must have _thirty_ thousand!'
+
+'You are mad, Mr. Kirke!' And he rose, and looked at me with a pleading
+face. 'I can not pay that amount down. It is impossible.'
+
+'David, how much has he in bank on private account?'
+
+Mr. Hallet cast a beseeching glance at his book-keeper; but without
+moving a muscle, the old man quietly replied: 'Fifty-three thousand.'
+
+'I knew you lied, Hallet. It is natural to you.'
+
+'But I can't let Frank go without Mr. Cragin's consent.'
+
+'I will arrange with Cragin. Sign the check and draw the paper at once,
+or I go.'
+
+'But give me time to think--see me to-morrow.'
+
+'I shall never exchange a word with you after to-night. You can have ten
+minutes--not a second more,' and I took out my watch to count the time.
+
+He seated himself at his desk, and rested his head on his hand for a
+moment; then turning to me, he said: 'You promise that this interview,
+and all that has passed, shall never be mentioned by you?'
+
+'I do--never to your injury.'
+
+'David, please write the check,' said the senior partner, as he
+proceeded himself to draw up the agreement. In a few minutes he handed
+it to me. It was short, and merely recited that the co-partnership which
+had theretofore existed between John Hallet, Augustus Cragin, and Henry
+F. Mandell, under the name and style of Russell, Rollins & Co., was on
+that day dissolved by mutual consent; said Mandell withdrawing, and
+assigning the control of all the assets of said firm to said Hallet and
+Cragin, and releasing to said Hallet any portion of its capital and
+profits to which he might be entitled.
+
+I read the document, and quietly handed it back. 'That will not do, Mr.
+Hallet. Thirty thousand dollars settles with _you_, his father. I have
+not, and _shall_ not make any settlement with the firm. David must pay
+Frank what is his due--no more, no less.'
+
+'But,' began Mr. Hallet.
+
+'I have nothing more to say on the subject, sir.'
+
+He drew a deep sigh. The parting with an only son, and with thirty
+thousand dollars, at one and the same time, affected him deeply. He
+might have borne the loss of the son; but the loss of so much money rent
+his small, black soul into fragments. However, he rewrote the paper, and
+passed it to me. It was all right; and when he had signed and David had
+witnessed it, I placed it in my pocket-book. Then, with a trembling
+hand, he handed me the check. It was drawn to my order; and I remarked,
+as I took it: 'This is not what I require, sir. I want your check,
+indorsed by David.'
+
+'This is most unaccountable, Mr. Kirke. Do you question my check for
+thirty thousand dollars?' he asked, his face flushing with anger.
+
+'Oh! no, sir, not at all; but you might stop its payment. With David's
+indorsement, you would not _dare_ to do it.'
+
+'I will indorse it,' said David; and he quietly proceeded to write
+another.
+
+That cold, hard, soulless man had a wife and children; but that old
+book-keeper was the only being in all this wide world that he loved!
+
+Placing the check with the other paper, I shook David by the hand, and
+bidding him 'good-night', passed down the old stairway.
+
+As Frank is the hero of my history, I will, in another chapter, go back
+some seventeen years, and tell the reader how he came to be under my
+control, and how he rose to be a partner in the great house of Russell,
+Rollins & Co.
+
+
+
+CORN IS KING.
+
+         Up among the Granite mountains,
+           By the Bay State strand,
+         Hark! the paean cry is sounding
+           Through all Yankee land.
+         'Wave the stars and stripes high o'er us,
+           Let every freeman sing,
+         In a loud and joyful chorus:
+           Brave young Corn is King!
+  Join, join, for God and freedom! Sing, Northmen, sing:
+  Old King Cotton's dead and buried: brave young Corn is King.'
+
+         Southward rolls the cry of gladness,
+           On past Washington;
+         Where the bond-slave stoops no longer,
+           But stands up, a Man!
+         O'er battle-fields of 'Ole Virginny,'
+           Floats the black man's song:
+         'Brudders, God is takin' vengeance
+           For de darky's wrong!
+  Shout, shout, for God and Freedom! Sing, darkies, sing!
+  Ole Massa Cotton's dead foreber: Young Massa Corn am King!'
+
+         Through the Mississippi valley,
+           Down the river's tide,
+         Hosts of patriots rush to rally
+           On their Country's side;
+         And across the green savannahs
+           Of the Southern clime,
+         Armies, under Union banners,
+           To this song keep time:
+  'March, march, for God and Freedom! Sing, soldiers, sing!
+  Pallid Cotton's dead and buried: Yellow Corn is King!'
+
+         Let the tidings swell o'er ocean
+           To another shore,
+         Till proud England pales and trembles
+           Where she scoffed before!
+         Ne'er again shall serpent-friendship
+           Rise to hiss and sting!
+         Cotton leagues no more with _Traitors_:
+           Honest Corn is King!
+  _Jubilate_! God and Freedom! Sing, Americans, sing
+  Tyrant Cotton's dead forever! Honest Corn is King!
+
+
+
+
+LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+     AMONG THE PINES. BY EDMUND KIRKE. New-York: J. R. Gilmore,
+     532 Broadway. 1862.
+
+Perhaps it is not altogether in rule to say much of a work which has
+appeared in our pages. But we may at least call attention to what others
+have said. And good authority--plenty of it, such authority as should
+make a reputation for any book--has declared _The Pines_ to be in truth
+a work of the highest merit and of a new order. It is a perfectly
+truthful record of scenes and characters drawn from personal experience
+in the South; combining the accuracy of Olmstead's works with the
+thrilling interest of _Uncle Tom_. It should be fairly stated--as the
+author desires it should be--that every thing did not occur precisely in
+the order in which it is here narrated. But all is _true_--every page
+speaks for itself in this particular. No stronger piece of local
+coloring ever issued from the American press. We seem, in reading it, to
+live in the South--to know the people who come before us. All of them
+are, indeed, life-portraits. In one or two instances, the very names of
+the originals remain unchanged.
+
+In it the author deals fairly and honorably with the South. The renegade
+Yankee, and not the native planter, is made to bear the heaviest blow.
+The principal character, Colonel J----, is one of nature's noblemen,
+struggling through aristocratic education and circumstance with an evil
+whose evil he cannot comprehend. Very valuable indeed are the sketches
+of life among the 'mean whites.' No descriptions of them to be compared
+with these in _The Pines_ have ever yet appeared. They rise clear as
+cameo-reliefs on a dark ground, and we feel that they too are like the
+slave-holder, victims like the slave, of a system, and not with him,
+deliberate wretches. Their squalor, ignorance, pride, and
+dependence--their whole social _status_, inferior to that of the blacks
+whom they despise, appear as set forth, we do not say by a master-hand,
+but _by themselves_.
+
+This work, tolerant and just, yet striking, has appeared at the right
+time. While interesting as a novel, it is full of solid, simple
+facts--it is based on them and built up with them. Without attempting to
+set forth a principle, it shows beyond dispute that slavery does not pay
+in the South as well as free labor would, and that the blacks would
+produce more as free laborers than as slaves. It shows that Emancipation
+for the sake of the White Man is a great truth, and that the white man
+would be benefited by raising the sense of independence in the black,
+and by elevating him in every way in which he is capable of improvement.
+
+It may be said with great truth of _The Pines_, that it would be
+difficult to find a book in which such striking facts and vivid pictures
+are set forth with such perfect simplicity of language. There is no
+effort at fine writing in it, and no consciousness of its absence. The
+author never seems to have realized that a story could be told for
+effect, and the natural result has been the most unintentional yet the
+strongest effect. The practical eye of one familiar with planks and
+turpentine, building and farming, business and furniture, economy and
+comfort, betrays itself continually. He sees how things could be
+bettered not as a mere philanthropist would try to see them, but as one
+who knows how capital ought to be employed, and he appreciates the fact
+that the sufferings of the people of every class in the South are really
+based on the _wastefulness_ of the present system. That this spirit
+should be combined with a keen observation of local humor, and in
+several instances with narratives imbued with deep pathos, is not,
+however, remarkable. The man who can most vividly set forth facts and
+transfer nature to paper, seldom misses variety.
+
+We rejoice that this work has met with such favorable reception from the
+public, and are happy to state that the author will continue his
+contributions to these columns. He has already, by a single effort,
+established a wide-spread reputation, and we know that he has that in
+him which will induce efforts of equal merit and a future which will be
+honorably recorded in histories of the literature of the present day.
+
+     THOMAS HOOD'S WORKS. Volume IV. Aldine Edition. Edited by
+     EPES SARGENT. New-York: G. P. Putnam. Boston: A. K.
+     Loring. 1862.
