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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 5, No. 28,
+February, 1860, 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 Atlantic Monthly, Volume 5, No. 28, February, 1860
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: December 2, 2006 [EBook #19995]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci 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
+
+ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
+
+A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.
+
+VOL. V.--FEBRUARY, 1860.--NO. XXVIII.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Minor typos have been corrected. Footnotes have been
+moved to the end of the article.
+
+
+
+
+COUNTING AND MEASURING.
+
+
+Though, from the rapid action of the eye and the mind, grouping and
+counting by groups appear to be a single operation, yet, as things can
+be seen in succession only, however rapidly, the counting of things,
+whether ideal or real, is necessarily one by one. This is the first step
+of the art. The second step is grouping. The use of grouping is to
+economize speech in numeration, and writing in notation, by the exercise
+of the memory. The memorizing of groups is, therefore, a part of the
+primary education of every individual. Until this art is attained, to a
+certain extent, it is very convenient to use the fingers as
+representatives of the individuals of which the groups are composed.
+This practice led to the general adoption of a group derived from the
+fingers of the left hand. The adoption of this group was the first
+distinct step toward mental arithmetic. Previous groupings were for
+particular numerations; this for numeration in general; being, in fact,
+the first numeric base,--the quinary. As men advanced in the use of
+numbers, they adopted a group derived from the fingers of both hands;
+thus ten became the base of numeration.
+
+Notation, like numeration, began with ones, advanced to fives, then to
+tens, etc. Roman notation consisted of a series of signs signifying 1,
+5, 10, 50, 100, 500, 1000, etc.,--a series evidently the result of
+counting by the five fingers and the two hands, the numbers signified
+being the products of continued multiplication by five and by two
+alternately. The Romans adhered to their mode, nor is it entirely out of
+use at the present day, being revered for its antiquity, admired for its
+beauty, and practised for its convenience.
+
+The ancient Greek series corresponded to that of the Romans, though
+primarily the signs for 50, 500 and 5000 had no place. Ultimately,
+however, those places were supplied by means of compound signs.
+
+The Greeks abandoned their ancient mode in favor of the alphabetic,
+which, as it signified by a single letter each number of the
+arithmetical series from one to nine separately, and also in union by
+multiplication with the successive powers of the base of numeration, was
+a decided improvement; yet, as it consisted of signs which by their
+number were difficult to remember, and by their resemblance easy to
+mistake, it was far from being perfect.
+
+Doubtless, strenuous efforts were made to remedy these defects, and,
+apparently as the result of those efforts, the Arabic or Indian mode
+appeared; which, signifying the powers of the base by position, reduced
+the number of signs to that of the arithmetical series, beginning with
+nought and ending with a number of the value of the base less one.
+
+The peculiarity of the Arabic mode, therefore, in comparison with the
+Greek, the Roman, or the alphabetic, is place value; the value of a
+combination by either of these being simply equal to the sum of its
+elements. By that, the value of the successive places, counting from
+right to left, being equal to the successive powers of the base,
+beginning with the noughth power, each figure in the combination is
+multiplied in value by the power of the base proper to its place, and
+the value of the whole is equal to the sum of those products.
+
+The Arabic mode is justly esteemed one of the happiest results of human
+intelligence; and though the most complex ever practised, its
+efficiency, as an arithmetical means, has obtained for it the reputation
+of great simplicity,--a reputation that extends even to the present
+base, which, from its intimate and habitual association with the mode,
+is taken to be a part of the mode itself.
+
+With regard to this impression it may be remarked, that the qualities
+proper to a mode bear no resemblance to those proper to a base. The
+qualities of the present mode are well known and well accepted. Those of
+the present base are accepted with the mode, but those proper to a base
+remain to be determined. In attempting to ascertain these, it will be
+necessary to consider the uses of numeration and of notation.
+
+These may be arranged in three divisions,--scientific, mechanical, and
+commercial. The first is limited, being confined to a few; the second is
+general, being common to many; the third is universal, being necessary
+to all. Commercial use, therefore, will govern the present inquiry.
+
+Commerce, being the exchange of property, requires real quantity to be
+determined, and this in such proportions as are most readily obtained
+and most frequently required. This can be done only by the adoption of a
+unit of quantity that is both real and constant, and such multiples and
+divisions of it as are consistent with the nature of things and the
+requirements of use: real, because property, being real, can be measured
+by real measures only; constant, because the determination of quantity
+requires a standard of comparison that is invariable; conveniently
+proportioned, because both time and labor are precious. These rules
+being acted on, the result will be a system of real, constant, and
+convenient weights, measures, and coins. Consequently, the numeration
+and notation best suited to commerce will be those which agree best with
+such a system.
+
+From the earliest periods, special attention has been paid to units of
+quantity, and, in the ignorance of more constant quantities, the
+governors of men have offered their own persons as measures; hence the
+fathom, yard, pace, cubit, foot, span, hand, digit, pound, and pint. It
+is quite probable that the Egyptians first gave to such measures the
+permanent form of government standards, and that copies of them were
+carried by commerce, and otherwise, to surrounding nations. In time,
+these became vitiated, and should have been verified by their originals;
+but for distant nations this was not convenient; moreover, the governors
+of those nations had a variety of reasons for preferring to verify them
+by their own persons. Thus they became doubly vitiated; yet, as they
+were not duly enforced, the people pleased themselves, so that almost
+every market-town and fair had its own weights and measures; and as, in
+the regulation of coins, governments, like the people, pleased
+themselves, so that almost every nation had a peculiar currency, the
+general result was, that with the laws and the practices of the
+governors and the governed, neither of whom pursued a legitimate
+course, confusion reigned supreme. Indeed, a system of weights,
+measures, and coins, with a constant and real standard, and
+corresponding multiples and divisions, though indulged in as a day-dream
+by a few, has never yet been presented to the world in a definite form;
+and as, in the absence of such a system, a corresponding system of
+numeration and notation can be of no real use, the probability is, that
+neither the one nor the other has ever been fully idealized. On the
+contrary, the present base is taken to be a fixed fact, of the order of
+the laws of the Medes and Persians; so much so, that, when the great
+question is asked, one of the leading questions of the age,--How is this
+mass of confusion to be brought into harmony?--the reply is,--It is only
+necessary to adopt one constant and real standard, with decimal
+multiples and divisions, and a corresponding nomenclature, and the work
+is done: a reply that is still persisted in, though the proposition has
+been fairly tried, and clearly proved to be impracticable.
+
+Ever since commerce began, merchants, and governments for them, have,
+from time to time, established multiples and divisions of given
+standards; yet, for some reason, they have seldom chosen the number ten
+as a base. From the long-continued and intimate connection of decimal
+numeration and notation with the quantities commerce requires, may not
+the fact, that it has not been so used more frequently, be considered as
+sufficient evidence that this use is not proper to it? That it is not
+may be shown thus:--A thing may be divided directly into equal parts
+only by first dividing it into two, then dividing each of the parts into
+two, etc., producing 2, 4, 8, 16, etc., equal parts, but ten never. This
+results from the fact, that doubling or folding is the only direct mode
+of dividing real quantities into equal parts, and that balancing is the
+nearest indirect mode,--two facts that go far to prove binary division
+to be proper to weights, measures, and coins. Moreover, use evidently
+requires things to be divided by two more frequently than by any other
+number,--a fact apparently due to a natural agreement between men and
+things. Thus it appears the binary division of things is not only most
+readily obtained, but also most frequently required. Indeed, it is to
+some extent necessary; and though it may be set aside in part, with
+proportionate inconvenience, it can never be set aside entirely, as has
+been proved by experience. That men have set it aside in part, to their
+own loss, is sufficiently evidenced. Witness the heterogeneous mass of
+irregularities already pointed out. Of these our own coins present a
+familiar example. For the reasons above stated, coins, to be practical,
+should represent the powers of two; yet, on examination, it will be
+found, that, of our twelve grades of coins, only one-half are obtained
+by binary division, and these not in a regular series. Do not these six
+grades, irregular as they are, give to our coins their principal
+convenience? Then why do we claim that our coins are decimal? Are not
+their gradations produced by the following multiplications: 1 x 5 x 2 x
+2-1/2 x 2 x 2 x 2-1/2 x 2 x 2 x 2, and 1 x 3 x 100? Are any of these
+decimal? We might have decimal coins by dropping all but cents, dimes,
+dollars, and eagles; but the question is not, What we might have, but,
+What have we? Certainly we have not decimal coins. A purely decimal
+system of coins would be an intolerable nuisance, because it would
+require a greatly increased number of small coins. This may be
+illustrated by means of the ancient Greek notation, using the simple
+signs only, with the exception of the second sign, to make it purely
+decimal. To express $9.99 by such a notation, only three signs can be
+used; consequently nine repetitions of each are required, making a total
+of twenty-seven signs. To pay it in decimal coins, the same number of
+pieces are required. Including the second Greek sign, twenty-three signs
+are required; including the compound signs also, only fifteen. By Roman
+notation, without subtraction, fifteen; with subtraction, nine. By
+alphabetic notation, three signs without repetition. By the Arabic, one
+sign thrice repeated. By Federal coins, nine pieces, one of them being a
+repetition. By dual coins, six pieces without a repetition, a fraction
+remaining.
+
+In the gradation of real weights, measures, and coins, it is important
+to adopt those grades which are most convenient, which require the least
+expense of capital, time, and labor, and which are least likely to be
+mistaken for each other. What, then, is the most convenient gradation?
+The base two gives a series of seven weights that may be used: 1, 2, 4,
+8, 16, 32, 64 lbs. By these any weight from one to one hundred and
+twenty-seven pounds may be weighed. This is, perhaps, the smallest
+number of weights or of coins with which those several quantities of
+pounds or of dollars may be weighed or paid. With the same number of
+weights, representing the arithmetical series from one to seven, only
+from one to twenty-eight pounds may be weighed; and though a more
+extended series may be used, this will only add to their inconvenience;
+moreover, from similarity of size, such weights will be readily
+mistaken. The base ten gives only two weights that may be used. The base
+three gives a series of weights, 1, 3, 9, 27, etc., which has a great
+promise of convenience; but as only four may be used, the fifth being
+too heavy to handle, and as their use requires subtraction as well as
+addition, they have neither the convenience nor the capability of binary
+weights; moreover, the necessity for subtraction renders this series
+peculiarly unfit for coins.
+
+The legitimate inference from the foregoing seems to be, that a
+perfectly practical system of weights, measures, and coins, one not
+practical only, but also agreeable and convenient, because requiring the
+smallest possible number of pieces, and these not readily mistaken for
+each other, and because agreeing with the natural division of things,
+and therefore commercially proper, and avoiding much fractional
+calculation, is that, and that only, the successive grades of which
+represent the successive powers of two.
+
+That much fractional calculation may thus be avoided is evident from the
+fact that the system will be homogeneous. Thus, as binary gradation
+supplies one coin for every binary division of the dollar, down to the
+sixty-fourth part, and farther, if necessary, any of those divisions may
+be paid without a remainder. On the contrary, Federal gradation, though
+in part binary, gives one coin for each of the first two divisions only.
+Of the remaining four divisions, one requires two coins, and another
+three, and not one of them can be paid in full. Thus it appears there
+are four divisions of the dollar that cannot be paid in Federal coins,
+divisions that are constantly in use, and unavoidable, because resulting
+from the natural division of things, and from the popular division of
+the pound, gallon, yard, inch, etc., that has grown out of it. Those
+fractious that cannot be paid, the proper result of a heterogeneous
+system, are a constant source of jealousy, and often produce disputes,
+and sometimes bitter wrangling, between buyer and seller. The injury to
+public morals arising from this cause, like the destructive effect of
+the constant dropping of water, though too slow in its progress to be
+distinctly traced, is not the less certain. The economic value of binary
+gradation is, in the aggregate, immense; yet its moral value is not to
+be overlooked, when a full estimate of its worth is required.
+
+Admitting binary gradation to be proper to weights, measures, and coins,
+it follows that a corresponding base of numeration and notation must be
+provided, as that best suited to commerce. For this purpose, the number
+two immediately presents itself; but binary numeration and notation
+being too prolix for arithmetical practice, it becomes necessary to
+select for a base a power of two that will afford a more comprehensive
+notation: a power of two, because no other number will agree with binary
+gradation. It is scarcely proper to say the third power has been
+selected, for there was no alternative,--the second power being too
+small, and the fourth too large. Happily, the third is admirably suited
+to the purpose, combining, as it does, the comprehensiveness of eight
+with the simplicity of two.
+
+It may be asked, how a number, hitherto almost entirely overlooked as a
+base of numeration, is suddenly found to be so well suited to the
+purpose. The fact is, the present base being accepted as proper for
+numeration, however erroneously, it is assumed to be proper for
+gradation also; and a very flattering assumption it is, promising a
+perfectly homogeneous system of weights, measures, coins, and numbers,
+than which nothing can be more desirable; but, siren-like, it draws the
+mind away from a proper investigation of the subject, and the basic
+qualities of numbers, being unquestioned, remain unknown. When the
+natural order is adopted, and the base of gradation is ascertained by
+its adaptation to things, and the base of numeration by its agreement
+with that of gradation, then, the basic qualities of numbers being
+questioned, two is found to be proper to the first use, and eight to the
+second.
+
+The idea of changing the base of numeration will appear to most persons
+as absurd, and its realization as impossible; yet the probability is, it
+will be done. The question is one of time rather than of fact, and there
+is plenty of time. The diffusion of education will ultimately cause it
+to be demanded. A change of notation is not an impossible thing. The
+Greeks changed theirs, first for the alphabetic, and afterwards, with
+the rest of the civilized world, for the Arabic,--both greater changes
+than that now proposed. A change of numeration is truly a more serious
+matter, yet the difficulty may not be as great as our apprehensions
+paint it. Its inauguration must not be compared with that of French
+gradation, which, though theoretically perfect, is practically absurd.
+
+Decimal numeration grew out of the fact that each person has ten fingers
+and thumbs, without reference to science, art, or commerce. Ultimately
+scientific men discovered that it was not the best for certain purposes,
+consequently that a change might be desirable; but as they were not
+disposed to accommodate themselves to popular practices, which they
+erroneously viewed, not as necessary consequences, but simply as bad
+habits, they suggested a base with reference not so much to commerce as
+to science. The suggestion was never acted on, however; indeed, it would
+have been in vain, as Delambre remarks, for the French commission to
+have made the attempt, not only for the reason he presents, but also
+because it does not agree with natural division, and is therefore not
+suited to commerce; neither is it suited to the average capacity of
+mankind for numbers; for, though some may be able to use duodecimal
+numeration and notation with ease, the great majority find themselves
+equal to decimal only, and some come short even of that, except in its
+simplest use. Theoretically, twelve should be preferred to ten, because
+it agrees with circle measure at least, and ten agrees with nothing;
+besides, it affords a more comprehensive notation, and is divisible by
+6, 4, 3, and 2 without a fraction, qualities that are theoretically
+valuable.
+
+At first sight, the universal use of decimal numeration seems to be an
+argument in its favor. It appears as though Nature had pointed directly
+to it, on account of some peculiar fitness. It is assumed, indeed, that
+this is the case, and habit confirms the assumption; yet, when
+reflection has overcome habit, it will be seen that its adoption was due
+to accident alone,--that it took place before any attention was paid to
+a general system, in short, without reflection,--and that its supposed
+perfection is a mere delusion; for, as a member of such a system, it
+presents disagreements on every hand; as has been said, it has no
+agreement with anything, unless it be allowable to say that it agrees
+with the Arabic mode of notation. This kind of agreement it has, in
+common with every other base. It is this that gives it character. On
+this account alone it is believed by many to be the perfection of
+harmony. They get the base of numeration and the mode of notation so
+mingled together, that they cannot separate them sufficiently to obtain
+a distinct idea of either; and some are not conscious that they are
+distinct, but see in the Arabic mode nothing save decimal notation, and
+attribute to it all those high qualities that belong to the mode only.
+The Arabic mode is an invention of the highest merit, not surpassed by
+any other; but the admiration that belongs to it is thus bestowed upon a
+quite commonplace idea, a misapplication, which, in this as in many
+other cases, arises from the fact, that it is much easier to admire than
+to investigate. This result of carelessness, if isolated, might be
+excused; but all errors are productive, and it should be remembered that
+this one has produced that extraordinary perversion of truth to be found
+in the reply to the question, How is all this confusion to be brought
+into harmony? It has produced it not only in words, but in deed. Was it
+not this reply that led the French commission to extend the use of the
+present base from numeration to gradation also, under the delusive hope
+of producing a perfectly homogeneous system, that would be practical
+also? Was it not under its influence, that, adhering to the base to
+which the world had been so long accustomed, instead of attempting to
+regulate ideal division by real, which might have led to the adoption of
+the true base and a practical system, they committed the one great error
+of endeavoring to reverse true order, by forcing real division into
+conformity with a preconceived ideal? This attempt was made at a time
+supposed by many to be peculiarly suited to the purpose, a time of
+changes. It was a time of changes, truly; but these were the result of
+high excitement, not of quiet thought, such as the subject requires,--a
+time for rushing forward, not for retracing misguided steps.
+Accordingly, a system was produced which from its magnitude and
+importance was truly imposing, and which, to the present day, is highly
+applauded by all those who, under the influence of the error alluded to,
+conceive decimal numeration to be a sacred truth: applauded, not because
+of its adaptation to commerce, but simply because of its beautiful
+proportions, its elegant symmetry, to say nothing of the array of
+learning and power engaged in its production and inauguration: imposing,
+truly, and alike on its authors and admirers; for the qualities they so
+much admire are not peculiar to the decimal base, but to the use of one
+and the same base for numeration, notation, and gradation. But if the
+base ten agrees with nothing, over, on, or under the earth, can it be
+the best for scientific use? can it be at all suited to commercial
+purposes? If true order is the object to be attained, and that for the
+sake of its utility, then agreement between real and ideal division is
+the one thing needful, the one essential change without which all other
+changes are vain, the only change that will yield the greatest good to
+the greatest number,--a change, which, as volition is with the ideal,
+and inertia with the real, can be attained only by adaptation of the
+ideal to the real.
+
+A full investigation of the existing heterogeneous or fragmentary system
+will lead to the discovery that it contains two elements which are at
+variance with natural division and with each other, and that the
+unsuccessful issue of every attempt at regulation hitherto made has been
+the proper result of the mistake of supposing agreement between those
+elements to be a possible thing.
+
+The first element of discord to be considered is the division of things
+by personal proportion, as by fathom, yard, cubit, foot, etc. It is
+obvious at a glance, that these do not agree with binary division, nor
+with decimal, nor yet with each other. It is this element that has
+suggested the duodecimal base, to which some adhere so tenaciously,
+apparently because they have not ascertained the essential quality of a
+base.
+
+The second is the numeration of things by personal parts, as fingers,
+hands, etc.,--suggesting a base of numeration that has no agreement
+with the binary, nor with personal proportion, neither can it have with
+any proper general system. Are there any things in Nature that exist by
+tens, that associate by tens, that separate into tenths? Are there any
+things that are sold by tens, or by tenths? Even the fingers number
+eight, and, had there been any reflection used in the adoption of a base
+of numeration, the thumbs would not have been included. The ease with
+which the simplest arithmetical series may be continued led our fathers
+quietly to the adoption, first, of the quinary, and second, of the
+decimal group; and we have continued its use so quietly, that its
+propriety has rarely been questioned; indeed, most persons are both
+surprised and offended, when they hear it declared to be a purely
+artificial base, proper only to abstract numbers.
+
+The binary base, on the contrary, is natural, real, simple,
+and accords with the tendency of the mind to simplify, to
+individualize. In business, who ever thinks of a half as
+two-fourths, or three-sixths, much less as two-and-a-half-fifths,
+or three-and-a-half-sevenths? For division by two produces a half
+at one operation; but with any other divisor, the reduction is too
+great, and must be followed by multiplication. Think of calling
+a half five-tenths, a quarter twenty-five-hundredths, an eighth
+one-hundred-and-twenty-five-thousandths! Arithmetic is seldom used as a
+plaything. It generally comes into use when the mind is too much
+occupied for sporting. Consequently, the smallest divisor that will
+serve the purpose is always preferred. A calculation is an appendage to
+a mercantile transaction, not a part of the transaction itself; it is,
+indeed, a hindrance, and in large business is performed by a distinct
+person. But even with him, simplicity, because necessary to speed, is
+second in merit only to correctness.
+
+The binary base is not only simple, it is real. Accordingly, it has
+large agreement with the popular divisions of weights, etc. Grocers'
+weights, up to the four-pound piece, and all their measures, are binary;
+so are the divisions of the yard, the inch, etc.
+
+It is not only simple and real, it is natural. On every hand, things may
+be found that are duplex in form, that associate in pairs, that separate
+into halves, that may be divided into two equal parts. Things are
+continually sold in pairs, in halves, and in quantities produced by
+halving.
+
+The binary base, therefore, is here proposed, as the only proper base
+for gradation; and the octonal, as the true commercial base, for
+numeration and notation: two bases which in combination form a
+binoctonal system that is at once simple, comprehensive, and efficient.
+
+
+
+
+MY LAST LOVE.
+
+
+I had counted many more in my girlhood, in the first flush of
+blossoming,--and a few, good men and true, whom I never meet even now
+without an added color; for, at one time or another, I thought I loved
+each of them.
+
+"Why didn't I marry them, then?"
+
+For the same reason that many another woman does not. We are afraid to
+trust our own likings. Too many of them are but sunrise vapors, very
+rosy to begin with, but by mid-day as dingy as any old dead cloud with
+the rain all shed out of it. I never see any of those old swains of
+mine, without feeling profoundly thankful that I don't belong to him. I
+shouldn't want to look over my husband's head in any sense. So they all
+got wives and children, and I lived an old maid,--although I was
+scarcely conscious of the state; for, if my own eyes or other people's
+testimony were to be trusted, I didn't look old, and I'm quite sure I
+didn't feel so. But I came to myself on my thirty-second birthday, an
+old maid most truly, without benefit of clergy. And thereby hangs this
+tale; for on that birthday I first made acquaintance with my last love.
+
+Something like a month before, there had come to Huntsville two
+gentlemen in search of game and quiet quarters for the summer. They soon
+found that a hotel in a country village affords little seclusion; but
+the woods were full of game, the mountain-brooks swarmed with trout too
+fine to be given up, and they decided to take a house of their own.
+After some search, they fixed on an old house, (I've forgotten whose
+"folly" it was called,) full a mile and a half from town, standing upon
+a mossy hill that bounded my fields, square and stiff and
+weather-beaten, and without any protection except a ragged pine-tree
+that thrust its huge limbs beneath the empty windows, as though it were
+running away with a stolen house under its arm. The place was musty,
+rat-eaten, and tenanted by a couple of ghosts, who thought a fever, once
+quite fatal within the walls, no suitable discharge from the property,
+and made themselves perfectly free of the quarters in properly weird
+seasons. But money and labor cleared out all the cobwebs, (for ghosts
+are but spiritual cobwebs, you know,) and the old house soon wore a
+charming air of rustic comfort.
+
+I used to look over sometimes, for it was full in view from my
+chamber-windows, and see the sportsmen going off by sunrise with their
+guns or fishing-rods, or lying, after their late dinner, stretched upon
+the grass in front of the house, smoking and reading. Sometimes a
+fragment of a song would be dropped down from the lazy wings of the
+south wind, sometimes a long laugh filled all the summer air and
+frightened the pinewood into echoes, and, altogether, the new neighbors
+seemed to live an enviable life. They were very civil people, too; for,
+though their nearest path out lay across my fields, and close by the
+doorway, and they often stopped to buy fruit or cream or butter, we were
+never annoyed by an impertinent question or look. Once only I overheard
+a remark not altogether civil, and that was on the evening before my
+birthday. One of them, the elder, said, as he went away from my house
+with a basket of cherries, that he should like to get speech with that
+polyglot old maid, who read, and wrote, and made her own butter-pats.
+The other answered, that the butter was excellent at any rate, and
+perhaps she had a classical cow; and they went down the lane laughingly
+disputing about the matter, not knowing that I was behind the
+currant-bushes.
+
+"Polyglot old maid!" I thought, very indignantly, as I went into the
+house. "I've a mind not to sell them another cake of my butter. But I
+wonder if people call me an old maid. I wonder if I am one."
+
+I thought of it all the evening, and dreamt of it all night, waking the
+next morning with a new realization of the subject. That first sense of
+a lost youth! How sharp and strong it comes! That suddenly opened north
+door of middle life, through which the winter winds rush in, sweeping
+out of the southern windows all the splendors of the earlier time; it is
+like a sea-turn in late summer. It has seemed to be June all along, and
+we thought it was June, until the wind went round to the east, and the
+first red leaf admonished us. By-and-by we close, as well as we may,
+that open door, and look out again from the windows upon blooms,
+beautiful in their way, to which some birds yet sing; but, alas! the
+wind is still from the east, and blows as though, far away, it had lain
+among icebergs.
+
+So I mused all the morning, watering the sentiment with a bit of a
+shower out of my cloud; and when the shadows turned themselves, I went
+out to see how old age would look to me in the fields and woods. It was
+a delicious afternoon, more like a warm dream of hay-making, odorous,
+misty, sleepily musical, than a waking reality, on which the sun shone.
+Tremulous blue clouds lay down all around upon the mountains, and lazy
+white ones lost themselves in the waters; and through the dozing air,
+the faint chirp of robin or cricket, and ding of bells in the woods, and
+mellow cut of scythe, melted into one song, as though the heart-beat of
+the luscious midsummer-time had set itself to tune.
+
+I walked on to loiter through the woods. No dust-brush for brain or
+heart like the boughs of trees! There dwells a truth, and pure, strong
+health within them, an ever-returning youth, promising us a glorious
+leafage in some strange spring-time, and a symmetry and sweetness that
+possess us until our thoughts grow skyward like them, and wave and sing
+in some sunnier strata of soul-air. In the woods I was a girl again, and
+forgot the flow of the hours in their pleasant companionship. I must
+have grown tired and sat down by a thicket of pines to rest, though I
+have forgotten, and perhaps I had fallen asleep; for suddenly I became
+conscious of a sharp report, and a sharper pain in my shoulder, and,
+tearing off my cape, I found the blood was flowing from a wound just
+below the joint. I remember little more, for a sudden faintness came
+over me; but I have an indistinct remembrance of people coming up, of
+voices, of being carried home, and of the consternation there, and long
+delay in obtaining the surgeon. The pain of an operation brought me
+fully to my senses; and when that was over, I was left alone to sleep,
+or to think over my situation at leisure. I'm afraid I had but little of
+a Christian spirit then. All my plans of labor and pleasure spoiled by
+this one piece of carelessness! to call it by the mildest term. All
+those nice little fancies that should have grown into real
+flesh-and-blood articles for my publisher, hung up to dry and shrivel
+without shape or comeliness! The garden, the dairy, the new bit of
+carriage-way through the beeches,--my pet scheme,--the new music, the
+sewing, all laid upon the shelf for an indefinite time, and I with no
+better employment than to watch the wall-paper, and to wonder if it
+wasn't almost dinner- or supper-time, or nearly daylight! To be sure, I
+knew and thought of all the improving reflections of a sick-room; but it
+was much like a mild-spoken person making peace among twenty quarrelsome
+ones. You can see him making mouths, but you don't hear a word he says.
+
+A sick mind breeds fever fast in a sick body, and by night I was in a
+high fever, and for a day or two knew but little of what went on about
+me. One of the first things I heard, when I grew easier, was, that my
+neighbor, the sportsman, was waiting below to hear how I was. It was the
+younger one whose gun had wounded me; and he had shown great solicitude,
+they said, coming several times each day to inquire for me. He brought
+some birds to be cooked for me, too,--and came again to bring some
+lilies he had gone a mile to fetch, he told the girl. Every day he came
+to inquire, or to bring some delicacy, or a few flowers, or a new
+magazine for me, until the report of his visit came to be an expected
+excitement, and varied the dull days wonderfully. Sickness and seclusion
+are a new birth to our senses, oftentimes. Not only do we get a real
+glimpse of ourselves, undecked and unclothed, but the commonest habits
+of life, and the things that have helped to shape them day by day, put
+on a sort of strangeness, and come to shake hands with us again, and
+make us wonder that they should be just exactly what they are. We get at
+the primitive meaning of them, as if we rubbed off the nap of life, and
+looked to see how the threads were woven; and they come and go before us
+with a sort of old newness that affects us much as if we should meet our
+own ghost some time, and wonder if we are really our own or some other
+person's housekeeper.
+
+I went through all this, and came out with a stock of small facts
+beside,--as, that the paper-hanger had patched the hangings in my
+chamber very badly in certain dark spots, (I had got several headaches,
+making it out,)--that the chimney was a little too much on one
+side,--that certain boards in the entry-floor creaked of their own
+accord in the night,--that Neighbor Brown had tucked a few new shingles
+into the roof of his barn, so that it seemed to have broken out with
+them,--and any number of other things equally important. At length I got
+down-stairs, and was allowed to see a few friends. Of course there was
+an inundation of them; and each one expected to hear my story, and to
+tell a companion one, something like mine, only a little more so. It was
+astonishing, the immense number of people that had been hurt with guns.
+No wonder I was sick for a day or two afterward. I was more prudent next
+time, however, and, as the gossips had got all they wanted, I saw only
+my particular friends. Among these my neighbor, the sportsman, insisted
+on being reckoned, and after a little hesitation we were obliged to
+admit him. I say we,--for, on hearing of my injury, my good cousin, Mary
+Mead, had come to nurse and amuse me. She was one of those safe,
+serviceable, amiable people, made of just the stuff for a satellite, and
+she proved invaluable to me. She was immensely taken with Mr. Ames, too,
+(I speak of the younger, for, after the first call of condolence, the
+elder sportsman never came,) and to her I left the task of entertaining
+him, or rather of doing the honors of the house,--for the gentleman
+contrived to entertain himself and us.
+
+Now don't imagine the man a hero, for he was no such thing. He was very
+good-looking,--some might say handsome,--well-bred, well educated, with
+plenty of common information picked up in a promiscuous intercourse with
+town and country people, rather fine tastes, and a great, strong,
+magnanimous, physical nature, modest, but perfectly self-conscious. That
+was his only charm for me. I despise a mere animal; but, other things
+being equal, I admire a man who is big and strong, and aware of his
+advantages; and I think most women, and very refined ones, too, love
+physical beauty and strength much more than they are willing to
+acknowledge. So I had the same admiration for Mr. Ames that I should
+have had for any other finely proportioned thing, and enjoyed him very
+much, sitting quietly in my corner while he chatted with Mary, or told
+me stories of travel or hunting, or read aloud, which he soon fell into
+the way of doing.
+
+We did try, as much as hospitality permitted, to confine his visits to a
+few ceremonious calls; but he persisted in coming almost every day, and
+walked in past the girl with that quiet sort of authority which it is so
+difficult to resist. In the same way he took possession of Mary and me.
+He was sure it must be very dull for both of us; therefore he was going,
+if we would pardon the liberty, to offer his services as reader, while
+my nurse went out for a ride or a walk. Couldn't I sit out under the
+shadow of the beech-trees, as well as in that hot room? He could lift
+the chair and me perfectly well, and arrange all so that I should be
+comfortable. He would like to superintend the cooking of some birds he
+brought one day. He noticed that the girl didn't do them quite as nicely
+as he had learned to do them in the woods. And so in a thousand things
+he quietly made us do as he chose, without seeming to outrage any rule
+of propriety. When I was able to sit in a carriage, he persuaded me to
+drive with him; and I had to lean on his arm, when I first went round
+the place to see how matters went on.
+
+Once I protested against his making himself so necessary to us, and told
+him that I didn't care to furnish the gossips so much food as we were
+doing.
+
+When I turned him out of doors, he would certainly stay away, he said;
+but he thought, that, as long as I was an invalid, I needed some one to
+think and act for me and save me the trouble, and, as no one else seemed
+disposed to take the office, he thought it was rather his duty and
+privilege,--especially, he added, with a slight smile, as he was quite
+sure that it was not very disagreeable to us. As for the gossips, he
+didn't think they would make much out of it, with such an excellent
+duenna as Cousin Mary,--and, indeed, he heard the other day that he was
+paying attention to her.
+
+I thought it all over by myself, when he had gone, and came to the
+conclusion that it was not necessary for me to resign so great a
+pleasure as his society had become, merely for the fear of what a few
+curious people might say. Even Mary, cautious as she was, protested
+against banishing him for such a reason; and, after a little talking
+over of the matter among ourselves, we decided to let Mr. Ames come as
+often as he chose, for the remaining month of his stay.
+
+That month went rapidly enough, for I was well enough to ride and walk
+out, and half the time had Mr. Ames to accompany me. I got to value him
+very much, as I knew him better, and as he grew acquainted with my
+peculiarities; and we were the best friends in the world, without a
+thought of being more. No one would have laughed at that more than we,
+there was such an evident unsuitableness in the idea. At length the time
+came for him to leave Huntsville; his house was closed, except one room
+where he still preferred to remain, and his friend was already gone. He
+came to take tea with us for the last time, and made himself as
+agreeable as ever, although it evidently required some effort to do so.
+Soft-hearted Cousin Mary broke down and went off crying when he bade her
+good-bye, after tea; but I was not of such stuff, and laughingly rallied
+him on the impression he had made.
+
+"Get your bonnet, and walk over to the stile with me, Miss Rachel," he
+said. "It isn't sunset quite yet, and the afternoon is warm. Come! it's
+the last walk we shall take together."
+
+I followed him out, and we went almost silently across the fields to the
+hill that overlooked the strip of meadow between our houses. There was
+the stile over which I had looked to see him spring, many a time.
+
+"Sit down a moment, until the sun is quite down," he said, making room
+for me beside him on the topmost step. "See how splendid that sky is! a
+pavilion for the gods!"
+
+"I should think they were airing all their finery," I answered. "It
+looks more like a counter spread with bright goods than anything else I
+can think of."
+
+"That's a decidedly vulgar comparison, and you're not in a spiritual
+mood at all," he said. "You've snubbed me two or three times to-night,
+when I've tried to be sentimental. What's amiss with you?" and he bent
+his eyes, full of a saucy sort of triumph, upon mine.
+
+"I don't like parting with friends; it sets me all awry," I said, giving
+back his own self-assured look. I was sorry to have him go; but if he
+thought I was going to cry or blush, he was mistaken.
+
+"You'll write to me, Miss Rachel?" he asked.
+
+"No, Mr. Ames,--not at all," I said.
+
+"Not write? Why not?" he asked, in astonishment.
+
+"Because I don't believe in galvanizing dead friendships," I answered.
+
+"Dead friendships, Miss Rachel? I hope ours has much life in it yet," he
+said.
+
+"It's in the last agony, Sir. It will be comfortably dead and buried
+before long, with a neat little epitaph over it,--which is much the best
+way to dispose of them finally, I think."
+
+"You're harder than I thought you were," he said. "Is that the way you
+feel towards all your friends?"
+
+"I love my friends as well as any one," I answered. "But I never hold
+them when they wish to be gone. My life-yarn spins against some other
+yarn, catches the fibres, and twists into the very heart"----
+
+"So far?" he asked, turning his eyes down to mine.
+
+"Yes," I said, coolly,--"for the time being. You don't play at your
+friendships, do you? If so, I pity you. As I was saying, they're like
+one thread. By-and-by one spindle is moved, the strands spin away from
+each other, and become strange yarn. What's the use of sending little
+locks of wool across to keep them acquainted? They're two yarns from
+henceforth. Reach out for some other thread,--there's plenty near,--and
+spin into that. We're made all up of little locks from other people, Mr.
+Ames. Won't it be strange, in that great Hereafter, to hunt up our own
+fibres, and return other people's? It would take about forty-five
+degrees of an eternity to do that."
+
+"I shall never return mine," he said. "I couldn't take myself to pieces
+in such a style. But won't you write at all?"
+
+"To what purpose? You'll be glad of one letter,--possibly of two. Then
+it will be, 'Confound it! here's a missive from that old maid! What a
+bore! Now I suppose I must air my wits in her behalf; but, if you ever
+catch me again,'----_Exit_."
+
+"And you?" he asked, laughing.
+
+"I shall be as weary as you, and find it as difficult to keep warmth in
+the poor dying body. No, Mr. Ames. Let the poor thing die a natural
+death, and we'll wear a bit of crape a little while, and get a new
+friend for the old."
+
+"So you mean to forget me altogether?"
+
+"No, indeed! I shall recollect you as a very pleasant tale that is
+told,--not a friend to hanker after. Isn't that good common sense?"
+
+"It's all head-work,--mere cold calculation," he said; "while I"----He
+stopped and colored.
+
+"Your gods, there, are downright turn-coats," I said, coming down from
+the stile. "Their red mantles are nothing but pearl-colored now, and
+presently they'll be russet-gray. That whippoorwill always brings the
+dew with him, too; so I must go home. Good-night, and good-bye, Mr.
+Ames."
+
+"I scarcely know how to part with you," he said, taking my hand. "It's
+not so easy a thing to do."
+
+"People say, 'Good-bye,' or 'God bless you,' or some such civil phrase,
+usually," I said, with just the least curl of my lip,--for I knew I had
+got the better of him.
+
+He colored again, and then smiled a little sadly.
+
+"Ah! I'm afraid I leave a bigger lock than I take," he exclaimed. "Well,
+then, good friend! good-bye, and God bless you, too! Don't be quite so
+hard as you promise to be."
+
+I missed him very much, indeed; but if any think I cried after him, or
+wrote verses, or soliloquized for his sake, they are much mistaken. I
+had lost friends before, and made it a point to think just as little of
+them as possible, until the sore spot grew strong enough to handle
+without wincing. Besides, my cousin stayed with me, and all my good
+friends in the village had to come out for a call or a visit to see how
+the land lay; so I had occupation enough. Once in a while I used to look
+over to the old house, and wish for one good breezy conversation with
+its master; and when the snow came and lay in one mass upon the old
+roof, clear down to the eaves, like a night-cap pulled down to the eyes
+of a low-browed old woman, I moved my bed against the window that looked
+that way. These forsaken nests are gloomy things enough!