+
+No better paper, no better type, can be desired than what is lavished
+upon these beautiful editions of Putnam's works. It is a pleasure to
+touch their silky, Baskerville-feeling leaves, and think that one
+possesses in the series one more work _de luxe_, which 'any one' might
+be glad to own. The present consists of The Whims and Oddities, with
+the--originally--two volumes of National Tales: the former piquant and
+variously eccentric; the latter written in a quaint, old-fashioned
+style, which the editor compares justly to that of BOCCACCIO,
+yet which was really, till within some fifty years, so very common a
+form of narration, having so much in common with Spanish and French
+_nouvelettes_, that it is hardly worth while to suppose that
+HOOD followed the great. Italian at all. The whole work is one
+mass of entertainment, none the worse for having acquired somewhat of a
+game-y flavor of age, and for gradually falling a little behind the
+latest styles of humor. 'Mass! 'tis a merry book, and will make them
+merry who read it!'
+
+     THE WORKS OF THOMAS HOOD. Edited by EPES SARGENT.
+     Vol. V. New-York: G. P. Putnam. 1862.
+
+The present volume of Hood's writings is composed of dramatic sketches,
+odes, political satires, and miscellaneous pieces not generally
+contained in former collections of his works. Among these is the long
+and beautiful 'Lamia' in dramatic form; the 'Epping Hunt;' the poems of
+sentiment; the inimitable Odes and Addresses to Great People, and some
+scores of minor poems, mostly humorous, including, however, all of those
+on which his reputation as a true poet of the highest rank is based.
+Among these is the 'Lay of the Laborer,' a standing and bitter reproach
+to England--the England of millions of pounds of capital--the England of
+piety--the England of morality--the England of 'all the rights of man,'
+where there are more paupers and more miseries than in any other land on
+earth, and where there is accordingly the most social tyranny of any
+country.
+
+  'Ay, only give me work,
+    And then you need not fear
+  That I shall snare his worship's hare,
+    Or kill his grace's deer.'
+
+  'Where savage laws begrudge
+    The pauper babe its breath,
+  And doom a wife to a widow's life
+    Before her partner's death.'
+
+When England shall have turned aside the reproach of this poem, it will
+be time for her to abuse America as 'uncivilized.'
+
+     AGNES OF SORRENTO, By Mrs. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
+     Boston: Ticknor and Fields. 1862.
+
+If there be, at the present day, an ungrateful task for an intelligent
+reader or a conscientious reviewer, it is to be obliged to deal with a
+work whose whole compass is merely that of a second-rate romance
+inspired by rococo sentimentalism. We regret to speak thus of a book by
+so eminent a writer as Mrs. Stowe; but when any one at this time
+undertakes to build up a novel out of such material as cloisters, monks,
+and nuns, Beato Angelico and frankincense, cavaliers and Savonarola,
+with the occasional 'purple patch' of a rhyming Latin hymn--in short,
+when we see the long-exhausted melo-dramatic style, which was years ago
+thoroughly quizzed in 'Firmilian,' revived in the year 1862 in a work of
+fiction, we can not refrain from expressing sorrow that a public can
+still be found to welcome such a bouquet of faded and tattered
+artificial flowers. There is something, indeed, almost painfully amusing
+in the liberal use of perfectly exhausted and thoroughly hackneyed
+elements of popular romance which appear in every page of _Agnes of
+Sorrento_. A writer has said of the heroine, that 'she is one of those
+ethereal females, only encountered in romance, who dwell on the brink of
+exaltation, and never eat bread and butter without seeming to fly in the
+face of Divine Providence.' But this feebly expresses the worn-out
+ornamental piety of the work. It would require but very little
+alteration to become one of the most intensely amusing books of the age.
+
+     SEVENTH ANNUAL REPORT OF THE INSURANCE COMMISSIONERS OF THE
+     COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS.
+
+An interesting collection of documents, which will be read or examined
+with great pleasure by all who devote their attention to the rapidly
+maturing science of insurance, a science which perhaps combines in its
+range of material as much of the curious and useful as any other known;
+the whole tending to one great lesson: that every thing should be
+insured and that _no insurance should be taxed by Government_.
+
+     TWENTY-FOURTH ANNUAL REPORT OF THE BOARD OF EDUCATION.
+     Boston: William White. 1862.
+
+Apart from the vastly important testimony which these works bear to the
+efforts annually made in our good State in the cause of education--the
+great source, let us trust, of the politics to be--we seldom fail to
+find in them many useful hints as to the practical business of teaching,
+of which any writer on the subject would be glad to avail himself. Many
+such, at least, we detect in the volume before us, and sincerely trust
+that all will in due time bear their good fruit.
+
+     CONCORD FIGHT. By S. R. BARTLETT. Second edition.
+     Concord: Albert Tracy. Boston: Crosby, Nichols & Co. 1862.
+
+A poem of thirty-two pages, devoted to setting forth the incidents of
+Concord and Lexington fights, in the Revolutionary days, and therefore
+very appropriate to our own time. The 'plan' is excellent; the incidents
+well devised, while many little lyrical touches here and there are truly
+admirable. For instance, 'The White Cockade.'
+
+  'Firm hearts and true, strong bands to do,
+      For liberty;
+  The fierce old strain rings once again:
+      'Come death or victory!'
+
+  'The lips that woke the dawning note
+      Are passed away;
+  But the _echoes_ of the 'White Cockade'
+      Ring round our hills to-day.'
+
+Long may they ring, and long may the descendants of the men of '76 prove
+that they still hear in spirit 'the dawning notes.'
+
+
+
+
+EDITOR'S TABLE
+
+
+The English journals and statesmen, in their excessive anxiety to
+regulate every thing for the world in general and for America in
+particular, quite lose sight of the fact, that before interfering in a
+neighbor's affairs, it is best to know what the state of affairs may
+really be. Of late, we have seen these makers of public opinion making
+mischief through gross ignorance, to a degree well-nigh unparalleled in
+history. On the strength of flying rumors, unfinished events imperfectly
+reported, and through Secession slanders, their great leaders, both
+representative and editorial, have ventured to spread before the masses
+statements which must unavoidably tend to greatly exasperate and
+alienate the people of our respective nations. They are blindly running
+up scores of hatred, which at some day may call for fearful settlement.
+Their influence is very great on the rank-loving multitude in their own
+country--a multitude which, after all, is, in the majority, more
+miserable and nearly as ignorant as that of any realm in Europe, or even
+the East, for there are fewer paupers in Turkey or Syria than in wealthy
+England. Yet, quite unheeding this, they continue to express sympathy
+for the South, declare with Brougham that the bubble of Democracy has at
+length burst, and chuckle over every Northern defeat. All of which shall
+be duly remembered.
+
+The grossest error into which these men have fallen, is that of
+continually regarding our war not as a struggle between two great
+principles, or as an unavoidable necessity, but simply as a strife
+between two factions. Nearly every London editorial which we have seen
+for weeks proves this. 'What will the North gain if it conquers the
+South? What will the South make? What are WE to benefit by a
+victory of either?' It is perfectly natural, however, for a monarchy,
+virtually without 'politics,' devoid of great progressive ideas, and
+smothered by 'loyalty' and faith in an aristocracy, to see, as men did
+in the middle ages, nothing but a dispute of rival forces in every
+battle. It is 'Brown _vs_. Brown' to them, and nothing more. With the
+exception of Bright and his friends, no one in England seems to
+comprehend that our North has in itself the vital, progressive energy
+which _must_ give it victory--the same spirit which enables English
+civilization to gain on the Hindoo or the New-Zealander--the spirit of
+science and intelligence, which conquers ignorance.
+
+The fact that English statesmen can talk so calmly of the possibilities
+of Southern victory, and weigh with such equanimity the claims of the
+combatants, simply proves their ignorance of the real condition of the
+United States. And they _are_ indeed very ignorant of us. Perhaps
+ignorance and thoughtlessness were never more decidedly manifested than
+in Brougham's late rhodomontade on the failure of Democracy in this
+country. For, in fact, there is not difference enough between the
+representative _power_ of England and that of America to make a
+question. Between Commons and our House of Representatives--the most
+influential legislative bodies--there is no such great difference.
+English writers have asserted that our government is actually the
+strongest monarchy of the two, because our President possesses far
+greater power of patronage and personal influence than the Queen. The
+real difference is not between the forms of government, but between the
+innate flunkeyism of the Briton and the independence of the American.
+If we had the British government in every detail, and if John Bull were
+to adopt our system, the countries would stand where they were, and each
+gradually 'reform' itself, according to its ideas of reform, back into
+the old routine. The Englishman, needing 'my Lord' and 'Her Gracious
+Majesty,' and as unable to live without his golden calves of 'superiors'
+as bees are to exist without a queen, would soon create them; while the
+American blood, sprung from the republican Puritan, and developed into
+strength on a continent, would very soon, after a nine days' fete to his
+new fetish, kick it over, and instituting caucuses and primary
+ward-meetings, or 'town-meetings,' (a ceremony which no European in
+existence, save the Russian, is capable of properly managing,) would
+soon have all back again in the old road.