+
+I had no thought of hearing again of him or from him, and was surprised,
+when, in a month, a review came, and before long another, and afterwards
+a box, by express, with a finely kept bouquet, and, in mid-winter, a
+little oil-painting,--a delicious bit of landscape for my _sanctum_, as
+he said in the note that accompanied it. I heard from him in this way
+all winter, although I never sent word or message back again, and tried
+to think I was sorry that he did not forget me, as I had supposed he
+would. Of course I never thought of acknowledging to myself that it was
+possible for me to love him. I was too good a sophist for that; and,
+indeed, I think that between a perfect friendship and a perfect love a
+fainter distinction exists than many people imagine. I have known
+likings to be colored as rosily as love, and seen what called itself
+love as cold as the chilliest liking.
+
+One day, after spring had been some time come, I was returning from a
+walk and saw that Mr. Ames's house was open. I could not see any person
+there; but the door and windows were opened, and a faint smoke crept out
+of the chimney and up among the new spring foliage after the squirrels.
+I had walked some distance, and was tired, and the weather was not
+perfect; but I thought I would go round that way and see what was going
+on. It was one of those charming child-days in early May, laughing and
+crying all in one, the fine mist-drops shining down in the sun's rays,
+like star-dust from some new world in process of rasping up for use. I
+liked such days. The showers were as good for me as for the trees. I
+grew and budded under them, and they filled my soul's soil full of
+singing brooks.
+
+When I reached the lawn before the door, Mr. Ames came out to see
+me,--so glad to meet that he held my hand and drew me in, asking two or
+three times how I was and if I were glad to see him. He had called at
+the house and seen Cousin Mary, on his way over, he said,--for he was
+hungering for a sight of us. He was not looking as well as when he left
+in the autumn,--thinner, paler, and with a more anxious expression when
+he was not speaking; but when I began to talk with him, he brightened
+up, and seemed like his old self. He had two or three workmen already
+tearing down portions of the finishing, and after a few moments asked me
+to go round and see what improvements he was to make. We stopped at last
+at his chamber, a room that looked through the foliage towards my house.
+
+"This is my lounging-place," he said, pointing to the sofa beneath the
+window. "I shall sit here with my cigar and watch you this summer; so be
+circumspect! But are you sure that you are glad to see me?"
+
+"To be sure. Do you take me for a heathen?" I said. "But what are you
+making such a change for? Couldn't the old house content you?"
+
+"It satisfies me well enough; but I expect visitors this summer who are
+quite fastidious, and this old worm-eaten wood-work wouldn't do for
+them. What makes you look so dark? Don't you like the notion of my
+lady-visitors?"
+
+"I didn't know that they were to be ladies until you told me," I said;
+"and it's none of my business whom you entertain, Mr. Ames."
+
+"There wasn't much of a welcome for them in your face, at any rate," he
+answered. "And to tell the truth, I am not much pleased with the
+arrangement myself. But they took a sudden fancy for coming, and no
+amount of persuasion could induce them to change their minds. It's
+hardly a suitable place for ladies; but if they will come, they must
+make the best of it."
+
+"How came you ever to take a fancy to this place? and what makes you
+spend so much money on it?" I asked.
+
+"You don't like to see the money thrown away," he said, laughing. "The
+truth is, that I've got a skeleton, like many another man, and I've been
+trying these two years to get away from it. The first time I stopped to
+rest under this tree, I felt light-hearted. I don't know why, except it
+was some mysterious influence; but I loved the place, and I love it no
+less now, although my skeleton has found a lodging-place here too."
+
+"Of course," I said, "and very appropriately. The house was haunted
+before you came."
+
+"It was haunted for me afterward," he said softly, more to himself than
+to me; "sweet, shadowy visions I should be glad to call up now." And he
+turned away and swallowed a sigh.
+
+I pitied him all the way home, and sat up to pity him, looking through
+the soft May starlight to see the lamp burning steadily at his window
+until after midnight. From that time I seemed to have a trouble,--though
+I could scarcely have named or owned it, it was so indefinite.
+
+He came to see me a few days afterward, and sat quite dull and
+abstracted until I warmed him up with a little lively opposition. I
+vexed him first, and then, when I saw he was interested enough to talk,
+I let him have a chance; and I had never seen him so interesting. He
+showed me a new phase of his character, and I listened, and answered him
+in as few words as possible, that I might lose nothing of the
+revelation. When he got up to go away, I asked him where he had been to
+learn and think so much since the last autumn. He began to be, I thought
+and hoped, what a sterner teaching might have made him before.
+
+He seemed a little embarrassed; said no one else had discovered any
+change in him, and he thought it must be only a reflected light. He had
+observed that I had "a remarkable faculty for drawing people out. What
+was my witchcraft?"
+
+I disclaimed all witchcraft, and told him it was only because I
+quarrelled with people. A little wholesome opposition had warmed him
+into quite a flight of fancy.
+
+"If I could only,"----he began, hurriedly; but took out his watch, said
+it was time for him to go, and went off quite hastily. It was very weak
+in me, but I wished very much to know what he would have said.
+
+The next time, he called a few moments to tell me that his
+lady-visitors, with a friend of theirs, had come, and had expressed a
+wish to make my acquaintance. He promised them that he would call and
+let me know,--though he hoped I would not come, unless I felt inclined.
+He was very absent-minded, and went off the moment I asked him where he
+had left his good spirits. This made me a little cold to him when I
+called on the ladies, for I found them all sitting after tea out at the
+door. It was a miserably constrained affair, though we all tried to be
+civil,--for I could see that both ladies were taking, or trying to take,
+my measure, and it did not set me at ease in the least. But in the mean
+time I had measured them; and as experience has confirmed that first
+impression, I may as well sketch them here. I protest, in the first
+place, against any imputation of prejudice or jealousy. I thought much
+more charitably of them than others did.
+
+Mrs. Winslow was one of those pleasant, well-bred ladies, who can look
+at you until you are obliged to look away, contradict you flatly, and
+say the most grossly impertinent things in the mildest voice and
+choicest words. A woman of the world, without nobility enough to
+appreciate a magnanimous thought or action, and with very narrow,
+shallow views of everything about her, she had still some agreeable
+traits of character,--much shrewd knowledge of the world, as she saw it,
+some taste for Art, and an excellent judgment in relation to all things
+appertaining to polite society. I had really some pleasant intercourse
+with her, although I think she was one of the most insulting persons I
+ever met. I made a point of never letting her get any advantage of me,
+and so we got along very well. Whenever she had a chance, she was sure
+to say something that would mortify or hurt me; and I never failed to
+repay both principal and interest with a voice and face as smooth as
+hers. And here let me say that there is no other way of dealing with
+such people. Self-denial, modesty, magnanimity, they do not and cannot
+understand. Never turn them the other cheek, but give a smart slap back
+again. It will do them good.
+
+The daughter was a very pretty, artificial, silly girl, who might have
+been very amiable in a different position, and was not ill-natured as it
+was. I might have liked her very well, if she had not conceived such a
+wonderful liking for me, and hugged and kissed me as much as she did.
+She cooed, too, and I dislike to hear a woman coo; it is a sure mark of
+inferiority.
+
+We were quite intimate soon, and Miss Lucy fell into the habit of coming
+early in the morning to ride with me, and after dinner to sit and sew,
+and after tea for a walk. She showed me all her heart, apparently,
+though there was not much of it, and vowed that she scarcely knew how
+she should exist without me. I let her play at liking me, just as I
+should have indulged a playful kitten, and tried to say and do something
+that might improve her for Mr. Ames's sake. I saw now what his skeleton
+was. He was to marry the poor child, and shrunk from it as I should have
+shrunk from a shallow husband.
+
+He used to come with her sometimes, and I must confess that he behaved
+admirably. I never saw him in the least rude, or ill-natured, or
+contemptuous towards her, even when she was silliest and tried his
+patience most severely; and I felt my respect for him increasing every
+day. As for Mrs. Winslow, she came sometimes to see me, and was very
+particular to invite me there; but I saw that she watched both me and
+Mr. Ames, and suspected that she had come to Huntsville for that
+purpose. She sought every opportunity, too, of making me seem awkward or
+ignorant before him; and he perceived it, I know, and was mortified and
+annoyed by it, though he left the chastisement entirely to me. Once in a
+while Cousin Mary and I had a real old-fashioned visit from him all
+alone, either when it was very stormy, or when the ladies were visiting
+elsewhere. He always came serious and abstracted, and went away in good
+spirits, and he said that those few hours were the pleasantest he
+passed. Mrs. Winslow looked on them with an evil eye, I knew, and
+suspected a great deal of which we were all innocent; for one day, when
+she had been dining at my house with her daughter, and we were all out
+in the garden together, I overheard her saying,--
+
+"She is just the person to captivate him, and you mustn't bring yourself
+into competition with her, Lucy. She can out-shine you in conversation,
+and I know that she is playing a deep game."
+
+"La, ma!" the girl exclaimed. "An old maid, without the least style! and
+she makes butter too, and actually climbs up in a chair to scrub down
+her closets,--for Edward and I caught her at it one day."
+
+"And did she seem confused?" asked Mrs. Winslow.
+
+"No, indeed! Now I should have died, if he had caught me in such a
+plight; but she shook down her dress as though it were a matter of
+course, and they were soon talking about some German stuff,--I don't
+know what it was,--while I had to amuse myself with the drawings."
+
+"That's the way!" retorted the mother. "You play dummy for them. I wish
+you had a little more spirit, Lucy. You wouldn't play into the hands of
+this designing"----
+
+"Nonsense, mamma! She's a real clever, good-natured old thing, and I
+like her," exclaimed the daughter. "You're so suspicious!"
+
+"You're so foolishly secure!" answered mamma. "A man is never certain
+until after the ceremony; and you don't know Edward Ames, Lucy."
+
+"I know he's got plenty of money, mother, and I know he's real nice and
+handsome," was the reply; and they walked out of hearing.
+
+I wouldn't have listened even to so much as that, if I could have
+avoided it; and as soon as I could, I went into the parlor, and sat down
+to some work, trying to keep down that old trouble, which somehow
+gathered size like a rolling snowball. I might have known what it was,
+if I had not closed my eyes resolutely, and said to myself, "The summer
+will soon be gone, and there will be an end of it all then"; and I
+winced, as I said it, like one who sees a blow coming.
+
+The summer went by imperceptibly; it was autumn, and still all things
+remained outwardly as they had been. We went back and forth continually,
+rode and walked out, sang and read together, and Lucy grew fonder and
+fonder of me. She could scarcely live out of my presence, and confided
+to me all her plans when she and Edward should be married,--how much she
+thought of him, and he of her, all about their courtship, how he
+declared himself and how she accepted him one soft moonlight night in
+far Italy, how agitated and distressed he had been when she had a fever,
+and a thousand other details which swelled that great stone in my heart
+more and more. But I shut my eyes, until one day when I saw them
+together. He was listening, intent, and very pale, to something she told
+him, and, to my surprise, she was pale too, and weeping. Before she
+could finish, she broke into a passionate rush of tears, and would have
+thrown herself at his feet; but he caught her, and she sunk down upon
+his shoulder, and he stooped towards her as he might if he had loved
+her. Then I knew how I loved him.
+
+I had to bear up a little while, for they were in my house, and I must
+bid them good-night, and talk idly, so that they should not suspect the
+wound I had. But I must do something, or go mad; and so I went out to
+the garden-wall, and struck my hand upon it until the blood ran. The
+pain of that balanced the terrible pain within for a few moments, and I
+went in to them calm and smiling. They were sitting on the sofa, he with
+a perplexed, pale face, and she blushing and radiant. They started up
+when they saw my hand bandaged, and she was full of sympathy for my
+hurt. He said but little, though he looked fixedly at my face. I know I
+must have looked strangely. When they were gone, I went into my chamber
+and shut the door, with some such feeling as I should have closed the
+entrance of a tomb behind me forever. I fought myself all that night. My
+heart was hungry and cried out for food, and I would promise it none at
+all. Is there anyone who thinks that youth has monopolized all the
+passion of life, all the rapture, all the wild despair? Let them breast
+the deep, strong current of middle life.
+
+I never could quite recollect how that last month went away. I know that
+I kept myself incessantly occupied, and that I saw them almost daily,
+without departing from the tone of familiar friendship I had worn
+throughout, although my heart was full of jealousy and a fast-growing
+hatred that would not be quelled. Not for a thousand happy loves would I
+have let them see my humiliation. I was even afraid that already he
+might suspect it, for his manner was changed. Sometimes he was distant,
+sometimes sad, and sometimes almost tenderer than a friend.
+
+It got to be October, and I felt that I could not bear such a state of
+things any longer, and questioned within myself whether I had better not
+leave home for a while. If I had been alone, it would have been easy;
+but my cousin Mary was still with me, and I could give no good reason
+for such a step. Before I had settled upon anything, Lucy came to me in
+great distress, with a confession that Mr. Ames was somehow turned
+against her, and that she was almost heart-broken about it. If she lost
+him, she must die; for she had so long looked upon him as her husband,
+and loved him so well, that life would be nothing without him. What
+should she do? Would I advise her?
+
+I didn't know, until long afterward, that it was a consummate piece of
+acting, dictated by the mother, and that she was as heartless as it was
+possible for a young girl to be; and while she lay weeping at my feet, I
+pitied her, and wondered if, perhaps, there might not be some spring of
+generous feeling in her heart, that a happy love would unlock. The next
+morning I went out alone, for a ride, in a direction where I thought I
+could not be disturbed. Up hill and down, over roads, pastures, and
+streams, I tore until the fever within was allayed, and then I stopped
+to rest, and look upon the beauties of the bright October day. All
+overhead and around, the sky and patches of water were of that
+far-looking blue which seems all ready to open upon new and wonderful
+worlds. Big, bright drops of a night-shower lay asleep in the curled-up
+leaves, as though the trees had stretched out a million hands to catch
+them. And such hands! What comparison could match them? Clouds of
+butterflies, such as sleep among the flowers of Paradise,--forgotten
+dreams of children, who sleep and smile,--fancies of fairy laureates,
+strung shining together for some high festival,--anything most rich or
+unreal, might furnish a type for the foliage that was painted upon the
+golden blue of that October day. I could almost have forgotten my
+trouble in the charmed gaze.
+
+"You turn up in strange places, Rachel!" said a voice behind me.
+
+This was what I had dreaded; but I swallowed love and fear in one great
+gulp, and shut my teeth with a resolution of iron. I would not be guilty
+of the meanness of standing in that child's way, if she were but a fool;
+so I answered him gayly.
+
+"'The same to yourself,' as Neighbor Dawkins would say. Why didn't you
+all go to the lake, as you planned last night?"
+
+"For some good reasons. Were you bewitched, that you stood here so
+still?" He looked brightly into my face, as he came up.
+
+"No,--but the trees are. Shouldn't you think that Oberon had held high
+court here over-night?"
+
+"And that they had left their wedding-dresses upon the boughs? Yes, they
+are gay enough! But where have you been these four weeks, that I haven't
+got speech with you?"
+
+"A pretty question, when you've been at my house almost every day! Where
+are your senses, man?"
+
+"I know too well where they are," he said. "But I've wanted a good talk
+with you, face to face,--not with a veil of commonplace people between.
+You're not yourself among them. I like you best when your spirits are a
+little ruffled, and your eye kindles, and your lip curls, as it does
+now,--not when you say, "No, Sir," or "Yes, Ma'am," and smile as though
+it were only skin-deep."
+
+I started my horse.
+
+"Let's be going, Jessie," I said. "It's our duty to feel insulted. He
+accuses your mistress of being deceitful among her friends, and says he
+likes her when she's cross."
+
+He laughed lightly, and walked along by my side.
+
+"How are your ladies? and when will Miss Lucy come to ride out with me?"
+I asked, fearing a look into his eyes.
+
+This brought him down. I knew it would.
+
+He answered that she was well, and walked along with his head down,
+quite like another man. At length he looked up, very pale, and put his
+hand on my bridle.
+
+"I want to put a case to you," he said. "Suppose a man to have made some
+engagement before his mind was mature, and under a strong outside
+pressure of which he was not aware. When he grows to a better knowledge
+of the world and himself, and finds that he has been half cheated, and
+that to keep his word will entail lasting misery and ruin on himself,
+without really benefiting any one else, is he bound to keep it?"
+
+I stopped an instant to press my heart back, and then I answered him.
+
+"A promise is a promise, Mr. Ames. I have thought that a man of honor
+valued his word more than happiness or life."
+
+He flushed a moment, and then looked down again; and we walked on
+slowly, without a word, over the stubbly ground, and through brooklets
+and groves and thickets, towards home. If I could only reach there
+before he spoke again! How could I hold out to do my duty, if I were
+tempted any farther? At last he checked the horse, and, putting his hand
+heavily on mine, looked me full in the face, while his was pale and
+agitated.
+
+"Rachel," he said, huskily, "if a man came to you and said, 'I am bound
+to another; but my heart, my soul, my life are at your feet,' would you
+turn him away?"
+
+I gasped one long breath of fresh air.
+
+"Do I look like a woman who would take a man's love at second hand?" I
+said, haughtily. "Women like me _must_ respect the man they marry, Sir."
+
+He dropped his hand, and turned away his head, with a deep-drawn breath.
+I saw him stoop and lift himself again, as though some weight were laid
+upon his shoulders. I saw the muscles round and ridgy upon his clenched
+hand. "All this for a silly, shallow thing, who knows nothing of the
+heart she loses!" some tempter whispered, and passionate words of love
+rushed up and beat hard against my shut teeth. "Get thee behind me!" I
+muttered, and resolutely started my horse forward. "Not for her,--but
+for myself,--for self-respect! The best love in the world shall not buy
+that!"
+
+He came along beside me, silent, and stepping heavily, and thus we went
+to the leafy lane that came out near my house. There I stopped; for I
+felt that this must end now.
+
+"Mr. Ames, you must leave this place, directly," I said, with as much
+sternness as I could assume. "If you please, I will bid you good-bye,
+now."
+
+"Not see you again, Rachel?" he exclaimed, sharply. "No! not that!
+Forgive me, if I have said too much; but don't send me away!"
+
+He took my hand in both his, and gazed as one might for a sentence of
+life or death.
+
+"Will you let a woman's strength shame you?" I cried, desperately. "I
+thought you were a man of honor, Mr. Ames. I trusted you entirely, but I
+will never trust any one again."
+
+He dropped my hand, and drew himself up.
+
+"You are right, Rachel! you are right," he said, after a moment's
+thought. "No one must trust me, and be disappointed. I have never
+forgotten that before; please God, I never will again. But must I say
+farewell here?"
+
+"It is better," I said.
+
+"Good-bye, then, dear friend!--dear friend!" he whispered. "If you ever
+love any better than yourself, you will know how to forgive me."
+
+I felt his kiss on my hand, and felt, rather than saw, his last look,
+for I dared not raise my eyes to his; and I knew that he had turned
+back, and that I had seen the last of him. For one instant I thought I
+would follow and tell him that he did not suffer alone; but before my
+horse was half turned, I was myself again.
+
+"Fool!" I said. "If you let the dam down, can you push the waters back
+again? Would that man let anything upon earth stand between him and a
+woman that loved him? Let him go so. He'll forget you in six months."
+
+I had to endure a farewell call from Lucy and her mother. Mr. Ames had
+received a sudden summons home, and they were to accompany him a part of
+the way. The elder scrutinized me very closely, but I think she got
+nothing to satisfy her; the younger kissed and shed tears enough for the
+parting of twin sisters. How I hated her! In a couple of days they were
+gone, Mr. Ames calling to see me when he knew me to be out, and leaving
+a civil message only. The house was closed, the faded leaves fell all
+about the doorway, and the grass withered upon the little lawn.
+
+"That play is over, and the curtain dropped," I said to myself, as I
+took one long look towards the old house, and closed the shutters that
+opened that way.
+
+You who have suffered some great loss, and stagger for want of strength
+to walk alone, thank God for work. Nothing like that for bracing up a
+feeble heart! I worked restlessly from morning till night, and often
+encroached on what should have been sleep. Hard work, real sinewy labor,
+was all that would content me; and I found enough of it. To have been a
+proper heroine, I suppose I should have devoted myself to works of
+charity, read sentimental poetry, and folded my hands very meekly and
+prettily; but I did no such thing. I ripped up carpets, and scoured
+paint, and swept down cobwebs, I made sweetmeats and winter clothing, I
+dug up and set out trees, and smoothed the turf in my garden, and
+tramped round my fields with the man behind me, to see if the fences
+needed mending, or if the marshes were properly drained, or the fallow
+land wanted ploughing. It made me better. All the sickliness of my grief
+passed away, and only the deep-lying regret was left like a weight to
+which my heart soon became accustomed. We can manage trouble much better
+than we often do, if we only choose to try resolutely.
+
+I had but one relapse. It was when I got news of their marriage. I
+remember the day with a peculiar distinctness; for it was the first
+snow-storm of the season, and I had been out walking all the afternoon.
+It was one of those soft, leaden-colored, expectant days, of late autumn
+or early winter, when one is sure of snow; and I went out on purpose to
+see it fall among the woods; for it was just upon Christmas, and I
+longed to see the black ground covered. By-and-by a few flakes sauntered
+down, coquetting as to where they would alight; then a few more
+followed, thickening and thickening until the whole upper air was alive
+with them, and the frozen ridges whitened along their backs, and every
+little stiff blade of grass or rush or dead bush held all it could
+carry. It was pleasant to see the quiet wonder go on, until the
+landscape was completely changed,--to walk home _scuffing_ the snow from
+the frozen road on which my feet had ground as I came that way, and see
+the fences full, and the hollows heaped up level, and the birches bent
+down with their hair hidden, and the broad arms of the fir-trees loaded,
+like sombre cotton-pickers going home heavily laden. Then to see the
+brassy streak widen in the west, and the cold moon hang astonished upon
+the dead tops of some distant pine-trees, was to enjoy a most beautiful
+picture, with only the cost of a little fatigue.
+
+When I got home, I found among my letters one from Mr. Ames. He could
+not leave the country without pleading once more for my esteem, he
+wrote. He had not intended to marry until he could think more calmly of
+the past; but Lucy's mother had married again very suddenly into a
+family where her daughter found it not pleasant to follow her. She was
+poor, without very near relatives now, and friends, on both sides, had
+urged the marriage. He had told her the state of his feelings, and
+offered, if she could overlook the want of love, to be everything else
+to her. She should never repent the step, and he prayed me, when I
+thought of him, to think as leniently as possible. Alas! now I must not
+think at all.
+
+How I fought that thought,--how I worked by day, and studied deep into
+the night, filling every hour full to the brim with activity, seems now
+a feverish dream to me. Such dead thoughts will not be buried out of
+sight, but lie cold and stiff, until the falling foliage of seasons of
+labor and experience eddies round them, and moss and herbs venture to
+grow over their decay, and birds come slowly and curiously to sing a
+little there. In time, the mound is beautiful with the richness of the
+growth, but the lord of the manor shudders as he walks that way. For
+him, it is always haunted.
+
+Thus with me. I knew that the sorrow was doing me good, that it had been
+needed long, and I tried to profit by it, as the time came when I could
+think calmly of it all. I thought I had ceased to love him; but the news
+of her death (for she died in two years) taught me better. I heard of
+him from others,--that he had been most tender and indulgent to a
+selfish, heartless woman, who trifled with his best feelings, and almost
+broke his heart before she went. I heard that he had one child, a poor
+little blind baby, for whom the mother had neither love nor care, and
+that he still continued abroad. But from himself I never heard a word.
+No doubt he had forgotten me, as I had always thought he would.
+
+More than two years passed, and spring-time was upon us, when I heard
+that he had returned to the country, and was to be married shortly to a
+wealthy, beautiful widow he had found abroad. At first we heard that he
+was married, and then that he was making great preparations, but would
+not marry until autumn. Even the bride's dress was described, and the
+furniture of the house of which she was to be mistress. I had expected
+some such thing, but it added one more drop of bitterness to the
+yearning I had for him. It was so hard to think him like any other man!
+
+However, now, as before, I covered up the wound with a smiling face, and
+went about my business. I had been making extensive improvements on my
+farm, and kept out all day often, over-seeing the laborers. One night, a
+soft, starlight evening in late May, I came home very tired, and, being
+quite alone, sat down on the portico to watch the stars and think. I had
+not been long there, when a man's step came up the avenue, and some
+person, I could not tell who in the darkness, opened the gate, and came
+slowly up towards me. I rose, and bade him good-evening.
+
+"Is it you, Rachel?" he said, quite faintly. It was his voice. Thank
+Heaven for the darkness! The hand I gave him might tremble, but my face
+should betray nothing. I invited him into the parlor, and rang for
+lights.
+
+"He's come to see about selling the old house," I thought; there was a
+report that he would sell it by auction. When the lights came, he looked
+eagerly at me.
+
+"Am I much changed?" I said, with a half-bitter smile.
+
+"Not so much as I," he answered, sighing and looking down;--he seemed to
+be in deep thought for a moment.
+
+He was much changed. His hair was turning gray; his face was thin, with
+a subdued expression I had never expected to see him wear. He must have
+suffered greatly; and, as I looked, my heart began to melt. That would
+not do; and besides, what was the need of pity, when he had consoled
+himself? I asked some ordinary question about his journey, and led him
+into a conversation on foreign travel.
+
+The evening passed away as it might with two strangers, and he rose to
+go, with a grave face and manner as cold as mine,--for I had been very
+cold. I followed him to the door, and asked how long he stayed at
+Huntsville.
+
+Only a part of the next day, he said; his child could not be left any
+longer; but he wished very much to see me, and so had contrived to get a
+few days.
+
+"Indeed!" I said. "You honor me. Your Huntsville friends scarcely
+expected to be remembered so long."
+
+"They have not done me justice, then," he said, quietly. "I seem to have
+the warmest recollection of any. Good-night, Miss Mead. I shall not be
+likely to see you again."
+
+He gave me his hand, but it was very cold, and I let it slip as coldly
+from mine. He went down the gravel-walk slowly and heavily, and he
+certainly sighed as he closed the gate. Could I give him up thus? "Down
+pride! You have held sway long enough! I must part more kindly, or die!"
+I ran down the gravel-walk and overtook him in the avenue. He stopped as
+I came up, and turned to meet me.
+
+"Forgive me," I said, breathlessly. "I could not part with old friends
+so, after wishing so much for them."
+
+He took both my hands in his. "Have you wished for me, Rachel?" he said,
+tenderly. "I thought you would scarcely have treated a stranger with so
+little kindness."
+
+"I was afraid to be warmer," I said.
+
+"Afraid of what?" he asked.
+
+My mouth was unsealed. "Are you to be married?" I asked.
+
+"I have no such expectation," he answered.
+
+"And are not engaged to any one?"
+
+"To nothing but an old love, dear! Was that why you were afraid to show
+yourself to me?"
+
+"Yes!" I answered, making no resistance to the arm that was put gently
+round me. He was mine now, I knew, as I felt the strong heart beating
+fast against my own.
+
+"Rachel," he whispered, "the only woman I ever did or ever can love,
+will you send me away again?"
+
+
+
+
+A SHETLAND SHAWL.
+
+
+    It was made of the purest and finest wool,
+    As fine as silk, and as soft and cool;
+    It was pearly white, of that cloud-like hue
+    Which has a shadowy tinge of blue;
+    And brought by the good ship, miles and miles,
+    From the distant shores of the Shetland Isles.
+
+    And in it were woven, here and there,
+    The golden threads of a maiden's hair,
+    As the wanton wind with tosses and twirls
+    Blew in and out of her floating curls,
+    While her busy fingers swiftly drew
+    The ivory needle through and through.
+
+    The warm sun flashed on the brilliant dyes
+    Of the purple and golden butterflies,
+    And the drowsy bees, with a changeless tune,
+    Hummed in the perfumed air of June,
+    As the gossamer fabric, fair to view,
+    Under the maiden's fingers grew.
+
+    The shadows of tender thought arise
+    In the tranquil depths of her dreamy eyes,
+    And her blushing cheek bears the first impress
+    Of the spirit's awakening consciousness,
+    Like the rose, when it bursts, in a single hour,
+    From the folded bud to the perfect flower.
+
+    Many a tremulous hope and care,
+    Many a loving wish and prayer,
+    With the blissful dreams of one who stood
+    At the golden gate of womanhood,
+    The little maiden's tireless hands
+    Wove in and out of the shining strands.
+
+    The buds that burst in an April sun
+    Had seen the wonderful shawl begun;
+    It was finished, and folded up with pride,
+    When the vintage purpled the mountain-side;
+    And smiles made light in the violet eyes,
+    At the thought of a lover's pleased surprise.
+
+    The spider hung from the budding thorn
+    His baseless web, when the shawl was worn;
+    And the cobwebs, silvered by the dew,
+    With the morning sunshine breaking through,
+    The maiden's toil might well recall,
+    In the vanished year, on the Shetland Shawl.
+
+    For the rose had died in the autumn showers,
+    That bloomed in the summer's golden hours;
+    And the shining tissue of hopes and dreams,
+    With misty glories and rainbow gleams
+    Woven within and out, was one
+    Like the slender thread by the spider spun.
+
+    As fresh and as pure as the sad young face,
+    The snowy shawl with its clinging grace
+    Seems a fitting veil for a form so fair:
+    But who would think what a tale of care,
+    Of love and grief and faith, might all
+    Be folded up in a Shetland Shawl?
+
+
+
+
+ROBA DI ROMA.
+
+[Continued.]
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+GAMES IN ROME.
+
+Walking, during pleasant weather, almost anywhere in Rome, but
+especially in passing through the enormous arches of the Temple of
+Peace, or along by the Colosseum, or some wayside _osteria_ outside the
+city-walls, the ear of the traveller is often saluted by the loud,
+explosive tones of two voices going off together, at little intervals,
+like a brace of pistol-shots; and turning round to seek the cause of
+these strange sounds, he will see two men, in a very excited state,
+shouting, as they fling out their hands at each other with violent
+gesticulation. Ten to one he will say to himself, if he be a stranger in
+Rome, "How quarrelsome and passionate these Italians are!" If he be an
+Englishman or an American, he will be sure to congratulate himself on
+the superiority of his own countrymen, and wonder why these fellows
+stand there shaking their fists at each other, and screaming, instead of
+fighting it out like men,--and muttering, "A cowardly pack, too!" will
+pass on, perfectly satisfied with his facts and his philosophy. But what
+he has seen was really not a quarrel. It is simply the game of _Mora_,
+as old as the Pyramids, and formerly played among the host of Pharaoh
+and the armies of C�sar as now by the subjects of Pius IX. It is thus
+played.
+
+Two persons place themselves opposite each other, holding their right
+hands closed before them. They then simultaneously and with a sudden
+gesture throw out their hands, some of the fingers being extended, and
+others shut up on the palm,--each calling out in a loud voice, at the
+same moment, the number he guesses the fingers extended by himself and
+his adversary to make. If neither cry out aright, or if both cry out
+aright, nothing is gained or lost; but if only one guess the true
+number, he wins a point. Thus, if one throw out four fingers and the
+other two, he who cries out six makes a point, unless the other cry out
+the same number. The points are generally five, though sometimes they
+are doubled, and as they are made, they are marked by the left hand,
+which, during the whole game, is held stiffly in the air at about the
+shoulders' height, one finger being extended for every point. When the
+_partito_ is won, the winner cries out, "_Fatto!_" or "_Guadagnato!_" or
+"_Vinto!_" or else strikes his hands across each other in sign of
+triumph. This last sign is also used when Double _Mora_ is played, to
+indicate that five points are made.
+
+So universal is this game in Rome, that the very beggars play away their
+earnings at it. It was only yesterday, as I came out of the gallery of
+the Capitol, that I saw two who had stopped screaming for "_baiocchi per
+amor di Dio_," to play pauls against each other at _Mora_. One, a
+cripple, supported himself against a column, and the other, with his
+ragged cloak slung on his shoulder, stood opposite him. They staked a
+paul each time with the utmost _nonchalance_, and played with an
+earnestness and rapidity which showed that they were old hands at it,
+while the coachmen from their boxes cracked their whips, and jeered and
+joked them, and the shabby circle around them cheered them on. I stopped
+to see the result, and found that the cripple won two successive games.
+But his cloaked antagonist bore his losses like a hero, and when all was
+over, he did his best with the strangers issuing from the Capitol to
+line his pockets for a new chance.
+
+Nothing is more simple and apparently easy than _Mora_, yet to play it
+well requires quickness of perception and readiness in the calculation
+of chances. As each player, of course, knows how many fingers he himself
+throws out, the main point is to guess the number of fingers thrown by
+his opponent, and to add the two instantaneously together. A player of
+skill will soon detect the favorite numbers of his antagonist, and it is
+curious to see how remarkably clever some of them are in divining, from
+the movement of the hand, the number to be thrown. The game is always
+played with great vivacity, the hands being flung out with vehemence,
+and the numbers shouted at the full pitch of the voice, so as to be
+heard at a considerable distance. It is from the sudden opening of the
+fingers, while the hands are in the air, that the old Roman phrase,
+_micare digitis_, "to flash with the fingers," is derived.
+
+A bottle of wine is generally the stake; and round the _osterias_, of a
+_festa_-day, when the game is played after the blood has been heated and
+the nerves strained by previous potations, the regular volleyed
+explosions of "_Tre! Cinque! Otto! Tutti!_" are often interrupted by hot
+discussions. But these are generally settled peacefully by the
+bystanders, who act as umpires,--and the excitement goes off in talk.
+The question arises almost invariably upon the number of fingers flashed
+out; for an unscrupulous player has great opportunities of cheating, by
+holding a finger half extended, so as to be able to close or open it
+afterwards according to circumstances; but sometimes the losing party
+will dispute as to the number called out. The thumb is the father of all
+evil at _Mora_, it being often impossible to say whether it was intended
+to be closed or not, and an unskilful player is easily deceived in this
+matter by a clever one. When "_Tutti_" is called, all the fingers, thumb
+and all, must be extended, and then it is an even chance that a
+discussion will take place as to whether the thumb was out. Sometimes,
+when the blood is hot, and one of the parties has been losing, violent
+quarrels will arise, which the umpires cannot decide, and, in very rare
+cases, knives are drawn and blood is spilled. Generally these disputes
+end in nothing, and, often as I have seen this game, I have never been a
+spectator of any quarrel, though discussions numberless I have heard.
+But, beyond vague stories by foreigners, in which I put no confidence,
+the vivacity of the Italians easily leading persons unacquainted with
+their characters to mistake a very peaceable talk for a violent quarrel,
+I know of only one case that ended tragically. There a savage quarrel,
+begun at _Mora_, was with difficulty pacified by the bystanders, and one
+of the parties withdrew to an _osteria_ to drink with his companions.
+But while he was there, the rage which had been smothered, but not
+extinguished, in the breast of his antagonist, blazed out anew. Rushing
+at the other, as he sat by the table of the _osteria_, he attacked him
+fiercely with his knife. The friends of both parties started at once to
+their feet, to interpose and tear them apart; but before they could
+reach them, one of the combatants dropped bleeding and dying on the
+floor, and the other fled like a maniac from the room.
+
+This readiness of the Italians to use the knife, for the settlement of
+every dispute, is generally attributed by foreigners to the
+passionateness of their nature; but I am inclined to believe that it
+also results from their entire distrust of the possibility of legal
+redress in the courts. Where courts are organized as they are in Naples,
+who but a fool would trust to them? Open tribunals, where justice should
+be impartially administered, would soon check private assassinations;
+and were there more honest and efficient police courts, there would be
+far fewer knives drawn. The Englishman invokes the aid of the law,
+knowing that he can count upon prompt justice; take that belief from
+him, he, too, like Harry Gow, would "fight for his own hand." In the
+half-organized society of the less civilized parts of the United States,
+the pistol and bowie-knife are as frequent arbiters of disputes as the
+stiletto is among the Italians. But it would be a gross error to argue
+from this, that the Americans are violent and passionate by nature; for,
+among the same people in the older States, where justice is cheaply and
+strictly administered, the pistol and bowie-knife are almost unknown.
+Despotism and slavery nurse the passions of men; and wherever law is
+loose, or courts are venal, public justice assumes the shape of private
+vengeance. The farther south one goes in Italy, the more frequent is
+violence and the more unrepressed are the passions. Compare Piedmont
+with Naples, and the difference is immense. The dregs of vice and
+violence settle to the south. Rome is worse than Tuscany, and Naples
+worse than Rome,--not so much because of the nature of the people, as of
+the government and the laws.
+
+But to return to _Mora_. As I was walking out beyond the Porta San
+Giovanni the other day, I heard the most ingenious and consolatory
+periphrasis for a defeat that it was ever my good-fortune to hear; and,
+as it shows the peculiar humor of the Romans, it may here have a place.
+Two of a party of _contadini_ had been playing at _Mora_, the stakes
+being, as usual, a bottle of wine, and each, in turn, had lost and won.
+A lively and jocose discussion now arose between the friends on the one
+side and the players on the other,--the former claiming that each of the
+latter was to pay his bottle of wine for the game he lost, (to be drunk,
+of course, by all,) and the latter insisting, that, as one loss offset
+the other, nothing was to be paid by either. As I passed, one of the
+players was speaking. "_Il primo partito_," he said, "_ho guadagnato io;
+e poi, nel secondo_,"--here a pause,--"_ho perso la vittoria_": "The
+first game, I won; the second, I----_lost the victory_." And with this
+happy periphrasis, our friend admitted his defeat. I could not but think
+how much better it would have been for the French, if this ingenious
+mode of adjusting with the English the Battle of Waterloo had ever
+occurred to them. To admit that they were defeated was of course
+impossible; but to acknowledge that they "lost the victory" would by no
+means have been humiliating. This would have soothed their irritable
+national vanity, prevented many heart-burnings, saved long and idle
+arguments and terrible "kicking against the pricks," and rendered a
+friendly alliance possible.
+
+No game has a better pedigree than _Mora_. It was played by the
+Egyptians more than two thousand years before the Christian era. In the
+paintings at Thebes and in the temples of Beni-Hassan, seated figures
+may be seen playing it,--some keeping their reckoning with the left hand
+uplifted,--some striking off the game with both hands, to show that it
+was won,--and, in a word, using the same gestures as the modern Romans.