+
+Democracy among the 'Yankees' as well as all North-Americans who are
+free from a servile respect for simple rank and money, is something very
+different from that mere form which Brougham, and with him nearly all
+Europe, believe it to be. We are not Frenchmen, or Englishmen, or
+Orientals, to quietly sit down under any kind of government which chance
+may impose, and exclaim: 'It is fate.' Democracy with us is not the mere
+form which they imagine. It is, like the English government, like the
+German, like the Pachalik of the Oriental, something as much a part of
+us as our national physiognomy. A very great proportion of the
+Englishmen who come here, remain flunkeys to the end--an American, other
+than a soul-diseased disciple of Richmond sociology, or some weak
+brother or sister dazed by court ball-tickets--quite as generally remain
+a despiser of men who acknowledge other men as their betters by mere
+birth. A love of freedom is in our blood, in our life, in our habits. We
+are fond, it is true, of temporarily lionizing great people, but we soon
+reduce them to our own level. America has shaken down more eminencies
+into notorieties than any other country in the world--it is a severe and
+terrible ordeal for great foreigners. Our eagerness to behold them is
+simply a keen curiosity and a natural love of amusement which is soon
+appeased. An American would crowd foremost to see Queen Victoria for the
+first time in his life--the second opportunity would be neglected. But
+the London shop-keeper who has seen that lady perhaps hundreds of times,
+still rushes out in wild haste, with eyes wide open, to behold her when
+she drives past. 'They can never get enough of it.' As one of their own
+writers has observed, a London tradesman may have been swindled a
+hundred times by real or sham noblemen, and yet no sooner does some
+flaunting cheat with the _air noble_ enter his shop, than the cockney
+bows low and implores patronage with a cringing zeal only equaled by his
+'uppishness' to humbler customers.
+
+The truth simply is, that English thinkers wrongly judge our people to
+be like their own, and as capable of promptly submitting to acknowledged
+superiors. In the same blindness and ignorance, they see only two
+parties, equal in all respects in this war, and realize nothing of the
+innate vitality and irresistibly accretive power of free-labor, science,
+and progress, when brought into opposition with a conservatism which
+scorns every thing pertaining to the rights of the majority. Misled by
+their associations, they believe that the 'Aristocratic' party must
+triumph in the end, forgetting that even in their own country capital is
+gradually destroying the old land-marks which divided the privileged
+classes from the masses. We who virtually occupy a higher stand-point in
+history, though, perhaps, we are newer dwellers in our domain and not as
+yet as comfortable in it as they in theirs, can, however, afford to
+laugh at their opinions and threats. A nation, whose utmost effort could
+not raise above thirty thousand men for a war in which the point of
+honor between themselves and the French was at stake, is not the one to
+lay down laws to the American North, which could--probably without
+drafting--bring its million into the field. It is worth remembering
+that, had they sent us their Warrior, as they threatened after the Mason
+and Slidell difficulty, she would have met with the Monitor!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three hundred thousand men are wanted--and that right early!
+
+Let there be meetings, speeches, subscriptions--let every thing that is
+vigorous and impulsive and patriotic thrill the people forthwith: Let
+there be no lagging in the good cause. Never since the war begun was
+there a time when a fierce rally was more needed. We have it in our
+power to crush this rebellion to atoms, if the people will but once
+arouse in their might. Even this draft for three hundred thousand, when
+we come to portion it off among those remaining in our counties, becomes
+quite trifling.
+
+'More than shooting goes to making war.' All who are in the North can
+fight to good purpose, if they will, every man and woman of them, _do
+their best_ to raise soldiers, equip them and take care of their
+families.
+
+Men! rise up and go forth. You will acquire a patent of nobility by
+serving in this war, which will be worth more to you and yours in coming
+days than any title on earth. You go to great risks--but not to any
+thing which can outweigh the good you can do for this truly holy cause.
+Have you lived lives 'of no great account'--_now_ is the time to rise to
+a position--to be some body, and make your mark. Have you been a mere
+cipher in the great sum of life--a neglected trifle--now is the time to
+raise yourself to a real value. It can never be said of a man who served
+in this war that he was of no great account.
+
+Has your life been stained--by misfortune or your own faults? Now is the
+time to wipe out the old score and begin afresh. What cautious, timid
+Peace rejects as bad, bold, hearty War grasps at with eagerness and
+makes good and great.
+
+Are you poor, and dragging out a dull, base life, more sluggishly than
+your abilities deserve? Go to the war--in God's name, go to the war! Who
+knows what changes in life you may live through--what new opportunities
+may open before you! In that wide Southland lie a million homes, and
+there will be those left behind who--if you fight bravely--will give the
+matter no rest till you are richly rewarded. There is not a soldier in
+this war at this instant who is not acquiring what may be a fortune.
+_Somebody_ must occupy the lands left vacant in the South!
+
+Are you a lover? Make her proud of you.
+
+Do not fear the risks. That is a poor, wretched life which has never run
+the chances of death.
+
+  'Fast in battle the bullets fly,
+  But many a soldier the bullets pass by.'
+
+Arise all! Up, Guards, and at 'em! Let there be a general up-stirring
+and a hearty good-will in this matter. The enemy have brought every
+white man among them into the field--they are kept alive solely by the
+blacks. One tremendous effort, such as we are capable of making, would
+sweep them from the face of the earth. Another struggle and we reach the
+shore.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Many years ago, the South began to alienate itself from the Union, by
+blindly abusing every thing pertaining to the North as 'Abolition.' They
+wanted a grievance; they would have one, and so yelled 'Wolf! wolf!'
+till the wolf came in roaring earnest. In like manner, the Democratic
+dabblers in mischief are now yelling 'Radical,' abusing emancipation,
+and doing all in their power to hoist themselves into notoriety. They
+are determined to force separate parties into existence, and they will
+end by accomplishing their purpose, by being in a losing reactionary
+minority, which will bear the brand in later days of having been the
+most unprincipled, narrow-minded, and desperately selfish faction which
+this country has ever known.
+
+Gentle reader, accept the following from a friend in the quaint spirit
+in which it is written, and understand not by bad company aught that is
+evil--for if we read the word of the enigma, the 'bad' among her
+'friends of the future' is indeed goodness-that saving salt which is
+often found among many who are too hastily banned as lost in the world.
+So, we pray you, judge it kindly:
+
+
+FRIENDS OF THE FUTURE.
+
+'There is no real amusement except in bad company.'--_Italian Proverb_.
+
+
+Reprehensible but real sentiment of your humble servant, O dearly
+beloved reader! Your lips reprove me, but your heart forgives and
+sympathizes! And that heart rebels with mine against that adverse Past
+which has given to us so little of 'real amusement' from 'bad company,'
+and demands, like mine, reparation from the Future for the sufferings we
+have endured from unexceptionable and perfectly good company!
+
+The representative men and women of that small and select bad company,
+(who have made the desert of our lives to blossom with roses, violets,
+strawberries and cream,) how distinctly they stand out on the horizon of
+memory! I see them--I count them, as easily as those few stately pines
+on yonder hill-top--one, two, three, four, five, six, _seven_. No more?
+What! not a delightful eight? Who has translated the murmur of the
+summer wind among the pines as 'No more?' '_No more?_' Alas! to-day they
+give that answer to me, as I seek for one other in that bad and beloved
+company! 'But he cometh'--_adveniat_--he cometh in the future. O eighth!
+your morning will yet dawn.
+
+Welcome, O Friend of the Future I whatever thy sex. Welcome! whether in
+cashmere and graceful crinolineaments, or in gray-suit and
+_grecio_!--only be 'more of the same sort.' Heaven is _not_ so cruel! to
+give us five hundred dear twin-friends, on whom one has to tie five
+hundred different colored bows (I assure you, Monsieur, the
+ribbon-florists have this season produced _five hundred colors_) in
+order to distinguish one from another! Heaven would not do this cruel
+wrong without offering some apology--some mitigation.
+
+Ah! you sigh. Your heart, then, _does_ forgive me--I knew it would. Give
+me your hand, (such a soft, white hand!) I confess the proverb did
+_sound_ a little naughty, but it's not _really_ so. At all events, it is
+the _truth_--and, you know, we
+
+  'Can not tell a lie!' G. W.
+
+Ah! this hand, though soft and white, is no longer plump and
+unconscious; it has _suffered_! You, too, have been bored--ah! I _must_
+kiss it.
+
+  'I, too, am human.'
+
+I also have been bored! Come, now, you mistrust me no longer-and I--I
+love you! I _love_ you, and, therefore, I want to amuse you; perhaps, by
+Heaven's blessing, I may prove 'bad company' myself!
+
+For I can not but believe that somewhere in the purple Future, or latent
+amid the green leaves of the possible Fairy-dom, (in which some rich
+enchanter of an uncle is to lea-re us all an heritage,) there bide,
+waitingly, certain dear friends--delightful, daring, witty, and wicked
+creatures--like yourself, O reader I--with whom I am destined to be,
+spiritually, 'very much married indeed;' or if the expression sound too
+polygamatical, let me simply say _lie._ [For Heaven's sake, accept that
+as French, warm with an accent, and not as English, cold without one.]
+_Lie_ means 'bound'--anchored, so to speak, to an intimate in an
+amicable manner. And it is in their friendship--in their kind and tender
+words and courteous deeds, and winsome ways, that I most truly _live_.