+From Egypt it was introduced into Greece. The Romans brought it from
+Greece at an early period, and it has existed among them ever since,
+having suffered apparently no alteration. Its ancient Roman name was
+_Micatio_, and to play it was called _micare digitis_,--"to flash the
+fingers,"--the modern name _Mora_ being merely a corruption of the verb
+_micare_. Varro describes it precisely as it is now played; and Cicero,
+in the first book of his treatise "De Divinatione," thus alludes to
+it:--"_Quid enim est sors? Idem propemodum quod_ micare, _quod talos
+jacere, quod tesseras; quibus in rebus temeritas et casus, non ratio et
+consilium valent._" So common was it, that it became the basis of an
+admirable proverb, to denote the honesty of a person:--"_Dignus est
+quicum in tenebris mices_": "So trustworthy, that one may play _Mora_
+with him in the dark." At one period they carried their love of it so
+far, that they used to settle by _micatio_ the sales of merchandise and
+meat in the Forum, until Apronius, prefect of the city, prohibited the
+practice in the following terms, as appears by an old inscription, which
+is particularly interesting as containing an admirable pun: "_Sub exagio
+potius pecora vendere quam digitis concludentibus tradere_": "Sell your
+sheep by the balance, and do not bargain or deceive" (_tradere_ having
+both these meanings) "by opening and shutting your fingers at _Mora_."
+
+One of the various kinds of the old Roman game of _Pila_ still survives
+under the modern name of _Pallone_. It is played between two sides, each
+numbering from five to eight persons. Each of the players is armed with
+a _bracciale_, or gantlet of wood, covering the hand and extending
+nearly up to the elbow, with which a heavy ball is beaten backwards and
+forwards, high into the air, from one side to the other. The object of
+the game is to keep the ball in constant flight, and whoever suffers it
+to fall dead within his bounds loses. It may, however, be struck in its
+rebound, though the best strokes are before it touches the ground. The
+_bracciali_ are hollow tubes of wood, thickly studded outside with
+pointed bosses, projecting an inch and a half, and having inside, across
+the end, a transverse bar, which is grasped by the hand, so as to render
+them manageable to the wearer. The balls, which are of the size of a
+large cricket-ball, are made of leather, and are so heavy, that, when
+well played, they are capable of breaking the arm, unless properly
+received on the _bracciale_. They are inflated with air, which is pumped
+into them with a long syringe, through a small aperture closed by a
+valve inside. The game is played on an oblong figure, marked out on the
+ground, or designated by the wall around the sunken platform on which it
+is played; across the centre is drawn a transverse line, dividing
+equally the two sides. Whenever a ball either falls outside the lateral
+boundary or is not struck over the central line, it counts against the
+party playing it. When it flies over the extreme limits, it is called a
+_volata_, and is reckoned the best stroke that can be made. At the end
+of the lists is a spring-board, on which the principal player stands.
+The best batter is always selected for this post; the others are
+distributed about. Near him stands the _pallonaio_, whose office is to
+keep the balls well inflated with air, and he is busy nearly all the
+time. Facing him, at a short distance, is the _mandarino_, who gives
+ball. As soon as the ball leaves the _mandarino's_ hand, the chief
+batter runs forward to meet it, and strikes it as far and high as he
+can, with the _bracciale_. Four times in succession have I seen a good
+player strike a _volata_, with the loud applause of the spectators. When
+this does not occur, the two sides bat the ball backwards and forwards,
+from one to the other, sometimes fifteen or twenty times before the
+point is won; and as it falls here and there, now flying high in the air
+and caught at once on the _bracciale_ before touching the ground, now
+glancing back from the wall which generally forms one side of the lists,
+the players rush eagerly to hit it, calling loudly to each other, and
+often displaying great agility, skill, and strength. The interest now
+becomes very exciting; the bystanders shout when a good stroke is made,
+and groan and hiss at a miss, until, finally, the ball is struck over
+the lists, or lost within them. The points of the game are fifty,--the
+first two strokes counting fifteen each, and the others ten each. When
+one side makes the fifty before the other has made anything, it is
+called a _marcio_, and counts double. As each point is made, it is
+shouted by the caller, who stands in the middle and keeps the count, and
+proclaims the bets of the spectators.
+
+This game is as national to the Italians as cricket to the English; it
+is not only, as it seems to me, much more interesting than the latter,
+but requires vastly more strength, agility, and dexterity, to play it
+well. The Italians give themselves to it with all the enthusiasm of
+their nature, and many a young fellow injures himself for life by the
+fierceness of his batting. After the excitement and stir of this game,
+which only the young and athletic can play well, cricket seems a very
+dull affair.
+
+The game of _Pallone_ has always been a favorite one in Rome; and near
+the summit of the Quattro Fontane, in the Barberini grounds, there is a
+circus, which used to be specially devoted to public exhibitions during
+the summer afternoons. At these representations, the most renowned
+players were engaged by an _impresario_. The audience was generally
+large, and the entrance-fee was one paul. Wonderful feats were sometimes
+performed here; and on the wall are marked the heights of some
+remarkable _volate_. The players were clothed in a thin, tight dress,
+like _saltimbanchi_. One side wore a blue, and the other a red ribbon,
+on the arm. The contests, generally, were fiercely disputed,--the
+spectators betting heavily, and shouting, as good or bad strokes were
+made. Sometimes a line was extended across the amphitheatre, from wall
+to wall, over which it was necessary to strike the ball, a point being
+lost in case it passed below. But this is a variation from the game as
+ordinarily played, and can be ventured on only when the players are of
+the first force. The games here, however, are now suspended; for the
+French, since their occupation, have not only seized the post-office, to
+convert it into a club-room, and the _piano nobile_ of some of the
+richest palaces, to serve as barracks for their soldiers, but have also
+driven the Romans from their amphitheatre, where _Pallone_ was played,
+to make it into _ateliers de g�nie_. Still, one may see the game played
+by ordinary players, towards the twilight of any summer day, in the
+Piazza di Termini, or near the Tempio della Pace, or the Colosseo. The
+boys from the studios and shops also play in the streets a sort of
+mongrel game called _Pillotta_, beating a small ball back and forth,
+with a round bat, shaped like a small _tamburello_ and covered with
+parchment. But the real game, played by skilful players, may be seen
+almost every summer night outside the Porta a Pinti, in Florence; and I
+have also seen it admirably played under the fortress-wall at Siena, the
+players being dressed entirely in white, with loose ruffled jackets,
+breeches, long stockings, and shoes of undressed leather, and the
+audience sitting round on the stone benches, or leaning over the lofty
+wall, cheering on the game, while they ate the cherries or _zucca_-seeds
+which were hawked about among them by itinerant peddlers. Here, towards
+twilight, one could lounge away an hour pleasantly under the shadow of
+the fortress, looking now at the game and now at the rolling country
+beyond, where olives and long battalions of vines marched knee-deep
+through the golden grain, until the purple splendors of sunset had
+ceased to transfigure the distant hills, and the crickets chirped louder
+under the deepening gray of the sky.
+
+In the walls of the amphitheatre at Florence is a bust in colored marble
+of one of the most famous players of his day, whose battered face seems
+still to preside over the game, getting now and then a smart blow from
+the _Pallone_ itself, which, in its inflation, is no respecter of
+persons. The honorable inscription beneath the bust, celebrating the
+powers of this champion, who rejoiced in the surname of Earthquake, is
+as follows:--
+
+_"Josephus Barnius, Petiolensis, vir in jactando repercutiendoque folle
+singularis, qui ob robur ingens maximamque artis peritiam, et collusores
+ubique devictos, Terr�motus formidabili cognomento dictus est."_
+
+Another favorite game of ball among the Romans is _Bocce_ or _Boccette_.
+It is played between two sides, consisting of any number of persons,
+each of whom has two large wooden balls of about the size of an average
+American nine-pin ball. Beside these, there is a little ball called the
+_lecco_. This is rolled first by one of the winning party to any
+distance he pleases, and the object is to roll or pitch the _boccette_
+or large balls so as to place them beside the _lecco_. Every ball of one
+side nearer to the _lecco_ than any ball of the other counts one point
+in the game,--the number of points depending on the agreement of the
+parties. The game is played on the ground, and not upon any smooth or
+prepared plane; and as the _lecco_ often runs into hollows, or poises
+itself on some uneven declivity, it is sometimes a matter of no small
+difficulty to play the other balls near to it. The great skill of the
+game consists, however, in displacing the balls of the adverse party so
+as to make the balls of the playing party count, and a clever player
+will often change the whole aspect of affairs by one well-directed
+throw. The balls are thrown alternately,--first by a player on one side,
+and then by a player on the other. As the game advances, the interest
+increases, and there is a constant variety. However good a throw is
+made, it may be ruined by the next. Sometimes the ball is pitched with
+great accuracy, so as to strike a close-counting ball far into the
+distance, while the new ball takes its place. Sometimes the _lecco_
+itself is suddenly transplanted into a new position, which entirely
+reverses all the previous counting. It is the last ball which decides
+the game, and, of course, it is eagerly watched. In the Piazza di
+Termini numerous parties may be seen every bright day in summer or
+spring playing this game under the locust-trees, surrounded by idlers,
+who stand by to approve or condemn, and to give their advice. The French
+soldiers, once free from drill or guard or from practising trumpet-calls
+on the old Agger of Servius Tullius near by, are sure to be rolling
+balls in this fascinating game. Having heated their blood sufficiently
+at it, they adjourn to a little _osteria_ in the Piazza to refresh
+themselves with a glass of _asciutto_ wine, after which they sit on a
+bench outside the door, or stretch themselves under the trees, and take
+a _siesta_, with their handkerchiefs over their eyes, while other
+parties take their turn at the _bocce_. Meanwhile, from the Agger beyond
+are heard the distressing trumpets struggling with false notes and
+wheezing and shrieking in ludicrous discord, while now and then the
+solemn bell of Santa Maria Maggiore tolls from the neighboring hill.
+
+Another favorite game in Rome and Tuscany is _Ruzzola_, so called from
+the circular disk of wood with which it is played. Round this the player
+winds tightly a cord, which, by a sudden cast and backward jerk of the
+hand, he uncoils so as to send the disk whirling along the road. Outside
+the walls, and along all the principal avenues leading to the city,
+parties are constantly to be met playing at this game; and oftentimes
+before the players are visible, the disk is seen bounding round some
+curve, to the great danger of one's legs. He whose disk whirls the
+farthest wins a point. It is an excellent walking game, and it requires
+some knack to play the disk evenly along the road. Often the swiftest
+disks, when not well-directed, bound over the hedges, knock themselves
+down against the walls, or bury themselves in the tangled ditches; and
+when well played, if they chance to hit a stone in the road, they will
+leap like mad into the air, at the risk of serious injury to any
+unfortunate passer. In the country, instead of wooden disks, the
+_contadini_ often use _cacio di pecora_, a kind of hard goat's cheese,
+whose rind will resist the roughest play. What, then, must be the
+digestive powers of those who eat it, may be imagined. Like the peptic
+countryman, they probably do not know they have a stomach, not having
+ever felt it; and certainly they can say with Tony Lumpkin, "It never
+hurts me, and I sleep like a hound after it."
+
+In common with the French, the Romans have a passion for the game of
+Dominos. Every _caff�_ is supplied with a number of boxes, and, in the
+evening especially, it is played by young and old, with a seriousness
+which strikes us Saxons with surprise. We generally have a contempt for
+this game, and look upon it as childish. But I know not why. It is by no
+means easy to play well, and requires a careful memory and quick powers
+of combination and calculation. No _caff�_ in Rome or Marseilles would
+be complete without its little black and white counters; and as it
+interests at once the most mercurial and fidgety of people and the
+laziest and languidest, it must have some hidden charm as yet unrevealed
+to the Anglo-Saxon.
+
+Beside Dominos, Chess (_Scacchi_) is often played in public in the
+_caff�s_; and there is one _caff�_ named _Dei Scacchi_, because it is
+frequented by the best chess-players in Rome. Here matches are often
+made, and admirable games are played.
+
+Among the Roman boys the game of _Campana_ is also common. A
+parallelogram is drawn upon the ground and subdivided into four squares,
+which are numbered. At the top and bottom are two small semicircles, or
+_bells_, thus:--
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Each of the players, having deposited his stake in the semicircle (_b_)
+at the farthest end, takes his station at a short distance, and
+endeavors to pitch some object, either a disk or a bit of _terracotta_,
+or more generally a _baiocco_, into one of the compartments. If he lodge
+it in the nearest bell, (_a_,) he pays a new stake into the pool; if
+into the farthest bell, (_b_,) he takes the whole pool; if into either
+of the other compartments, he takes one, two, three, or four of the
+stakes, according to the number of the compartment. If he lodge on a
+line, he is _abbrucciato_, as it is termed, and his play goes for
+nothing. Among the boys, the pool is frequently filled with
+buttons,--among the men, with _baiocchi_; but buttons or _baiocchi_ are
+all the same to the players,--they are the representatives of luck or
+skill.
+
+But the game of games in Rome is the Lottery. This is under the
+direction of the government, which, with a truly ecclesiastic regard for
+its subjects, has organized it into a means of raising revenue. The
+financial objection to this method of taxation is, that its hardest
+pressure is upon the poorest classes; but the moral and political
+objections are still stronger. The habit of gambling engendered by it
+ruins the temper, depraves the morals, and keeps up a constant state of
+excitement at variance with any settled and serious occupation. The
+temptations to laziness which it offers are too great for any people
+luxurious or idle by temperament; and the demon of Luck is set upon the
+altar which should be dedicated to Industry. If one happy chance can
+bring a fortune, who will spend laborious days to gain a competence? The
+common classes in Rome are those who are most corrupted by the lottery;
+and when they can neither earn nor borrow _baiocchi_ to play, they
+strive to obtain them by beggary, cheating, and sometimes theft. The
+fallacious hope that their ticket will some day bring a prize leads them
+from step to step, until, having emptied their purses, they are tempted
+to raise the necessary funds by any unjustifiable means. When you pay
+them their wages or throw them a _buona-mano_, they instantly run to the
+lottery-office to play it. Loss after loss does not discourage them. It
+is always, "The next time they are to win,--there was a slight mistake
+in their calculation before." Some good reason or other is always at
+hand. If by chance one of them do happen to win a large sum, it is ten
+to one that it will cost him his life,--that he will fall into a fit, or
+drop in an apoplexy, on hearing the news. There is a most melancholy
+instance of this in the very next house,--of a Jew made suddenly and
+unexpectedly rich, who instantly became insane in consequence, and is
+now the most wretched and melancholy spectacle that man can ever
+become,--starving in the midst of abundance, and moving like a beast
+about his house. But of all ill luck that can happen to the
+lottery-gambler, the worst is to win a small prize. It is all over with
+him from that time forward; into the great pit of the lottery everything
+that he can lay his hands on is sure to go.
+
+There has been some difference of opinion as to whether the lottery was
+of later Italian invention, or dated back to the Roman Empire,--some
+even contending that it was in existence in Egypt long before that
+period; and several ingenious discussions may be found on this subject
+in the journals and annals of the French _savans_. A strong claim has
+been put forward for the ancient Romans, on the ground that Nero, Titus,
+and Heliogabalus were in the habit of writing on bits of wood and shells
+the names of various articles which they intended to distribute, and
+then casting them to the crowd to be scrambled for.[A] On some of these
+shells and billets were inscribed the names of slaves, precious vases,
+costly dresses, articles of silver and gold, valuable beasts, etc.,
+which became the property of the fortunate persons who secured the
+billets and shells. On others were written absurd and useless articles,
+which turned the laugh against the unfortunate finder. Some, for
+instance, had inscribed upon them ten pieces of gold, and some ten
+cabbages. Some were for one hundred bears, and some for one egg. Some
+for five camels, and some for ten flies. In one sense, these were
+lotteries, and the Emperors deserve all due credit for their invention.
+But the lottery, according to its modern signification, is of Italian
+origin, and had its birth in Upper Italy as early as the fourteenth or
+fifteenth century. Here it was principally practised by the Venetians
+and Genoese, under the name of _Borsa di Ventura_,--the prizes
+consisting originally, not of money, but of merchandise of every
+kind,--precious stones, pictures, gold and silver work, and similar
+articles. The great difference between them and the ancient lotteries of
+Heliogabalus and Nero was, that tickets were bought and prizes drawn.
+The lottery soon came to be played, however, for money, and was
+considered so admirable an invention, that it was early imported into
+France, where Francis I., in 1539, granted letters-patent for the
+establishment of one. In the seventeenth century, this "_infezione_," as
+an old Italian writer calls it, was introduced into Holland and England,
+and at a still later date into Germany. Those who invented it still
+retain it; but those who adopted it have rejected it. After nearly three
+centuries' existence in France, it was abolished on the 31st of
+December, 1835. The last drawing was at Paris on the 27th of the same
+month, when the number of players was so great that it became necessary
+to close the offices before the appointed time, and one Englishman is
+said to have gained a _quaterno_ of the sum of one million two hundred
+thousand francs. When abolished in France, the government was drawing
+from it a net revenue of twenty million francs.
+
+In Italy the lottery was proscribed by Innocent XII., Benedict XIII.,
+and Clement XII. But it was soon revived. It was not without vehement
+opposers then as now, as may be seen by a little work published at Pisa
+in the early part of the last century, entitled, "L'Inganno non
+conosciuto, oppure non voluto conoscere, nell'Estrazione del Lotto."
+Muratori, in 1696, calls it, in his "Annals of Italy," "_Inventione
+dell' amara malizia per succiare il sangue dei malaccorti giuocatori_."
+In a late number of the "Civilt� Cattolica," published at Rome by the
+Jesuits, (the motto of which is "_Beatus Populus cujus Dominus Deus
+est_,") there is, on the other hand, an elaborate and most Jesuitical
+article, in which the lottery is defended with amusing skill. What
+Christendom in general has agreed to consider immoral and pernicious in
+its effects on a people seems, on the contrary, to the writer of this
+article, to be highly moral and commendable.
+
+The numbers which can be played are from one to ninety. Of these only
+five are now drawn. Originally the numbers drawn were eight,
+(_otto_,)--and it is said that the Italian name of this game, _lotto_,
+was derived from this circumstance. The player may stake upon one, two,
+three, four, or five numbers,--but no ticket can be taken for more than
+five; and he may stake upon his ticket any sum, from one _baiocco_ up to
+five _scudi_,--but the latter sum only in case he play upon several
+chances on the same ticket. If he play one number, he may either play it
+_al posto assegnato_, according to its place in the drawing, as first,
+second, third, etc.,--or he may play it _senza posto_, without place, in
+which case he wins, if the number come anywhere among the five drawn. In
+the latter case, however, the prize is much less in proportion to the
+sum staked. Thus, for one _baiocco_ staked _al posto assegnato_, a
+_scudo_ may be won; but to gain a _scudo_ on a number _senza posto_,
+seven _baiocchi_ must be played. A sum staked upon two numbers is called
+an _ambo_,--on three, a _terno_,--on four, a _quaterno_,--and on five, a
+_cinquino_; and of course the prizes increase in rapid proportion to the
+numbers played,--the sum gained multiplying very largely on each
+additional number. For instance, if two _baiocchi_ be staked on an
+_ambo_, the prize is one _scudo_; but if the same sum be staked on a
+_terno_, the prize is a hundred _scudi_. When an _ambo_ is played for,
+the same two numbers may be played as single numbers, either _al posto_
+or _senza posto_, and in such case one of the numbers alone may win. So,
+also, a _terno_ may be played so as to include an _ambo_, and a
+_quaterno_ so as to include a _terno_ and _ambo_, and a _cinquino_ so as
+to include all. But whenever more than one chance is played for, the
+price is proportionally increased. For a simple _terno_ the limit of
+price is thirty-five pauls. The ordinary rule is to play for every
+chance within the numbers taken; but the common people rarely attempt
+more than a _terno_. If four numbers are played with all their chances,
+they are reckoned as four _terni_, and paid for accordingly. If five
+numbers are taken, the price is for five _terni_.
+
+Where two numbers are played, there is always an augment to the nominal
+prize of twenty per cent.; where three numbers are played, the augment
+is of eighty per cent.; and from every prize is deducted ten per cent.,
+to be devoted to the hospitals and the poor. The rule creating the
+augments was decreed by Innocent XIII. Such is the rage for the lottery
+in Rome, as well as in all the Italian States, and so great is the
+number of tickets bought within the year, that this tax on the prizes
+brings in a very considerable revenue for ele�mosynary purposes.
+
+The lottery is a branch of the department of finance, and is under the
+direction of a Monsignore. The tickets originally issue from one grand
+central office in the Palazzo Madama; but there is scarcely a street in
+Rome without some subsidiary and distributing office, which is easily
+recognized, not only by its great sign of "_Prenditoria di Lotti_" over
+the door, but by scores of boards set round the windows and doorway, on
+which are displayed, in large figures, hundreds of combinations of
+numbers for sale. The tickets sold here are merely purchased on
+speculation for resale, and though it is rare that all are sold, yet, as
+a small advance of price is asked on each ticket beyond what was given
+at the original office, there is enough profit to support these shops.
+The large show of placards would to a stranger indicate a very
+considerable investment; yet, in point of fact, as the tickets rarely
+cost more than a few _baioicchi_, the amount risked is small. No ticket
+is available for a prize, unless it bear the stamp and signature of the
+central office, as well as of the distributing shop, if bought in the
+latter.
+
+Every Saturday, at noon, the lottery is drawn in Rome, in the Piazza
+Madama. Half an hour before the appointed time, the Piazza begins to be
+thronged with ticket-holders, who eagerly watch a large balcony of the
+sombre old Palazzo Madama, (built by the infamous Catharine de' Medici,)
+where the drawing is to take place. This is covered by an awning and
+colored draperies. In front, and fastened to the balustrade, is a glass
+barrel, standing on thin brass legs and turned by a handle. Five or six
+persons are in the balcony, making arrangements for the drawing. These
+are the officials,--one of them being the government officer, and the
+others persons taken at random, to supervise the proceedings. The chief
+official first takes from the table beside him a slip of paper on which
+a number is inscribed. He names it aloud, passes it to the next, who
+verifies it and passes it on, until it has been subjected to the
+examination of all. The last person then proclaims the number in a loud
+voice to the populace below, folds it up, and drops it into the glass
+barrel. This operation is repeated until every number from one to ninety
+is passed, verified by all, proclaimed, folded, and dropped into the
+barrel. The last number is rather sung than called, and with more
+ceremony than all the rest. The crowd shout back from below. The bell
+strikes noon. A blast of trumpets sounds from the balcony, and a boy
+dressed in white robes advances from within, ascends the steps, and
+stands high up before the people, facing the Piazza. The barrel is then
+whirled rapidly round and round, so as to mix in inextricable confusion
+all the tickets. This over, the boy lifts high his right hand, makes the
+sign of the cross on his breast, then, waving his open hand in the air,
+to show that nothing is concealed, plunges it into the barrel, and draws
+out a number. This he hands to the official, who names it, and passes it
+along the line of his companions. There is dead silence below, all
+listening eagerly. Then, in a loud voice, the number is sung out by the
+last official, "_Primo estratto, numero 14_," or whatever the number may
+be. Then sound the trumpets again, and there is a rustle and buzz among
+the crowd. All the five numbers are drawn with like ceremony, and all is
+over. Within a surprisingly short space of time, these numbers are
+exhibited in the long frames which are to be seen over the door of every
+_Prenditoria di Lotti_ in Rome, and there they remain until the next
+drawing takes place. The boy who does the drawing belongs to a college
+of orphans, an admirable institution, at which children who have lost
+both parents and are left helpless are lodged, cared for, and educated,
+and the members of which are employed to perform this office in
+rotation, receiving therefor a few _scudi_.
+
+It will be seen from the manner in which the drawing of the lottery is
+conducted, that no precaution is spared by the government to assure the
+public of the perfect good faith and fairness observed in it. This is,
+in fact, absolutely necessary in order to establish that confidence
+without which its very object would be frustrated. But the Italians are
+a very suspicious and jealous people, and I fear that there is less
+faith in the uprightness of the government than in their own
+watchfulness and the difficulty of deception. There can be little doubt
+that no deceit is practised by the government, so far as the drawing is
+concerned,--for it would be nearly impossible to employ it. Still there
+are not wanting stories of fortunate coincidences which are singular and
+interesting; one case, which I have every reason to believe authentic,
+was related to me by a most trustworthy person, as being within his own
+knowledge. A few years ago, the Monsignore who was at the head of the
+lottery had occasion to diminish his household, and accordingly
+dismissed an old servant who had been long in his palace. Often the old
+man returned and asked for relief, and as often was charitably received.
+But his visits at last became importunate, and the Monsignore
+remonstrated. The answer of the servant was, "I have given my best years
+to the service of your Eminence,--I am too old to labor,--what shall I
+do?" The case was a hard one. His Eminence paused and reflected;--at
+last he said, "Why not buy a ticket in the lottery?" "Ah!" was the
+answer, "I have not even money to supply my daily needs. What you now
+give me is all I have. If I risk it, I may lose it,--and that lost, what
+can I do?" Still the Monsignore said, "Buy a ticket in the lottery."
+"Since your Eminence commands me, I will," said the old man; "but what
+numbers?" "Play on number so and so for the first drawing," was the
+answer, "_e Dio ti benedica_!" The servant did as he was ordered, and,
+to his surprise and joy, the first number drawn was his. He was a rich
+man for life,--and his Eminence lost a troublesome dependant.
+
+A capital story is told by the author of the article in the "Civilt�
+Cattolica," which is to the point here, and which, even were it not told
+on such respectable authority, bears its truth on the face of it. As
+very frequently happens, a poor _bottegaio_, or shopkeeper, being
+hard-driven by his creditors, went to his priest, an _uomo apostolico_,
+and prayed him earnestly to give him three numbers to play in the
+lottery.
+
+"But how under heaven," says the innocent priest, "has it ever got into
+your head that I can know the five numbers which are to issue in the
+lottery?"
+
+"_Eh! Padre mio!_ what will it cost you?" was the answer. "Just look at
+me and my wretched family; if we do not pay our rent on Saturday, out we
+go into the street. There is nothing left but the lottery, and you can
+give us the three numbers that will set all right."
+
+"Oh, there you are again! I am ready to do all I can to assist you, but
+this matter of the lottery is impossible; and I must say, that your
+folly, in supposing I can give you the three lucky numbers, does little
+credit to your brains."
+
+"Oh, no! no! do not say so, _Padre mio_! Give me a _terno_. It will be
+like rain in May, or cheese on my maccaroni. On my word of honor, I'll
+keep it secret. _Via!_ You, so good and charitable, cannot refuse me the
+three numbers. Pray, content me this once."
+
+"_Caro mio!_ I will give you a rule for always being content:--Avoid
+Sin, think often on Death, and behave so as to deserve Paradise,--and
+so"----
+
+"_Basta! basta! Padre mio!_ That's enough. Thanks! thanks! God will
+reward you."
+
+And, making a profound reverence, off the _bottegaio_ rushes to his
+house. There he takes down the "Libro del Sogni," calls into
+consultation his wife and children, and, after a long and earnest
+discussion and study, the three numbers corresponding to the terms Sin,
+Death, and Paradise are settled upon, and away goes our friend to play
+them in the lottery. Will you believe it? the three numbers are
+drawn,--and the joy of the poor _bottegaio_ and his family may well be
+imagined. But what you will not imagine is the persecution of the poor
+_uomo apostolico_ which followed. The secret was all over town the next
+day, and he was beset by scores of applicants for numbers. Vainly he
+protested and declared that he knew nothing, and that the man's drawing
+the right numbers was all chance. Every word he spoke turned into
+numbers, and off ran his hearers to play them. He was like the girl in
+the fairy story, who dropped pearls every time she spoke. The worst of
+the imbroglio was, that in an hour the good priest had uttered words
+equivalent to all the ninety numbers in the lottery, and the players
+were all at loggerheads with each other. Nor did this persecution cease
+for weeks, nor until those who had played the numbers corresponding to
+his words found themselves, as the Italians say, with only flies in
+their hands.
+
+The stupidity of many of the common people in regard to these numbers is
+wonderful. When the number drawn is next to the number they have, they
+console themselves with thinking that they were within one of it,--as if
+in such cases a miss were not as bad as a mile. But when the number
+drawn is a multiple of the one they play, it is a sympathetic number,
+and is next door to winning; and if the number come reversed,--as if,
+having played 12, it come out 21,--he laughs with delight. "Eh, don't
+you see, you stupid fellow," said the _speziale_ of a village one day to
+a dunce of a _contadino_, of whose infallible _terno_ not a single
+number had been drawn,--"Don't you see, in substance all your three
+numbers have been drawn? and it's shameful in you to be discontented.
+Here you have played 8--44--26, and instead of these have been drawn
+7--11--62. Well! just observe! Your 8 is just within one point of being
+7; your 44 is in substance 11, for 4 times 11 are 44 exactly; and your
+26 is nothing more or less than precisely 62 reversed;--what would you
+ask more?" And by his own mode of reasoning, the poor _contadino_ sees
+as clearly as possible that he has really won,--only the difficulty is
+that he cannot touch the prize without correcting the little variations.
+_Ma, pazienza!_ he came so near this time, that he will be sure to win
+the next,--and away he goes to hunt out more sympathetic numbers, and to
+rejoice with his friends on coming so near winning.
+
+Dreams of numbers are, of course, very frequent,--and are justly much
+prized. Yet one must know how to use them, and be brave and bold, or the
+opportunity is lost. I myself once dreamt of having gained a _terno_ in
+the lottery, but was fool enough not to play it,--and in consequence
+lost a prize, the very numbers coming up in the next drawing. The next
+time I have such a dream, of course I shall play; but perhaps I shall be
+too late, and only lose. And this recalls to my mind a story, which may
+serve as a warning to the timid and an encouragement to the bold. An
+Englishman, who had lived on bad terms with a very quarrelsome and
+annoying wife, (according to his own account, of course,) had finally
+the luck, I mean the misfortune, to lose her. He had lived long enough
+in Italy, however, to say "_Pazienza_" and buried his sorrows and his
+wife in the same grave. But, after the lapse of some time, his wife
+appeared to him in a dream, and confessed her sins towards him during
+her life, and prayed his forgiveness, and added, that in token of
+reconciliation he must accept three numbers to play in the lottery,
+which would certainly win a great prize. But the husband was obstinate,
+and absolutely refused to follow the advice of a friend to whom he
+recounted the odd dream, and who urged him to play the numbers. "Bah!"
+he answered to this good counsel; "I know her too well;--she never meant
+well to me during her life, and I don't believe she's changed now that
+she's dead. She only means to play me a trick, and make me lose. But I'm
+too old a bird to be taken with her chaff." "Better play them," said his
+friend, and they separated. In the course of a week they met again. "By
+the way," said the friend, "did you see that your three numbers came up
+in the lottery this morning?" "The Devil they did! What a consummate
+fool I was not to play them!" "You didn't play them?" "No!" "Well, I
+did, and won a good round sum with them, too." So the obstinate husband,
+mad at his ill luck, cursed himself for a fool, and had his curses for
+his pains. That very night, however, his wife again appeared to him,
+and, though she reproached him a little for his want of faith in her,
+(no woman could be expected to forego such an opportunity, even though
+she were dead,) yet she forgave him, and added,--"Think no more about it
+now, for here are three more numbers, just as good." The husband, who
+had eaten the bitter food of experience, was determined at all events
+not to let his fortune slip again through his fingers, and played the
+highest possible _terno_ in the lottery, and waited anxiously for the
+next drawing. He could scarcely eat his breakfast for nervousness, that
+morning,--but at last mid-day sounded, and the drawing took place, but
+no one of his numbers came up. "Too late! taken in!" he cried. "Confound
+her! she knew me better than I knew myself. She gave me a prize the
+first time, because she knew I wouldn't play it; and, having so whet my
+passions, she then gave me a blank the second time, because she knew I
+would play it. I might have known better."
+
+From the moment one lottery is drawn, the mind of the people is intent
+on selecting numbers for the next. Nor is this an easy matter,--all
+sorts of superstitions existing as to figures and numbers. Some are
+lucky, some unlucky, in themselves,--some lucky only in certain
+combinations, and some sympathetic with others. The chances, therefore,
+must be carefully calculated, no number or combination being ever played
+without profound consideration, and under advice of skilful friends.
+Almost every event in life has a numerical signification; and such is
+the reverence paid to dreams, that a large book exists of several
+hundred pages, called "Libro dei Sogni," containing, besides various
+cabala and mystical figures and lists of numbers which are
+"sympathetic," with directions for their use, a dictionary of thousands
+of objects with the numbers supposed to be represented by each, as well
+as rules for interpreting into numbers all dreams in which these objects
+appear,--and this book is the constant _vade-mecum_ of a true
+lottery-player. As Boniface lived, ate, and slept on his ale, so do the
+Romans on their numbers. The very children "lisp in numbers, for the
+numbers come," and the fathers run immediately to play them. Accidents,
+executions, deaths, apoplexies, marriages, assassinations, births,
+anomalies of all kinds, become auguries and enigmas of numbers. A
+lottery-gambler will count the stabs on a dead body, the drops of blood
+from a decollated head, the passengers in an overturned coach, the
+wrinkles in the forehead of a new-born child, the gasps of a person
+struck by apoplexy, the day of the month and the hour and the minute of
+his death, the _scudi_ lost by a friend, the forks stolen by a thief,
+anything and everything, to play them in the lottery. If a strange dream
+is dreamed,--as of one being in a desert on a camel, which turns into a
+rat, and runs down into the Maelstr�m to hide,--the "Libro dei Sogni" is
+at once consulted, the numbers for desert, rat, camel, and Maelstr�m are
+found and combined, and the hopeful player waits in eager expectation of
+a prize. Of course, dream after dream of particular numbers and
+combinations occurs,--for the mind bent to this subject plays freaks in
+the night, and repeats contortedly the thoughts of the day,--and these
+dreams are considered of special value. Sometimes, when a startling
+incident takes place with a special numerical signification, the run
+upon the numbers indicated becomes so great, that the government, which
+is always careful to guard against any losses on its own part, refuses
+to allow more than a certain amount to be played on them, cancels the
+rest, and returns the price of the tickets.
+
+Sometimes, in passing through the streets, one may see a crowd collected
+about a man mounted upon a chair or stool. Fixed to a stand at his side
+or on the back of his chair is a glass bottle, in which are two or three
+hollow manikins of glass, so arranged as to rise and sink by pressure of
+the confined air. The neck of the bottle is cased in a tin box which
+surmounts it and has a movable cover. This personage is a charlatan,
+with an apparatus for divining lucky numbers for the lottery. The "soft
+bastard Latin" runs off his tongue in an uninterrupted stream of talk,
+while he offers on a waiter to the bystanders a number of little folded
+papers containing a _pianeta_, or augury, on which are printed a
+fortune and a _terno_. "Who will buy a _pianeta_," he cries, "with the
+numbers sure to bring him a prize? He shall have his fortune told him
+who buys. Who does not need counsel must surely be wise. Here's Master
+Tommetto, who never tells lies. And here is his brother, still smaller
+in size. And Madama Medea Plutonia to advise. They'll write you a
+fortune and bring you a prize for a single _baiocco_. No creature so
+wise as not to need counsel. A fool I despise, who keeps his _baiocco_
+and loses his prize. Who knows what a fortune he'll get till he tries?
+Time's going, Signori,--who buys? who buys?" And so on by the yard.
+Meantime the crowd about him gape, stare, wonder, and finally put their
+hands to their pockets, out with their _baiocchi_, and buy their papers.
+Each then makes a mark on his paper to verify it, and returns it to the
+charlatan. After several are thus collected, he opens the cover of the
+tin box, deposits them therein with a certain ceremony, and commences an
+exhortatory discourse to the manikins in the bottle,--two of whom,
+Maestro Tommetto and his brother, are made to resemble little black
+imps, while Madama Medea Plutonia is dressed _alla Francese_. "_Fa una
+reverenza, Maestro Tommetto!_" "Make a bow, Master Tommetto!" he now
+begins. The puppet bows. "_Ancora!_" "Again!" Again he bows. "_Lesto,
+Signore, un piccolo giretto!_" "Quick, Sir, a little turn!" And round
+whirls the puppet. "Now, up, up, to make a registry on the ticket! and
+do it conscientiously, Master Tommetto!" And up the imp goes, and
+disappears through the neck of the bottle. Then comes a burst of
+admiration at his cleverness from the charlatan. Then, turning to the
+brother imp, he goes through the same _r�le_ with him. "And now, Madama
+Medea, make a reverence, and follow your husband! Quick, quick, a little
+_giretto_!" And up she goes. A moment after, down they all come again at
+his call; he lifts the cover of the box; cries, "_Quanto sei caro,
+Tommetto!_" and triumphantly exhibits the papers, each with a little
+freshly written inscription, and distributes them to the purchasers. Now
+and then he takes from his pocket a little bottle containing a mixture
+of the color of wine, and a paper filled with some sort of powder, and,
+exclaiming, "_Ah! tu hai fame e sete. Bisogna che ti dia da bere e
+mangiare_," pours them into the tin cup.
+
+It is astonishing to see how many of these little tickets a clever
+charlatan will sell in an hour, and principally on account of the
+lottery-numbers they contain. The fortunes are all the stereotype thing,
+and almost invariably warn you to be careful lest you should be
+"_tradito_," or promise you that you shall not be "_tradito_"; for the
+idea of betrayal is the corner-stone of every Italian's mind.
+
+In not only permitting, but promoting the lottery, Italy is certainly
+far behind England, France, and America. This system no longer exists
+with us, except in the disguised shape of gift-enterprises, art-unions,
+and that unpleasant institution of mendicant robbery called the raffle,
+and employed specially by those "who have seen better days." But a fair
+parallel to this rage of the Italians for the lottery is to be found in
+the love of betting, which is a national characteristic of the English.