+
+Where these dearmost ones may bide, I know not. Seven--yes--seven I have
+met, whom I cherish like diamonds of delight in the cotton of memory. It
+is worth noting, my dear, in this connection, that _sev-en_ is one of
+the conjugations in Turkish of the root _sev_, or 'loving,' and 'them
+old Turks,' you know--but I am digressing. Are there not still to come
+seven--yea, seventy times seven, (I have mislaid my Koran, in which the
+number is more accurately stated,) of my Friends of the Future!
+
+But I know what they are like. Oh! the charming, delightful wretches,
+how I enjoy looking at them--in fact, 'I admire to see' them--as they
+sweep along through the golden halls of my Schloss Dream-berg. Such nice
+clothes as they wear--the ducks! Such good things as they
+say--such--such--
+
+It is too warm to-day to attempt superlatives. It were better to
+drink--say, iced lemonade, in which--for you, dear reader--by some
+mistake a _little_ sherry has been cobblered. _Sherrare est humanum_.
+The Rabbis, we are told, forbade the children of Israel to puff the fire
+on the Sabbath with bellows, though they might keep it going by blowing
+through a straw. Wherefore, to this day, certain of the devout 'keep it
+a-going' by means of a straw--only by some strange mistake in
+interpretation, or by some vowel-points getting mislaid, they, instead
+of blowing _from_ them in the straw, suck _toward_ them. And their
+'society' is a large one.
+
+But we were talking of 'good company,' as they say in 'good
+society'--not of 'good society,' as they say in 'good company.' And,
+therefore, although _not_ 'a retired clergyman,' and devoutly hoping
+that my 'sands of life' are not by a very long while 'run out,' (for I
+want to see my future friends,) I would yet (without these advantages)
+offer you 'some slight relief,' and would seek to assuage your
+sufferings resulting from too much good company; and since we have so
+few friends in the past who have amused us, turn we our 'regards' to the
+possible
+
+
+FRIENDS OF THE FUTURE.
+
+First among whom is
+
+BAGNOLE
+
+
+  Face such as would-be Byron youths all crave,
+  Impenetrable, gloomy as the grave;
+  Voice, a 'French-gray,' the promise of the face,
+  You'd swear he thought to _laugh_, a deep disgrace.
+  Behold the mask of a bacchantine soul,
+  Drinking deep draughts from life's enchanting bowl.
+  Whether the bowl be from Cellini's hand.
+  If rude, still crowning it with Fancy's flowers,
+  Laughing at Time, and flirting with her Hours.
+  He is not pious, and to church won't go;
+  He says he _can't_--'tis so extremely slow.'
+  Bagnole! with the 'goats' you're set apart'
+  And yet, how _can_ we wish a 'change of heart'
+  In one like thee--great-minded, brave, and true!
+  Ah! _what_ a world, if all were such as you!
+  But I forget--he's tender to the weak:
+  To the sad Magdalene he'll kindly speak
+  Words of _pure gold_--not that base metal thing
+  Which falls like lead and gives no friendly ring;
+  Opening the wound, to see if it is deep,
+  Arousing thought, to see if' tis asleep!
+  'Tendir and treue,' us Douglas was of old,
+  How far _they_ see, who call thee 'tame and cold'!
+  Tame! as a tiger: cold! as hot as flame!
+  _Where_ does he board, and what, oh! _what's_ his name?
+
+
+
+L'INCONNUE.
+
+  Dark Passion-flower, with keen mimosa-leaves,
+  Into my life your fate her shuttle weaves.
+  How long those wistful eyes have haunted mine--
+  Brown eyes of earth--they have no light divine.
+  Brown eyes! ye fill my soul with burning love--
+  No Pantheon soul--lighted from above!
+  O sister mine! you'll come to me at last--
+  _That_ shall atone for all our weary past.
+  So pure thou art, with soul so joyous, _free_.
+  The world could not forgive--and hated thee!
+  To be 'unlike the world,' is thy dark sin.
+  You or 'the world'? the 'you' my heart shall win.
+  Within that shrine, so delicately fair,
+  Burns a bright spirit which 'a world' can dare;
+  She mocks 'the world,' but she would _die_ for _me_.
+  Her heart is fathomed by eternity;
+  And yet she's always 'in the fashion' dressed,
+  And 'wants a cashmere,' (she to me confessed.)
+  Oh! you can see her, almost any day,
+  Hat of pale violet, dress of silver-gray.
+  She goes to parties and the 'Music-Hall;'
+  She eats her dinner, and she gives a ball.
+  You nod and smile: '_We know her now--we see_!'
+  Perhaps! Alas! she's _quite_ _un_known to me!
+
+MARIE.
+
+  How can I tell you if her face be fair,
+  While the gay sunshine of her smile is there?
+  How can I tell you of a brilliant mind,
+  When every word she speaks is angel-kind?
+  Need I describe her voice, so melting sweet?
+  Or the small mouth, which is its passage meet!
+  I only know, while for her voice I wait,
+  I see fair pearls behind that rosy gate.
+  But when she speaks, her diamond-wit's so bright,
+  All other beauties vanish from our sight.
+  No need for _her_ to fear 'the world's rebuff!
+  Too much of Marie's always just enough I
+  She is 'bad company,' yet e'en 'the good'
+  Can find no flaw in her fair maidenhood.
+  The saints don't doubt that she is in _their_ fold--
+  It makes me laugh to think how they are 'sold.'
+  _Nice_, _naughty_ folks are _sure_, she's of _their_ creed,
+  Yet she's no hypocrite, in word or deed.
+  What _is_ she, then--this gem without a flaw?
+  She is--she is--a maid-en made of 'straw'!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Reader, have you in your house a _vivarium_ or _aquarium_, or any other
+variety of animal curiosity-shop, under care of the younger members? If
+so, the subjoined sketch may awaken in your mind more than one vivid
+souvenir, We know, at all events, that some of its 'features' were
+founded on facts; that is, if a 'feature' can be 'founded.' However, we
+take the phrase from--but no, we are sufficiently abused by the
+Democratic editors, as it is.
+
+EDITOR OF THE CONTINENTAL: Among the lesser joys of maternity,
+that of having your children interested in a vivarium is one of the
+least--in fact, it is an elephantine sorrow.
+
+James, my eldest son, is a genius; before he was twelve years old, he
+invented a rat-trap, which not only caught rats, but cut off their tails
+and--let them go. At thirteen, he spoke Italian so fluently that he
+caused a hand-organ grinder to throw a brick at him. At fourteen, he
+came home one day with six large panes of glass, some tin and putty, and
+made a vivarium, a thing full of mud, water, leeches, dirty weeds, and
+other improvements.
+
+When James had finished his glass case, he placed it in the front
+drawing-room window, so that the public might behold that exquisite
+process of nature, tadpoles turning into spring water-chickens, as they
+call frogs on hotel bill of fares. Unfortunately, the gold fish he put
+in with them killed the tadpoles while they still wiggled, and a
+pickerel that he had bought of a fellow-school-boy for half-price, its
+tail being ragged, ate up the gold-fish.
+
+If at any time vegetables bought for the table were missing, we all knew
+where they went to; in fact, that vivarium, from the time green peas
+came until cabbages were ripe, resembled a _soupe a la Jardiniere_, and
+in summer-time a second course of boiled fish might easily have been
+found there.
+
+One evening, when I had a little company, and while Fanny Schell was
+singing an aria, he caused her to conclude with an unusually high
+scream, by announcing at the top of his voice, while he pointed to the
+vivarium:
+
+  'Ma, the leeches have all crawled out!'
+
+Imagine the feelings my little company had the rest of the evening.
+
+I shall never forget the fright James gave me one hot night in July; it
+was Saturday, I remember well, for that was one of my son's holidays,
+and he returned home toward night unusually covered with mud, from a
+long walk in the country, evidently having been taking practical lessons
+in ditching. He was so very quiet after he returned, that I might have
+known he was in mischief. However, when his bed-time came, he kissed me
+good-night, and said:
+
+'O ma! I have such a surprise for you in the morning.'
+
+Unfortunately, I had the surprise that night. Business called my husband
+away from the city that morning, and I was alone. Waking up from a sound
+sleep about midnight, I distinctly heard somebody working on an anvil,
+like a blacksmith, 'ching-a-ling! ching-a-ling!' It evidently came from
+the drawing-room, and my fears at once told me it was a thief trying to
+break into the house. Next I heard some one whistle, like a man calling
+a dog, 'wheh! wheh! wheh!' Finally a dog barking, 'woo, woo, wooh!'
+Thoroughly alarmed, I sprang to the front-window, and called: 'Police!
+thieves!' until I managed to arouse the neighbors. I had the key of the
+front-door in my chamber; this I threw down to a police-officer, and in
+company with two others he boldly entered the house, lit the gas, and
+found--that vivarium full of bull-frogs!