+I do not refer to the bets upon horseflesh at Ascot, Epsom, and
+Goodwood, by which fortunes change owners in an hour and so many men are
+ruined, but rather to the general habit of betting upon any and every
+subject to settle a question, no matter how trivial, for which the
+Englishman is everywhere renowned on the Continent. Betting is with most
+other nations a form of speech, but with Englishmen it is a serious
+fact, and no one will be long in their company without finding an
+opinion backed up by a bet. It would not be very difficult to parallel
+those cases where the Italians disregard the solemnity of death, in
+their eagerness for omens of lottery-numbers, with equally reprehensible
+and apparently heartless cases of betting in England. Let any one who
+doubts this examine the betting-books at White's and Brookes's. In them
+he will find a most startling catalogue of bets,--some so bad as to
+justify the good parson in Walpole's story, who declared that they were
+such an impious set in this respect at White's, that, "if the last trump
+were to sound, they would bet puppet-show against judgment." Let one
+instance suffice. A man, happening to drop down at the door of White's,
+was lifted up and carried in. He was insensible, and the question was,
+whether he were dead or not. Bets were at once given and taken on both
+sides, and, it being proposed to bleed him, those who had taken odds
+that he was dead protested, on the ground that the use of the lancet
+would affect the fairness of the bet.[B] In the matter of play, things
+have now much changed since the time when Mr. Thynne left the club at
+White's in disgust, because he had won only twelve hundred guineas in
+two months. There is also a description of one of Fox's mornings, about
+the year 1783, which Horace Walpole has left us, and the truth of which
+Lord Holland admits, which it would be well for those to read who
+measure out hard justice to the Italians for their love of the lottery.
+Let us be fair. Italy is in these respects behind England in morals and
+practice by nearly a century; but it is as idle to argue
+hard-heartedness in an Italian who counts the drops of blood at a
+beheading as to suppose that the English have no feeling because in the
+bet we have mentioned there was a protest against the use of the lancet,
+or to deny kindliness to a surgeon who lectures on structure and disease
+while he removes a cancer.
+
+Vehement protests against the lottery and all gaming are as often
+uttered in Italy as elsewhere; and among them may be cited this eloquent
+passage from one of the most powerful of her modern writers. Guerrazzi,
+in the thirteenth chapter of "L'Assedio di Firenze," speaking on this
+subject, says, "You would in vain seek anything more fatal to men than
+play. It brings ignorance, poverty, despair, and at last crime....
+Gambling (the wicked gambling of the lottery) forms a precious jewel in
+the crown of princes."
+
+In a recent work, by the same author, called "L'Asino," occurs the
+following indignant and satirical passage, which, for the sake of the
+story, if for no other reason, deserves a place here:--
+
+"In our search for the history of human perfection, shall I speak of
+Naples or Rome? Alas! At the contemplation of such misery, in vain you
+constrain your lips to smile; they pout, and the uncalled tears stream
+over your face. Pity, in these most unhappy countries, blinded with
+weeping and hoarse with vain supplication, when she has no more voice to
+cry out to heaven, flies thither, and, kneeling before the throne of
+God, with outstretched hand, and proffering no word, begs that He will
+look at her.
+
+"Behold, O Lord, and judge whether our sins were remitted, or whether
+the sins of others exceed ours.
+
+"Is not Tuscany the garden of Italy? So say the Tuscans; and the
+Florentines add, that Florence is the Athens of Tuscany. Truly, both
+seem beautiful. Let us search in Tuscany. At Barberino di Mugello, in
+the midst of an olive-grove is a cemetery, where the vines, which have
+taken root in the outer walls and climbed over their summit, fall into
+the inclosed space, as if they wished to garland Death with vine-leaves
+and make it smile; over the gate, strange guardians of the tombs, two
+fig-trees give their shadow and fruit to recompense the piety of the
+passers-by, giving a fig in exchange for a _De Profundis_; while the
+ivy, stretching its wanton arms over the black cross, endeavors to
+clothe the austere sign of the Redemption with the jocund leaves of
+Bacchus, and recalls to your mind the mad Phryne who vainly tempted
+Xenocrates. A beautiful cemetery, by my faith! a cemetery to arouse in
+the body an intense desire to die, if only for the pleasure of being
+buried there. Now observe. Look into my magic-lantern. What figures do
+you see? A priest with a pick; after him a peasant with a spade; and
+behind them a woman with a hatchet: the priest holds a corpse by the
+hair; the peasant, with one blow, strikes off its head; then, all things
+being carefully rearranged, priest, peasant, and woman, after thrusting
+the head into a sack, return as they came. Attention now, for I change
+the picture. What figures are these that now appear? A kitchen; a fire
+that has not its superior, even in the Inferno; and a caldron, where the
+hissing and boiling water sends up its bubbles. Look about and what do
+you see? Enter the priest, the peasant, and the housewife, and in a
+moment empty a sack into the caldron. Lo! a head rolls out, dives into
+the water, and floats to the surface, now showing its nape and now its
+face. The Lord help us! It is an abominable spectacle; this poor head,
+with its ashy, open lips, seems to say, Give me again my Christian
+burial! That is enough. Only take note that in Tuscany, in the beautiful
+middle of the nineteenth century, a sepulchre was violated, and a
+sacrilege committed, to obtain from the boiled head of a corpse good
+numbers to play in the lottery! And, by way of corollary, add this to
+your note, that in Rome, _Caput Mundi_, and in Tuscany, Garden of Italy,
+it is prohibited, under the severest penalties, to play at _Faro_,
+_Zecchinetto_, _Banco-Fallito_, _Rossa e Nera_, and other similar games
+at cards, where each party may lose the whole or half the stakes, while
+the government encourage the play of the Lottery, by which, out of one
+hundred and twenty chances of winning, eighty are reserved for the bank,
+and forty or so allowed to the player. Finally, take note that in Rome,
+_Caput Mundi_, and in Tuscany, Garden of Italy, _Faro_, _Zecchinetto_,
+_Rossa e Nera_ were prohibited, as acknowledged pests of social
+existence and open death to honest customs,--as a set-off for which
+deprivation, the game of the Lottery is still kept on foot."
+
+The following extraordinary story, improbable as it seems, is founded
+upon fact, and was clearly proved, on judicial investigation, a few
+years since. It is well known in Tuscany, and forms the subject of a
+satirical narrative ("Il Sortilegio") by Giusti, a modern Tuscan poet,
+of true fire and genius, who has lashed the vices of his country in
+verses remarkable for point, idiom, and power. According to him, the
+method of divination resorted to in this case was as follows:--The
+sorcerer who invented it ordered his dupes to procure, either at dawn or
+twilight, ninety dry beans, called _ceci_, and upon each of these to
+write one of the ninety numbers drawn in the lottery, with an ink made
+of pitch and lard, which would not be affected by water. They were then
+to sharpen a knife, taking care that he who did so should touch no one
+during the operation; and after a day of fasting, they were to dig up at
+night a body recently dead, and, having cut off the head and removed the
+brain, they were to count the beans thrice, and to shake them thrice,
+and then, on their knees, to put them one by one into the skull. This
+was then to be placed in a caldron of water and set on the fire to boil.
+As soon as the water boiled violently, the head would be rolled about so
+that some of the beans would be ejected, and the first three which were
+thus thrown to the surface would be a sure _terno_ for the lottery. The
+wretched dupes added yet another feature of superstition to insure the
+success of this horrible device. They selected the head of their curate,
+who had recently died,--on the ground that, as he had studied algebra,
+he was a great cabalist, and any numbers from his head would be sure to
+draw a prize.
+
+Some one, I have no doubt, will here be anxious to know the numbers that
+bubbled up to the surface; but I am very sorry to say that I cannot
+gratify their laudable curiosity, for the interference of the police
+prevented the completion of the sorcery. So the curious must be content
+to consult some other cabalist,--
+
+                 "sull'arti segrete
+    Di menar la Fortuna per il naso,
+    Pescando il certo nel gran mar del Caso."
+
+Despite a wide-spread feeling among the higher classes against the
+lottery, it still continues to exist, for it has fastened itself into
+the habits and prejudices of many; and an institution which takes such
+hold of the passions of the people, and has lived so long, dies hard.
+Nor are there ever wanting specious excuses for the continuance of this,
+as of other reprobated systems,--of which the strongest is, that its
+abolition would not only deprive of their present means of subsistence
+numbers of persons employed in its administration, but would cut off
+certain charities dependent upon it, amounting to no less than forty
+thousand _scudi_ annually. Among these may be mentioned the dowry of
+forty _scudi_ which is given out of the profits received by the
+government at the drawing of every lottery to some five or six of the
+poor girls of Rome. The list of those who would profit by this charity
+is open to all, and contains thousands of names. The first number drawn
+in the lottery decides the fortunate persons; and, on the subsequent
+day, each receives a draft for forty _scudi_ on the government, payable
+on the presentation of the certificate of marriage. On the accession of
+the present Pope, an attempt was made to abolish the system; but these
+considerations, among others, had weight enough to prevent any changes.
+
+Though the play is generally small, yet sometimes large fortunes are
+gained. The family of the Marchese del Cinque, for instance, derive
+their title and fortune from the luck of an ancestor who played and won
+the highest prize, a _Cinquino_. With the money thus acquired he
+purchased his marquisate, and took the title _del Cinque_, "of the
+Five," in reference to the lucky five numbers. The Villa Quaranta Cinque
+in Rome derives its name from a similar circumstance. A lucky Monsignore
+played the single number of forty-five, _al posto_, and with his
+winnings built the villa, to which the Romans, always addicted to
+nicknames, gave the name of _Quaranta Cinque_. This love of nicknames,
+or _soprannomi_, as they are called, is, by the way, an odd peculiarity
+of the Italians, and it often occurs that persons are known only
+thereby. Examples of these, among the celebrated names of Italy, are so
+frequent as to form a rule in favor of the surname rather than of the
+real name, and in many cases the former has utterly obliterated the
+latter. Thus, Squint Eye, (_Guercino_,) Dirty Tom, (_Masaccio_,) The
+Little Dyer, (_Tintoretto_,) Great George, (_Giorgione_,) The
+Garland-Maker, (_Ghirlandaio_,) Luke of the Madder, (_Luca della
+Robbia_,) The Little Spaniard, (_Spagnoletto_,) and The Tailor's Son,
+(_Del Sarto_,) would scarcely be known under their real names of
+Barbieri, Tommaso, Guido, Robusti, Barbarelli, Corradi, Ribera, and
+Vannuchi. The list might be very much enlarged, but let it suffice to
+add the following well-known names, all of which are nicknames derived
+from their places of birth: Perugino, Veronese, Aretino, Pisano, Giulio
+Romano, Correggio, Parmegiano.
+
+The other day a curious instance of this occurred to me in taking the
+testimony of a Roman coachman. On being called upon to give the names of
+some of his companions, with whom he had been in daily and intimate
+intercourse for more than two years, he could give only their
+_soprannomi_; their real names he did not know, and had never heard. A
+little, gay, odd genius, whom I took into my service during a
+_villeggiatura_ at Siena, would not answer to his real name, Lorenzo,
+but remonstrated on being so called, and said he was only _Pipetta_,
+(The Little Pipe,) a nickname given to him when a child, from his
+precocity in smoking, and of which he was as tenacious as if it were a
+title of honor. "You prefer, then, to be called Pipetta?" I asked.
+"_Felicissimo! s�_," was his answer. Not a foreigner comes to Rome that
+his name does not "suffer a sea-change into something rich and
+strange." Our break-jaw Saxon names are discarded, and a new christening
+takes place. One friend I had who was called _Il Malinconico_,--another,
+_La Barbarossa_,--another, _Il bel Signore_; but generally they are
+called after the number of the house or the name of the street in which
+they live,--_La Signora bella Bionda di Palazzo Albani_,--_Il Signore
+Quattordici Capo le Case_,--_Monsieur_ and _Madama Terzo Piano, Corso_.
+
+But to return from this digression.--At every country festival may be
+seen a peculiar form of the lottery called _Tombola_; and in the notices
+of these _festas_, which are always placarded over the walls of Rome for
+weeks before they take place, the eye will always be attracted first by
+the imposing word _Tombola_, printed in the largest and blackest of
+letters. This is, in fact, the characteristic feature of the _festa_,
+and attracts large numbers of _contadini_. As in the ordinary lottery,
+only ninety numbers are played. Every ticket contains blank spaces for
+fifteen numbers, which are inserted by the purchaser, and registered
+duly at the office or booth where the ticket is bought. The price of
+tickets in any single _Tombola_ is uniform; but in different _Tombolas_
+it varies, of course, according to the amount of the prizes. These are
+generally five, namely,--the _Ambo_, _Terno_, _Quaterno_, _Cinquino_,
+and _Tombola_, though sometimes a second _Tombola_ or _Tomboletta_ is
+added. The drawing takes place in precisely the same manner as in the
+ordinary lottery, but with more ceremony. A large staging, with a
+pavilion, is erected, where the officers who are to superintend the
+drawing stand. In the centre is a glass vase, in which the numbers are
+placed after having been separately verified and proclaimed, and a boy
+gayly dressed draws them. All the ninety numbers are drawn; and as each
+issues, it is called out, and exhibited on a large card. Near by stands
+a large framework, elevated so as to be visible to all, with ninety
+divisions corresponding to the ninety numbers, and on this, also, every
+number is shown as soon as it is drawn. The first person who has upon
+his ticket two drawn numbers gains an _Ambo_, which is the smallest
+prize. Whoever first has three numbers drawn gains a _Terno_; and so on
+with the _Quaterno_ and _Cinquino_. The _Tombola_, which is the great
+prize, is won by whoever first has his whole fifteen numbers drawn. As
+soon as any one finds two of the drawn numbers on his ticket, he cries,
+"_Ambo_," at the top of his lungs. A flag is then raised on the
+pavilion, the band plays, and the game is suspended, while the claimant
+at once makes his way to the judges on the platform to present his
+ticket for examination. No sooner does the cry of "_Ambo_," "_Terno_,"
+"_Quaterno_," take place, than there is a great rustle all around.
+Everybody looks out for the fortunate person, who is immediately to be
+seen running through the parting crowd, which opens before him, cheering
+him as he goes, if his appearance be poor and needy, and greeting him
+with sarcasms, if he be apparently well to do in the world. Sometimes
+there are two or three claimants for the same prize, in which case it is
+divided among them. The _Ambo_ is soon taken, and there is little room
+for a mistake; but when it comes to the _Quaterno_ or _Cinquino_,
+mistakes are very common, and the claimant is almost always saluted with
+chaff and jests. After his ticket has been examined, if he have won, a
+placard is exhibited with _Ambo_, _Terno_, _Quaterno_ on it, as the case
+may be. But if he have committed an error, down goes the flag, and, amid
+a burst of laughter, jeering, whistling, screaming, and catcalls, the
+disappointed claimant sneaks back and hides himself in the excited
+crowd. At a really good _Tombola_, where the prizes are high, there is
+no end of fun and gayety among the people. They stand with their tickets
+in their hands, congratulating each other ironically, as they fail to
+find the numbers on them, paying all sorts of absurd compliments to each
+other and the drawer, offering to sell out their chances at enormous
+prices when they are behindhand, and letting off all sorts of squibs
+and jests, not so excellent in themselves as provocative of laughter. If
+the wit be little, the fun is great,--and, in the excitement of
+expectation, a great deal of real Italian humor is often ventilated.
+Sometimes, at the country fairs, the fun is rather slow, particularly
+where the prizes are small; but on exciting occasions, there is a
+constant small fire of jests, which is very amusing.
+
+These _Tombole_ are sometimes got up with great pomp. That, for
+instance, which sometimes takes place in the Villa Borghese is one of
+the most striking spectacles which can be seen in Rome. At one end of
+the great open-air amphitheatre is erected a large pavilion, flanked on
+either side with covered _logge_ or _palchi_, festooned with yellow and
+white,--the Papal colors,--adorned with flags, and closed round with
+rich old arrases all pictured over with Scripture stories. Beneath the
+central pavilion is a band. Midway down the amphitheatre, on either
+side, are two more _logge_, similarly draped, where two more bands are
+stationed,--and still another at the opposite end, for the same purpose.
+The _logge_ which flank the pavilion are sold by ticket, and filled with
+the richer classes. Three great stagings show the numbers as they are
+drawn. The pit of the amphitheatre is densely packed with a motley
+crowd. Under the ilexes and noble stone-pines that show their dark-green
+foliage against the sky, the helmets and swords of cavalry glitter as
+they move to and fro. All around on the green slopes are the
+people,--soldiers, _contadini_, priests, mingled together,--and
+thousands of gay dresses and ribbons and parasols enliven the mass. The
+four bands play successively as the multitude gathers. They have already
+arrived in tens of thousands, but the game has not yet begun, and
+thousands are still flocking to see it. All the gay equipages are on the
+outskirts, and through the trees and up the avenues stream the crowds on
+foot. As we stand in the centre of the amphitheatre and look up, we get
+a faint idea of the old Roman gatherings when Rome emptied itself to
+join in the games at the Colosseum. Row upon row they stand, a mass of
+gay and swarming life. The sunlight flashes over them, and blazes on the
+rich colors. The tall pines and dark ilexes shadow them here and there;
+over them is the soft blue dome of the Italian sky. They are gathered
+round the _villetta_,--they throng the roof and balconies,--they crowd
+the stone steps,--they pack the green oval of the amphitheatre's pit.
+The ring of cymbals, the clarion of trumpets, and the clash of brazen
+music vibrate in the air. All the world is abroad to see, from the
+infant in arms to the oldest inhabitant. _Monsignori_ in purple
+stockings and tricornered hats, _contadini_ in gay reds and crimsons,
+cardinals in scarlet. Princes, shopkeepers, beggars, foreigners, all
+mingle together; while the screams of the vendors of cigars,
+pumpkin-seeds, cakes, and lemonade are everywhere heard over the
+suppressed roar of the crowd. As you walk along the outskirts of the
+mass, you may see Monte Gennaro's dark peak looking over the Campagna,
+and all the Sabine hills trembling in a purple haze,--or, strolling down
+through the green avenues, you may watch the silver columns of fountains
+as they crumble in foam and plash in their mossy basins,--or gather
+masses of the sweet Parma violet and other beautiful wild-flowers.
+
+The only other games among the modern Romans, which deserve particular
+notice from their peculiarity, are those of Cards. In an Italian pack
+there are only forty cards,--the eight, nine, and ten of the French and
+English cards having no existence. The suits also have different signs
+and names, and, instead of hearts, spades, clubs, and diamonds, they are
+called _coppe_, _spade_, _bastoni_, and _denari_,--all being of the same
+color, and differing entirely in form from our cards. The _coppe_ are
+cups or vases; the _spade_ are swords; the _bastoni_ are veritable clubs
+or bludgeons; and the _denari_ are coins. The games are still more
+different from ours than the cards, and they are legion in number. There
+are _Briscola_, _Tresette_, _Calabresella_, _Banco-Fallito_, _Rossa e
+Nera_, _Scaraccoccia_, _Scopa_, _Spizzica_, _Faraone_, _Zecchinetto_,
+_Mercante in Fiera_, _La Bazzica_, _Ruba-Monte_, _Uomo-Nero_, _La
+Paura_, and I know not how many others,--but they are recorded and
+explained in no book, and are only to be picked up orally. Wherever you
+go, on _festa_-day, you will find persons playing cards. At the common
+_osterias_, before the doors or on the soiled tables within, on the
+ruins of the C�sars' palaces and in the Temple of Peace, on the stone
+tables in the _vigna_, on the walls along the public roads, on the
+uncarved blocks of marble in front of the sculptors' studios, in the
+antechambers or gateways of palaces,--everywhere, cards are played.
+Every _contadino_ has a pack in his pocket, with the flavor of the soil
+upon it. The playing is ordinarily for very low sums, often for nothing
+at all. But there are some games which are purely games of luck, and
+dangerous. Some of these, as _Rossa e Nera_, _Banco-Fallito_, and
+_Zecchinetto_, though prohibited by the government, are none the less
+favorite games in Rome, particularly among those who play for money.
+_Zecchinetto_ may be played by any number of persons, after the
+following manner:--The dealer, who plays against the whole table, deals
+to each player one card. The next card is then turned up as a trump.
+Each player then makes his bet on the card dealt to him, and places his
+money on it. The dealer then deals to the table the other cards in
+order, and any of the players may bet on them as they are thrown down.
+If a card of the number of that bet on issue before a card corresponding
+to the number of the trump, the dealer wins the stake on that card; but
+whenever a card corresponding to the trump issues, the player wins on
+every card on which he has bet. When the banker or dealer loses at once,
+the bank "_fa toppa_," and the deal passes, but not otherwise. Nothing
+can be more simple than this game, and it is just as dangerous as it is
+simple, and as exciting as it is dangerous. A late Roman _principessa_
+is said to have been passionately fond of it, and to have lost
+enormously by it. The story runs, that, while passing the evening at a
+friend's house, after losing ten thousand _scudi_ at one sitting, she
+staked her horses and carriage, which were at the door waiting to take
+her home, and lost them also. She then wrote a note to the prince, her
+husband, saying that she had lost her carriage and horses at
+_Zecchinetto_, and wished others to be sent for her. To which he
+answered, that she might return on foot,--which she was obliged to do.
+
+This will serve at least as a specimen of the games of chance played by
+the Romans at cards. Of the more innocent games, _Briscola_, _Tresette_,
+and _Scaraccoccia_ are the favorites among the common people. And the
+first of these may not be uninteresting, as being, perhaps, the most
+popular of all. It is played by either two or four persons. The _Fante_
+(or Knave) counts as two; the _Carallo_ (equal to our Queen) as three;
+the _R�_ (King) as four; the Three-spot as ten; and the Ace as eleven.
+Three cards are dealt to each person, and after the deal the next card
+is turned as trump, or _Briscola_. Each plays, and, after one card all
+round is played, its place is supplied by a new deal of one card to
+each. Every card of the trump-suit takes any card of the other suits.
+Each player takes as many counting-cards as he can, and, at the end of
+the game, he who counts the most wins,--the account being made according
+to the value of the cards, as stated above.
+
+[To be continued.]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] See Dessault, _Trait� de la Passion du Jeu_.
+
+[B] Even while I am writing these notes, I find almost the same incident
+recorded as a "modern instance," in a recent work by Lieutenant-Colonel
+Addison, entitled _Traits and Stories of Anglo-Indian Life_; but,
+despite the authority of Colonel Addison, I cannot but suspect that he
+has simply changed the _venue_, and that his story is but a
+_rifacimento_ of the actual case alluded to above.
+
+
+
+
+THE AMBER GODS.
+
+[Concluded.]
+
+
+Papa made Mr. Dudley stay and dine, and of course we were almost bored
+to death, when in came Rose again, stealing behind Lu's chair and
+showering her in the twilight with a rain of May-flowers.
+
+"Now you'll have to gather them again," he said.
+
+"Oh, how exquisite! how delicious! how I thank you!" she exclaimed,
+without disturbing one, however.
+
+"You won't touch them again? Then I must," he added.
+
+"No! no! Mr. Rose!" I cried. "I'll pick them up and take toll."
+
+"Don't touch them!" said Lu, "they're so sweet!"
+
+"Yes," he murmured lower, "they're like you. I always said so, you
+remember."
+
+"Oh, yes! and every May-day but the last you have brought them to me."
+
+"Have you the trailing-arbutus there?" asked Mr. Dudley.
+
+"No," returned Rose.
+
+"I thought I detected strawberries," submitted the other,--"a pleasant
+odor which recalls childhood to memory."
+
+For some noses all sweet scents are lumped in one big strawberry;
+clovers, or hyacinths, or every laden air indifferently, they still
+sniff strawberries. Commonplace things!
+
+"It's a sign of high birth to track strawberry-beds where no fruit is,
+Mr. Dudley," said I.
+
+"Very true, Miss Willoughby. I was born pretty high up in the Green
+Mountains."
+
+"And so keep your memory green?"
+
+"Strawberries in June," said Rose, good-naturedly. "But fruit out of
+season is trouble out of reason, the Dream-Book says. It's May now, and
+these are its blossoms."
+
+"Everybody makes such a fuss about ground-laurel!" said I. "I don't see
+why, I'm sure. They're never perfect. The leaf is hideous,--a stupid
+duenna! You get great green leaves, and the flowers all white; you get
+deep, rosy flowers, and the leaves are all brown and bitten. They're
+neither one thing nor another. They're just like heliotropes,--no bloom
+at all, only scent. I've torn up myriads, to the ten stamens in their
+feathered case, to find where that smell comes from,--that is perfectly
+delicious,--and I never could. They are a cheat."
+
+"Have you finished your tirade?" asked Rose, indifferently.
+
+"I don't believe you mean so," murmured Lu. "They have a color of their
+own, almost human, infantine; and when you mass them, the tone is more
+soft and mellow than a flute. Everybody loves May-flowers."
+
+"Just about. I despise flutes. I like bassoons."
+
+"They are prophets of apple-blossoms."
+
+"Which brings them at once into the culinary."
+
+"They are not very showy," said Mr. Dudley; "but when we remember the
+Fathers"----
+
+"There's nothing like them," said Rose, gently, as he knelt by Lu,
+slowly putting them into order; "nothing but pure, clear things; they're
+the fruit of snowflakes, the firstlings of the year. When one thinks how
+sweetly they come from their warm coverts and look into this cold,
+breezy sky so unshrinkingly, and from what a soil they gather such a
+wealth of simple beauty, one feels ashamed."
+
+"Climax worthy of the useless things!" said I.
+
+"The moment in which first we are thoroughly ashamed, Miss Willoughby,
+is the sovereign one of our life. Useless things? They are worth king
+and bishop. Every year, weariness and depression melt away when atop of
+the seasons' crucible boil these little bubbles. Isn't everybody better
+for lavishing love? And no one merely likes these; whoever cares at all
+loves entirely. We always take and give resemblances or sympathies from
+any close connection, and so these are in their way a type of their
+lovers. What virtue is in them to distil the shadow of the great pines,
+that wave layer after layer with a grave rhythm over them,
+into this delicate tint, I wonder. They have so decided an
+individuality,--different there from hot-house belles;--fashion strips
+us of our characteristics"----
+
+"You needn't turn to me for illustration of exotics," said I.
+
+He threw me a cluster, half-hidden in its green towers, and went on,
+laying one by one and bringing out little effects.
+
+"The sweetest modesty clings to them, which Alphonse Karr denies to the
+violet, so that they are almost out of place in a drawing-room; one
+ought to give them there the shelter of their large, kind leaves."
+
+"Hemlock's the only wear," said Louise.
+
+"Or last year's scarlet blackberry triads. Vines together," he
+suggested.
+
+"But sometimes they forget their nun-like habit," she added, "put on a
+frolicsome mood, and clamber out and flush all the deep ruts of the
+carriage-road in Follymill woods, you remember."
+
+"Penance next year," said I.
+
+"No, no; you are not to bring your old world into my new," objected
+Rose. "Perhaps they ran out so to greet the winter-worn mariners of
+Plymouth, and have been pursued by the love of their descendants ever
+since, they getting charier. Just remember how they grow. Why, you'd
+never suspect a flower there, till, happening to turn up a leaf, you're
+in the midst of harvest. You may tramp acres in vain, and within a
+stone's throw they've been awaiting you. There's something very
+charming, too, about them in this,--that when the buds are set, and at
+last a single blossom starts the trail, you plucking at one end of the
+vine, your heart's delight may touch the other a hundred miles away.
+Spring's telegraph. So they bind our coast with this network of flower
+and root."
+
+"By no means," I asserted. "They grow in spots."
+
+"Pshaw! I won't believe it. They're everywhere just the same, only
+underground preparing their little witnesses, whom they send out where
+most needed. You don't suppose they find much joy in the fellowship of
+brown pine pins and sad, gray mosses, do you? Some folks say they don't
+grow away from the shore; but I've found them, I'm sorry to say, up in
+New Hampshire."
+
+"Why sorry?" asked Lu.
+
+"Oh, I like it best that they need our sea. They're eminently choice for
+this hour, too, when you scarcely gather their tint,--that tint, as if
+moonlight should wish to become a flower,--but their fragrance is an
+atmosphere all about you. How genuinely spicy it is! It's the very
+quintessence of those regions all whose sweetness exudes in
+sun-saturated balsams,--the very breath of pine woods and salt sea
+winds. How could it live away from the sea?"
+
+"Why, Sir," said Mr. Dudley, "you speak as if it were a creature!"
+
+"A hard, woody stem, a green, robust leaf, a delicate, odorous flower,
+Mr. Dudley, what is it all but an expression of New England character?"
+
+"Doxology!" said I.
+
+"Now, Miss Louise, as you have made me atone for my freedom, the task
+being done, let me present them in form."
+
+"I'm sure she needn't praise them," said I.
+
+She didn't.
+
+"I declared people make a great fuss over them," I continued. "And you
+prove it. You put me in mind of a sound, to be heard where one gets
+them,--a strange sound, like low, distant thunder, and it's nothing but
+the drum of a little partridge! a great song out of nothing.--Bless me!
+what's that?"
+
+"Oh, the fireworks!" said Lu. And we all thronged to the windows.
+
+"It's very good of your uncle to have them," said Rose. "What a crowd
+from the town! Think of the pyrotechnics among comets and a�rolites some
+fellows may have! It's quite right, too, to make our festivals with
+light; it's the highest and last of all things; we never can carry our
+imaginations beyond light"----
+
+"Our imaginations ought to carry us," said Lu.
+
+"Come," I said, "you can play what pranks you please with the little
+May; but light is my province, my absorption; let it alone."
+
+It grew quite dark, interrupted now and then by the glare of rockets;
+but at last a stream of central fire went out in a slow rain of
+countless violets, reflected with pale blue flashes in the river below,
+and then the gloom was unbroken. I saw them, in that long, dim gleam,
+standing together at a window. Louise, her figure almost swaying as if
+to some inaudible music, but her face turned to him with such a steady
+quiet. Ah, me! what a tremulous joy, what passion, and what search, lit
+those eyes! But you know that passion means suffering, and, tracing it
+in the original through its roots, you come to pathos, and still
+farther, to lamentation, I've heard. But he was not looking down at her,
+only out and away, paler than ever in the blue light, sad and resolved.
+I ordered candles.
+
+"Sing to me, Louise," said Rose, at length. "It is two years since I
+heard you."
+
+"Sing 'What's a' the steer, kimmer,'" I said. But instead, she gave the
+little ballad, 'And bring my love again, for he lies among the moors.'
+
+Rose went and leaned over the pianoforte while she sang, bending and
+commanding her eyes. He seemed to wish to put himself where he was
+before he ever left her, to awaken everything lovely in her, to bring
+her before him as utterly developed as she might be,--not only to afford
+her, but to force upon her every chance to master him. He seemed to wish
+to love, I thought.
+
+"Thank you," he said, as she ceased. "Did you choose it purposely,
+Louise?"
+
+Lu sang very nicely, and, though I dare say she would rather not then,
+when Mr. Dudley asked for the "Vale of Avoca" and the "Margin of
+Z�rich's Fair Waters," she gave them just as kindly. Altogether, quite a
+damp programme. Then papa came in, bright and blithe, whirled me round
+in a _pas de deux_, and we all very gay and hilarious slipped into the
+second of May.
+
+Dear me! how time goes! I must hurry.--After that, _I_ didn't see so
+much of Rose; but he met Lu everywhere, came in when I was out, and, if
+I returned, he went, perfectly regardless of my existence, it seemed.
+They rode, too, all round the country; and she sat to him, though he
+never filled out the sketch. For weeks he was devoted; but I fancied,
+when I saw them, that there lingered in his manner the same thing as on
+the first evening while she sang to him. Lu was so gay and sweet and
+happy that I hardly knew her; she was always very gentle, but such a
+decided body,--that's the Willoughby, her mother. Yet during these weeks
+Rose had not spoken, not formally; delicate and friendly kindness was
+all Lu could have found, had she sought. One night, I remember, he came
+in and wanted us to go out and row with him on the river. Lu wouldn't go
+without me.
+
+"Will you come?" said he, coolly, as if I were merely necessary as a
+thwart or thole-pin might have been, turning and letting his eyes fall
+on me an instant, then snatching them off with a sparkle and flush, and
+such a lordly carelessness of manner otherwise.
+
+"Certainly not," I replied.
+
+So they remained, and Lu began to open a bundle of Border Ballads, which
+he had brought her. The very first one was "Whistle an' I'll come to
+you, my lad." I laughed. She glanced up quickly, then held it in her
+hands a moment, repeated the name, and asked if he liked it.
+
+"Oh, yes," he said. "There couldn't be a Scotch song without that rhythm
+better than melody, which, after all, is Beethoven's secret."
+
+"Perhaps," said Louise. "But I shall not sing this."
+
+"Oh, do!" he said, turning with surprise. "You don't know what an
+a�rial, whistling little thing it is!"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why, Louise! There is nobody could sing it but you."
+
+"Of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what
+color it please God," quoted I, and in came Mr. Dudley, as he usually
+did when not wanted; though I've no reason to find fault with him,
+notwithstanding his blank treatment of me. He never took any notice,
+because he was in love with Lu. Rose never took any notice of me,
+either. But with a difference!
+
+Lu was singularly condescending to Mr. Dudley that evening; and Rose,
+sitting aside, looked so very much disturbed--whether pleasantly or
+otherwise didn't occur to me--that I couldn't help enjoying his
+discomfiture, and watching him through it.
+
+Now, though I told you I wasn't nervous, I never should know I had this
+luxurious calm, if there were nothing to measure it by; and once in a
+great while a perfect whirlpool seizes me,--my blood is all in
+turmoil,--I bubble with silent laughter, or cry with all my heart. I had
+been in such a strange state a good while, and now, as I surveyed Rose,
+it gradually grew fiercer, till I actually sprang to my feet, and
+exclaimed, "There! it is insupportable! I've been in the magnetic storm
+long enough! it is time something took it from me!" and ran out-doors.
+
+Rose sauntered after, by-and-by, as if unwillingly drawn by a loadstone,
+and found the heavens wrapped in a rosy flame of Northern Lights. He
+looked as though he belonged to them, so pale and elf-like was his face
+then, like one bewitched.
+
+"Papa's fireworks fade before mine," I said. "Now we can live in the
+woods, as Lu has been wishing; for a dry southerly wind follows this,
+with a blue smoke filming all the distant fields. Won't it be
+delicious?"
+
+"Or rain," he replied; "I think it will rain to-morrow,--warm, full
+rains"; and he seemed as if such a chance would dissolve him entirely.
+
+As for me, those shifting, silent sheets of splendor abstracted all that
+was alien, and left me in my normal state.
+
+"There they come!" I said, as Lu and Mr. Dudley, and some others who had
+entered in my absence,--gnats dancing in the beam,--stepped down toward
+us. "How charming for us all to sit out here!"
+
+"How annoying, you mean," he replied, simply for contradiction.
+
+"It hasn't been warm enough before," I added.
+
+"And Louise may take cold now," he said, as if wishing to exhibit his
+care for her. "Whom is she speaking with? Blarsaye? And who comes
+after?"
+
+"Parti. A delightful person,--been abroad, too. You and he can have a
+crack about Louvres and Vaticans now, and leave Lu and Mr. Dudley to
+me."
+
+Rose suddenly inspected me and then Parti, as if he preferred the crack
+to be with cudgels; but in a second the little blaze vanished, and he
+only stripped a weigelia branch of every blossom.
+
+I wonder what made Lu behave so that night; she scarcely spoke to Rose,
+appeared entirely unconcerned while he hovered round her like an
+officious sprite, was all grace to the others and sweetness to Mr.
+Dudley. And Rose, oblivious of snubs, paraded his devotion, seemed
+determined to show his love for Lu,--as if any one cared a straw,--and
+took the pains to be positively rude to me. He was possessed of an odd
+restlessness; a little defiance bristled his movements, an air of
+contrariness; and whenever he became quiet, he seemed again like one
+enchanted and folded up in a dream, to break whose spell he was about to
+abandon efforts. He told me life had destroyed my enchantment; I wonder
+what will destroy his. Lu refused to sit in the garden-chair he
+offered,--just suffered the wreath of pink bells he gave her to hang in
+her hand, and by-and-by fall,--and when the north grew ruddier and swept
+the zenith with lances of light, and when it faded, and a dim cloud
+hazed all the stars, preserved the same equanimity, kept on the _evil_
+tenor of her way, and bade every one an impartial farewell at
+separating. She is preciously well-bred.
+
+We hadn't remained in the garden all that time, though,--but, strolling
+through the gate and over the field, had reached a small grove that
+fringes the gully worn by Wild Fall and crossed by the railway. As we
+emerged from that, talking gayly, and our voices almost drowned by the
+dash of the little waterfall and the echo from the opposite rock, I
+sprang across the curving track, thinking them behind, and at the same
+instant a thunderous roar burst all about, a torrent of hot air whizzed
+and eddied over me, I fell dizzied and stunned, and the night
+express-train shot by like a burning arrow. Of course I was dreadfully
+hurt by my fall and fright,--I feel the shock now,--but they all stood
+on the little mound, from which I had sprung, like so many
+petrifactions: Rose, just as he had caught Louise back on firmer ground,
+when she was about to follow me, his arm wound swiftly round her waist,
+yet his head thrust forward eagerly, his pale face and glowing eyes
+bent, not on her, but me. Still he never stirred, and poor Mr. Dudley
+first came to my assistance. We all drew breath at our escape, and, a
+little slowly, on my account, turned homeward.
+
+"You are not bruised, Miss Willoughby?" asked Blarsaye, wakened.
+
+"Dear Yone!" Lu said, leaving Mr. Dudley's arm, "you're so very pale!
+It's not pain, is it?"
+
+"I am not conscious of any. Why should I be injured, any more than you?"
+
+"Do you know," said Rose, _sotto voce_, turning and bending merely his
+head to me, "I thought I heard you scream, and that you were dead."
+
+"And what then?"
+
+"Nothing, but that you were lying dead and torn, and I should see you,"
+he said,--and said as if he liked to say it, experiencing a kind of
+savage delight at his ability to say it.
+
+"A pity to have disappointed you!" I answered.