+
+My son banished the frogs and introduced cat-fish, (or, as they call
+them in Boston, 'horn-pouts.') One night, my great Angora cat, a cat
+born in the Rue de Seine, educated in the best French _Ecole des
+chattes_, and brought to this country by my husband, fell a victim to
+_la gourmandise_, by falling into the vivarium while fishing for
+cat--horn-pout--fish. James found her there in the morning, drowned,
+and partially eaten up by those she had hoped to eat. She went into the
+_boudoir_ to Pout, and 'had done it.'
+
+That finished the vivarium. I sincerely hope these trials to mothers
+will never again become the rage, and that something dry will next tempt
+our children's mania for home amusements. CORNELIA.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'The Kansas John Brown Song,' which lately appeared in these columns,
+and which we credited to the Kansas _Herald_--following the lead of the
+newspaper where we found it--was written by the Rev. William W. Patton,
+of Chicago, for the _Tribune_ of that city.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Though so often trampled down by the heel of patriotism, the old serpent
+of treason and disunion still keeps lifting his head and hissing
+venomously. In New-York, Fernando Wood--that incarnation of Northern
+secession--the man who dared to issue a proclamation recommending the
+inhabitants of the city of which he was mayor to go off with the South,
+is plotting and planning (unpunished, of course) with spirits of kindred
+baseness, to build up the old order and reestablish the rule of
+corruption. At Washington, all the timid, time-serving, and place-hoping
+members of Congress have been holding 'Conservative' meetings, at which
+the most insolent or timid propositions have been put forth; some of the
+traitors manifesting clear as day their undisguised sympathy for the
+rebels, others speaking only to preserve their tattered characters as
+Unionists. The upshot of all was given in a resolution that Congress has
+no power to deprive a person of his property, unless that person has
+been duly convicted by a trial by jury.
+
+We are not through the war as yet. Possibly, ere the end come, the
+country may have something to say as to the propriety of our
+representatives holding meetings to protect and favor rebels in their
+'rights.'
+
+WHAT'S in a name? There was a great puzzle once in _one_ name,
+as appeareth from the following:
+
+     DEAR SIR: In a certain village not unknown to you,
+     dwelleth one Alwright.
+
+     It is a good thing to have a good name. His, you observe, is
+     'petter as goot.'
+
+     Not long ago, A. went to an auction and bought things.
+
+     'What name, sir?' inquired the man with the hammer.
+
+     'Alwright.'
+
+     'What NAME, I say?' was the irritated reply.
+
+     'ALWRIGHT, I say.'
+
+     'All wrong, you mean. 'Spect you'll make it all right in the
+     morning, hey?'
+
+     'AL-WRIGHT!' cried the purchaser.
+
+     'Yes, all right!' cried the crowd, taking the joke. 'All right-go
+     ahead, old knock 'em down.'
+
+     The auctioneer began to be profane.
+
+     'A-L, Al,' began Alwright.
+
+     'Hold your tongue! Go----' continued the auctioneer.
+
+     'A-L Al, W-R-I-G-H-T wright,' continued the
+     buyer.
+
+     'O--h, thunder!' exclaimed Hammer, on whom the laughter of the mob
+     began to operate. 'That's it, is it! Beg pardon. James, put this
+     gentleman's name down. All right, sir. Go ahead. Gentlemen, allow
+     me to call your attention to this fine lot of leather. Did I hear
+     twenty-five?--five--five--five--an' an' a ha'f, an' a ha'f, an' a
+     ha'f--gone!'
+
+     Yours truly,
+
+     CONSTANT READER.
+
+There is often some fun at auctions. One of the queerest ever reported
+to us was held in a French-Spanish be-Germanized village on the
+frontier, where business was transacted in something of a polyglott
+manner, as follows:
+
+     'Gentlemen-Messieurs-Senores y meine Herrne, I've got here for
+     sale--a vender--a vendre zum verkaufen eine Schoene Buechse a
+     first-rate rifle un fusil sans pareil, muy hermosa! Do I hear fifty
+     pesos, cinquante Thaler ge-bid pour this here bully gun? Caballeros
+     mira como es aplatado--all silvered up, in tip-top style--c'est de
+     l'argent fin messieurs--s'ist alles von gutem Silber, Gott
+     verdammich wenn's nicht echt is. Cinquante piastres, fuenfzig,
+     fuenfzig, fifty do I hear, and a half an' a half an' a half e un
+     demi piastre un d'mi un d'mi ein halb' und ein halb' und ein halb'
+     un medio y tin medio--wer sagt six shillins, six escalins, six
+     escalins, seis reales, sechs schillin!? For this beautiful gun,
+     good for Injuns, deer, bar, buffalo, or to kill one another
+     with--madre Dios! bueno por matar los Americanos--first-rate to
+     kill a Greaser--womit Sie alles was nicht Deutsch ist zu todten.
+     Fifty-one dollars, thanky sir--cinquante deux--Merci, Monsieur! Wer
+     sagt drei und fuenfzig--ich glaube dass ein Deutscher bekommt's noch
+     am Ende. Go it, Yankee, Dutch is a-gainin' on ye! and a half an' a
+     half e trois quar' r' r' an' three quarters und drei Viertel y tres
+     quartos--quelqu'un a dit fifty-three--fifty-_four_--going, going,
+     gone, sir--at fifty-four--America ahead and Frenchy second-best.'
+
+It would take some time, we should think, to be able to reel it off in
+such a quadruple thread.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two 'after-Norse' poems are ours this month-the first from an esteemed
+Philadelphia correspondent--the second from another of the same State,
+but more inland. The following, we may observe, is written in the
+measure which most prevails in Icelandic poems:
+
+
+THE VIKINGS.
+
+  Through the brown waters
+    Dash the swift prows;
+  At the helm Valor stands,
+    Death at the bows:
+  Vainly the foeman shrinks,
+    Palsied in fright,
+  Vain are his struggles, yet
+    Vainer his flight.
+
+  Triple defenses--
+    Fire, water, and steel,
+  Guard the gate of the West
+    From the Northerner's keel.
+  Though defiant at midnight,
+    Ere morning the wrath
+  Of the terrible sea-kings
+    Has leveled a path.
+
+  Rampart and heavy gun
+    From o'er the bay,
+  Whose broad waters stretch
+    'Twixt the ships and their prey:
+  But shattered the rampart lies,
+    Silent the gun,
+  As the circle of living fire
+    Madly rolls on.
+
+  Wide yawn the timbers,
+    Wild waters rush in,
+  As the ship settles fast
+    Mid the fierce battle-din:
+  Yet her guns hurl defiance,
+    As, stern to the last,
+  The sea sucks her in
+    With her flag on the mast.
+
+  Sons of the Northman,
+    Whose banner of old
+  Spread the shadow of terror
+    From each grisly fold,
+  Of his broad heritage
+    Worthy are ye:
+  Win it and wear it well,
+    Kings of the sea.
+
+
+The next 'Norse' is longer. We find in it a brave ring of true poetry:
+
+
+1861.
+
+  'Oh! dark and true and tender is the North.'
+
+  Loud leaps the strong wind forth,
+  Fierce from the caves of the mighty North,
+          Ages untold,
+          O'er town and wold,
+  That rest 'neath a softer sky,
+  Swept that blast in anger by,
+  And in his wrathful eddies bore
+  The fiery song of Odin and Thor.
+      Then little avail,
+        'Gainst the Vi-king's arm,
+      The maiden's tear, the warrior's mail,
+        Or the priestman's charm.
+  And o'er the bright South-land
+    A shadow of dread was the North wind's course,
+  Whene'er his surging currents fanned
+    The raven banner of the Norse.
+
+  Years pass, and time new rays has brought,
+    Yet still the Northman's heart is warm;
+  But light on his soul a change has wrought,
+    And he loves the calm as he loved the storm.
+
+  Another god than the fearful Thor
+  In heaven's blue he saw,
+  And he gave to Peace his might in war--
+  His anger to the law.
+
+  And the strong hand holds the sickle now,
+    The anvil rings at morn;
+  And waving sunbeams tinge with gold
+    The hues of the ripening corn.
+
+  And the land he loves in peace has grown
+    To be mighty in wealth and name;
+  But o'er its brightness a cloud has flown,
+    And evil men to its councils came.
+
+  And all seemed locked in a deadly sleep,
+    While treason walked in her halls of state,
+  And good men grieve, but hopeless weep,
+    And the song of the scoffer is loud at the gate.
+
+  'The nation must pass away.
+    For the Northman's blood is cold,
+  And little he recks of honor or name,
+    If his hand may clutch the gold.
+
+  'Work treason--work your will--
+    Divide our Fatherland;
+  Hearts are craven, souls are base--
+    'Tis fit for the traitor's hand.
+
+  'Fear no more the Northman's rage,
+    The blood of the Vi-kings is old and worn;
+  No ancient mem'ry can stir him now,
+    To stand by the flag his fathers have borne.'
+
+      The words half-sung in silence fall,
+      Hushed in dread by a mightier call,
+
+  That stays the hand--that throbs the heart;
+    Cleaving the gloom, that wild war-note--
+  The traitor's foot is on your flag,
+    His bayonet at our throat.