+
+"I saw it coming before you leaped," he added, as a malignant finality,
+and drawing nearer. "You were both on the brink. I called, but probably
+neither you nor Lu heard me. So I snatched her back."
+
+Now I had been next him then.
+
+"Jove's balance," I said, taking Parti's arm.
+
+He turned instantly to Lu, and kept by her during the remainder of the
+walk, Mr. Dudley being at the other side. I was puzzled a little by Lu,
+as I have been a good many times since; I thought she liked Rose so
+much. Papa met us in the field, and there the affair must be detailed to
+him, and then he would have us celebrate our safety in Champagne.
+
+"Good-bye, Louise," said Rose, beside her at the gate, and offering his
+hand, somewhat later. "I'm going away to-morrow, if it's fine."
+
+"Going?" with involuntary surprise.
+
+"To camp out in Maine."
+
+"Oh! I hope you will enjoy it."
+
+"Would you stay long, Louise?"
+
+"If the sketching-grounds are good."
+
+"When I come back, you'll sing my songs? Shake hands."
+
+She just laid a cold touch on his.
+
+"Louise, are you offended with me?"
+
+She looked up with so much simplicity. "Offended, Rose, with you?"
+
+"Not offended, but frozen," I could have said. Lu is like that little
+sensitive-plant, shrinking into herself with stiff unconsciousness at a
+certain touch. But I don't think he noticed the sad tone in her voice,
+as she said good-night; I didn't, till, the others being gone, I saw her
+turn after his disappearing figure, with a look that would have been
+despairing, but for its supplication.
+
+The only thing Lu ever said to me about this was,--
+
+"Don't you think Rose a little altered, Yone, since he came home?"
+
+"Altered?"
+
+"I have noticed it ever since you showed him your beads, that day."
+
+"Oh! it's the amber," I said. "They are amulets, and have bound him in a
+thrall. You must wear them, and dissolve the charm. He's in a dream."
+
+"What is it to be in a dream?" she asked.
+
+"To lose thought of past or future."
+
+She repeated my words,--"Yes, he's in a dream," she said, musingly.
+
+
+II.
+
+Rose didn't come near us for a fortnight; but he had not camped at all,
+as he said. It was the first stone thrown into Lu's life, and I never
+saw any one keep the ripples under so; but her suspicions were aroused.
+Finally he came in again, all as before, and I thought things might have
+been different, if in that fortnight Mr. Dudley had not been so
+assiduous; and now, to the latter's happiness, there were several ragged
+children and infirm old women in whom, Lu having taken them in charge,
+he chose to be especially interested. Lu always was housekeeper, both
+because it had fallen to her while mamma and I were away, and because
+she had an administrative faculty equal to General Jackson's; and Rose,
+who had frequently gone about with her, inspecting jellies and cordials
+and adding up her accounts, now unexpectedly found Mr. Dudley so near
+his former place that he disdained to resume it himself;--not entirely,
+because the man of course couldn't be as familiar as an old playmate;
+but just enough to put Rose aside. He never would compete with any one;
+and Lu did not know how to repulse the other.
+
+If the amulets had ravished Rose from himself, they did it at a
+distance, for I had not worn them since that day.--You needn't look.
+Thales imagined amber had a spirit; and Pliny says it is a counter-charm
+for sorceries. There are a great many mysterious things in the world.
+Aren't there any hidden relations between us and certain substances?
+Will you tell me something impossible?--But he came and went about
+Louise, and she sung his songs, and all was going finely again, when we
+gave our midsummer party.
+
+Everybody was there, of course, and we had enrapturing music. Louise
+wore--no matter--something of twilight purple, and begged for the amber,
+since it was too much for my toilette,--a double India muslin, whose
+snowy sheen scintillated with festoons of gorgeous green beetles' wings
+flaming like fiery emeralds.--A family dress, my dear, and worn by my
+aunt before me,--only that individual must have been frightened out of
+her wits by it. A cruel, savage dress, very like, but ineffably
+gorgeous.--So I wore her aquamarina, though the other would have been
+better; and when I sailed in, with all the airy folds in a hoar-frost
+mistiness fluttering round me and the glitter of Lu's jewels,--
+
+"Why!" said Rose, "you look like the moon in a halo."
+
+But Lu disliked a hostess out-dressing her guests.
+
+It was dull enough till quite late, and then I stepped out with Mr.
+Parti, and walked up and down a garden-path. Others were outside as
+well, and the last time I passed a little arbor I caught a yellow gleam
+of amber. Lu, of course. Who was with her? A gentleman, bending low to
+catch her words, holding her hand in an irresistible pressure. Not Rose,
+for he was flitting in beyond. Mr. Dudley. And I saw then that Lu's
+kindness was too great to allow her to repel him angrily; her gentle
+conscience let her wound no one. Had Rose seen the pantomime? Without
+doubt. He had been seeking her, and he found her, he thought, in Mr.
+Dudley's arms. After a while we went in, and, finding all smooth
+enough, I slipped through the balcony-window and hung over the
+balustrade, glad to be alone a moment. The wind, blowing in, carried the
+gay sounds away from me, even the music came richly muffled through the
+heavy curtains, and I wished to breathe balm and calm. The moon, round
+and full, was just rising, making the gloom below more sweet. A full
+moon is poison to some; they shut it out at every crevice, and do not
+suffer a ray to cross them; it has a chemical or magnetic effect; it
+sickens them. But I am never more free and royal than when the subtile
+celerity of its magic combinations, whatever they are, is at work. Never
+had I known the mere joy of being so intimately as to-night. The river
+slept soft and mystic below the woods, the sky was full of light, the
+air ripe with summer. Out of the yellow honeysuckles that climbed
+around, clouds of delicious fragrance stole and swathed me; long wafts
+of faint harmony gently thrilled me. Dewy and dark and uncertain was all
+beyond. I, possessed with a joyousness so deep through its contented
+languor as to counterfeit serenity, forgot all my wealth of nature, my
+pomp of beauty, abandoned myself to the hour.
+
+A strain of melancholy dance-music pierced the air and fell. I half
+turned my head, and my eyes met Rose. He had been there before me,
+perhaps. His face, white and shining in the light, shining with a
+strange sweet smile of relief, of satisfaction, of delight, his lips
+quivering with unspoken words, his eyes dusky with depth after depth of
+passion. How long did my eyes swim on his? I cannot tell. He never
+stirred; still leaned there against the pillar, still looked down on me
+like a marble god. The sudden tears dazzled my gaze, fell down my hot
+cheek, and still I knelt fascinated by that smile. In that moment I felt
+that he was more beautiful than the night, than the music, than I. Then
+I knew that all this time, all summer, all past summers, all my life
+long, I had loved him.
+
+Some one was waiting to make his adieux; I heard my father seeking me; I
+parted the curtains, and went in. One after one those tedious people
+left, the lights grew dim, and still he stayed without. I ran to the
+window, and, lifting the curtain, bent forward, crying,--
+
+"Mr. Rose! do you spend the night on the balcony?"
+
+Then he moved, stepped down, murmured something to my father, bowed
+loftily to Louise, passed me without a sign, and went out. In a moment,
+Lu's voice, a quick, sharp exclamation, touched him; he turned, came
+back. She, wondering at him, had stood toying with the amber, and at
+last crushing the miracle of the whole, a bell-wort wrought most
+delicately with all the dusty pollen grained upon its anthers, crushing
+it between her fingers, breaking the thread, and scattering the beads
+upon the carpet. He stooped with her to gather them again, he took from
+her hand and restored to her afterward the shattered fragments of the
+bell-wort, he helped her disentangle the aromatic string from her
+falling braids,--for I kept apart,--he breathed the penetrating incense
+of each separate amulet, and I saw that from that hour, when every atom
+of his sensation was tense and vibrating, she would be associated with
+the loathed amber in his undefined consciousness, would be surrounded
+with an atmosphere of its perfume, that Lu was truly sealed from him in
+it, sealed into herself. Then again, saying no word, he went out.
+
+Louise stood like one lost,--took aimlessly a few steps,--retraced
+them,--approached a table,--touched something,--left it.
+
+"I am so sorry about your beads!" she said, apologetically, when she
+looked up and saw me astonished, putting the broken pieces into my hand.
+
+"Goodness! Is that what you are fluttering about so for?"
+
+"They can't be mended," she continued, "but I will thread them again."
+
+"I don't care about them, I'm sick of amber," I answered, consolingly.
+"You may have them, if you will."
+
+"No. I must pay too great a price for them," she replied.
+
+"Nonsense! when they break again, I'll pay you back," I said, without in
+the least knowing what she meant. "I didn't know you were too proud for
+a 'thank you!'"
+
+She came up and put both her arms round my neck, laid her cheek beside
+mine a minute, kissed me, and went up-stairs. Lu always rather
+worshipped me.
+
+Dressing my hair that night, Carmine, my maid, begged for the remnants
+of the bell-wort to "make a scent-bag with, Miss."
+
+Next day, no Rose; it rained. But at night he came and took possession
+of the room, with a strange, airy gayety never seen in him before. It
+was so chilly, that I had heaped the wood-boughs, used in the
+yesterday's decorations, on the hearth, and lighted a fragrant crackling
+flame that danced up wildly at my touch,--for I have the faculty of
+fire. I sat at one side, Lu at the other, papa was holding a skein of
+silk for her to wind, the amber beads were twinkling in the
+firelight,--and when she slipped them slowly on the thread, bead after
+bead, warmed through and through by the real blaze, they crowded the
+room afresh with their pungent spiciness. Papa had called Rose to take
+his place at the other end of the silk, and had gone out; and when Lu
+finished, she fastened the ends, cut the thread, Rose likening her to
+Atropos, and put them back into her basket. Still playing with the
+scissors, following down the lines of her hand, a little snap was heard.
+
+"Oh!" said Louise, "I have broken my ring!"
+
+"Can't it be repaired?" I asked.
+
+"No," she returned briefly, but pleasantly, and threw the pieces into
+the fire.
+
+"The hand must not be ringless," said Rose; and slipping off the ring of
+hers that he wore, he dropped it upon the amber, then got up and threw
+an armful of fresh boughs upon the blaze.
+
+So that was all done. Then Rose was gayer than before. He is one of
+those people to whom you must allow moods,--when their sun shines,
+dance, and when their vapors rise, sit in the shadow. Every variation of
+the atmosphere affects him, though by no means uniformly; and so
+sensitive is he, that, when connected with you by any intimate
+_rapport_, even if but momentary, he almost divines your thoughts. He is
+full of perpetual surprises. I am sure he was a nightingale before he
+was Rose. An iridescence like sea-foam sparkled in him that evening, he
+laughed as lightly as the little tinkling mass-bells at every moment,
+and seemed to diffuse a rosy glow wherever he went in the room. Yet
+gayety was not his peculiar specialty, and at length he sat before the
+fire, and, taking Lu's scissors, commenced cutting bits of paper in
+profiles. Somehow they all looked strangely like and unlike Mr. Dudley.
+I pointed one out to Lu, and, if he had needed confirmation, her
+changing color gave it. He only glanced at her askance, and then broke
+into the merriest description of his life in Rome, of which he declared
+he had not spoken to us yet, talking fast and laughing as gleefully as a
+child, and illustrating people and localities with scissors and paper as
+he went on, a couple of careless snips putting a whole scene before us.
+
+The floor was well-strewn with such chips,--fountains, statues, baths,
+and all the persons of his little drama,--when papa came in. He held an
+open letter, and, sitting down, read it over again. Rose fell into
+silence, clipping the scissors daintily in and out the white sheet
+through twinkling intricacies. As the design dropped out, I caught
+it,--a long wreath of honeysuckle-blossoms. Lu was humming a little
+tune. Rose joined, and hummed the last bars, then bade us good-night.
+
+"Yone," said papa, "your Aunt Willoughby is very ill,--will not recover.
+She is my elder brother's widow; you are her heir. You must go and stay
+with her."
+
+Now it was very likely that just at this time I was going away to nurse
+Aunt Willoughby! Moreover, illness is my very antipodes,--its nearness
+is invasion,--we are utterly antipathetic,--it disgusts and repels me.
+What sympathy can there be between my florid health, my rank, redundant
+life, and any wasting disease of death? What more hostile than focal
+concentration and obscure decomposition? You see, we cannot breathe the
+same atmosphere. I banish the thought of such a thing from my feeling,
+from my memory. So I said,--
+
+"It's impossible. I'm not going an inch to Aunt Willoughby's. Why, papa,
+it's more than a hundred miles, and in this weather!"
+
+"Oh, the wind has changed."
+
+"Then it will be too warm for such a journey."
+
+"A new idea, Yone! Too warm for the mountains?"
+
+"Yes, papa. I'm not going a step."
+
+"Why, Yone, you astonish me! Your sick aunt!"
+
+"That's the very thing. If she were well, I might,--perhaps. Sick! What
+can I do for her? I never go into a sick-room. I hate it. I don't know
+how to do a thing there. Don't say another word, papa. I can't go."
+
+"It is out of the question to let it pass so, my dear. Here you are
+nursing all the invalids in town, yet"----
+
+"Indeed, I'm not, papa. I don't know and don't care whether they're dead
+or alive."
+
+"Well, then, it's Lu."
+
+"Oh, yes, she's hospital-agent for half the country."
+
+"Then it is time that you also got a little experience."
+
+"Don't, papa! I don't want it. I never saw anybody die, and I never mean
+to."
+
+"Can't I do as well, uncle?" asked Lu.
+
+"You, darling? Yes; but it isn't your duty."
+
+"I thought, perhaps," she said, "you would rather Yone went."
+
+"So I would."
+
+"Dear papa, don't vex me! Ask anything else!"
+
+"It is so unpleasant to Yone," Lu murmured, "that maybe I had better go.
+And if you've no objection, Sir, I'll take the early train to-morrow."
+
+Wasn't she an angel?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lu was away a month. Rose came in, expressing his surprise. I said,
+"Othello's occupation's gone?"
+
+"And left him room for pleasure now," he retorted.
+
+"Which means seclusion from the world, in the society of lakes and
+chromes."
+
+"Miss Willoughby," said he, turning and looking directly past me, "may I
+paint you?"
+
+"Me? Oh, you can't."
+
+"No; but may I try?"
+
+"I cannot go to you."
+
+"I will come to you."
+
+"Do you suppose it will be like?"
+
+"Not at all, of course. It is to be, then?"
+
+"Oh, I've no more right than any other piece of Nature to refuse an
+artist a study in color."
+
+He faced about, half pouting, as if he would go out, then returned and
+fixed the time.
+
+So he painted. He generally put me into a broad beam that slanted from
+the top of the veiled window, and day after day he worked. Ah, what
+glorious days they were! how gay! how full of life! I almost feared to
+let him image me on canvas, do you know? I had a fancy it would lay my
+soul so bare to his inspection. What secrets might be searched, what
+depths fathomed, at such times, if men knew! I feared lest he should see
+me as I am, in those great masses of warm light lying before him, as I
+feared he saw when he said amber harmonized with me,--all being things
+not polarized, not organized, without centre, so to speak. But it
+escaped him, and he wrought on. Did he succeed? Bless you! he might as
+well have painted the sun; and who could do that? No; but shades and
+combinations that he had hardly touched or known, before, he had to
+lavish now; he learned more than some years might have taught him; he,
+who worshipped beauty, saw how thoroughly I possessed it; he has told
+me that through me he learned the sacredness of color. "Since he loves
+beauty so, why does he not love me?" I asked myself; and perhaps the
+feverish hope and suspense only lit up that beauty and fed it with fresh
+fires. Ah, the July days! Did you ever wander over barren, parched
+stubble-fields, and suddenly front a knot of red Turk's-cap lilies,
+flaring as if they had drawn all the heat and brilliance from the land
+into their tissues? Such were they. And if I were to grow old and gray,
+they would light down all my life, and I could be willing to lead a
+dull, grave age, looking back and remembering them, warming myself
+forever in their constant youth. If I had nothing to hope, they would
+become my whole existence. Think, then, what it will be to have all days
+like those!
+
+He never satisfied himself, as he might have done, had he known me
+better,--and he never _shall_ know me!--and used to look at me for the
+secret of his failure, till I laughed; then the look grew wistful, grew
+enamored. By-and-by we left the pictures. We went into the woods, warm,
+dry woods; we stayed there from morning till night. In the burning
+noons, we hung suspended between two heavens, in our boat on glassy
+forest-pools, where now and then a shoal of white lilies rose and
+crowded out the under-sky. Sunsets burst like bubbles over us. When the
+hidden thrushes were breaking one's heart with music, and the sweet fern
+sent up a tropical fragrance beneath our crushing steps, we came home to
+rooms full of guests and my father's genial warmth. What a month it was!
+
+One day papa went up into New Hampshire; Aunt Willoughby was dead; and
+one day Lu came home.
+
+She was very pale and thin. Her eyes were hollow and purple.
+
+"There is some mistake, Lu," I said. "It is you who are dead, instead of
+Aunt Willoughby."
+
+"Do I look so wretchedly?" she asked, glancing at the mirror.
+
+"Dreadfully! Is it all watching and grief?"
+
+"Watching and grief," said Lu.
+
+How melancholy her smile was! She would have crazed me in a little
+while, if I had minded her.
+
+"Did you care so much for fretful, crabbed Aunt Willoughby?"
+
+"She was very kind to me," Lu replied.
+
+There was an odd air with her that day. She didn't go at once and get
+off her travelling-dress, but trifled about in a kind of expectancy, a
+little fever going and coming in her cheeks, and turning at any noise.
+
+Will you believe it?--though I know Lu had refused him,--who met her at
+the half-way junction, saw about her luggage, and drove home with her,
+but Mr. Dudley, and was with us, a half-hour afterward, when Rose came
+in? Lu didn't turn at his step, but the little fever in her face
+prevented his seeing her as I had done. He shook hands with her and
+asked after her health, and shook hands with Mr. Dudley, (who hadn't
+been near us during her absence,) and seemed to wish she should feel
+that he recognized without pain a connection between herself and that
+personage. But when he came back to me, I was perplexed again at that
+bewitched look in his face,--as if Lu's presence made him feel that he
+was in a dream, I the enchantress of that dream. It did not last long,
+though. And soon she saw Mr. Dudley out, and went up-stairs.
+
+When Lu came down to tea, she had my beads in her hand again.
+
+"I went into your room and got them, dear Yone," she said, "because I
+have found something to replace the broken bell-wort"; and she showed us
+a little amber bee, black and golden. "Not so lovely as the bell-wort,"
+she resumed, "and I must pierce it for the thread; but it will fill the
+number. Was I not fortunate to find it?"
+
+But when at a flame she heated a long, slender needle to pierce it, the
+little winged wonder shivered between her fingers, and under the hot
+steel filled the room with the honeyed smell of its dusted substance.
+
+"Never mind," said I again. "It's a shame, though,--it was so much
+prettier than the bell-wort! We might have known it was too brittle.
+It's just as well, Lu."
+
+The room smelt like a chancel at vespers. Rose sauntered to the window,
+and so down the garden, and then home.
+
+"Yes. It cannot be helped," she said, with a smile. "But I really
+counted upon seeing it on the string. I'm not lucky at amber. You know
+little Asian said it would bring bane to the bearer."
+
+"Dear! dear! I had quite forgotten!" I exclaimed. "Oh, Lu, keep it, or
+give it away, or something! I don't want it any longer."
+
+"You're very vehement," she said, laughing now. "I am not afraid of your
+gods. Shall I wear them?"
+
+So the rest of the summer Lu twined them round her throat,--amulets of
+sorcery, orbs of separation; but one night she brought them back to me.
+That was last night. There they lie.
+
+The next day, in the high golden noon, Rose came. I was on the lounge in
+the alcove parlor, my hair half streaming out of Lu's net; but he didn't
+mind. The light was toned and mellow, the air soft and cool. He came and
+sat on the opposite side, so that he faced the wall table with its dish
+of white, stiflingly sweet lilies, while I looked down the drawing-room.
+He had brought a book, and by-and-by opened at the part commencing, "Do
+not die, Phene." He read it through,--all that perfect, perfect scene.
+From the moment when he said,
+
+                        "I overlean
+    This length of hair and lustrous front,--they turn
+    Like an entire flower upward,"--
+
+his voice low, sustained, clear,--till he reached the line,
+
+    "Look at the woman here with the new soul,"--
+
+till he turned the leaf and murmured,
+
+    "Shall to produce form out of unshaped stuff
+    Be art,--and, further, to evoke a soul
+    From form be nothing? This new soul is mine!"--
+
+till then, he never glanced up. Now, with a proud grace, he raised his
+head,--not to look at me, but across me, at the lilies, to satiate
+himself with their odorous snowiness. When he again pronounced words,
+his voice was husky and vibrant; but what music dwelt in it and seemed
+to prolong rather than break the silver silence, as he echoed,
+
+    "Some unsuspected isle in the far seas"!
+
+How many read to descend to a prosaic life! how few to meet one as rich
+and full beside them! The tone grew ever lower; he looked up slowly,
+fastening his glance on mine.
+
+    "And you are ever by me while I gaze,--
+    Are in my arms, as now,--as now,--as now!"
+
+he said. He swayed forward with those wild questioning eyes,--his breath
+blew over my cheek; I was drawn,--I bent; the full passion of his soul
+broke to being, wrapped me with a blinding light, a glowing kiss on
+lingering lips, a clasp strong and tender as heaven. All my hair fell
+down like a shining cloud and veiled us, the great rolling folds in wave
+after wave of crisp splendor. I drew back from that long, silent kiss, I
+gathered up each gold thread of the straying tresses, blushing, defiant.
+He also, he drew back. But I knew all then. I had no need to wait
+longer; I had achieved. Rose loved me. Rose had loved me from that first
+day.--You scarcely hear what I say, I talk so low and fast? Well, no
+matter, dear, you wouldn't care.--For a moment that gaze continued, then
+the lids fell, the face grew utterly white. He rose, flung the book,
+crushed and torn, upon the floor, went out, speaking no word to me, nor
+greeting Louise in the next room. Could he have seen her? No. I, only,
+had that. For, as I drew from his arm, a meteoric crimson, shooting
+across the pale face bent over work there, flashed upon me, and then a
+few great tears, like sudden thunder-drops, falling slowly and wetting
+the heavy fingers. The long mirror opposite her reflected the interior
+of the alcove parlor. No,--he could not have seen, he must have felt
+her.
+
+I wonder whether I should have cared, if I had never met him any
+more,--happy in this new consciousness. But in the afternoon he
+returned, bright and eager.
+
+"Are you so very busy, dear Yone," he said, without noticing Lu, "that
+you cannot drive with me to-day?"
+
+Busy! In five minutes I whirled down the avenue beside him. I had not
+been Yone to him before. How quiet we were! he driving on, bent forward,
+seeing out and away; I leaning back, my eyes closed, and, whenever a
+remembrance of that instant at noon thrilled me, a stinging blush
+staining my cheek. I, who had believed myself incapable of love, till
+that night on the balcony, felt its floods welling from my spirit,--who
+had believed myself so completely cold, was warm to my heart's core.
+Again that breath fanned me, those lips touched mine, lightly, quickly.
+
+"Yone, my Yone!" he said. "Is it true? No dream within dream? Do you
+love me?"
+
+Wistful, longing, tender eyes.
+
+"Do I love you? I would die for you!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ah, me! If the July days were such, how perfect were the August and
+September nights! their young moon's lingering twilight, their full
+broad bays of silver, their interlunar season! The winds were warm about
+us, the whole earth seemed the wealthier for our love. We almost lived
+upon the river, he and I alone,--floating seaward, swimming slowly up
+with late tides, reaching home drenched with dew, parting in passionate
+silence. Once he said to me,--
+
+"Is it because it is so much larger, more strange and beautiful, than
+any other love could be, that I feel guilty, Yone,--feel as if I sinned
+in loving you so, my great white flower?"
+
+I ought to tell you how splendid papa was, never seemed to consider that
+Rose had only his art, said I had enough from Aunt Willoughby for both,
+we should live up there among the mountains, and set off at once to make
+arrangements. Lu has a wonderful tact, too,--seeing at once where her
+path lay. She is always so well oriented! How full of peace and bliss
+these two months have been! Last night Lu came in here. She brought back
+my amber gods, saying she had not intended to keep them, and yet
+loitering.
+
+"Yone," she said at last, "I want you to tell me if you love him."
+
+Now, as if that were any affair of hers! I looked what I thought.
+
+"Don't be angry," she pleaded. "You and I have been sisters, have we
+not? and always shall be. I love you very much, dear,--more than you may
+believe; I only want to know if you will make him happy."
+
+"That's according," said I, with a yawn.
+
+She still stood before me. Her eyes said, "I have a right,--I have a
+right to know."
+
+"You want me to say how much I love Vaughan Rose?" I asked, finally.
+"Well, listen, Lu,--so much, that, when he forgets me,--and he will, Lu,
+one day,--I shall die."
+
+"Prevent his forgetting you, Yone!" she returned. "Make your soul white
+and clear, like his."
+
+"No! no!" I answered. "He loves me as I am. I will never change."
+
+Then somehow tears began to come. I didn't want to cry; I had to crowd
+them back behind my fingers and shut lids.
+
+"Oh, Lu!" I said, "I cannot think what it would be to live, and he not a
+part of me! not for either of us to be in the world without the other!"
+
+Then Lu's tears fell with mine, as she drew her fingers over my hair.
+She said she was happy, too; and to-day has been down and gathered every
+one, so that, when you see her, her white array will be wreathed with
+purple hearts-ease. But I didn't tell Lu quite the truth, you must
+know. I don't think I should die, except to my former self, if Rose
+ceased to love me. I should change. Oh, I should hate him! Hate is as
+intense as love.
+
+Bless me! What time can it be? There are papa and Rose walking in the
+garden. I turned out my maid to find chance for all this talk; I must
+ring for her. There, there's my hair! silken coil after coil, full of
+broken lights, rippling below the knees, fine and fragrant. Who could
+have such hair but I? I am the last of the Willoughbys, a decayed race,
+and from such strong decay what blossom less gorgeous should spring?
+
+October now. All the world swings at the top of its beauty; and those
+hills where we shall live, what robes of color fold them! Tawny filemot
+gilding the valleys, each seam and rut a scroll or arabesque, and all
+the year pouring out her heart's blood to flush the maples, the great
+impurpled granites warm with the sunshine they have drunk all summer! So
+I am to be married to-day, at noon. I like it best so; it is my hour.
+There is my veil, that regal Venice point. Fling it round you. No, you
+would look like a ghost in one,--Lu like a corpse. Dear me! That's the
+second time I've rung for Carmine. I dare say the hussy is trying on my
+gown. You think it strange I don't delay? Why, child, why tempt
+Providence? Once mine, always mine. He might wake up. No, no, I couldn't
+have meant that! It is not possible that I have merely led him into a
+region of richer dyes, lapped him in this vision of color, kindled his
+heart to such a flame, that it may light him towards further effort. Can
+you believe that he will slip from me and return to one in better
+harmony with him? Is any one? Will he ever find himself with that love
+lost, this love exhausted, only his art left him? Never! _I_ am his
+crown. See me! how singularly, gloriously beautiful! For him only! all
+for him! I love him! I cannot, I will not lose him! I defy all! My
+heart's proud pulse assures me! I defy Fate! Hush! One,--two,--twelve
+o'clock. Carmine!
+
+
+III.
+
+_Astra castra, numen lumen._
+
+The click of her needles and the soft singing of the night-lamp are the
+only sounds breaking the stillness, the awful stillness, of this room.
+How the wind blows without! it must be whirling white gusty drifts
+through the split hills. If I were as free! Whistling round the gray
+gable, tearing the bleak boughs, crying faint, hoarse moans down the
+chimneys! A wild, sad gale! There is a lull, a long breathless lull,
+before it soughs up again. Oh, it is like a pain! Pain! Why do I think
+the word? Must I suffer any more? Am I crazed with opiates? or am I
+dying? They are in that drawer,--laudanum, morphine, hyoscyamus, and all
+the drowsy sirups,--little drops, but soaring like a fog, and wrapping
+the whole world in a dull ache, with no salient sting to catch a groan
+on. They are so small, they might be lost in this long, dark room; why
+not the pain too, the point of pain, I? A long, dark room; I at one end,
+she at the other; the curtains drawn away from me that I may breathe.
+Ah, I have been stifled so long! They look down on me, all those old
+dead and gone faces, those portraits on the wall,--look all from their
+frames at me, the last term of the race, the vanishing summit of their
+design. A fierce weapon thrust into the world for evil has that race
+been,--from the great gray Willoughby, threatening with his iron eyes
+there, to me, the sharp apex of its suffering. A fierce, glittering
+blade! Why I alone singled for this curse? Rank blossom, rank decay,
+they answer, but falsely. I lie here, through no fault of mine, blasted
+by disease, the dread with no relief. A hundred ancestors look from my
+walls, and see in me the centre of their lives, of all their little
+splendor, of their sins and follies; what slept in them wakes in me. Oh,
+let me sleep too!
+
+How long could I live and lose nothing? I saw my face in the hand-glass
+this morning,--more lovely than health fashioned it;--transparent skin,
+bounding blood, with its fire burning behind the eye, on cheek, on
+lip,--a beauty that every pang has aggravated, heightened, sharpened, to
+a superb intensity, flushing, rapid, unearthly,--a brilliancy to be
+dreamed of. Like a great autumn-leaf I fall, for I am dying,--dying!
+Yes, death finds me more beautiful than life made me; but have I lost
+nothing? Great Heaven, I have lost all!
+
+A fancy comes to me, that to-day was my birthday. I have forgotten to
+mark time; but if it was, I am thirty-two years old. I remember
+birthdays of a child,--loving, cordial days. No one remembers to-day.
+Why should they? But I ache for a little love. Thirty-two,--that is
+young to die! I am too fair, too rich, for death!--not his fit spoil! Is
+there no one to save me? no help? can I not escape? Ah, what a vain
+eagerness! what an idle hope! Fall back again, heart! Escape? I do not
+desire to. Come, come, kind rest! I am tired.
+
+That cap-string has loosened now, and all this golden cataract of hair
+has rushed out over the piled pillows. It oppresses and terrifies me. If
+I could speak, it seems to me that I would ask Louise to come and bind
+it up. Won't she turn and see?
+
+Have I been asleep? What is this in my hands? The amber gods? Oh, yes! I
+asked to see them again; I like their smell, I think. It is ten years I
+have had them. They enchant; but the charm will not last; nothing will.
+I rubbed a little yellow smoke out of them,--a cloud that hung between
+him and the world, so that he saw only me,--at least----What am I
+dreaming of? All manner of illusions haunt me. Who said anything about
+ten years? I have been married ten years. Happy, then, ten years? Oh,
+no! One day he woke.--How close the room is! I want some air. Why don't
+they do something----
+
+Once, in the pride of a fool, I fear having made some confidence, some
+recital of my joy to ears that never had any. Did I say I would not lose
+him? Did I say I could live just on the memory of that summer? I lash
+myself that I must remember it! that I ever loved him! When he stirred,
+when the mist left him, when he found a mere passion had blinded him,
+when he spread his easel, when he abandoned love,--was I wretched? I,
+too, abandoned love!--more,--I hated! All who hate are wretched. But he
+was bound to me! Yes, he might move restlessly,--it only clanked his
+chains. Did he wound me? I was cruel. He never spoke. He became
+artist,--ceased to be man,--was more indifferent than the cloud. He
+could paint me then,--and, revealed and bare, all our histories written
+in me, he hung me up beside my ancestors. There I hang. Come from thy
+frame, thou substance, and let this troubled phantom go! Come! for he
+gave my life to thee. In thee he shut and sealed it all, and left me as
+the empty husk. Did she come then? No! I sent for her. I meant to teach
+him that he was yet a man,--to open before him a gulf of anguish; but
+_I_ slipped down it. Then I dogged them; they never spoke alone; I
+intercepted the eye's language; I withered their wintry smiles to
+frowns; I stifled their sighs; I checked their breath, their motion.
+Idle words passed our lips; we three lived in a real world of silence,
+agonized mutes. She went. Summer by summer my father brought her to us.
+Always memory was kindled afresh, always sorrow kept smouldering. Once
+she came; I lay here; she has not left me since. He,--he also comes; he
+has soothed pain with that loveless eye, carried me in untender arms,
+watched calmly beside my delirious nights. He who loved beauty has
+learned disgust. Why should I care? I, from the slave of bald form,
+enlarged him to the master of gorgeous color; his blaze is my ashes. He
+studies me. I owe him nothing.
+
+Is it near morning? Have I dozed again? Night is long. The great
+hall-clock is striking,--throb after throb on the darkness. I remember,
+when I was a child, watching its lengthened pendulum swing as if time
+were its own, and it measured the thread slowly, loath to
+part,--remember streaking its great ebony case with a little finger,
+misting it with a warm breath. Throb after throb,--is it going to peal
+forever? Stop, solemn clangor! hearts, stop! Midnight.
+
+The nurses have gone down; she sits there alone. Her bent side-face is
+full of pity. Now and then her head turns; the great brown eyes lift
+heavily, and lie on me,--heavily, as if the sight of me pained her. Ah,
+in me perishes her youth! death enters her world! Besides, she loves me.
+I do not want her love,--I would fling it off; but I am faint,--I am
+impotent,--I am so cold! Not that she lives, and I die,--not that she
+has peace, and I tumult,--not for her voice's music,--not for her eye's
+lustre,--not for any charm of her womanly presence,--neither for her
+clear, fair soul,--nor that, when the storm and winter pass, and I am
+stiff and frozen, she smiles in the sun, and leads new life,--not for
+all this I hate her; but because my going gives her what I
+lost,--because, I stepped aside, the light falls on her,--because from
+my despair springs her happiness. Poor fool! let her be happy, if she
+can! Her mother was a Willoughby! And what is a flower that blows on a
+grave?
+
+Why do I remember so distinctly one night alone of all my life,--one
+night, when we dance in the low room of a seaside cottage,--dance to
+Lu's singing? He leads me to her, when the dance is through, brushing
+with his head the festooned nets that swing from the rafters,--and in at
+the open casement is blown a butterfly, a dead butterfly, from off the
+sea. She holds it compassionately till I pin it on my dress,--the wings,
+twin magnificences, freckled and barred and dusty with gold, fluttering
+at my breath. Some one speaks with me; she strays to the window, he
+follows, and they are silent. He looks far away over the gray loneliness
+stretching beyond. At length he murmurs: "A brief madness makes my long
+misery. Louise, if the earth were dazzled aside from her constant
+pole-star to worship some bewildering comet, would she be more forlorn
+than I?"
+
+"Dear Rose! your art remains," I hear her say.
+
+He bends lower, that his breath may scorch her brow. "Was I wrong? Am I
+right?" he whispers, hurriedly. "You loved me once; you love me now,
+Louise, if I were free?"
+
+"But you are not free."
+
+She does not recoil, yet her very atmosphere repels him, while looking
+up with those woful eyes blanching her cheek by their gathering
+darkness. "And, Rose,"----she sighs, then ceases abruptly, while a
+quiver of sudden scorn writhes spurningly down eyelid and nostril and
+pains the whole face.
+
+He erects himself, then reaches his hand for the rose in her belt,
+glances at me,--the dead thing in my bosom rising and falling with my
+turbulent heart,--holds the rose to his lips, leaves her. How keen are
+my ears! how flushed my cheek! how eager and fierce my eyes! He
+approaches; I snatch the rose and tear its petals in an angry shower,
+and then a dim east-wind pours in and scatters my dream like flakes of
+foam. All dreams go; youth and hope desert me; the dark claims me. O
+room, surrender me! O sickness and sorrow, loose your weary hold!
+
+It maddens me to know that the sun will shine again, the tender grass
+grow green, the veery sing, the crocus come. She will walk in the light
+and re-gather youth, and I moulder, a forgotten heap. Oh, why not all
+things crash to ruin with me?
+
+Pain, pain, pain! Where is my father? Why is he away, when they know I
+die? He used to hold me once; he ought to hear me when I call. He would
+rest me, and stroke the grief aside,--he is so strong. Where is he?
+
+These amulets stumbling round again? Amber, amber gods, you did mischief
+in your day! If I clutched you hard, as Lu did once, all your spells
+would be broken.--It is colder than it was. I think I will go to sleep.
+
+What was that? How loud and resonant! It stuns me. It is too sonorous.
+Does sound flash? Ah! the hour. Another? How long the silver toll swims
+on the silent air! It is one o'clock,--a passing bell, a knell. If I
+were at home by the river, the tide would be turning down, down, and out
+to the broad, broad sea. Is it worth while to have lived?
+
+Have I spoken? She looks at me, rises, and touches that bell-rope that
+always brings him. How softly he opens the door! Waiting, perhaps. Well.
+Ten years have not altered him much. The face is brighter,
+finer,--shines with the eternal youth of genius. They pause a moment; I
+suppose they are coming to me; but their eyes are on each other.
+
+Why must the long, silent look with which he met her the day I got my
+amber strike back on me now so vindictively? I remember three looks:
+that, and this, and one other,--one fervid noon, a look that drank my
+soul, that culminated my existence. Oh, I remember! I lost it a little
+while ago. I have it now. You are coming? Can't you hear me? See! these
+costly _liqueurs_, these precious perfumes beside me here, if I can
+reach them, I will drench the coverlet in them; it shall be white and
+sweet as a little child's. I wish they were the great rich lilies of
+that day; it is too late for the baby May-flowers. You do not like
+amber? There the thread breaks again! the little cruel gods go tumbling
+down the floor! Come, lay my head on your breast! kiss my life off my
+lips! I am your Yone! I forgot a little while,--but I love you, Rose!
+Rose!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Why! I thought arms held me. How clear the space is! The wind from
+out-doors, rising again, must have rushed in. There is the quarter
+striking. How free I am! No one here? No swarm of souls about me? Oh,
+those two faces looked from a great mist, a moment since; I scarcely see
+them now. Drop, mask! I will not pick you up! Out, out into the gale!
+back to my elements!
+
+So I passed out of the room, down the staircase. The servants below did
+not see me, but the hounds crouched and whined. I paused before the
+great ebony clock; again the fountain broke, and it chimed the
+half-hour; it was half-past one; another quarter, and the next time its
+ponderous silver hammers woke the house it would be two. Half-past one?
+Why, then, did not the hands move? Why cling fixed on a point five
+minutes before the first quarter struck? To and fro, soundless and
+purposeless, swung the long pendulum. And, ah! what was this thing I had
+become? I had done with time. Not for me the hands moved on their
+recurrent circle any more.
+
+I must have died at ten minutes past one.
+
+
+
+
+THE POET'S FRIENDS.
+
+
+    The Robin sings in the elm;
+      The cattle stand beneath,
+    Sedate and grave, with great brown eyes,
+      And fragrant meadow-breath.
+
+    They listen to the flattered bird,
+      The wise-looking, stupid things!
+    And they never understand a word
+      Of all the Robin sings.
+
+
+
+
+THE MEMORIAL OF A. B., OR MATILDA MUFFIN.
+
+
+THE MEMORIAL OF A. B.
+
+_Humbly Showeth_:--
+
+Ladies and gentlemen,--enlightened public,--kind audience,--dear
+readers,--or whatever else you may be styled,--whose eyes, from remote
+regions of east, west, or next door, solace themselves between the brown
+covers of this magazine, making of themselves flowers to its lunar
+brilliancy,--I wish to state, with all humility and self-disgust, that I
+am what is popularly called a literary woman.
+
+In the present state of society, I should feel less shame in declaring
+myself the elect lady of Dunderhed Van Nudel, Esquire, that wealthy
+Dutch gentleman, aged seventy, whom we all know. It is true, that, as I
+am young and gay and intelligent, while he is old and stupid and very
+low Dutch indeed, such an announcement would be equivalent to saying
+that I was bought by Mr. Van Nudel for half a million of dollars; but
+then that is customary, and you would all congratulate me.
+
+Also, I should stand a better chance of finding favor in your eyes, if I
+declared myself to be an indigent tailoress; for no woman should use her
+head who can use her hands,--a maxim older than Confucius.
+
+Or even if I were a school-ma'am! (blessed be the man who has brought
+them into fashion and the long path!) In that case, you might say, "Poor
+thing! isn't she interesting? quite like _the_ school-mistress!"--And I
+am not averse to pity, since it is love's poor cousin, nor to belonging
+to a class mentioned in Boston literary society. I really am not!
+
+But the plain truth is, I earn my living by writing. Sewing does not
+pay. I have no "faculty" at school-keeping; for I invariably spoil all
+the good children, and pet all the pretty ones,--a process not
+conducive, as I am told, to the development of manners or morals;--so I
+write: just as Mr. Jones makes shoes, Mr. Peters harangues the jury, Mr.
+Smith sells calico, or Mr. Robinson rolls pills.
+
+For, strange as it may seem, when it is so easy to read, it is hard work
+to write,--_bon� fide_, undeniable hard work. Suppose my head cracks and
+rings and reels with a great ache that stupefies me? In comes Biddy with
+a letter.
+
+     "The editor of the 'Monthly Signpost' would be much obliged to
+     Miss Matilda Muffin for a tale of four pages, to make up the
+     June number, before the end of next week.
+
+                    "Very respectfully, etc., etc."
+
+Miss Muffin's head looks her in the face, (metaphorically,) and says,
+"You can't!"--but her last year's bonnet creaks and rustles from the
+bandbox, finally lifts the lid and peeps out. Gracious! the ghost in
+Hamlet was not more of an "airy nothing" than that ragged, faded,
+dilapidated old structure of crape and blonde. The bonnet retires to the
+sound of slow music; the head slinks back and holds its tongue; Miss
+Muffin sits down at her table; scratch, scratch, scratch, goes the old
+pen, and the ideas catch up with it, it is so shaky; and the words go
+tumbling over it, till the _t_s go out without any hats on, and the
+eyes--no, the _i_s (_is_ that the way to pluralize them?)--get no dots
+at all; and every now and then the head says, softly, "Oh, dear!" Miss
+Muffin goes to something called by novel-writers "repose," toward one
+o'clock that night, and the next night, and the next; she obliges the
+"Monthly Signpost" with a comic story at a low price, and buys herself a
+decent little bonnet for Sundays, replenishing her wardrobe generally by
+the same process; and the head considers it work, I assure you.
+
+But this is not the special grievance to which I direct this Memorial. I
+like to work; it suits me much better to obtain my money by steady,
+honest effort than it would to depend on anybody else for one round
+cent. If I had a thousand dollars unexpectedly left me by some unknown
+benefactor, I don't think it would be worth five cents on the dollar,
+compared with what I earn; there is a healthy, trustworthy pleasure in
+that, never yet attained by gifted or inherited specie. Neither is it
+the publicity of the occupation that I here object to. I knew that,
+before I began to write; and many an hour have I cried over the thought
+of being known, and talked about, and commented on,--having my dear
+name, that my mother called me by, printed on the cover of a magazine,
+seeing it in newspapers, hearing it in whispers, when Miss Brown says to
+Miss Black under her breath,--"That girl in the straw bonnet is Matilda
+Muffin, who writes for the 'Snapdragon' and the 'Signpost.'"
+
+I knew all this, as I say. I dreaded and hated it. I hate it now. But I
+had to work, and this was the only way open to me; so I tried to be
+brave, and to do what I ought, and let the rest go. I cannot say I am
+very brave yet, or that I don't feel all this; but I do not memorialize
+against it, because it is necessary to be borne, and I must bear it.
+When I go to the dentist's to have a tooth out, I sit down, and hold the
+chair tight, and open my mouth as wide as it will open, but I always
+say, "Oh! don't, doctor! I can't! I can't possibly!" till the iron
+what-d'you-call-it enters my soul and stops my tongue.
+
+Yes, when I began to write, I knew I should some day see my name in
+print. I knew people would wonder who and what I was, and how I
+looked;--I had done it myself. I knew that I should be delivered over to
+be the prey of tongues and the spoil of eyes. I was aware, I think, I am
+aware now, of every possible "disagreeable" that can befall the state. I
+am accustomed to hear people say, if I venture a modest opinion about a
+dinner, "Dear me! as if a literary woman knew anything about
+cooking!"--I endure that meekly, sustained by the inner consciousness
+that I _can_ cook much better than any artist in that line I ever yet
+encountered. Likewise I am used to hear people say, "I suppose you don't
+waste your valuable time in sewing?" when a look at my left forefinger
+would insure me a fraternal grip from any member of the Seamstress's
+Friends Society anywhere. I do not either scold or cry when accidentally
+some visitor discovers me fitting my dress or making my bonnet, and
+looks at me with a "fearful joy," as if I were on a tight-rope. I even
+smile when people lay my ugly shawl or _pass�_ bonnet, that I bought
+because they were cheap, and wear for the same reason, at the door of
+the "eccentricities of genius." And I am case-hardened to the
+instantaneous scattering and dodging of young men that ensue the moment
+I enter a little party, because "gentlemen are so afraid of literary
+women." I don't think gentlemen are; I know two or three who never
+conceal a revolver in the breast of their coat when they talk to me, and
+who sometimes even offer to go home with me from a tea-party all alone,
+and after dark too. It is true, one or two of these are "literary"
+themselves; the others I knew before I was dyed blue; which may account
+for it. Also I am impervious to anonymous letters, exhorting me to all
+kinds of mental and moral improvement, or indulging in idle
+impertinences about my private affairs, the result of a knowledge about
+me and the aforesaid affairs drawn solely from my "Pieces in Prose and
+Verse."
+
+Then as to the matter of the romantic stories that are afloat concerning
+me, I am rather amused than otherwise by them. I have a sentimental
+name, by the religious and customary ordinance of baptism, legally my
+own; and at first, being rather loath to enter the great alliterative
+ranks of female writers by my lawful title of Matilda Muffin, I signed
+my writings "A. B."
+
+Two reprobatory poems addressed to those initials came to me through
+the medium of the "Snapdragon," immediately after my having printed in
+that spicy paper a pensive little poem called "The Rooster's Cry": one,
+in Spenserian measure, rebuking me for alluding lightly to serious
+subjects,--a thing I never do, I am sure, and I can't imagine what "J.
+H. P." meant; and another, in hexameter, calling upon me to "arouse,"
+and "smile," and "struggle on," and, in short, to stop crying and behave
+myself,--only it was said in figures. I'm much obliged to "Quintius" for
+the advice; but I should like to explain, that I am subject to the
+toothache, and when it is bad I cannot possibly write comic poetry. I
+must be miserable, but it's only toothache, thank you!
+
+Then I have heard several times, in the strictest confidence, the whole
+history of "A. B., who writes for the 'Snapdragon.'" Somebody told me
+she was a lady living on the North River, very wealthy, very haughty,
+and very unhappy in her domestic relations. Another said she was a young
+widow in Alabama, whose mother was extremely tyrannical, and opposed her
+second marriage. A third person declared to me that A. B. was a
+physician in the navy,--a highly educated man, but reduced in
+circumstances. I think that was a great compliment,--to be actually
+taken for a man! I felt it to be "the proudest moment of my life," as
+ship-captains say, when they return thanks for the silver teapot richly
+chased with nautical emblems, presented by the passengers saved from the
+wreck, as a token of gratitude for the hencoops thrown overboard by the
+manly commander. However, I called myself a woman in the very next
+contribution, for fear of the united wrath of the stronger sex, should I
+ever be discovered to have so imposed upon the public; although I know
+several old women who remain undiscovered to this day, simply because
+they avail themselves of a masculine signature.
+
+There were other romances, too tedious to mention, depicting me
+sometimes as a lovely blonde, writing graceful tales beneath a bower of
+roses in the warm light of June; sometimes as a respectable old maid,
+rather sharp, fierce, and snuffy; sometimes as a tall, delicate,
+aristocratic, poetic looking creature, with liquid dark eyes and heavy
+tresses of raven hair; sometimes as a languishing, heart-broken woman in
+the prime of life, with auburn curls and a slow consumption.
+
+Perhaps it may be as well to silence all conjecture at once, by stating
+that I am a woman of----no, I won't say how old, because everybody will
+date me from this time forward, and I shall not always be willing to
+tell how old I am! I am not very young now, it is true; I am more than
+sixteen and less than forty; so when our clergyman requested all between
+those ages to remain after service for the purpose of forming a week-day
+Bible-class, I sat still, and so did everybody else except Mrs. Van
+Doren, whose great-grandchild was christened in the morning;--our church
+is a new one.
+
+However, this is digressing. I am not very tall, nor very short; I am
+rather odd-looking, but decidedly plain. I have brown hair and eyes, a
+pale light complexion, a commonplace figure, pretty good taste in dress,
+and a quick sense of the ludicrous, that makes me laugh a great deal,
+and have a good time generally.
+
+I live at home, in the town of Blank, in a quiet by-street. My parents
+are both living, and we keep one Irish girl. I go to church on Sundays,
+and follow my trade week-days.
+
+I write everything I do write in my own room, which is not so pleasant
+as a bower of roses in some respects, but is preferable in regard to
+earwigs and caterpillars, which are troublesome in bowers. I have a
+small pine table to write on, as much elderly furniture as supplies me
+places for sleep and my books, a small stove in winter, (which is
+another advantage over bowers,) and my "flowing draperies" are blue
+chintz, which I bought at a bargain; some quaint old engravings of
+Bartolozzi's in black and gilt frames; a few books, among which are
+prominently set forth a volume of "The Doctor,"--Nicol� de' Lapi, in
+delightful bindings of white parchment,--Thomas � Kempis,--a Bible, of
+English type and paper,--and Emerson's Poems, bound in Russia leather.
+Not that I have no other books,--grammars, and novels, and cook-books,
+in gorgeous array,--but these are within reach from my pillow, when I
+want to read myself asleep; and a plaster cast of Minerva's owl mounts
+guard above them, curious fowl that it is.
+
+The neighbors think I am a pretty nice girl, and my papa secretly exults
+over me as a genius, but he don't say much about it. And there, dear
+public, you have Matilda Muffin as she is, which I hope will quash the
+romances, amusing though they be.
+
+But when, after much editorial correspondence, and persevering whispers
+of kind friends who had been told the facts in confidence, A. B. became
+only the pretext of a mystery, and I signed myself by my full name, the
+question naturally arose,--"Who _is_ Matilda Muffin?"
+
+Now, for the first time in my life, do I experience the benefits of a
+sentimental name, which has rather troubled me before, as belonging to a
+quite unsentimental and commonplace person, and thereby raising
+expectations, through hearsay, which actual vision dispelled with
+painful suddenness. But now I find its advantage, for nobody believes it
+is my own, but confidently expects that Ann Tubbs or Susan Bucket will
+appear from a long suppression, like a Jack-in-a-box, and startle the
+public as she throws back the cover.
+
+Indeed, I am told that not long since a circle of literary
+experimentalists, discussing a recent number of a certain magazine, and
+displaying great knowledge of _noms-de-plume_, ran aground all at once
+upon "Who is Matilda Muffin?"--even as, in the innocent faith of
+childhood, I pondered ten minutes upon "Who was the father of Zebedee's
+children?" and at last "gave up." But these professional gentlemen,
+nowise daunted by the practical difficulties of the subject, held on,
+till at last one, wiser in his generation than the rest, confidently
+announced that he knew Matilda Muffin's real name, but was not at
+liberty to disclose it. Should this little confidence ever reach the
+eyes of those friends, I wish to indorse that statement in every
+particular; that gentleman does know my name; and know all men, by these
+presents, I give him full leave to disclose it,--or rather, to save him
+the trouble, I disclose it myself. My name, my own, that would have been
+printed in the marriage-list of the "Snapdragon" before now, if it had
+not appeared in the list of contributors, and which will appear in its
+list of deaths some day to come,--my name, that is called to breakfast,
+marked on my pocket-handkerchiefs, written in my books, and done in
+yellow paint on my trunk, _is_--Matilda Muffin. "Only that, and nothing
+more!" And "A. B.," which I adopted once as a species of veil to the
+aforesaid alliterative title, did not mean, as was supposed, "A Beauty,"
+or "Any Body," or "Another Barrett," or "Anti Bedott," or "After
+Breakfast," but only "A. B.," the first two letters of the alphabet.
+Peace to their ashes!--let them rest!
+
+But, dear me! I forgot the Memorial! As I have said, all these
+enumerated troubles do not much move me, nor yet the world-old cry of
+all literary women's being, in virtue of their calling, unfeminine. I
+don't think anybody who knows me can say that about me; in fact, I am
+generally regarded by my male cousins as a "little goose," and a
+"foolish child," and "a perfectly absurd little thing,"--epithets that
+forbid the supposition of their object being strong-minded or having
+Women's Rights;--and as for people who don't know me, I care very little
+what they think. If I want them to like me, I can generally make
+them,--having a knack that way.
+
+But there is one thing against which I do solemnly protest and uplift
+my voice, as a piece of ridiculous injustice and supererogation,--and
+that is, that every new poem or fresh story I write and print should be
+supposed and declared to be part and parcel of my autobiography. Good
+gracious! Goethe himself, "many-sided" as the old stone Colossus might
+have been, would have retreated in dismay from such a host of characters
+as I have appeared in, according to the announcement of admiring
+friends.
+
+My dear creatures, do just look at the common sense of the thing! Can I
+have been, by any dexterity known to man, of mind or body, such a
+various creature, such a polycorporate animal, as you make me to be?
+Because I write the anguish and suffering of an elderly widow with a
+drunken husband, am I therefore meek and of middle age, the slave of a
+rum-jug? I have heard of myself successively as figuring in the
+character of a strong-minded, self-denying Yankee girl,--a
+broken-hearted Georgia beauty,--a fairy princess,--a consumptive
+school-mistress,--a young woman dying of the perfidy of her lover,--a
+mysterious widow; and I daily expect to hear that a caterpillar which
+figured as hero in one of my tales was an allegory of myself, and that a
+cat mentioned in "The New Tobias" is a travesty of my heart-experience.
+
+Now this is rather more than "human natur" can stand. It is true that in
+my day and generation I have suffered as everybody does, more or less.
+It is likewise true that I have suffered from the same causes that other
+people do. I am happy to state that in the allotments of this life
+authoresses are not looked upon as "literary," but simply as women, and
+have the same general dispensations with the just and the unjust;
+therefore, in attempting to excite other people's sympathies, I have
+certainly touched and told many stories that were not strange to my own
+consciousness; I do not know very well how I could do otherwise. And in
+trying to draw the common joys and sorrows of life, I certainly have
+availed myself of experience as well as observation; but I should seem
+to myself singularly wanting in many traits which I believe I possess,
+were I to obtrude the details of my own personal and private affairs
+upon the public. And I offer to those who have so interpreted me a
+declaration which I trust may relieve them from all responsibility of
+this kind in future; I hereby declare, asseverate, affirm, and whatever
+else means to swear, that I never have offered and never intend to offer
+any history whatever of my personal experience, social, literary, or
+emotional, to the readers of any magazine, newspaper, novel, or
+correspondence whatever. Nor is there any one human being who has ever
+heard or ever will hear the whole of that experience,--no, not even
+Dunderhed Van Nudel, Esquire, should he buy me to-morrow!
+
+Also, I wish to relieve the minds of many friendly readers, who, hearing
+and believing these reports, bestow upon me a vast amount of sympathy
+that is worthy of a better fate. My dear friends, as I said before, it
+is principally toothache; poetry is next best to clove-oil, and less
+injurious to the enamel. I beg of you not to suppose that every poet who
+howls audibly in the anguish of his soul is really afflicted in the said
+soul; but one must have respect for the dignity of High Art. Answer me
+now with frankness, what should you think of a poem that ran in this
+style?--
+
+    "The sunset's gorgeous wonder
+      Flashes and fades away;
+    But my back-tooth aches like thunder,
+      And I cannot now be gay!"
+
+Now just see how affecting it is, when you "change the venue," as
+lawyers say:--
+
+    "The sunset's gorgeous wonder
+      Flashes and fades away;
+    But I hear the muttering thunder,
+      And my sad heart dies like the day."
+
+I leave it to any candid mind, what would be the result to literature,
+if such a course were pursued?
+
+Besides, look at the facts in the case. You read the most tearful
+strains of the most melancholy poet you know; if you took them
+_verbatim_, you would expect him to be found by the printer's-boy, sent
+for copy, "by starlight on the north side of a tombstone," as Dr.
+Bellamy said, enjoying a northeaster without any umbrella, and soaking
+the ground with tears, unwittingly antiseptic, in fact, as Mr. Mantalini
+expressed himself, "a damp, moist, unpleasant body." But where, I ask,
+does that imp find the aforesaid poet, when he goes to get the seventh
+stanza of the "Lonely Heart"? Why, in the gentlemen's parlor of a
+first-class hotel, his feet tilted up in the window, his apparel
+perfectly dry and shiny with various ornamental articles appended, his
+eyes half open over a daily paper, his parted lips clinging to a cigar,
+his whole aspect well-to-do and comfortable. And aren't you glad of it?
+I am; there is so much real misery in the world, that don't know how to
+write for the papers, and has to have its toothache all by itself, when
+a simple application of bread and milk or bread and meat would cure it,
+that I am glad to have the apparent sum of human misery diminished, even
+at the expense of being a traitor in the camp.
+
+And still further, for your sakes, dear tender-hearted friends, who may
+suppose that I am wearing this mask of joy for the sake of deluding you
+into a grim and respectful sympathy,--you, who will pity me whether or
+no,--I confess that I have some material sorrows for which I will gladly
+accept your tears. My best bonnet is very unbecoming. I even heard it
+said the other day, striking horror to my soul, that it looked literary!
+And I'm afraid it does! Moreover, my only silk dress that is presentable
+begins to show awful symptoms of decline and fall; and though you may
+suppose literature to be a lucrative business, between ourselves it is
+not so at all, (very likely the "Atlantic" gentlemen will omit that
+sentence, for fear of a libel-suit from the trade,--but it's all the
+same a fact, unless you write for the "Dodger,")--and, I'm likely to
+mend and patch and court-plaster the holes in that old black silk,
+another year at least: but this is my solitary real anguish at present.
+
+I do assure all and sundry my reporters, my sympathizers, and my
+readers, that all that I have stated in this present Memorial is
+unvarnished fact, whatever they may say, read, or feel to the
+contrary,--and that, although I am a literary woman, and labor under all
+the liabilities and disabilities contingent thereto, I am yet sound in
+mind and body, (except for the toothache,) and a very amusing person to
+know, with no quarrel against life in general or anybody in particular.
+Indeed, I find one advantage in the very credulous and inquisitive
+gossip against which I memorialize; for I think I may expect fact to be
+believed, when fiction is swallowed whole; and I feel sure of seeing,
+directly on the publication of this document, a notice in the
+"Snapdragon," the "Badger," or the "Coon," (whichever paper gets that
+number of the magazine first,) running in this wise:--
+
+     "MATILDA MUFFIN.--We welcome in the last number of the
+     'Atlantic Monthly' a brief and spirited autobiography of this
+     lady, whose birth, parentage, and home have so long been wrapt
+     in mystery. The hand of genius has rent asunder the veil of
+     reserve, and we welcome the fair writer to her proper position
+     in the Blank City Directory, and post-office list of boxes."
+
+After which, I shall resign myself tranquilly to my fate as a unit, and
+glide down the stream of life under whatever skies shine or scowl above,
+always and forever nobody but
+
+              MATILDA MUFFIN.
+    BLANK, _67 Smith Street_.
+
+
+
+
+SOME ACCOUNT OF A VISIONARY.
+
+
+"Dear old Visionary!" It was the epithet usually applied to Everett Gray
+by his friends and neighbors. It expresses very well the estimation in
+which he was held by nineteen-twentieths of his world. People couldn't
+help feeling affection for him, considerably leavened by a half-pitying,
+half-wondering appreciation of his character. He was so good, so kind,
+so gifted, too. Pity he was so dreamy and romantic, _et cetera, et
+cetera_.
+
+Now, from his youth up, nay, from very childhood, Everett had borne the
+character thus implied. A verdict was early pronounced on him by an
+eminent phrenologist who happened to be visiting the family. "A
+beautiful mind, a comprehensive intellect, but marvellously
+unpractical,--singularly unfitted to cope with the difficulties of
+every-day life." And Everett's mother, hanging on the words of the man
+of science, breathless and tearful, murmured to herself, while stroking
+her unconscious little son's bright curls,--"I always feared he was too
+good for this wicked world."
+
+The child began to justify the professor's _dictum_ with his very first
+entry into active life. He entertained ideas for improving the social
+condition of rabbits, some time before he could conveniently raise
+himself to a level with the hutch in which three of them, jointly
+belonging to himself and his brother, abode. His theory was consummate;
+in practice, however, it proved imperfect,--and great wrath on the part
+of Richard Gray, and much confusion and disappointment to Everett, were
+the result.
+
+Richard, two years younger than Everett by the calendar, was at least
+three older than he in size, appearance, habits, and self-assertion. He
+was what is understood by "a regular boy": a fine, manly little fellow,
+practical, unsensitive, hard-headed, and overflowing with life and
+vigor. He had little patience with his brother's quiet ways; and his
+unsuccessful attempts at working out theories met with no sympathy at
+his hands.
+
+After the affair of the rabbits, his experiments, however certain of
+success he deemed them, were always made on or with regard to his own
+belongings. The little plot of garden-ground which he held in absolute
+possession was continually being dug up and refashioned, in his eager
+efforts to convert it successively into a vineyard, a Portuguese
+_quinta_, (to effect which he diligently planted orange-pips and manured
+the earth with the peel,) or, favorite scheme of all, a
+wheat-field,--dimensions, eighteen feet by twelve,--the harvest of which
+was to provide all the poor children of the village with bread, in those
+hard seasons when their pinched faces and shrill, complaining cries
+appealed so mightily to little Everett's heart.
+
+Nevertheless, and in spite of all his care and watching, it is to be
+feared that very few of the big loaves which found their way from the
+hall to the village, that winter, were composed of the produce of his
+corn-field. More experienced farmers than this youthful agriculturist
+might not have been surprised at the failure of his crop. He was.
+Indeed, it was a valiant characteristic of him, throughout his life,
+that he never grew accustomed to failure, however serenely he took it,
+when it came. He grieved and perplexed himself about it, silently, but
+not hopelessly. New ideas dawned on his mind, fresh designs of relief
+were soon entertained, and essayed to be put in practice. These were
+many, and of various degrees of feasibility,--ranging from the
+rigorously pursued plan of setting aside a portion of his daily bread
+and butter in a bag, and of his milk in a can, and bestowing the little
+store on the nearest eligible object, up to the often pondered one of
+obtaining possession of the large barn in the cow-field, furnishing the
+same, and establishing therein all the numerous houseless wanderers who
+used to come and ask for aid at the hands of Everett's worthy and
+magisterial father.
+
+That father's judicial functions caused his eldest son considerable
+trouble and bewilderment of mind. He asked searching questions
+sometimes, when, of an evening, perched on Mr. Gray's knee, and looking
+with his wondering, steadfast eyes into the face of that erewhile stern
+and impassible magistrate. The large justice-room, where the prisoners
+were examined, had an awful fascination to him; and so had the little
+"strong-room," in which sometimes they were locked up before being
+conveyed away to the county jail. Often, he wandered restlessly near it,
+looking at the door with strange, mournful eyes; and if by chance the
+culprit passed out before him, under the guardianship of the terrible,
+red-faced constable,--Everett's earliest and latest conception of the
+Devil,--how wistfully he would gaze at him, and what a world of thought
+and puzzled speculation would float through his childish mind!
+
+Once, he had a somewhat serious adventure connected with that dreadful
+strong-room.
+
+There had been a man brought up before Mr. Gray, charged with
+poultry-stealing; and he had been remanded for further examination.
+Meanwhile, he was placed in the strong-room, under lock-and-key,--Roger
+Manby, as usual, standing sentinel in the passage. Now Roger's red face
+betokened a lively appreciation of the sublunary and substantial
+attractions of beef and beer; and it seems probable that the servants'
+dinner, going on below-stairs, was too great a temptation for even that
+inflexible constable to resist. Howbeit, when the prisoner should have
+been produced before the waiting bench, he was nowhere to be found. He
+had vanished, as by magic, from the strong-room, without bolt being
+wrenched, or lock forced, or bar broken. The door was unfastened, and
+the prisoner gone. Great was the consternation, profound the
+mystification of all parties. Roger was severely reprimanded, and
+officers were sent off in various directions to recapture the offender.
+
+Mr. Gray seldom alluded to his public affairs when among his children;
+but that evening he broke through the rule. At dessert, with little
+Everett, as usual, beside him, he mentioned the mysterious incident of
+the morning to some friends who were dining with him, adding his own
+conjectures as to the cause of the strange disappearance.
+
+"It is certain he was _let out_. He could not have released himself.
+Circumstances are suspicious against Manby, too; and he will probably
+lose his office. Like C�sar's wife, a constable should be beyond
+suspicion, and he must be dismissed, if"----
+
+"Oh, papa!"--and Everett's orange fell to the floor, and Everett's face
+was lifted to his father's, all-aglow with eager, painful feeling.
+
+"You don't like old Roger," said Mr. Gray, patting his cheek. "Well, it
+is likely you won't be troubled by him any more."
+
+"Oh, papa! oh, papa! Roger is an ugly, cross man. But he didn't,--he
+didn't"----
+
+"Didn't what, my boy?"
+
+"Let the man out. He was in the kitchen all the time. I heard him
+laughing."
+
+"_You_ heard him? How?"
+
+"I--I--oh, papa!"
+
+The curly head sunk on the inquisitor's shoulder.
+
+"Go on, Everett. What do you mean? Tell me the whole truth. You are not
+afraid to do that?"
+
+"No, papa."
+
+He looked up, with steady eyes, but cheeks on which the color flickered
+most agitatedly.
+
+"I only wanted to look at the man; and the men had left a ladder against
+the wall by the little grated window; and I climbed up, and looked in.
+And, oh! he had such a miserable face, papa! And I couldn't help
+speaking to him."
+
+"Well, go on."
+
+The tone was not so peremptory as the words; and the child, too ignorant
+to be really frightened at what he had done, went on with his
+confession, quite heedless of the numerous eyes fixed upon him with
+various expressions of tenderness, amusement, and dismay. And very soon
+all came out. Everett had deliberately and intentionally done the deed.
+He had been unable to withstand the misery and entreaties of the man,
+and he had slipped down the ladder, run round to the unguarded strong
+door, and with much toil forced back the great bolt, unfastened the
+chain, and set the prisoner free.
+
+"And do you know, Everett, what it is you have done?--how wrong you have
+been?"
+
+"I was afraid it was a little wrong,"--he hesitated; "but,"--and his
+courage seemed to rise again at the recollection,--"it would have been
+so dreadful for the poor man to go to prison! He said he should be quite
+ruined,--quite ruined, papa; and his wife and the little children would
+starve. You are not _very_ angry, are you? Oh, papa!"
+
+For Everett could hardly believe the stern gaze with which the
+magistrate forced himself to regard his little son; and sternly uttered
+were the few words that followed, by which he endeavored to make clear
+to the childish comprehension the gravity of the fault he had committed.
+Everett was utterly subdued. The tone of displeasure smote on his heart
+and crushed it for the time. Only once he brightened up, as with a
+sudden hope of complete justification, when Mr. Gray adverted to the
+crime of the man, which had made it right and necessary that he should
+be punished.
+
+"But, papa," eagerly broke in the boy, "he hadn't stolen the things. He
+told me so. He wasn't a thief."
+
+"One case was proved beyond doubt."
+
+"Indeed, indeed, papa, you must be mistaken," cried Everett, with
+tearful vehemence; "he couldn't have done it; I know he couldn't. He
+said, _upon his word_, he hadn't."
+
+It was impossible to persuade him that such an asseveration could be
+false. And when the little offender had left the room, various remarks
+and interjections were indulged in,--all breathing the same spirit.
+
+"What a jolly little muff Everett is!" was his brother Dick's
+contingent.
+
+"Innocent little fellow!" said one.
+
+"Happy little visionary!" sighed another.
+
+And Everett grew in years and stature, and still unconsciously
+maintained the same character. It is true that he was a quiet, sensitive
+boy, with an almost feminine affectionateness and tenderness of
+heart,--and that keen, exquisite appreciation both of the joyful and the
+painful, which is a feminine characteristic, too. Yet he was far enough
+from being effeminate. He was thoughtful, naturally, yet he could be
+active and take pleasure in action. He was always ready to work, and
+feared neither hardship nor fatigue. When the great flood came and
+caused such terror and distress in the village, no one, not even Dick,
+home from Sandhurst for the midsummer holidays, was more energetic or
+worked harder or more effectually than Everett. And the boys (his
+brother's chums at Hazlewood) never forgot the day when Everett found
+them ill-treating a little dog; how he rescued it from them,
+single-handed, and knocked down young Brooke, who attacked him both with
+insults and blows. Dick, not ill-pleased, was looking on. He never
+called his brother a "sop" from that day, but praised him and patronized
+him considerably for a good while after, and began, as he said, "to have
+hopes of him."
+
+But the two brothers never had much in common, and were, indeed, little
+thrown together. Everett was educated at home; he was not strong, and
+was naturally his mother's darling, and she persuaded his father and
+herself that a public school would be harmful to him. So he studied the
+classics with the clergyman of the parish, and the lighter details of
+learning with his sister. Between that sister and himself there was a
+strong attachment, though she, too, was of widely differing temperament
+and disposition. Agnes was two years older than he,--and overflowing
+with saucy life, energy, and activity. She liked to run wild about the
+woods near their house, or to gallop over the country on her pony,--to
+go scrambling in the hedges for blackberries, or among the copses for
+nuts. The still contentment that Everett found in reading,--his
+thoughtful enjoyment of landscape, or sunset, or flower,--all this might
+have been incomprehensible to her, only that she loved her dreamy
+brother so well. Love lends faith, and faith makes many things clear;
+and Agnes learned to understand, and would wait patiently beside him on
+such occasions, only tapping her feet, or swinging her bonnet by its
+strings, as a relief for the superabundant vitality thus held in check.
+And she was Everett's _confidante_ in all his schemes, wishes, and
+anticipations. To her he would unfold the various plans he was
+continually cogitating. Agnes would listen, sympathizingly sometimes,
+but reverently always. _She_ never called or thought him a Visionary. If
+his plans for the regeneration of the world were Utopian and
+impracticable, it was the world that was in fault, not he. To her he was
+the dearest of brothers, who would one day be acknowledged the greatest
+of men.
+
+And thus Everett grew to early manhood, till the time arrived when he
+was to leave home for Cambridge. It was his first advent in the world.
+Hitherto, his world had been one of books and thought. He imagined
+college to be a place wherein a studious life, such as he loved, would
+be most natural, most easy to be pursued. He should find a
+brother-enthusiast in every student; he should meet with sympathy and
+help in all his dearest aspirations, on every side. Perhaps it is
+needless to say that this young Visionary was disappointed, and that his
+collegiate career was, in fact, the beginning of that crusade, active
+and passive, which it appeared to be his destiny to wage against what is
+generally termed Real Life.
+
+He was considerably laughed at, of course, by the majority of those
+about him. Some few choice spirits tried to get up a lofty contempt of
+his quiet ways and simple earnestness,--but they failed,--it not being
+in human nature, even the most scampish, to entertain scorn for that
+which is innately true and noble. So, finally, the worst that befell him
+was ridicule,--which, even when he was aware of it, hurt him little.
+Often, indeed, he would receive their jests and artful civilities with
+implicit good faith; acknowledging apparent attentions with a gentle,
+kindly courtesy, indescribably mystifying to those excellent young men
+who expended so much needless pains on the easy work of "selling Old
+Gray."
+
+However, from out the very ranks of the enemy, before he left college at
+the end of his first term, he had one intimate. It would, perhaps, be
+difficult to understand how two-thirds of the friendships in the world
+have their birth and maintain their existence. The connection between
+Everett and Charles Barclay appeared to be of this enigmatical order.
+One would have said the two could possess no single taste or sentiment
+in common. Charles was a handsome, athletic fellow, warm-hearted,
+impassioned, generous, and thoughtless to cruelty. He had splendid
+gifts, but no application,--plenty of power, but no perseverance.
+Supposed to be one of the most brilliant men of his years, he had just
+been "plucked," to the dismay of his college and the immense wrath of
+his friends. Everybody knew that Barclay was an orphan, left with a very
+slender patrimony, who had gained a scholarship at the grammar-school.
+He was of no family,--he was poor, and had his own way to make in life.
+It was doubly necessary to _him_ that he should succeed in his
+collegiate career. It was probably while under the temporary shadow of
+the disgrace and disappointment of defeat, that the young man suddenly
+turned to Everett Gray, fastened upon him with an affection most
+enthusiastic, a devotion that everybody found unaccountable. He had
+energy enough for what he willed to do. He willed to have Everett's
+friendship, and he would not be denied. The incongruous pair became
+friends. Whereupon, the rollicking comrades, who had gladly welcomed
+Barclay into their set, for his fun and his wit and his convivial
+qualities, turned sharp round, and marvelled at young Gray, who came of
+a high family, for choosing as his intimate a fellow of no birth, no
+position. Not but that it was just like the Old Visionary to do it; he'd
+no idea of life,--not he; and so forth.
+
+During the next term, the friendship grew and strengthened. Everett's
+influence was working for good, and Barclay was in earnest addressing
+himself to study. He accompanied Everett to his home at the long
+vacation. And it ought to have surprised nobody who was acquainted with
+the _rationale_ of such affairs, that the principal event of that golden
+holiday-summer was the falling in love with each other of Everett's
+sister and Everett's friend. Agnes was the only daughter and special
+pride of a rich and well-born man. Barclay was of plebeian birth, with
+nothing in the world to depend on but his own talents, which he had
+abused, and the before-named patrimony, which was already nearly
+exhausted. It will at once be seen that there could hardly be a more
+felicitous conjunction of circumstances to make everybody miserable by
+one easy, natural step; and the step was duly taken. Of course, the
+young people fell in love immediately,--Everett, the Dreamer, looking on
+with a sort of reverent interest that was almost awe; for the very
+thought of love thrilled him with a sense of new and strange
+life,--unknown, unguessed of, as heaven itself, but as certain, and
+hardly less beautiful. So he watched the gradual progress of these two,
+who were passing through that which was so untrodden a mystery to him.
+If he ever thought about their love in a more definite way, it was--oh,
+the Visionary!--to congratulate himself and everybody concerned. He saw
+nothing but what was most happy and desirable in it all. He knew no one
+so worthy of Agnes as Barclay, whom, in spite of all his faults, he
+believed to be one of the noblest and greatest of men; and he felt sure
+that all that was wanting to complete and solidify his character was
+just this love for a good, high-souled woman, which would arouse him to
+energy and action, sustain and encourage him through all difficulties,
+and make life at once more precious and more sacred.
+
+Unfortunately, other members of the family, who were rational beings,
+and looked on life in a practical and sensible manner, were very
+differently affected by the discovery of this attachment. In brief,
+there ensued upon the _�claircissement_ much storm on one side, much
+grief on the other, and keen pain to all,--to none more than to Everett.
+Our Visionary's heart swelled hotly with alternate indignation and
+tenderness, as he knew his friend was forbidden the house, heard his
+father's wrathful comments upon him, and saw his bright sister Agnes
+broken down by all the heaviness of a first despair. You may imagine his
+passionate denunciation of the spirit of worldliness, which would, for
+its own mean ends, separate those whom the divine sacrament of Love had
+joined together. No less easily may be pictured the angry, yet
+half-compassionate reception of his vehemence, the contemptuous wave of
+the hand with which the stern old banker deprecated discussion with one
+so ignorant of the world, so utterly incapable of forming a judgment on
+such a question, as his son. His mother sat by, during these scenes,
+trembling and grieved. It was not in her meek nature to take part
+_against_ either husband or son. She strove to soothe, to soften each in
+turn,--with but little effect, it may be added. For all he was so gentle
+and so loving, Everett was not to be persuaded or influenced in this
+matter. He took up his friend's cause and withstood all antagonism,
+resisted all entreaties to turn him from his fealty thereto.