+
+  And hark! the North-wind's sullen moan
+  Rises high to a sterner tone,
+  That sinks away, then bursts anew
+  In joy, as 'mid its surges grew
+  The shout, the stroke, the cannon's peal,
+    The tread of countless number.
+  For the flash of a traitor's steel
+    Has broken the nation's slumber;
+  And sighing breeze and southern gale,
+    Seized by the fierce wind's grasp, are torn
+  From gentle haunt by hill or dale,
+  And in the whirling vortex borne.
+  There murm'ring on his hollow breast,
+  And wond'ring at his wild unrest,
+  Their shrieking echoes sounding far,
+  Loud swelled the Northman's shout to war;
+  For with death's dark shadows flitting by,
+    And the day as dark as night,
+  A nation's hands are raised on high
+    To hold their ancient right.
+  And the ages are rolled from the record of time;
+    For the years of peace with its soft'ning beam,
+  That soothed in love the Northman's heart,
+    Are now but the mists of a warrior's dream.
+  And the tinsel of life is burned in the glow
+  That flames in his heart as in years long ago,
+  When Norman sea-kings swept the wave,
+  Who loved the night, the storm, and bloody grave.
+
+  And through all the blue of heaven's vault,
+    Rolls the Vala's mystic charm,
+  Swelled with strains of the mighty past--
+    Victory strikes with the Northman's arm.
+
+                                            F.
+
+
+Truly the old Northman is not dead among us. He lived in the iron
+Monitor, of the descendant of Eric, and he lives in scores of thousands
+of brave hearts and strong arms who came and are still coming to the
+battle-call:
+
+      'Northmen, come out!
+  Forth into battle with storm and shout,
+  He who lives with victory's blest;
+  He who dies gains peaceful rest.
+  Living or dying, let us be
+  Still vowed to God and liberty!
+      Northmen, come out!'
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The following poem is certainly _not_ behind the times:
+
+
+PAYING THE SHOT.
+
+BY J. IVES PEASE.
+
+  Yes, pay them! pay them in their chosen coin,
+    Bomb-shell and cannon-balls, well served and hot;
+  Ay, 'shell out' all the treasures of 'the mine,'
+    Since that's the way we've got to 'pay the shot.'
+
+  We 'owe them _one_!' and now's the time to settle,
+    And finish up the business to a dot;
+  A half a million _men_, upon their _metal_,
+    Accounts will soon square off, and 'pay the shot.'
+
+  We owe them one; but 'tisn't one for niggers;
+    Master or slave no more shall treason plot.
+  We've settled _that_ account with steel and triggers,
+    And the two millions, daily, 'pay the shot.'
+
+  We owe them one for hemp, that, coil on coil,
+    Judge Lynch has tendered us, in noose and knot;
+  We've now a sort that's grown upon free soil,
+    That, properly paid out, soon 'pays the shot.'
+
+  There's a snug sum due on the Sumner books;
+    _That_ must be paid, each tittle and each jot;
+  A good accountant no mistake e'er brooks,
+    But _strikes his balance_ fair, and 'pays the shot.'
+
+  There's some old 'scores,' on tar-and-feather martyrs,
+    We've now the 'devil to pay,' the 'pitch all hot;'
+  In every Jack-tar, Jeff now finds a Tar-tar,
+    Bound to 'pitch in,' and bound to 'pay the shot.'
+
+  So, onward, mudsills! fanatics! vandals! vipers!
+    Wipe out this treason _now_, nor leave one blot;
+  When Dixie dances, Dixie must 'pay the piper;'
+    Enough for 'U. S.' that we must 'pay the shot.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+War stories and war songs are in vogue--for instance:
+
+
+MY JOHNNY IS GONE FOR A SOLDIER.
+
+The accomplished, fascinating, talented, and beautiful Miss H----, as
+Jinkings calls her in his last Saratoga letter, has engaged her
+affections to Mr. John G----, and they are to be married some time. In
+the mean time, she has done all in her power to induce her lover to go
+and fight the battles of his country; so far unsuccessfully, since Mr.
+John G---- deems it his duty to stay at home and keep things steady,
+especially billiards, which, as we all know, is an erratic game,
+requiring great watching.
+
+The other evening, Miss H----, while assisting at a sociable at Madame
+V----'s, was asked to sing. Seated at the piano, to the horror of
+expectant hearers of classic music, she began, with loudest voice, to
+sing:
+
+  'I'll trace these gardins o'er and o'er,
+  A med-i-tating on atche swate flowir,
+  A thinking on each bewcheous hour;
+  Oh! Johnny is gone for a sol-di-er.'
+
+She then put her handkerchief to her eyes, pretended to sob bitterly,
+arose from the piano-stool, and sought an arm-chair.
+
+Solicited by her confidential friend, Miss Belrose, to confide her
+affliction, she only answered:
+
+'Oh! my Johnny G----'s gone for a soldier--to play billiards with him!
+And--and I know that that fast Lieutenant Gamble will keep him there for
+hours and hours.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Young gentlemen, this is the time for bullets and not for balls; for
+cannons and not caroms; for rifle-pits to hole yourselves in, and not
+for 'pockets' wherein to hole your adversary. _Apropos_ of which, listen
+to
+
+
+THE WRONG KIND OF A BAND.
+
+Colonel X---- raised a regiment in the Ri-too-lal Rural districts of
+New-Jersey, including a by no means bad brass band.
+
+Arrived in Washington with his force, he was unfortunate enough to meet
+with a wag, who at once told him he was afraid that he, the Colonel,
+would meet or rather come to grief shortly.
+
+'How so?' asked Colonel X---- excitedly.
+
+'H'm!' answered the wag, 'don't you see that those rural musicians of
+yours will be regarded as country-band of war?'
+
+The Colonel saw it!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Do our readers remember a beautiful poem on Gottschalk's playing--_Los
+ojos Criollos_--which appeared some time since in the _Home Journal_?
+They will not regret to see a lyric in our pages by the writer of the
+first referred to:
+
+
+THE OLD SURGEON'S STORY.
+
+BY ELEANOR C. DONELLY.
+
+  'Twas in a Southern hospital, a week ago or more,
+  (God save us! how the days drag on, these weary times of war!)
+  They brought me, in the sultry noon, a youth whom they had found
+  Deserted by his regiment upon the battle-ground,
+  And bleeding his young life away through many a gaping wound.
+
+  'Dark-haired and slender as a girl, a handsome lad was he,
+  Despite the pallor of his wounds, each one an agony.
+  A ball had carried off his arm, and zig-zag passage frayed
+  Into his chest--so wild a rent that, when it was displayed,
+  I, veteran surgeon that I was, turned white as any maid.
+
+  ''There is no hope?' he slowly said, noting my changing cheek;
+  I only shook my head: I dare not trust myself to speak;
+  But in that wordless negative, the boy had read his doom,
+  And turned about, as best he could, and lay in silent gloom,
+  Watching the summer sunlight make a glory of the room.
+
+  ''My little hero!' said a voice, and then a woman's hand
+  Lay like a lily on his curls: 'God give you self-command!'
+  'Mother!'--how full that thrilling word of pity and alarm--
+  'You here? my sweetest mother here?' and with his one poor arm
+  He got about her neck and drew her down with kisses warm.
+
+  ''All the long, sultry night, when out--'(He shuddered as he said)--
+  'On yonder field I lay among the festering heaps of dead;
+  With awful faces close to mine, and clots of bloody hair,
+  And dead eyes gleaming through the dusk with such a rigid stare;
+  Through all my pain, O mother mine! I only prayed one prayer.
+
+  ''Through all my pain--(and ne'er I knew what suffering was before!)--
+  I only prayed to see your face, to hear your voice once more;
+  The cold moon shone into my eyes--my prayer seemed all in vain.'
+  'My poor deluded boy!' she sobbed; her mother-fount of pain
+  O'erflowing down her gentle cheeks in drops like thunder-rain.
+
+  ''Accursed be he whose cruel hand has wrought my son such ill!'
+  The boy sprang upright at the word, and shrieked aloud, 'Be still!
+  You know not what you say. O God! how shall I tell the tale!
+  How shall I smite her as she stands!' and with a moaning wail
+  He prone among the pillows dropped, his visage ashen pale.
+
+  ''It was a bloody field,' he said, at last, like one who dozed;
+  'I know not how the day began--I know not how it closed;
+  I only know we fought like fiends, begrimed with blood and dust,
+  And did our duty to a man, as every soldier must,
+  And gave the rebels ball for ball, and paid them thrust for thrust.
+
+  'But when our gallant General rode up and down the line,
+  The sunlight striking on his sword until it flashed like wine,
+  And cried aloud (God bless his lips!) with such a cheery laugh,
+  'Charge bayonets, boys! Pitch into them, and scatter them like chaff!'
+  One half our men were drunk with blood, and mad the other half.
+
+  ''My veins ran fire. O Heaven! hide the horrors of that plain!
+  We charged upon the rebel ranks and cut them down like grain.
+  One bright-haired man ran on my steel--I pierced him through and through;
+  The blood upspirted from his wound and sprinkled me like dew.
+  'Twas strange, but as I looked I thought of Cain and him he slew.
+
+  ''Some impulse moved me to kneel down and touch him where he fell,
+  I turned him o'er--I saw his face--the sight was worse than hell!
+  _There lay my brother_--Curse me not!--pierced by _my_ bayonet!'
+  O Christ! the pathos of that cry I never shall forget--
+  Men turned away to hide their tears, for every eye was wet.
+
+  'And the hard-featured woman-nurse, a sturdy wench was she,
+  Dropped down among us, in a swoon, from very sympathy.
+  'I saw his face, the same dear face which once (would we had died
+  In those old days of innocence!) was ever by my side,
+  At bed or board, at school or play, so fresh and merry-eyed!
+
+  ''And now to see it white and set--to know the deed was mine!
+  A madness seized me as I knelt, accursed in God's sunshine.
+  I did not heed the balls which fell around us thick as rain,
+  I did not know my arm was gone;
+  I felt nor wound nor pain,
+  I only stooped and kissed those lips which ne'er would speak again.
+
+  ''O Louis!' (and the lad looked up and brushed a tear aside,)
+  'O Louis! brother of my soul! my boyhood's fearless guide!
+  By the bright heaven where thou stand'st--by thy big-hearted faith--
+  By these the tears our mother sheds--by this my failing breath--
+  Forgive me for that murd'rous thrust which wounded thee to death.
+
+  ''Forgive me! I would yield my life to give thee thine, my brother!
+  What's this? Don't shut the sunlight out; I can not see my mother.
+  The air blows sweet from yonder field!
+  Dear Lou, put up your sword.
+  Let's weave a little daisy-chain
+  upon this pleasant sward--'
+  And with a smile upon his mouth, the boy slept in the Lord.'
+
+Such are the tragedies of civil war, the fearful probability of such
+events. But who has not heard of families with sons in either army,
+especially on the border, in Philadelphia, and Baltimore? We have heard
+_seven_ such instances enumerated by one lady of the former city. Let us
+turn from tragedy to comedy:
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CAPPED THE CLIMAX.
+
+The ladies of Christopher's Church, Philadelphia, have worked like
+true-hearted women for the wounded soldiers. Many a poor fellow has
+blessed them for their contributions to alleviate his pain and make the
+old hospital comfortable for him. In the congregation, one elderly
+maiden lady, who had so far given nothing, was called on by one of her
+energetic sisters in the church, and implored to do something for the
+poor soldiers. She was told that any thing that would render their
+sufferings less would be gratefully received.
+
+She promised to send a donation. Nothing more was heard from her for a
+couple of weeks, when one morning the ladies assembled in the
+vestry-room of the church received a large basket from the elderly
+maiden lady. On opening it, they found three dozen starched muslin,
+night-cape, with frills all round them, bows and long strings.
+
+'Did you ever?' asked Miss G----. 'I declare Miss---- has set her Caps
+for the soldiers in earnest this time.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We select the following as the best proposed completion of the
+unfinished poem by Fitz-James O'Brien, published in our July number:
+
+     _Detroit, Mich., June 22d, 1862._
+
+     EDITORS OF CONTINENTAL: As you do not give the conclusion
+     of that 'Watching the Stag,' I propose to finish it in this wise:
+
+  'Watching my face with half-closed eyes,'
+  As I lean my head on the dappled stag
+  That stiffens beneath a windward crag.
+
+  His flanks are black with the hardened sweat,
+  And a film has clouded his eye of jet;
+  While a round, red wound that oozes still,'
+  Tells of his fate and my marksman's skill.
+
+  Oh! the granite crags shall no longer feel
+  His fleet hoofs ringing like steel on steel,
+  And shepherd shall never again espy
+  His antlers painted against the sky!
+
+  The mountain tarn, so lone and cold,
+  The delicate shadow no more shall hold;
+  The fleetness has died in each rigid limb,
+  And never shall dun hound follow him!
+
+  Stanch Hela blinks as she half recalls
+  That savage chase through the mountain-walls,
+  And growls as she dreams how her white teeth sank
+  With a thirsty grip in his shuddering flank.
+
+  Dream on, good dog! through the night so chill,
+  Till sunrise surges over the hill,
+  Till the heather glows and the peaks are gay,
+  And then for our mountain-home hurra!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We are indebted to L. H. Brook, of Cambridge for a version of
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MARGARET'S SONG.
+
+FROM 'FAUST.'
+
+  Meine Ruh' ist hin,           My peace is gone;
+  Mein Herz ist schwer,         My heart is sore;
+  Ich finde sie nimmer          I find it never
+  Und nimmermehr.               And nevermore.
+
+  Wo ich ihn nicht hab',        Where him I crave,
+  Ist mir das Grab;             To me's the grave;
+  Die gauze Welt                The world and all
+  Ist mir vergaellt.             Seems turned to gall.
+
+  Mein armer Kopf               My wretched head
+  Ist mir verrueckt,             Seems going mad;
+  Mein armer Sinn               My wretched mind
+  Ist mir zerstueckt.            Is torn and sad.
+
+  Nach ihm nur schau' ich       For him I look
+  Zum Fenster hinaus,           The casement out;
+  Nach ihm nur geh' ich         Him only seek
+  Aus dem Haus.                 The town about.
+
+  Sein hoher Gang,              His lofty step,
+  Sein' edle Gestalt.           His noble form;
+  Seines Mundes Laecheln,        The smile of his mouth,
+  Seiner Augen Gewalt.          His eye's strong charm.
+
+  Und seiner Rede               And in his voice
+  Zauberfluss,                  The magic bliss,
+  Sein Haendedruck,              His clasping hand,
+  Und ach! sein Kuss.           And ah! his kiss.
+
+  Meine Ruh' ist hin,           My peace is gone;
+  Mein Herz ist schwer,         My heart is sore;
+  Ich finde sie nimmer          I find it never
+  Und nimmermehr.               And nevermore.
+
+  Mein Busen draengt             My bosom swells
+  Sich nach ihm hin;            Toward him when near
+  Ach! duerft' ich fassen        Ah! might I fold
+  Und halten ihn!               And hold him there!
+
+  Und kuessen ihn                And could I kiss him
+  So wie ich wollt',            While I may,
+  An seinen Kuessen              Upon his kiss
+  Vergehen sollt'!              I'd die away!
+
+
+
+THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Continental Monthly has passed its experimental ordeal, and stands
+firmly established in popular regard. It was started at a period when
+any new literary enterprise was deemed almost foolhardy, but the
+publisher believed that the time had arrived for just such a Magazine.
+Fearlessly advocating the doctrine of ultimate and gradual Emancipation,
+for the sake of the UNION and the WHITE MAN, it has found favor in
+quarters where censure was expected, and patronage where opposition only
+was looked for. While holding firmly to its _own opinions_, it has
+opened its pages to POLITICAL WRITERS _of widely different views_, and
+has made a feature of employing the literary labors of the _younger_
+race of American writers. How much has been gained by thus giving,
+practically, the fullest freedom to the expression of opinion, and by
+the infusion of fresh blood into literature, has been felt from month to
+month in its constantly increasing circulation.
+
+The most eminent of our Statesmen have furnished THE CONTINENTAL many of
+its political articles, and the result is, it has not given labored
+essays fit only for a place in ponderous encyclopedias, but fresh,
+vigorous, and practical contributions on men and things as they exist.
+
+It will be our effort to go on in the path we have entered, and as a
+guarantee of the future, we may point to the array of live and brilliant
+talent which has brought so many encomiums on our Magazine. The able
+political articles which have given it so much reputation will be
+continued in each issue, together with the new Novel by Richard B.
+Kimball, the eminent author of the 'Under-Currents of Wall-Street,' 'St,
+Leger,' etc., entitled,
+
+WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?
+
+An account of the Life and Conduct of Hiram Meeker, one of the leading
+men in the mercantile community, and 'a bright and shining light' in the
+Church, recounting what he did, and how he made his money. This work
+excels the previous brilliant productions of this author. In the present
+number is also commenced a new Serial by the author of 'Among the
+Pines,' entitled,
+
+A MERCHANT'S STORY,
+
+which will depict Southern _white_ society, and be a truthful history of
+some eminent Northern merchants who are largely in 'the cotton trade and
+sugar line.'
+
+The UNION--The Union of ALL THE STATES--that indicates our politics. To
+be content with no ground lower than the highest--that is the standard
+of our literary character.
+
+We hope all who are friendly to the spread of our political views, and
+all who are favorable to the diffusion of a live, fresh, and energetic
+literature, will lend us their aid to increase our circulation. There is
+not one of our readers who may not influence one or two more, and there
+is in every town in the loyal States some active person whose time might
+be profitably employed in procuring subscribers to our work. To
+encourage such to act for us we offer the following very liberal
+
+TERMS TO CLUBS.
+
+  Two copies for one year,      Five dollars.
+  Three copies for one year,    Six dollars.
+  Six copies for one year,      Eleven dollars.
+  Eleven copies for one year,   Twenty dollars.