+
+Ay, and he bore up against what was harder yet to encounter than all
+these. Charles Barclay's was one of those natures which, being
+miserable, are apt to become desperate. To such men, affliction seems to
+be torture, but no discipline. But our humanity perceives from a level,
+and therefore a short-sighted point of view. We may well be thankful
+that the Great Ruler sees above and around and on all sides the
+creatures to be governed, the events to be disposed.
+
+Charles Barclay went to London. One or two brief and most miserable
+letters Everett received from him,--then _all_ a blank silence.
+Everett's repeated appeals were unanswered, unnoticed. It might have
+been as if Death had come between and separated these lovers and
+friends, except that by indirect means they learned that he was alive
+and still in London. At length came more definite tidings, and the
+brother and sister knew that this Charles Barclay, whom they loved so
+well, had plunged into a reckless life, as into a whirlpool of
+destruction,--that he was among those associates, of high rank socially,
+of nearly the lowest morally, whom he had formerly known at college.
+Here was triumph for the prudent father,--desolation to the loving
+woman,--and to Everett, what? Pain, keen pain, and bitter anxiety,--but
+no quailing of the heart. He had too much faith in his friend for that.
+
+He went after him to London,--he penetrated to him, and would not be
+denied. He braved his assumed anger and forced violence; he had the
+courage of twenty lions, this Visionary, in battling with the devils
+that had entered into the spirit of his friend. The struggle was fierce
+and lengthened. Love conquered at last, as it always does, could we so
+believe. And during the time of utter depression into which the
+mercurial nature then relapsed, Everett cheered and sustained him,--till
+the young man's soul seemed melted within him, and the surrender to the
+good influence was as absolute as the resistance had been passionate.
+
+"What have I done, what am I," he would oftentimes say, "that I should
+be saved and sustained and _loved_ by you, Everett?" For, truly, he
+looked on him as no less than an angel, whom God had sent to succor him.
+It was one of those problems the mystery of which is most sacred and
+most sweet. In proportion as the erring man needed it, Everett's love
+grew and deepened and widened, and his influence strengthened with it
+almost unconsciously to himself. He was too humble to recognize all that
+he was to his friend.
+
+Meanwhile, imagine the turmoil at home, in respect of Everett's absence,
+and the errand which detained him. No disguise was sought. The son wrote
+to his mother frankly, stating where he was, and under what
+circumstances. He received a missive from his father of furious
+remonstrance; he replied by one so firm, yet so loving withal, that old
+Mr. Gray could not choose but change his tone to one of angry
+compassion. "The boy believes he's doing right. Heaven send him a little
+sense!" was all he could say.
+
+But there came a yet more overwhelming evidence of Everett's utter
+destitution of that commodity. A mercantile appointment was offered to
+Charles Barclay in one of the colonies, and Everett advanced the large
+sum necessary to enable his friend to accept it. To do this, he
+sacrificed the whole of what he possessed independently of his father,
+namely, a legacy left to him by his uncle, over which he had full
+control. It must be years before he could be repaid, of course,--it
+might be never! But, rash as was the act, he could not be hindered from
+doing it. His father raged and stormed, and again subsided into gloomy
+resignation. Henceforth he would wonder at nothing, for his son was mad,
+unfit to take part in the world. "A mere visionary, and no man," the
+hapless parent said, whenever he alluded to him.
+
+When Everett returned, Charles Barclay was on his way to Canada,
+vigorously intent on the new life before him. Agnes drew strength and
+comfort from the steadfast look of her brother's eyes, as he whispered
+to her, "Don't fear. Trust God, and be patient." The blight fell away
+from her, after that. If she was never a light-hearted girl again, she
+became something even sweeter and nobler. They never talked together
+about him, for the father had forbidden it; and, indeed, they needed
+not. Openly, and before them all, Everett would say when he heard from
+his friend. And so the months passed on.
+
+Then came the era in our Visionary's life,--an era, indeed, to such as
+he!--the first love. First love,--and last,--to him it was nothing less
+than fateful. It was his nature to be steadfast and thorough. He could
+no more have _transferred_ the love that rose straightly and purely from
+the very innermost fire of his soul than he could have changed the soul
+itself. Not many natures are thus created with the inevitable necessity
+to be constant. Few among women, fewer yet among men, love as Everett
+Gray loved Rosa Beauchamp.
+
+When they became aware of this love, at his home, there ensued much
+marvelling. Mr. Gray cordially congratulated himself, with wonder and
+pleasure, to think that actually his mad boy should have chosen so
+reasonably. Captain Gray, home on leave, observed that Old Everett
+wasn't such a flat as he seemed, by Jove! to select the daughter of an
+ancient house, and a wealthy house, like the Beauchamps of Hollingsley.
+The alliance was in every way honorable and advantageous. The family was
+one of the most influential in the county; and a lady's being at the
+head of it--for Sir Ralph Beauchamp had died many years before, when his
+eldest son was but a child, and Lady Beauchamp had been sole regent over
+the property ever since--made it all the pleasanter. Everett, if he
+chose, might be virtual master of Beauchamp; for the young baronet was
+but a weak, good-natured boy, whom any one might lead. Everett had
+displayed first-rate generalship. "These simple-seeming fellows are
+often deeper than most people," argued the soldier, wise in his
+knowledge of the world; "you may trust them to take care of themselves,
+when it comes to the point. Everett's a shrewd fellow."
+
+The father rubbed his hands, and was delighted to take this view of the
+case. He should make something of his son and heir in time. Often as he
+had regretted that Richard was not the elder, on whom it would rest to
+keep up the distinction and honor of the family, he began to see an
+admirable fitness in things as they were. Everett was, after all, better
+suited for the career that lay before him, in which he trusted he would
+not need that knowledge of mankind and judgment on worldly matters that
+were indispensable to those who had to carve their own way in life. "It
+is better as it is," thought the father, unconscious that he was echoing
+such an unsubstantial philosophy as a poet's.
+
+And so the first days of Everett's love were as cloudless and divinely
+radiant as a summer dawn. But events were gathering, like storm-clouds,
+about the house of Gray. Disaster, most unforeseen, was impending over
+this family. For Mr. Gray, though, as we have said, a practical and
+matter-of-fact man, and having neither sympathy nor patience with
+"visionary schemes or ideas," had yet, as practical men will do,
+indulged in divers speculations during his life, in one of which he had
+at last been induced to embark to the utmost extent. Of course, it
+seemed safe and reasonable enough, even to the banker's shrewd eyes;
+but, nevertheless, it proved as delusive and destructive as any that
+ever led a less worldly man astray. The fair-seeming bubble burst, and
+the rich man of one day found himself on the morrow virtually reduced to
+beggary. All he had had it in his power to risk was gone, and
+liabilities remained to the extent of twice as much. The crash came, the
+bank stopped payment, and the unhappy man was stricken to the dust. He
+never lifted up his head again. The shrewd man of the world utterly
+succumbed beneath this blow of fate; it killed him. Old Mr. Gray died of
+that supposed disease, a broken heart,--leaving a legacy of ruin, or
+the alternative of disgrace, to his heir.
+
+The reins of government thus fell into Everett's hands. "The poor Grays!
+it's all over with them!" said the pitying world. And, indeed, the way
+in which the young man proceeded to arrange his father's affairs savored
+no less of the Visionary than had every action of his life theretofore.
+Captain Gray, who hastened home from his gay quarters in Dublin, on the
+disastrous news reaching him, found his brother already deeply engaged
+with lawyers, bills, and deeds.
+
+"You know, Richard, there is but one thing to be done," he said, in his
+usual simple, earnest way; "we must cut off the entail, and sell the
+property to pay my father's debts. It is a hard thing to do,--to part
+with the old place; but it would be worse, bitterer pain and crueler
+shame, to hold it, with the money that, whatever the worldly code of
+morality may say, is not _ours_. There must be no widows and orphans
+reduced to poverty through us. Thank God, there will be enough produced
+by the sale of the estate to clear off every liability,--to the last
+shilling. You feel with me in this matter?" he went on, confidently
+appealing to his brother; yet with a certain inflection of anxiety in
+his voice. It would have wounded Everett cruelly, had he been
+misunderstood or rebuffed in this. "You have your commission, and Uncle
+Everett's legacy, and the reversion of my mother's fortune, which will
+not be touched. This act of justice, therefore, can injure no one."
+
+"Except yourself,--yourself, old fellow," said Richard, moved, in spite
+of his light nature. He grasped his brother's hand. "It's a noble thing
+to do; but have you considered how it will affect your future? You, with
+neither fortune nor profession,--how do you propose to live? And your
+marriage,--the Beauchamps will never consent to Rosa becoming the wife
+of a--a"----
+
+"Not a beggar, Richard," Everett said, smiling, "if that was the word
+you hesitated about; no, I shall be no beggar. I have plans for my own
+future;--you shall know of them. Our marriage will, of course, be
+delayed. I must work, to win a home and position for my wife." He
+paused,--looked up bravely,--"It is no harder fate than falls to most
+men. And for Rosa,--true love, true woman as she is, she helps me, she
+encourages me in all I do and purpose."
+
+Captain Gray shrugged his shoulders. "Two mad young people!" he thought
+to himself. "They never think of consequences, and it's of no use
+warning them, I suppose."
+
+No. It would have been useless to "warn" or advise Everett against doing
+this thing, which he held to be simply his duty. And it was the
+characteristic of our Visionary, that, when he saw a Duty so placed
+before him, he knew no other course than straightly to pursue it,
+looking neither to the right hand nor to the left, unprevented by
+obstacles, and fearless of consequences.
+
+So in this case. His brother advised a temporizing course,--to mortgage
+the estate, for instance, and pay a moiety of the debts. It was surely
+all that could be expected from a man who had not actually incurred
+them. And then he might still be the nominal owner of Hazlewood,--he
+might still marry Rosa.
+
+"While, if you do as you propose," argued the Captain, "(and you know,
+of course, old fellow, I fully appreciate your noble and honorable
+feeling in the matter,) you ruin your own hopes; and I can't see that a
+fellow is called upon to do _that_, as a point of filial duty. What are
+you to do? that's the thing. It isn't as though you had anything to fall
+back upon, by Jove! It's a case of beggaring yourself"----
+
+"Instead of beggaring other people," Everett said. "No, Richard,--I
+cannot see either the justice or the wisdom of what you propose. I will
+not cast the burden on other shoulders. As my father's representative, I
+must abide the penalty of his mistake,--and I only. I cannot rest while
+our name is as the catchword of ruin and misery to thousands around us,
+less able to bear both, perhaps, than I, who am young and strong,--able
+to work both with head and hands."
+
+"But think of Rosa!" said his brother. "How do you get over _that_?
+Isn't her happiness worth some consideration?"
+
+"It has been my thought, night and day, ever since," Everett said, in a
+low voice. "It has come between me and what I felt to be the Right, more
+than once. You don't know what that thought has been, or you would not
+challenge it against me now."
+
+"Well, well,--I only want you to look on all sides of what you are about
+to do, and to count the cost beforehand."
+
+Everett smiled quietly. As if "the cost" were not already counted, felt,
+and suffered in that deep heart of his! But he said nothing.
+
+"In the next place, what do you propose to do?" pursued his brother.
+"Will you enter a profession? Can't say you're much adapted for a
+lawyer; and perhaps you're too tender-hearted for a doctor, either. But
+I remember, as a boy, you always said you should like to be a clergyman.
+And, by Jove! when one comes to think of it, you've a good deal of the
+cut of the village priest about you. What do you say to that?"
+
+"Nothing. I have other plans." And Everett proceeded briefly to tell him
+these. He had heard from Charles Barclay, now high in the confidence of
+one of the leading mercantile firms of Montreal; and through him, he had
+obtained the offer of an appointment in the same house.
+
+Richard Gray listened to all this, with ill-concealed amusement
+twitching the corners of his mouth. He thought the idea of his brother's
+turning man-of-business one of the "richest" he had ever heard.
+
+"With your hard head and shrewd notions, I should say you were likely to
+make a sensation in the mercantile world," he observed. "It's a hopeful
+scheme, altogether. Oh, hang it!" proceeding from sarcasm to
+remonstrance, "that'll never do, Everett! You'll be getting into some
+precious scrape or other. You're not the fellow for a merchant's office,
+trust me. Now something in the way of a government appointment is much
+more like it. A pleasant, poetical sort of sinecure,--there are lots of
+them to be had. You just trundle down for an hour or two every day,
+write letters, or poems, or whatever you like, with the official
+stationery, and receive your salary quarterly. You _can't_ do any
+mischief in a place like that. Now that's the sort of thing for you,--if
+one could get hold of some of those fellows in power. Why!" brightening
+with the sudden dash of an idea, "there are the Beauchamps themselves!
+They've a legion of influential relatives. Couldn't they get you into a
+snug berth? Oh, the Devil!"--for Everett's look was not to be
+mistaken,--"if you bring your high-flown ideas of dignity and
+independence into this plain, practical question of subsistence, it's
+all up with you. Do you mean to tell me that you seriously think of this
+Canada scheme?"
+
+Everett assented.
+
+"Have you informed Lady Beauchamp of your intention of becoming a
+merchant's clerk? I should like to see her face when you tell her; she's
+such a shrewd old soul; and when a woman _does_ take to the sharp and
+worldly style of thing, it's the very deuse! Expect no indulgence in
+that quarter."
+
+"I don't ask it. Rosa, of course, cannot become my wife till I am able
+to give her a worthy home. Her mother will not wish to cancel our
+engagement in the mean time."
+
+"The deuse she won't! Trust her!" the consolatory brother rejoined.
+"Why, it will be her first natural step. The idea of her daughter
+betrothed to a merchant's clerk is preposterous on the face of it. You
+yourself must see _that_."
+
+"No, I don't," Everett said, smiling.
+
+"Oh, I suppose you intend to make a large fortune in a twelvemonth, and
+then return and marry?"
+
+"No,--but in ten years,--less than that, God helping me,--if I live, I
+will return and marry Rosa."
+
+"You don't say so? And poor little Rosa is to wait patiently for you all
+that time! By Jove! a modest expectation of yours! It's a likely notion
+that Miss Beauchamp will remain unmarried for ten years, because you
+choose to go to Canada."
+
+"She will never marry, if she does not marry me," Everett said, with
+simple gravity. "It is not alone the outward sacrament of marriage that
+sanctifies a union. The diviner and more vital consecration that binds
+us together, it is too late, now, to seek to undo."
+
+"Oh, hang it! It's of no use talking poetry to _me_. I don't understand
+that sort of thing," Captain Gray frankly said. "I'll tell you
+what,--it'll never do to take those transcendental ideas with you into
+the world. All very well to poetize and maunder about in quiet
+Hazlewood; but, by Jove! you'll find it won't do in practical life. Take
+my word for it, if you go to Canada, long before the ten years are out,
+Rosa Beauchamp will be wooed and won over again. 'Tisn't in nature that
+it should be otherwise. In books, very likely, those sort of things
+happen often enough,--but not in real life, my dear fellow, I assure
+you. When you return, it will be to find her a thriving matron, doing
+the honors of one of the neighboring mansions. Make up your mind to
+_that_. Foresee your future, before you decide."
+
+Everett smiled, sadly, but trustfully. His brother's arguments neither
+persuaded nor disturbed him. He stood very quiet and thoughtful.
+Visionary-like, he saw pictures of the future, indeed,--but very
+different from the one just drawn. He was not afraid.
+
+And Captain Gray left him unconvinced and unmoved. It was not probable
+the two brothers would see this matter in the same light. They stood on
+different levels. They must be content to differ.
+
+The next conference on the subject was between Everett and Lady
+Beauchamp; and the mother of Rosa was, it must be admitted, a rather
+formidable person to encounter in such wise. She was a busy, clever,
+worldly woman,--kind-hearted, too, and with both a strong will and
+strong affections. She was one of those people in whom even an astute
+observer might often be deceived, by failing to give her credit for
+certain good qualities which are commonly coexistent with
+worldliness,--especially in a woman. There was a spice of something
+better latent amid her shrewdness and hard-headed sagacity; the echo of
+more generous aspirations lingered through all the noise of this earth's
+Babel in her heart. And so, when she heard of Everett's resolve to pay
+his father's debts by parting with the property, her better and higher
+nature warmed to the young man; and though she protested against his
+Quixotism, and frowned, and talked of prudence, and so forth, her busy
+brain was, in fact, all the while setting itself to work for his
+benefit. She was, in a way, fond of the young man. No woman is quite
+insensible to that chivalrous deference which a Visionary like Everett
+always manifests to womanhood, collective and individual. And though she
+certainly held him to be rash, foolish, unfit to deal with the world,
+"poetical," (a capital crime in her eyes,) and dreamy, she yet liked
+him, and was glad to discover a plan whereby the objections to his
+marriage with her daughter, under the present adverse circumstances,
+might be smoothed away.
+
+She was sitting at her big desk, strewn with accounts, in the
+sober-looking library where she always spent her mornings, and she rose
+to receive her prospective son-in-law, with an aspect serious and
+business-like, yet not stern.
+
+"Well, my dear Everett, what is all this that I hear about you? A very,
+very sad affair, of course; but you must come and tell me how you intend
+to act. Yes, yes,--I've heard something about it; but I don't quite
+understand the state of the case. I want to have a talk with you."
+
+And she leaned her comely face upon her plump, white hand, while gravely
+listening to Everett's brief statement of what he had already done, and
+what were his plans for the future.
+
+"You will sell Hazlewood, pay your father's debts, and begin life on
+your own account, by going to Canada and becoming a merchant's clerk!"
+She then recapitulated his plans in a sharp, pitiless tone. "Very well!
+and we have only to bid you good-bye and wish you success. Is it so? For
+it appears to me that my daughter is left entirely out of your
+calculations, and very properly so. You cannot, as a merchant's clerk on
+a hundred a year, marry Rosa Beauchamp, I presume."
+
+"No," Everett said, steadily, and holding her, as it were, with his
+earnest eyes, "I cannot have Rosa for my wife till I am able to give her
+a home worthy of her; but you will not refuse to sanction our engagement
+during the years in which I shall work for that home?"
+
+Lady Beauchamp tapped the table with her fingers in an ominous manner.
+
+"Long engagements are most unsatisfactory, silly, not to say dangerous
+things. They never end well. No man ought to wish so to bind a young
+girl, unless he has a reasonable chance of soon being in a position to
+marry her. Now I ask you, have _you_ such a chance? If you go to Canada,
+it may be years before you return. Just look at the thing in a
+common-sense light, and tell me, can you expect my daughter to wait an
+indefinite time, while you go to seek and make your fortune?"
+
+She looked at him with an air of bland candor, while thus appealing to
+his "common sense." Everett's aspect remained unchanged, however, in its
+calm steadfastness.
+
+"I would not bind her," he said, "unless she herself felt it would be a
+comfort and a help, in some sort, during the weary years of separation,
+so to be bound. And that she does feel it, you know, Lady Beauchamp."
+
+"My dear Sir, you are not talking reasonably," she rejoined,
+impatiently. "A young girl like Rosa, in love for the first time, of
+course wishes to be bound, as you say, to the object of her first love.
+But it would be doing her a cruel injustice to take her at her word.
+Surely you feel that? It is very true, she might not forget you for six
+months, or more, perhaps. But, in the course of time, as she enters on
+life and sees more of the world and of people, it is simply impossible
+that she should remain constant to a dreamy attachment to some one
+thousands of miles away. She would inevitably wish to form other ties;
+and then the engagement that she desires to-day would be the blight and
+burden of her life. No. I say it is a cruel injustice to let young
+people decide for themselves on such a point. Half the misery in the
+world springs from these mistakes. Think over the matter coolly, and you
+will see it as I do."
+
+"It is you who do Rosa injustice," Everett answered, and paused. "Were
+it to be as you wish," he added, "and we to separate utterly, with no
+outwardly acknowledged tie to link us, no letters to pass between us, no
+word or sign from one to the other during all the coming years,--suppose
+it so,--you would shadow our lives with much unnecessary misery; but you
+are mistaken, if you think you would really part us. You do not
+understand."
+
+"Nonsense! You talk like a young man in love. You _must_ be reasonable."
+
+Lady Beauchamp, by this time, had worked herself into the usual warmth
+with which she argued all questions, great and small, and forgot that
+her original intention in speaking to Everett had only been to set
+before him the disadvantages of his plans, in order that her own might
+come to the rescue with still greater brilliancy and effect.
+
+"You _must_ be reasonable," she repeated. "You don't suppose I have not
+my child's happiness at heart in all I plan and purpose? Trust me, I
+have had more experience of life than either of you, and it is for me to
+interpose between you and the dangers you would blindly rush upon. Some
+day you will both thank me for having done so, hard and cruel as you may
+think me now."
+
+"No, I do not think you either hard or cruel. You are _mistaken_,
+simply. I believe you desire our happiness. I do not reproach or blame
+you, Lady Beauchamp," Everett said, sadly.
+
+"Come, come," she cried, touched by his look and manner to an immediate
+unfolding of her scheme, "let us look at things again. Perhaps we shall
+not find them so hopeless as they look. If I am prudent, Everett, I am
+not mercenary. I only want to see Rosa happy. I don't care whether it is
+on hundreds a year, or thousands. And the fact is, I have not condemned
+your plans without having a more satisfactory one to offer to your
+choice. Listen to me."
+
+And she proceeded, with a cleared brow, and the complacency of one who
+feels she is performing the part of a good genius, setting everything to
+rights, and making everybody comfortable, to unfold the plan _she_ had
+devised, by which Everett's future was to be secured, and his marriage
+with Rosa looked to as something better than a misty uncertainty at the
+end of a vista of years.
+
+Everett must go into the Church. That was, in fact, the profession most
+suited to him, and which most naturally offered itself for his
+acceptance. His education, his tastes, his habits, all suited him for
+such a career. By a happy coincidence, too, it was one in which Lady
+Beauchamp could most importantly assist him through her connections. Her
+eldest son, the young baronet, had preferment in his own gift, which was
+to say, in hers; and not only this, but her sister's husband, the uncle
+of Rosa, was a bishop, and one over whom she, Lady Beauchamp, had some
+influence. Once in orders, Everett's prosperity was assured. The present
+incumbent of Hollingsley was aged; by the time Everett was eligible, he
+might, in all probability, be inducted into that living, and Rosa might
+then become his wife. Five hundred a year, beside Miss Beauchamp's
+dowry, with such shining prospects of preferment to look forward to, was
+not an unwise commencement; for Rosa was no mere fine lady, the proud
+mother said,--she was sensible and prudent; she would adapt herself to
+circumstances. And though, of course, it was not such an establishment
+as she well might expect for her daughter, still, since the young people
+loved one another, and thought they could be happy under these reduced
+circumstances, she would not be too exacting. And Lady Beauchamp at last
+paused, and looked in Everett's face for some manifestation of his joy.
+
+Well,--of his gratitude there could be no question. The tears stood in
+his earnest eyes, as he took Lady Beauchamp's hand and thanked
+her,--thanked her again and again.
+
+"There, there, you foolish boy! I don't want thanks," cried she,
+coloring with pleasure though, as she spoke. "My only wish is to see you
+two children happy. I _am_ fond of you, Everett; I shall like to see you
+my son," she said. "I have tried to smooth the way for you, as far as I
+can, over the many difficulties that obstruct it; and I fancy I have
+succeeded. What do you say to my plan? When can you be ordained?"
+
+Everett sighed, as he released her hand, and looked at her face, now
+flushed with generous, kindly warmth. Well he knew the bitter change
+that would come over that face,--the passion of disappointment and
+displeasure which would follow his answer to that question.
+
+He could never enter the Church. Sorrowfully, but firmly, he said
+it,--with that calm, steady voice and look, of which all who knew him
+knew the significance. He could not take orders.
+
+Lady Beauchamp, at first utterly overwhelmed and dumfounded, stood
+staring at him in blank silence. Then she icily uttered a few words. His
+reasons,--might she ask?
+
+They were many, Everett said. Even if no other hindrance existed, in his
+own mind and opinions, his reverence for so sacred an office would not
+permit him to embrace it as a mere matter of worldly advantage to
+himself.
+
+"Grant me patience, young man! Do you mean to tell me you would decline
+this career because it promises to put an end to your difficulties? Are
+you _quite_ a fool?" the lady burst out, astonishment and anger quite
+startling her from all control.
+
+"Bear with what may at first seem to you only folly," Everett answered
+her, gently. "I don't think your calmer judgment can call it so. Would
+you have me take upon myself obligations that I feel to be most solemn
+and most vital, feeling myself unfitted, nay, unable, rightly to fulfil
+them? Would you have me commit the treachery to God and man of swearing
+that I felt called to that special service, when my heart protested
+against my profession?"
+
+"Romantic nonsense! A mere matter of modest scruples! You underrate
+yourself, Everett. You are the very man for a clergyman, trust me."
+
+But Everett went on to explain, that it was no question of
+under-estimation of himself.
+
+"You do not know, perhaps," he proceeded, while Lady Beauchamp, sorely
+tried, tapped her fingers on the table, and her foot upon the
+floor,--"you do not know, that, when I was a boy, and until two or three
+years ago, my desire and ambition were to be a minister of the Church of
+England."
+
+"Well, Sir,--what has made you so much better, or so much worse, since
+then, as to alter your opinion of the calling?"
+
+"The reasons which made me abandon the idea three years since, and which
+render it impossible for me to consider it now, have nothing to do with
+my mental and moral worthiness or unworthiness. The fact is simply, I
+cannot become a minister of a Church with many of whose doctrines I
+cannot agree, and to which, indeed, I can no longer say I belong. In
+your sense of the word, I am far from being a Churchman."
+
+"Do you mean to say you have become a Dissenter?" cried Lady Beauchamp;
+and, as if arrived at the climax of endurance, she stood transfixed,
+regarding the young man with a species of sublime horror.
+
+"Again, not in your sense of the term," Everett said, smiling; "for I
+have joined no sect, attached myself to no recognized body of
+believers."
+
+"You belong to nothing, then? You believe in nothing, I suppose?" she
+said, with the instinctive logic of her class. "Oh, Everett!" real
+distress for the moment overpowering her indignation, "it is those
+visionary notions of yours that have brought you to this. It was to be
+expected. You poets and dreamers go on refining your ideas, forsooth,
+till even the religion of the ordinary world isn't good enough for you."
+
+Everett waited patiently till this first gust had passed by. Then, with
+that steady, calm lucidity which, strange to say, was characteristic of
+this Visionary's mind and intellect, he explained, so far as he could,
+his views and his reasons. It could not be expected that his listener
+should comprehend or enter into what he said. At first, indeed, she
+appeared to derive some small consolation from the fact that at least
+Everett had not "turned Dissenter." She hated Methodists, she
+declared,--intending thus to include with sweeping liberality all
+denominations in the ban of her disapproval. She would have deemed it an
+unpardonable crime, had the young man deserted the Church of his fathers
+in order to join the Congregation, some ranting conventicle. But if her
+respectability was shocked at the idea of his becoming a Methodist, her
+better feelings were outraged when she found, as she said, that he
+"belonged to nothing." She viewed with dislike and distrust all forms of
+religion that differed from her own; but she could not believe in the
+possibility of a religion that had no external form at all. She was
+dismayed and perplexed, poor lady! and even paused midway in her
+wrathful remonstrance to the misguided young man, to lament anew over
+his fatal errors. She could not understand, she said, truly enough,
+what in the world he meant. His notions were perfectly extraordinary and
+incomprehensible. She was deeply, deeply shocked, and grieved for him,
+and for every one connected with him.
+
+In fact, the very earnestness and sincerity in their own opinions of a
+certain calibre of minds make them incapable of understanding such a
+state of things. That a man should believe differently from all they
+have been taught to believe appears to them as simply preposterous as
+that he should breathe differently. And so it is that only the highest
+order of belief can afford to be tolerant; and, as extremes meet, it
+requires a very perfect Faith to be able to sympathize and bear
+patiently with Doubt.
+
+There was no chance of Lady Beauchamp's "comprehending" Everett in this
+matter. There was something almost pathetic in her mingled anger,
+perplexity, and disappointment. She could only look on him as a
+headstrong young man, suicidally bent on his own ruin,--turning
+obstinately from every offered aid, and putting the last climax of
+wretchedness to his isolated and fallen position by "turning from the
+faith of his fathers," as she rather imaginatively described his
+secession from Orthodoxy.
+
+And, as may be concluded, the mother of Rosa was inexorable, as regarded
+the engagement between the young people. It must at once be cancelled.
+She could not for one moment suffer the idea of her daughter's remaining
+betrothed to the mere adventurer she considered Everett Gray had now
+become. If, poor as he was, he had thought fit to embrace a profession
+worthy of a gentleman, the case would have been different. But if his
+romantic notions led him to pursue such an out-of-the-way course as he
+had laid out for himself, he must excuse her, if she forbade her child
+from sharing it. Under present circumstances, his alliance could but be
+declined by the Beauchamp family, she said, with her stateliest air. And
+the next minute, as Everett held her hand, and said good-bye, she melted
+again from that frigid dignity, and, looking into the frank, manly, yet
+gentle face of the young man, cried,--
+
+"Are you _quite_ decided, Everett? Will you take time to consider? Will
+you talk to Rosa about it, first?"
+
+"No, dear Lady Beauchamp. I know already what she would say. I have
+quite decided. Thank you for all your purposed kindness. Believe that I
+am not ungrateful, even if I seem so."
+
+"Oh, Everett,--Everett Gray! I am very sorry for you, and for your
+mother, and for all connected with you. It is a most unhappy business.
+It gives me great pain thus to part with you," said Lady Beauchamp, with
+real feeling.
+
+And so the interview ended, and so ended the engagement.
+
+Nothing else could have been expected, every one said who heard the
+state of the case, and knew what Lady Beauchamp had wished and Everett
+had declined. There were no words to describe how foolishly and weakly
+he had acted. "Everybody" quite gave him up now. With his romantic,
+transcendental notions, what _would_ become of him, when he had his own
+way to make in the world?
+
+But Everett had consolation and help through it all; for Rosa, the woman
+he loved, his mother, and his sister believed in him, and gloried in
+what other people called his want of common sense. Ay, though the
+horrible wrench of parting was suffered by Rosa every minute of every
+day, and the shadow of that dreadful, unnatural separation began to
+blacken her life even before it actually fell upon her,--through it all,
+she never wavered. When he first told her that he must go, that it was
+the one thing he held it wise and right to do, she shrunk back
+affrighted, trembling at the coming blankness of a life without him. But
+after a while, seeing the misery that came into _his_ face reflected
+from hers, she rose bravely above the terrible woe, and then, with her
+arms round him and her eyes looking steadfastly into his, she said, "I
+love you better than the life you are to me. So I can bear that you
+should go."
+
+And he said, "There can be no real severance between those who love as
+we do. God, in His mercy and tenderness, will help us to feel that
+truth, every hour and every day."
+
+For they believed thus,--these two young Visionaries,--and lived upon
+that belief, perhaps, when the time of parting came. And it may be that
+the thought of each was very constantly, very intimately present to the
+other, during the many years that followed. It may be that this species
+of mental atmosphere, so surrounding and commingling with all other
+things more visibly and palpably about them, _did_ cause these dreamers
+to be happier in their love than many externally united ones, whose lot
+appears to us most fair and smooth and blissful. Time and distance,
+leagues of ocean and years of suspense, are not the most terrible things
+that can come between two people who love one another.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And so Everett Gray, his mother, and his sister, went to Canada. A year
+after, Agnes was married to Charles Barclay, then a thriving merchant in
+Montreal. When the people at home heard of this, they very wisely
+acknowledged "how much good there had been in that young man, in spite
+of his rashness and folly in early days. No fear about such a man's
+getting on in life, when once he gave his mind to it," and so forth.
+
+Meanwhile, our Visionary----But what need is there to trace him, step by
+step, in the new life he doubtless found fully as arduous as he had
+anticipated? That it was a very struggling, difficult, and uncongenial
+life to him can be well understood. These reminiscences of Everett Gray
+relate to a long past time. We can look on his life now as almost
+complete and finished, and regard his past as those in the valley look
+up to the hill that has nothing between it and heaven.
+
+Many years he remained in Canada, working hard. Tidings occasionally
+reached England of his progress. Rosa, perhaps, heard such at rare
+intervals,--though somewhat distorted, it may be, from their original
+tenor, before they reached her. But it appeared certain that he was
+"getting on." In defiance and utter contradiction of all the sapient
+predictions there anent, it seemed that this dreamy, poetizing Everett
+Gray was absolutely successful in his new vocation of man-of-business.
+
+The news that he had become a partner in the firm he had entered as a
+clerk was communicated in a letter from himself to Lady Beauchamp. In it
+he, for the first time since his departure, spoke of Rosa; but he spoke
+of her as if they had parted but yesterday; and, in asking her mother's
+sanction to their betrothal _now_, urged, as from them both, their claim
+to have that boon granted at last.
+
+Lady Beauchamp hastily questioned her daughter.
+
+"You must have been corresponding with the young man all this time?" she
+said.
+
+But Rosa's denial was not to be mistaken.
+
+"He has heard of you, then, through some one," the practical lady went
+on; "or, for anything he knows, you may be married, or going to be
+married, instead of waiting for him, as he seems to take it for granted
+you have been all this time."
+
+"He was right, mother," Rosa only said.
+
+"Right, you foolish girl? You haven't half the spirit I had at your age.
+I would have scorned that it should have been said of _me_ that I
+'waited' for any man."
+
+"But if you loved him?"
+
+"Well, if he loved _you_, he should have taken more care than to leave
+you on such a Quixotic search for independence as his."
+
+"He thought it right to go, and he trusted me; we had faith in one
+another," Rosa said; and she wound her arms round her mother, and looked
+into her face with eyes lustrous with happy tears. For, from that lady's
+tone and manner, despite her harsh words, she knew that the opposition
+was withdrawn, and that Everett's petition was granted.
+
+They were married. It is years ago, now, since their wedding-bells rung
+out from the church-tower of Hazlewood, blending with the sweet
+spring-air and sunshine of a joyous May-day. The first few years of
+their married life were spent in Canada. Then they returned to England,
+and Everett Gray put the climax to the astonishment of all who knew him
+by purchasing back a great part of Hazlewood with the fruits of his
+commercial labors in the other country.
+
+At Hazlewood they settled, therefore. And there, when he grew to be an
+old man, Everett Gray lived, at last, the peaceful, happy life most
+natural and most dear to him. No one would venture to call the
+successful merchant a Visionary; and even his brother owns that "the old
+fellow has got more brains, after all, by Jove! than he ever gave him
+credit for." Yet, as the same critic, and others of his calibre, often
+say of him, "He has some remarkably queer notions. There's no making him
+out,--he is so different from other people."
+
+Which he is. There is no denying this fact, which is equally evident in
+his daily life, his education of his children, his conduct to his
+servants and dependants, his employment of time, his favorite aims in
+life, and in everything he does or says, in brief. And of course there
+are plenty who cavil at his peculiar views, and who cannot at all
+understand his unconventional ways, and his apparent want of all worldly
+wisdom in the general conduct of his affairs. And yet, somehow, these
+affairs prosper. Although he declined a valuable appointment for his
+son, and preferred that he should make his own way in the profession he
+had chosen, bound by no obligation, and unfettered by the trammels of
+any party,--although he did this, to the astonishment of all who did
+_not_ know him, yet is it not a fact that the young barrister's career
+has been, and is, as brilliant and successful as though he had had a
+dozen influential personages to advance him? And though he permitted his
+daughter to marry, not the rich squire's son, nor the baronet, who each
+sought her hand, but a man comparatively poor and unknown, who loved
+her, and whom she loved, did it not turn out to be one of those
+marriages that we can recognize to have been "made in heaven," and even
+the worldly-wise see to be happy and prosperous?
+
+But our Everett is growing old. His hair is silver-white, and his tall
+figure has learned to droop somewhat as he walks. Under the great
+beech-trees at Hazlewood you may have seen him sitting summer evenings,
+or sauntering in spring and autumn days, sometimes with his
+grandchildren playing about him, but always with _one_ figure near him,
+bent and bowed yet more than his own, with a still sweet and lovely face
+looking placidly forth from between its bands of soft, white hair.
+
+How they have loved, and do love one another, even to this their old
+age! All the best and truest light of that which we call Romance shines
+steadily about them yet. No sight so dear to Everett's eyes as that
+quiet figure,--no sound so welcome to his ears as her voice. She is all
+to him that she ever was,--the sweetest, dearest, best portion of that
+which we call his life.
+
+Yes, I speak advisedly, and say he _is_, they _are_. It is strange that
+this Visionary, who was wont to be reproached with the unpracticality of
+all he did or purposed, the unreality of whose life was a byword, should
+yet impress himself and his existence so vividly on those about him that
+even now we cannot speak of him as one that is _no more_. He seems still
+to be of us, though we do not see him, and his place is empty in the
+world.
+
+His wife went first. She died in her sleep, while he was watching her,
+holding her hand fast in his. He laid the last kisses on her eyes, her
+mouth, and those cold hands.
+
+After that, he seemed _to wait_. They who saw him sitting _alone_ under
+the beech-trees, day by day, found something very strangely moving in
+the patient serenity of his look. He never seemed sad or lonely through
+all that time,--only patiently hopeful, placidly expectant. So the
+autumn twilights often came to him as he stood, his face towards the
+west, looking out from their old favorite spot.
+
+One evening, when his daughter and her husband came out to him, he did
+not linger, as was usual with him, but turned and went forward to meet
+them, with a bright smile, brighter than the sunset glow behind him, on
+his face. He leaned rather heavily on their supporting arms, as they
+went in. At the door, the little ones came running about him, as they
+loved to do. Perhaps the very lustre of his face awed them, or the sight
+of their mother's tears; for a sort of hush came over them, even to the
+youngest, as he kissed and blessed them all.
+
+And then, when they had left the room, he laid his head upon his
+daughter's breast, and uttered a few low words. He had been so happy, he
+said, and he thanked God for all,--even to this, the end. It had been so
+good to live!--it was so happy to die! Then he paused awhile, and closed
+his eyes.
+
+"In the silence, I can hear your mother's voice," he murmured, and he
+clasped his hands. "O thou most merciful Father, who givest this last,
+great blessing, of the new Home, where she waits for me!--and God's love
+is over all His worlds!"