+  Twenty copies for one year,   Thirty-six dollars.
+
+PAID IN ADVANCE.
+
+_Postage, Thirty-six Cents a year_, TO BE PAID BY THE SUBSCRIBER.
+
+SINGLE COPIES.
+
+Three Dollars a year, IN ADVANCE.--_Postage paid by the Publisher_.
+
+J. R. GILMORE, 532 Broadway, New-York, and 110 Tremont Street, Boston.
+
+CHARLES T. EVANS, 532 Broadway, New-York, _GENERAL AGENT_.
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE FINEST FARMING LANDS _WHEAT CORN COTTON FRUITS &
+VEGETABLES_]
+
+EQUAL TO ANY IN THE WORLD!!!
+
+MAY BE PROCURED
+
+At FROM $8 to $12 PER ACRE,
+
+Near Markets, Schools, Railroads, Churches, and all the blessings of
+Civilization.
+
+1,200,000 Acres, in Farms of 40, 80, 120, 160 Acres and upwards, in
+ILLINOIS, the Garden State of America.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Illinois Central Railroad Company offer, ON LONG CREDIT, the
+beautiful and fertile PRAIRIE LANDS lying along the whole line of their
+Railroad, 700 MILES IN LENGTH, upon the most Favorable Terms for
+enabling Farmers, Manufacturers, Mechanics and Workingmen to make for
+themselves and their families a competency, and a HOME they can call
+THEIR OWN, as will appear from the following statements:
+
+ILLINOIS.
+
+Is about equal in extent to England, with a population of 1,722,666, and
+a soil capable of supporting 20,000,000. No State in the Valley of the
+Mississippi offers so great an inducement to the settler as the State of
+Illinois. There is no part of the world where all the conditions of
+climate and soil so admirably combine to produce those two great
+staples, CORN and WHEAT.
+
+CLIMATE.
+
+Nowhere can the industrious farmer secure such immediate results from
+his labor as on those deep, rich, loamy soils, cultivated with so much
+ease. The climate from the extreme southern part of the State to the
+Terre Haute, Alton and St. Louis Railroad, a distance of nearly 200
+miles, is well adapted to Winter.
+
+WHEAT, CORN, COTTON, TOBACCO.
+
+Peaches, Pears, Tomatoes, and every variety of fruit and vegetables is
+grown in great abundance, from which Chicago and other Northern markets
+are furnished from four to six weeks earlier than their immediate
+vicinity. Between the Terre Haute, Alton & St. Louis Railway and the
+Kankakee and Illinois Rivers, (a distance of 115 miles on the Branch,
+and 136 miles on the Main Trunk,) lies the great Corn and Stock raising
+portion of the State.
+
+THE ORDINARY YIELD
+
+of Corn is from 50 to 80 bushels per acre. Cattle, Horses, Mules, Sheep
+and Hogs are raised here at a small cost, and yield large profits. It is
+believed that no section of country presents greater inducements for
+Dairy Farming than the Prairies of Illinois, a branch of farming to
+which but little attention has been paid, and which must yield sure
+profitable results. Between the Kankakee and Illinois Rivers, and
+Chicago and Dunleith, (a distance of 56 miles on the Branch and 147
+miles by the Main Trunk,) Timothy Hay, Spring Wheat, Corn, &c., are
+produced in great abundance.
+
+AGRICULTURAL PRODUCTS.
+
+The agricultural products of Illinois are greater than those of any
+other State. The Wheat crop of 1861 was estimated at 35,000,000 bushels,
+while the Corn crop yields not less than 140,000,000 bushels besides the
+crop of Oats, Barley, Rye, Buckwheat, Potatoes, Sweet Potatoes,
+Pumpkins, Squashes Flax, Hemp, Peas, Clover, Cabbage, Beets, Tobacco,
+Sorgheim, Grapes, Peaches, Apples, &c. which go to swell the vast
+aggregate of production in this fertile region. Over Four Million tons
+of produce were sent out the State of Illinois during the past year.
+
+STOCK RAISING.
+
+In Central and Southern Illinois uncommon advantages are presented for
+the extension of Stock raising. All kinds of Cattle, Horses, Mules,
+Sheep, Hogs, &c., of the best breeds, yield handsome profits; large
+fortunes have already been made, and the field is open for others to
+enter with the fairest prospects of like results. DAIRY FARMING also
+presents its inducements to many.
+
+CULTIVATION OF COTTON.
+
+_The experiments in Cotton culture are of very great promise. Commencing
+in latitude 39 deg. 30 min. (see Mattoon on the Branch, and Assumption
+on the Main Line), the company owns thousands of acres well adapted to
+the perfection of this fibre. A settler having a family of young
+children, can turn their youthful labor to a most profitable account in
+the growth and perfection of this plant._
+
+THE ILLINOIS CENTRAL RAILROAD
+
+Traverses the whole length of the State, from the banks of the
+Mississippi and Lake Michigan to the Ohio. As its name imports, the
+Railroad runs through the centre of the State, and on either side of the
+road along its whole length lie the lands offered for sale.
+
+CITIES, TOWNS, MARKETS, DEPOTS,
+
+There are Ninety-eight Depots on the Company's Railway, giving about one
+every seven miles. Cities, Towns and Villages are situated at convenient
+distances throughout the whole route, where every desirable commodity
+may be found as readily as in the oldest cities of the Union, and where
+buyers are to be met for all kinds of farm produce.
+
+EDUCATION.
+
+Mechanics and working-men will find the free school system encouraged by
+the State, and endowed with a large revenue for the support of the
+schools. Children can live in sight of the school, the college, the
+church, and grow up with the prosperity of the leading State in the
+Great Western Empire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PRICES AND TERMS OF PAYMENT--ON LONG CREDIT.
+
+80 acres at $10 per acre, with interest at 6 per ct. annually on the
+following terms:
+
+  Cash payment             $48 00
+  Payment in one year       48 00
+     "    in two years      48 00
+     "    in three years    48 00
+     "    in four years    236 00
+     "    in five years    224 00
+     "    in six years     212 00
+     "    in seven years   200 00
+
+40 acres, at $10 00 per acre:
+
+  Cash payment             $24 00
+  Payment in one year       24 00
+     "    in two years      24 00
+     "    in three years    24 00
+     "    in four years    118 00
+     "    in five years    112 00
+     "    in six years     106 00
+     "    in seven years   100 00
+
+
+
+The
+
+Continental
+
+Monthly
+
+
+Devoted to Literature and National Policy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SEPTEMBER, 1862.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW-YORK AND BOSTON:
+
+J. R. GILMORE, 532 BROADWAY, NEW-YORK, AND 110 TREMONT STREET, BOSTON.
+
+NEW-YORK: HENRY DEXTER AND SINCLAIR TOUSEY.
+
+PHILADELPHIA: T. B. CALLENDEE AND A. WINCH.
+
+
+CONTENTS.--No. IX.
+
+  Henry Thomas Buckle,                                               253
+
+  The Molly O'Molly Papers,                                          257
+
+  Hopeful Tackett--His Mark,                                         262
+
+  John Bull to Jonathan,                                             265
+
+  Jonathan to John Bull,                                             265
+
+  American Student Life,                                             266
+
+  Go In and Win,                                                     274
+
+  John Neal,                                                         275
+
+  The Soldier and the Civilian,                                      281
+
+  Author Borrowing,                                                  285
+
+  Intervention,                                                      289
+
+  Maccaroni and Canvas,                                              290
+
+  Anthony Trollope on America,                                       302
+
+  Up and Act,                                                        314
+
+  Reminiscences of Andrew Jackson,                                   318
+
+  Shakspeare's Caricature of Richard III.,                           320
+
+  The Negro in the Revolution,                                       324
+
+  A Merchant's Story, By the author of "Among the Pines,"            328
+
+  Shoulder-Straps,                                                   342
+
+  The Children in the Wood,                                          354
+
+  National Unity,                                                    357
+
+  Was he Successful?                                                 360
+
+  Literary Notices,                                                  366
+
+  Editor's Table,                                                    369
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The article in this issue on NATIONAL UNITY, is by the Hon. HORACE
+GREELEY, who will hereafter contribute to each number of 'The
+Continental.'
+
+SHOULDER-STRAPS, by HENRY MORFORD, Esq., author of 'Rhymes of
+Twenty Years,' will be a sparkling commentary on 'Men, Manners, and
+Motives in 1862.' It will depict some prominent characters whose love of
+the UNION is shown in a decided penchant for 'shoulder-straps.'
+
+The future chapters of 'A MERCHANT'S STORY,' by the author of 'Among the
+Pines,' will be mainly descriptive of Southern life and society.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ENTERED, according to Act of Congress in the year 1862, by
+JAMES R. GILMORE, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court
+of the United States for the Southern District of New-York.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No.
+2, August, 1862, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTINENTAL MONTHLY ***
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 05:06:56 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 05:06:56 -0700
commit	3ed359ff361d49ddcc9eb3f6fb35cb9429da0f6d (patch)
tree	e278bd8fc64294181b3f90878dec492346cc8e11