+
+He looked up once again, with the same bright, assured smile. That smile
+never faded from the dead face; it was the last look which they who
+loved him bore forever in their memory.
+
+And so passed our Visionary from that which we call Life.
+
+
+
+
+THE TRUCE OF PISCATAQUA.
+
+1675.
+
+
+    Raze these long blocks of brick and stone,
+    These huge mill-monsters overgrown;
+    Blot out the humbler piles as well,
+    Where, moved like living shuttles, dwell
+    The weaving genii of the bell;
+    Tear from the wild Cocheco's track
+    The dams that hold its torrents back;
+    And let the loud-rejoicing fall
+    Plunge, roaring, down its rocky wall;
+    And let the Indian's paddle play
+    On the unbridged Piscataqua!
+    Wide over hill and valley spread
+    Once more the forest, dusk and dread,
+    With here and there a clearing cut
+    From the walled shadows round it shut;
+    Each with its farm-house builded rude,
+    By English yeoman squared and hewed,
+    And the grim, flankered blockhouse, bound
+    With bristling palisades around.
+
+    So, haply, shall before thine eyes
+    The dusty veil of centuries rise,
+    The old, strange scenery overlay
+    The tamer pictures of to-day,
+    While, like the actors in a play,
+    Pass in their ancient guise along
+    The figures of my border song:
+    What time beside Cocheco's flood
+    The white man and the red man stood,
+    With words of peace and brotherhood;
+    When passed the sacred calumet
+    From lip to lip with fire-draught wet,
+    And, puffed in scorn, the peace-pipe's smoke
+    Through the gray beard of Waldron broke,
+    And Squando's voice, in suppliant plea
+    For mercy, struck the haughty key
+    Of one who held in any fate
+    His native pride inviolate!
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Let your ears be opened wide!
+    He who speaks has never lied.
+    Waldron of Piscataqua,
+    Hear what Squando has to say!
+
+    "Squando shuts his eyes and sees,
+    Far off, Saco's hemlock-trees.
+    In his wigwam, still as stone,
+    Sits a woman all alone,
+
+    "Wampum beads and birchen strands
+    Dropping from her careless hands,
+    Listening ever for the fleet
+    Patter of a dead child's feet!
+
+    "When the moon a year ago
+    Told the flowers the time to blow,
+    In that lonely wigwam smiled
+    Menewee, our little child.
+
+    "Ere that moon grew thin and old,
+    He was lying still and cold;
+    Sent before us, weak and small,
+    When the Master did not call!
+
+    "On his little grave I lay;
+    Three times went and came the day;
+    Thrice above me blazed the noon,
+    Thrice upon me wept the moon.
+
+    "In the third night-watch I heard,
+    Far and low, a spirit-bird;
+    Very mournful, very wild,
+    Sang the totem of my child.
+
+    "'Menewee, poor Menewee,
+    Walks a path he cannot see:
+    Let the white man's wigwam light
+    With its blaze his steps aright.
+
+    "'All-uncalled, he dares not show
+    Empty hands to Manito:
+    Better gifts he cannot bear
+    Than the scalps his slayers wear.'
+
+    "All the while the totem sang,
+    Lightning blazed and thunder rang;
+    And a black cloud, reaching high,
+    Pulled the white moon from the sky.
+
+    "I, the medicine-man, whose ear
+    All that spirits hear can hear,--
+    I, whose eyes are wide to see
+    All the things that are to be,--
+
+    "Well I knew the dreadful signs
+    In the whispers of the pines,
+    In the river roaring loud,
+    In the mutter of the cloud.
+
+    "At the breaking of the day,
+    From the grave I passed away;
+    Flowers bloomed round me, birds sang glad,
+    But my heart was hot and mad.
+
+    "There is rust on Squando's knife
+    From the warm red springs of life;
+    On the funeral hemlock-trees
+    Many a scalp the totem sees.
+
+    "Blood for blood! But evermore
+    Squando's heart is sad and sore;
+    And his poor squaw waits at home
+    For the feet that never come!
+
+    "Waldron of Cocheco, hear!
+    Squando speaks, who laughs at fear:
+    Take the captives he has ta'en;
+    Let the land have peace again!"
+
+    As the words died on his tongue,
+    Wide apart his warriors swung;
+    Parted, at the sign he gave,
+    Right and left, like Egypt's wave.
+
+    And, like Israel passing free
+    Through the prophet-charm�d sea,
+    Captive mother, wife, and child
+    Through the dusky terror filed.
+
+    One alone, a little maid,
+    Middleway her steps delayed,
+    Glancing, with quick, troubled sight,
+    Round about from red to white.
+
+    Then his hand the Indian laid
+    On the little maiden's head,
+    Lightly from her forehead fair
+    Smoothing back her yellow hair.
+
+    "Gift or favor ask I none;
+    What I have is all my own:
+    Never yet the birds have sung,
+    'Squando hath a beggar's tongue.'
+
+    "Yet, for her who waits at home
+    For the dead who cannot come,
+    Let the little Gold-hair be
+    In the place of Menewee!
+
+    "Mishanock, my little star!
+    Come to Saco's pines afar!
+    Where the sad one waits at home,
+    Wequashim, my moonlight, come!"
+
+    "What!" quoth Waldron, "leave a child
+    Christian-born to heathens wild?
+    As God lives, from Satan's hand
+    I will pluck her as a brand!"
+
+    "Hear me, white man!" Squando cried,
+    "Let the little one decide.
+    Wequashim, my moonlight, say,
+    Wilt thou go with me, or stay?"
+
+    Slowly, sadly, half-afraid,
+    Half-regretfully, the maid
+    Owned the ties of blood and race,
+    Turned from Squando's pleading face.
+
+    Not a word the Indian spoke,
+    But his wampum chain he broke,
+    And the beaded wonder hung
+    On that neck so fair and young.
+
+    Silence-shod, as phantoms seem
+    In the marches of a dream,
+    Single-filed, the grim array
+    Through the pine-trees wound away.
+
+    Doubting, trembling, sore amazed,
+    Through her tears the young child gazed.
+    "God preserve her!" Waldron said;
+    "Satan hath bewitched the maid!"
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Years went and came. At close of day
+    Singing came a child from play,
+    Tossing from her loose-locked head
+    Gold in sunshine, brown in shade.
+
+    Pride was in the mother's look,
+    But her head she gravely shook,
+    And with lips that fondly smiled
+    Feigned to chide her truant child.
+
+    Unabashed the maid began:
+    "Up and down the brook I ran,
+    Where, beneath the bank so steep,
+    Lie the spotted trout asleep.
+
+    "'Chip!' went squirrel on the wall,
+    After me I heard him call,
+    And the cat-bird on the tree
+    Tried his best to mimic me.
+
+    "Where the hemlocks grew so dark,
+    That I stopped to look and hark,
+    On a log, with feather-hat,
+    By the path, an Indian sat.
+
+    "Then I cried, and ran away;
+    But he called and bade me stay;
+    And his voice was good and mild
+    As my mother's to her child.
+
+    "And he took my wampum chain,
+    Looked and looked it o'er again;
+    Gave me berries, and, beside,
+    On my neck a plaything tied."
+
+    Straight the mother stooped to see
+    What the Indian's gift might be.
+    On the braid of wampum hung,
+    Lo! a cross of silver swung.
+
+    Well she knew its graven sign,
+    Squando's bird and totem pine;
+    And, a mirage of the brain,
+    Flowed her childhood back again.
+
+    Flashed the roof the sunshine through,
+    Into space the walls outgrew,
+    On the Indian's wigwam mat
+    Blossom-crowned again she sat.
+
+    Cool she felt the west wind blow,
+    In her ear the pines sang low,
+    And, like links from out a chain,
+    Dropped the years of care and pain.
+
+    From the outward toil and din,
+    From the griefs that gnaw within,
+    To the freedom of the woods
+    Called the birds and winds and floods.
+
+    Well, O painful minister,
+    Watch thy flock, but blame not her,
+    If her ear grew sharp to hear
+    All their voices whispering near.
+
+    Blame her not, as to her soul
+    All the desert's glamour stole,
+    That a tear for childhood's loss
+    Dropped upon the Indian's cross.
+
+    When, that night, the Book was read,
+    And she bowed her widowed head,
+    And a prayer for each loved name
+    Rose like incense from a flame,
+
+    To the listening ear of Heaven,
+    Lo! another name was given:
+    "Father! give the Indian rest!
+    Bless him! for his love has blest!"
+
+
+
+
+THE MAROONS OF JAMAICA.
+
+
+The Maroons! it was a word of peril once; and terror spread along the
+skirts of the blue mountains of Jamaica, when some fresh foray of those
+unconquered guerrillas swept down upon the outlying plantations,
+startled the Assembly from its order, General Williamson from his
+billiards, and Lord Balcarres from his diplomatic ease,--endangering,
+according to the official statement, "public credit," "civil rights,"
+and "the prosperity, if not the very existence of the country," until
+they were "persuaded to make peace" at last. They were the Circassians
+of the New World; but they were black, instead of white; and as the
+Circassians refused to be transferred from the Sultan to the Czar, so
+the Maroons refused to be transferred from Spanish dominion to English,
+and thus their revolt began. The difference is, that, while the white
+mountaineers numbered four hundred thousand, and only defied Nicholas,
+the black mountaineers numbered less than two thousand, and defied
+Cromwell; and while the Circassians, after thirty years of revolt, seem
+now at last subdued, the Maroons, on the other hand, who rebelled in
+1655, were never conquered, but only made a compromise of allegiance,
+and exist as a separate race to-day.
+
+When Admirals Penn and Venables landed in Jamaica, in 1655, there was
+not a remnant left of the sixty thousand natives whom the Spaniards had
+found there a century and a half before. Their pitiful tale is told only
+by those caves, still known among the mountains, where thousands of
+human skeletons strew the ground. In their place dwelt two foreign
+races,--an effeminate, ignorant, indolent white community of fifteen
+hundred, with a black slave population quite as large and infinitely
+more hardy and energetic. The Spaniards were readily subdued by the
+English,--the negroes remained unsubdued; the slaveholders were banished
+from the island,--the slaves only banished themselves to the mountains:
+thence the English could not dislodge them, nor the buccaneers, whom the
+English employed. And when Jamaica subsided into a British colony, and
+peace was made with Spain, and the children of Cromwell's Puritan
+soldiers were beginning to grow rich by importing slaves for Roman
+Catholic Spaniards, the Maroons still held their own wild empire in the
+mountains, and, being sturdy heathens every one, practised Obeah rites
+in approved pagan fashion.
+
+The word Maroon is derived, according to one etymology, from the
+Spanish word _Marrano_, a wild-boar,--these fugitives being all
+boar-hunters,--according to another, from _Marony_, a river separating
+French and Dutch Guiana, where a colony of them dwelt and still dwells;
+and by another still, from _Cimarron_, a word meaning untamable, and
+used alike for apes and runaway slaves. But whether these
+rebel-marauders were regarded as monkeys or men, they made themselves
+equally formidable. As early as 1663, the Governor and Council of
+Jamaica offered to each Maroon, who should surrender, his freedom and
+twenty acres of land; but not one accepted the terms. During forty
+years, forty-four acts of Assembly were passed in respect to them, and
+at least a quarter of a million pounds sterling were expended in the
+warfare against them. In 1733, the force employed against them consisted
+of two regiments of regular troops and the whole militia of the island,
+and the Assembly said that "the Maroons had within a few years greatly
+increased, notwithstanding all the measures that had been concerted for
+their suppression," "to the great terror of his Majesty's subjects," and
+"to the manifest weakening and preventing the further increase of the
+strength and inhabitants of the island."
+
+The special affair in progress, at the time of these statements, was
+called Cudjoe's War. Cudjoe was a gentleman of extreme brevity and
+blackness, whose full-length portrait can hardly be said to adorn
+Dallas's History; but he was as formidable a guerrilla as Marion. Under
+his leadership, the various bodies of fugitives were consolidated into
+one force and thoroughly organized. Cudjoe, like Schamyl, was religious
+as well as military head of his people; by Obeah influence he
+established a thorough freemasonry among both slaves and insurgents; no
+party could be sent forth by the government but he knew it in time to
+lay an ambush, or descend with fire and sword on the region left
+unprotected. He was thus always supplied with arms and ammunition; and
+as his men were perfect marksmen, never wasted a shot and never risked a
+battle, his forces naturally increased while those of his opponents were
+decimated. His men were never captured, and never took a prisoner; it
+was impossible to tell when they were defeated; in dealing with them, as
+Pelissier said of the Arabs, "peace was not purchased by victory"; and
+the only men who could obtain the slightest advantage against them were
+the imported Mosquito Indians, or the "Black Shot," a company of
+government negroes. For nine full years this particular war continued
+unchecked, General Williamson ruling Jamaica by day and Cudjoe by night.
+
+The rebels had every topographical advantage, for they held possession
+of the "Cockpits." Those highlands are furrowed through and through, as
+by an earthquake, with a series of gaps or ravines, resembling the
+California ca�ons, or those similar fissures in various parts of the
+Atlantic States, known to local fame either poetically as ice-glens, or
+symbolically as purgatories. These chasms vary from two hundred yards to
+a mile in length; the rocky walls are fifty or a hundred feet high, and
+often absolutely inaccessible, while the passes at each end admit but
+one man at a time. They are thickly wooded, wherever trees can grow;
+water flows within them; and they often communicate with one another,
+forming a series of traps for an invading force. Tired and thirsty with
+climbing, the weary soldiers toil on, in single file, without seeing or
+hearing an enemy; up the steep and winding path they traverse one
+"cockpit," then enter another. Suddenly a shot is fired from the dense
+and sloping forest on the right, then another and another, each dropping
+its man; the startled troops face hastily in that direction, when a more
+murderous volley is poured from the other side; the heights above flash
+with musketry, while the precipitous path by which they came seems to
+close in fire behind them. By the time the troops have formed in some
+attempt at military order, the woods around them are empty, and their
+agile and noiseless foes have settled themselves into ambush again,
+farther up the defile, ready for a second attack, if needed. But one is
+usually sufficient;--disordered, exhausted, bearing their wounded with
+them, the soldiers retreat in panic, if permitted to escape at all, and
+carry fresh dismay to the barracks, the plantations, and the Government
+House.
+
+It is not strange, then, that high military authorities, at that period,
+should have pronounced the subjugation of the Maroons a thing more
+difficult than to obtain a victory over any army in Europe. Moreover,
+these people were fighting for their liberty, with which aim no form of
+warfare could be unjustifiable; and the description given by Lafayette
+of the American Revolution was true of this one,--"the grandest of
+causes, won by contests of sentinels and outposts." The utmost hope of a
+British officer, ordered against the Maroons, was to lay waste a
+provision-ground or cut them off from water. But there was little
+satisfaction in this; the wild pine-leaves and the grapevine-withes
+supplied the rebels with water, and their plantation-grounds were the
+wild pine-apple and the plantain groves, and the forests, where the
+wild-boars harbored and the ringdoves were as easily shot as if they
+were militia-men. Nothing but sheer weariness of fighting seems to have
+brought about a truce at last, and then a treaty, between those high
+contracting parties, Cudjoe and General Williamson.
+
+But how to execute a treaty between these wild Children of the Mist and
+respectable diplomatic Englishmen? To establish any official relations
+without the medium of a preliminary bullet required some ingenuity of
+manoeuvring. Cudjoe was willing, but inconveniently cautious; he would
+not come half-way to meet any one; nothing would content him but an
+interview in his own chosen cockpit. So he selected one of the most
+difficult passes, posting in the forests a series of outlying parties,
+to signal with their horns, one by one, the approach of the
+plenipotentiaries, and then to retire on the main body. Through this
+line of perilous signals, therefore, Colonel Guthrie and his handful of
+men bravely advanced; horn after horn they heard sounded, but there was
+no other human noise in the woods, and they had advanced till they saw
+the smoke of the Maroon huts before they caught a glimpse of a human
+form.
+
+A conversation was at last opened with the invisible rebels. On their
+promise of safety, Dr. Russell advanced alone to treat with them, then
+several Maroons appeared, and finally Cudjoe himself. The formidable
+chief was not highly military in appearance, being short, fat,
+humpbacked, dressed in a tattered blue coat without skirts or sleeves,
+and an old felt hat without a rim. But if he had blazed with regimental
+scarlet, he could not have been treated with more distinguished
+consideration; indeed, in that case, "the exchange of hats" with which
+Dr. Russell finally volunteered, in Maroon fashion, to ratify
+negotiations, would have been a less severe test of good fellowship.
+This fine stroke of diplomacy had its effect, therefore; the rebel
+captains agreed to a formal interview with Colonel Guthrie and Captain
+Sadler, and a treaty was at last executed with all due solemnity, under
+a large cotton-tree at the entrance of Guthrie's Defile. This treaty
+recognized the military rank of Captain Cudjoe, Captain Accompong, and
+the rest; gave assurance that the Maroons should be "forever hereafter
+in a perfect state of freedom and liberty"; ceded to them fifteen
+hundred acres of land; and stipulated only that they should keep the
+peace, should harbor no fugitive from justice or from slavery, and
+should allow two white commissioners to remain among them, simply to
+represent the British government.
+
+During the following year a separate treaty was made with another large
+body of insurgents, called the Windward Maroons. This was not effected,
+however, until after an unsuccessful military attempt, in which the
+mountaineers gained a signal triumph. By artful devices,--a few fires
+left burning, with old women to watch them,--a few provision-grounds
+exposed by clearing away the bushes,--they lured the troops far up among
+the mountains, and then surprised them by an ambush. The militia all
+fled, and the regulars took refuge under a large cliff in a stream,
+where they remained four hours up to their waists in water, until
+finally they forded the river, under full fire, with terrible loss.
+Three months after this, however, the Maroons consented to an amicable
+interview, exchanging hostages first. The position of the white hostage,
+at least, was not the most agreeable; he complained that he was beset by
+the women and children, with indignant cries of "Buckra, Buckra," while
+the little boys pointed their fingers at him as if stabbing him, and
+that with evident relish. However, Captain Quao, like Captain Cudjoe,
+made a treaty at last, and hats were interchanged instead of hostages.
+
+Independence being thus won and acknowledged, there was a suspension of
+hostilities for some years. Among the wild mountains of Jamaica, the
+Maroons dwelt in a savage freedom. So healthful and beautiful was the
+situation of their chief town, that the English government has erected
+barracks there of late years, as being the most salubrious situation on
+the island. They breathed an air ten degrees cooler than that inhaled by
+the white population below, and they lived on a daintier diet, so that
+the English epicures used to go up among them for good living. The
+mountaineers caught the strange land-crabs, plodding in companies of
+millions their sidelong path from mountain to ocean, and from ocean to
+mountain again. They hunted the wild-boars, and prepared the flesh by
+salting and smoking it in layers of aromatic leaves, the delicious
+"jerked hog" of Buccaneer annals. They reared cattle and poultry,
+cultivated corn and yams, plantains and cocoas, guavas and papaws and
+mameys and avocados and all luxurious West Indian fruits; the very weeds
+of their orchards had tropical luxuriance in their fragrance and in
+their names; and from the doors of their little thatched huts they
+looked across these gardens of delight to the magnificent lowland
+forests, and over those again to the faint line of far-off beach, the
+fainter ocean-horizon, and the illimitable sky.
+
+They had senses like those of our Indians, tracked each other by the
+smell of the smoke of fires in the air, and called to each other by
+horns, using a special note to designate each of their comrades, and
+distinguishing it beyond the range of ordinary hearing. They spoke
+English diluted with Spanish and African words, and practised Obeah
+rites quite undiluted with Christianity. Of course they associated
+largely with the slaves, without any very precise regard to treaty
+stipulations; sometimes brought in fugitives, and sometimes concealed
+them; left their towns and settled on the planters' lands, when they
+preferred them, but were quite orderly and luxuriously happy. During the
+formidable insurrection of the Koromantyn slaves, in 1760, they played a
+dubious part: when left to go on their own way, they did something
+towards suppressing it,--but when placed under the guns of the troops
+and ordered to fire on those of their own color, they threw themselves
+on the ground without discharging a shot. Nevertheless, they gradually
+came up into rather reputable standing; they grew more and more
+industrious and steady; and after they had joined very heartily in
+resisting D'Estaing's threatened invasion of the island in 1779, it
+became the fashion to speak of "our faithful and affectionate Maroons."
+
+In 1795, their position was as follows:--Their numbers had not
+materially increased, for many had strayed off and settled on the
+outskirts of plantations,--nor materially diminished, for many runaway
+slaves had joined them,--while there were also separate settlements of
+fugitives, who had maintained their freedom for twenty years. The white
+superintendents had lived with the Maroons in perfect harmony, without
+the slightest official authority, but with a great deal of actual
+influence. But there was an "irrepressible conflict" behind all this
+apparent peace, and the slightest occasion might at any moment revive
+all the Old terror. That occasion was close at hand.
+
+Captain Cudjoe and Captain Accompong and the other founders of Maroon
+independence had passed away, and "Old Montagu" reigned in their stead,
+in Trelawney Town. Old Montagu had all the pomp and circumstance of
+Maroon majesty; he wore a laced red coat, and a hat superb with
+gold-lace and plumes; none but captains could sit in his presence; he
+was helped first at meals, and no woman could eat beside him; he
+presided at councils as magnificently as at table, though with less
+appetite;--and possessed, meanwhile, not an atom of the love or
+reverence of any human being. The real power lay entirely with Major
+James, the white superintendent, who had been brought up among the
+Maroons by his father (and predecessor), and who was the idol of this
+wild race. In an evil hour, the government removed him, and put a
+certain unpopular Captain Craskell in his place; and as there happened
+to be, about the same time, a great excitement concerning a hopeful pair
+of young Maroons who had been seized and publicly whipped, on a charge
+of hog-stealing, their kindred refused to allow the new superintendent
+to remain in the town. A few attempts at negotiation only brought them
+to a higher pitch of wrath, which ended in their despatching the
+following remarkable diplomatic note to the Earl of Balcarres:--"The
+Maroons wishes nothing else from the country but battle, and they
+desires not to see Mr. Craskell up here at all. So they are waiting
+every moment for the above on Monday. Mr. David Schaw will see you on
+Sunday morning for an answer. They will wait till Monday, nine o'clock,
+and if they don't come up, they will come down themselves." Signed,
+"Colonel Montagu and all the rest."
+
+It turned out, at last, that only two or three of the Maroons were
+concerned in this remarkable defiance; but meanwhile it had its effect.
+Several ambassadors were sent among the insurgents, and were so
+favorably impressed by their reception as to make up a subscription of
+money for their hosts, on departing; only the "gallant Colonel
+Gallimore," a Jamaica Camillus, gave iron instead of gold, by throwing
+some bullets into the contribution-box. And it was probably in
+accordance with his view of the subject, that, when the Maroons sent
+ambassadors in return, they were at once imprisoned, most injudiciously
+and unjustly; and when Old Montagu himself and thirty-seven others,
+following, were seized and imprisoned also, it is not strange that the
+Maroons, joined by many slaves, were soon in open insurrection.
+
+Martial law was instantly proclaimed throughout the island. The
+fighting-men among the insurgents were not, perhaps, more than five
+hundred; against whom the government could bring nearly fifteen hundred
+regular troops and several thousand militia-men. Lord Balcarres himself
+took the command, and, eager to crush the affair, promptly marched a
+large force up to Trelawney Town, and was glad to march back again as
+expeditiously as possible. In his very first attack, he was miserably
+defeated, and had to fly for his life, amid a perfect panic of the
+troops, in which some forty or fifty were killed,--including Colonel
+Sandford, commanding the regulars, and the bullet-loving Colonel
+Gallimore, in command of the militia,--while not a single Maroon was
+even wounded, so far as could be ascertained.
+
+After this a good deal of bush-fighting took place. The troops gradually
+got possession of several Maroon villages, but not till every hut had
+been burnt by its owner. It was in the height of the rainy season, and,
+between fire and water, the discomfort of the soldiers was enormous.
+Meanwhile the Maroons hovered close around them in the woods, heard all
+their orders, picked off their sentinels, and, penetrating through their
+lines at night, burned houses and destroyed plantations, far below. The
+only man who could cope with their peculiar tactics was Major James, the
+superintendent just removed by government,--and his services were not
+employed, as he was not trusted. On one occasion, however, he led a
+volunteer party farther into the mountains than any of the assailants
+had yet penetrated, guided by tracks known to himself only, and by the
+smell of the smoke of Maroon fires. After a very exhausting march,
+including a climb of a hundred and fifty feet up the face of a
+precipice, he brought them just within the entrance of Guthrie's Defile.
+"So far," said he, pointing to the entrance, "you may pursue, but no
+farther; no force can enter here; no white man except myself, or some
+soldier of the Maroon establishment, has ever gone beyond this. With the
+greatest difficulty I have penetrated four miles farther, and not ten
+Maroons have gone so far as that. There are two other ways of getting
+into the defile, practicable for the Maroons, but not for any one of
+you. In neither of them can I ascend or descend with my arms, which must
+be handed to me, step by step, as practised by the Maroons themselves.
+One of the ways lies to the eastward, and the other to the westward; and
+they will take care to have both guarded, if they suspect that I am with
+you; which, from the route you have come to-day, they will. They now see
+you, and if you advance fifty paces more, they will convince you of it."
+At this moment a Maroon horn sounded the notes indicating his name, and,
+as he made no answer, a voice was heard, inquiring if he were among
+them. "If he is," said the voice, "let him go back, we do not wish to
+hurt him; but as for the rest of you, come on and try battle, if you
+choose." But the gentlemen did not choose.
+
+In September the House of Assembly met. Things were looking worse and
+worse. For five months a handful of negroes and mulattoes had defied the
+whole force of the island; and they were defending their liberty by
+precisely the same tactics through which their ancestors had won it.
+Half a million pounds sterling had been spent within this time, besides
+the enormous loss incurred by the withdrawal of so many able-bodied men
+from their regular employments. "Cultivation was suspended," says an
+eye-witness; "the courts of law had long been shut up; and the island at
+large seemed more like a garrison under the power of law-martial, than a
+country of agriculture and commerce, of civil judicature, industry, and
+prosperity." Hundreds of the militia had died of fatigue, large numbers
+had been shot down, the most daring of the British officers had fallen,
+while the insurgents had been invariably successful, and not one of them
+was known to have been killed. Captain Craskell, the banished
+superintendent, gave it to the Assembly as his opinion, that the whole
+slave population of the island was in sympathy with the Maroons, and
+would soon be beyond control. More alarming still, there were rumors of
+French emissaries behind the scenes; and though these were explained
+away, the vague terror remained. Indeed, the Lieutenant-Governor
+announced in his message that he had satisfactory evidence that the
+French Convention was concerned in the revolt. A French prisoner named
+Murenson had testified that the French agent at Philadelphia (Fauchet)
+had secretly sent a hundred and fifty emissaries to the island, and
+threatened to land fifteen hundred negroes. And though Murenson took it
+all back at last, yet the Assembly was moved to make a new offer of
+three hundred dollars for killing or taking a Trelawney Maroon, and a
+hundred and fifty dollars for killing or taking any fugitive slave who
+had joined them. They also voted five hundred pounds as a gratuity to
+the Accompong tribe of Maroons, who had thus far kept out of the
+insurrection; and various prizes and gratuities were also offered by the
+different parishes, with the same object of self-protection.
+
+The commander-in-chief being among the killed, Colonel Walpole was
+promoted in his stead, and brevetted as General, by way of incentive. He
+found a people in despair, a soldiery thoroughly intimidated, and a
+treasury, not empty, but useless. But the new general had not served
+against the Maroons for nothing, and was not ashamed to go to school to
+his opponents. First, he waited for the dry season; then he directed all
+his efforts towards cutting off his opponents from water; and, most
+effectual move of all, he attacked each successive cockpit by dragging
+up a howitzer, with immense labor, and throwing in shells. Shells were a
+visitation not dreamed of in Maroon philosophy, and their quaint
+compliments to their new opponent remain on record. "Damn dat little
+buckra!" they said; "he cunning more dan dem toder. Dis here da new
+fashion for fight: him fire big ball arter you, and when big ball 'top,
+de damn sunting (something) fire arter you again." With which Parthian
+arrows of rhetoric the mountaineers retreated.
+
+But this did not last long. The Maroons soon learned to keep out of the
+way of the shells, and the island relapsed into terror again. It was
+deliberately resolved at last, by a special council convoked for the
+purpose, "to persuade the rebels to make peace." But as they had not as
+yet shown themselves very accessible to softer influences, it was
+thought best to combine as many arguments as possible, and a certain
+Colonel Quarrell had hit upon a wholly new one. His plan simply was,
+since men, however well disciplined, had proved powerless against
+Maroons, to try a Spanish fashion against them, and use dogs. The
+proposition was met, in some quarters, with the strongest hostility.
+England, it was said, had always denounced the Spaniards as brutal and
+dastardly for hunting down the natives of that very soil with
+hounds,--and should England now follow the humiliating example? On the
+other side, there were plenty who eagerly quoted all known instances of
+zo�logical warfare: all Oriental nations, for instance, used elephants
+in war, and no doubt would gladly use lions and tigers, also, but for
+their extreme carnivorousness, and their painful indifference to the
+distinction between friend and foe;--why not, then, use these dogs,
+comparatively innocent and gentle creatures? At any rate, "something
+must be done"; the final argument always used, when a bad or desperate
+project is to be made palatable. So it was voted at last to send to
+Havana for an invoice of Spanish dogs, with their accompanying
+chasseurs, and the efforts at persuading the Maroons were postponed till
+the arrival of these additional persuasives. And when Colonel Quarrell
+finally set sail as commissioner to obtain the new allies, all scruples
+of conscience vanished in the renewal of public courage and the chorus
+of popular gratitude; a thing so desirable must be right; thrice were
+they armed who knew their Quarrell just.
+
+But after the parting notes of gratitude died away in the distance, the
+commissioner began to discover that he was to have a hard time of it. He
+sailed for Havana in a schooner manned with Spanish renegadoes, who
+insisted on fighting everything that came in their way,--first a Spanish
+schooner, then a French one. He landed at Batabano, struck across the
+mountains towards Havana, stopped at Besucal to call on the wealthy
+Marquesa de San Felipe y San Jorge, grand patroness of dogs and
+chasseurs, and finally was welcomed to Havana by Don Luis de las Casas,
+who overlooked, for this occasion only, an injunction of his court
+against admitting foreigners within his government,--"the only
+accustomed exception being," as Don Luis courteously assured him, "in
+favor of foreign traders who came with new negroes." To be sure, the
+commissioner had not brought any of these commodities, but then he had
+come to obtain the means of capturing some, and so might pass for an
+irregular practitioner of the privileged profession.
+
+Accordingly, Don Guillermo Dawes Quarrell (so ran his passport) found no
+difficulty in obtaining permission from the governor to buy as many dogs
+as he desired. When, however, he carelessly hinted at the necessity of
+taking, also, a few men who should have care of the dogs,--this being,
+after all, the essential part of his expedition,--Don Luis de las Casas
+put on instantly a double force of courtesy, and assured him of the
+entire impossibility of recruiting a single Spaniard for English
+service. Finally, however, he gave permission and passports for six
+chasseurs. Under cover of this, the commissioner lost no time in
+enlisting forty; he got them safe to Batabano, but at the last moment,
+learning the state of affairs, they refused to embark on such very
+irregular authority. When he had persuaded them, at length, the officer
+of the fort interposed objections. This was not to be borne, so Don
+Guillermo bribed him and silenced him; a dragoon was, however, sent to
+report to the governor; Don Guillermo sent a messenger after him and
+bribed him, too; and thus, at length, after myriad rebuffs, and after
+being obliged to spend the last evening at a puppet-show, in which the
+principal figure was a burlesque on his own personal peculiarities, the
+weary Don Guillermo, with his crew of renegadoes, and his forty
+chasseurs and their one hundred and four muzzled dogs, set sail for
+Jamaica.
+
+These new allies were certainly something formidable, if we may trust
+the pictures and descriptions in Dallas's History. The chasseur was a
+tall, meagre, swarthy Spaniard or mulatto, lightly clad in cotton shirt
+and drawers, with broad straw-hat and moccasins of raw hide; his belt
+sustaining his long, straight, flat sword or _machete_, like an iron bar
+sharpened at one end; and he wore by the same belt three cotton leashes
+for his three dogs, sometimes held also by chains. The dogs were a
+fierce breed, crossed between hound and mastiff, never unmuzzled but for
+attack, and accompanied by smaller dogs called _finders_. It is no
+wonder, when these wild and powerful creatures were landed at Montego
+Bay, that terror ran through the town, doors were everywhere closed and
+windows crowded, not a negro dared to stir, and the muzzled dogs,
+infuriated by confinement on shipboard, filled the silent streets with
+their noisy barking and the rattling of their chains.
+
+How much would have come of all this in actual conflict does not appear.
+The Maroons had already been persuaded to make peace upon certain
+conditions and guaranties,--a decision probably accelerated by the
+terrible rumors of the bloodhounds, though they never saw them. It was
+the declared opinion of the Assembly, confirmed by that of General
+Walpole, that "nothing could be clearer than that, if they had been off
+the island, the rebels could not have been induced to surrender."
+Nevertheless a treaty was at last made, without the direct intervention
+of the quadrupeds. Again commissioners went up among the mountains to
+treat with negotiators at first invisible; again were hats and jackets
+interchanged, not without coy reluctance on the part of the well-dressed
+Englishmen; and a solemn agreement was effected. The most essential part
+of the bargain was a guaranty of continued independence, demanded by the
+suspicious Maroons. General Walpole, however, promptly pledged himself
+that no such unfair advantage should be taken of them as had occurred
+with the hostages previously surrendered, who were placed in irons, nor
+should any attempt be made to remove them from the island. It is painful
+to add, that this promise was outrageously violated by the Colonial
+government, to the lasting grief of General Walpole, on the ground that
+the Maroons had violated the treaty by a slight want of punctuality in
+complying with its terms, and by remissness in restoring the fugitive
+slaves who had taken refuge among them. As many of the tribe as
+surrendered, therefore, were at once placed in confinement, and
+ultimately shipped from Port Royal to Halifax, to the number of six
+hundred, on the 6th of June, 1796. For the credit of English honor, we
+rejoice to know that General Walpole not merely protested against this
+utter breach of faith, but indignantly declined the sword of honor which
+the Assembly voted him in its gratitude, and retired from military
+service forever.
+
+The remaining career of this portion of the Maroons is easily told. They
+were first dreaded by the inhabitants of Halifax; then welcomed, when
+seen; and promptly set to work on the citadel, then in process of
+reconstruction, where the "Maroon Bastion" still remains,--their only
+visible memorial. Two commissioners had charge of them, one being the
+redoubtable Colonel Quarrell, and twenty-five thousand pounds were
+appropriated for their temporary support. Of course they did not
+prosper; pensioned colonists never do, for they are not compelled into
+habits of industry. After their delicious life in the mountains of
+Jamaica, it seemed rather monotonous to dwell upon that barren
+soil,--for theirs was such that two previous colonies had deserted
+it,--and in a climate where winter lasts seven months in the year. They
+had a schoolmaster, and he was also a preacher; but they did not seem to
+appreciate that luxury of civilization,--utterly refusing, on grounds of
+conscience, to forsake polygamy, and, on grounds of personal comfort, to
+listen to the doctrinal discourses of their pastor, who was an ardent
+Sandemanian. They smoked their pipes during service-time, and left Old
+Montagu, who still survived, to lend a vicarious attention to the
+sermon. One discourse he briefly reported as follows, very much to the
+point:--"Massa parson say no mus tief, no mus meddle wid somebody wife,
+no mus quarrel, mus set down softly." So they sat down very softly, and
+showed an extreme unwillingness to get up again. But, not being
+naturally an idle race, (at least, in Jamaica the objection lay rather
+on the other side,) they soon grew tired of this inaction. Distrustful
+of those about them, suspicious of all attempts to scatter them among
+the community at large, frozen by the climate, and constantly
+petitioning for removal to a milder one, they finally wearied out all
+patience. A long dispute ensued between the authorities of Nova Scotia
+and Jamaica, as to which was properly responsible for their support; and
+thus the heroic race, that for a century and a half had sustained
+themselves in freedom in Jamaica, were reduced to the position of
+troublesome and impracticable paupers, shuttlecocks between two selfish
+parishes. So passed their unfortunate lives, until, in 1800, their
+reduced population was transported to Sierra Leone, at a cost of six
+thousand pounds, since which they disappear from history.
+
+It was judged best not to interfere with those bodies of Maroons which
+had kept aloof from the late outbreak, as the Accompong settlement, and
+others. They continued to preserve a qualified independence, and retain
+it even now. In 1835, two years after the abolition of slavery in
+Jamaica, there were reported sixty families of Maroons as residing at
+Accompong Town, eighty families at Moore Town, one hundred and ten
+families at Charles Town, and twenty families at Scott Hall, making two
+hundred and seventy families in all,--each station being, as of old,
+under the charge of a superintendent. But there can be little doubt,
+that, under the influences of freedom, they are rapidly intermingling
+with the mass of colored population in Jamaica.
+
+The story of the exiled Maroons attracted attention in high quarters, in
+its time; the wrongs done to them were denounced in Parliament by
+Sheridan and mourned by Wilberforce; while the employment of bloodhounds
+against them was vindicated by Dundas, and the whole conduct of the
+Colonial government defended, through thick and thin, by Bryan Edwards.
+This thorough partisan even had the assurance to tell Mr. Wilberforce,
+in Parliament, that he knew the Maroons, from personal knowledge, to be
+cannibals, and that, if a missionary were sent among them in Nova
+Scotia, they would immediately eat him; a charge so absurd that he did
+not venture to repeat it in his History of the West Indies, though his
+injustice to the Maroons is even there so glaring as to provoke the
+indignation of the more moderate Dallas. But, in spite of Mr. Edwards,
+the public indignation ran quite high, in England, against the
+bloodhounds and their employers, so that the home ministry found it
+necessary to send a severe reproof to the Colonial government. For a few
+years the tales of the Maroons thus emerged from mere colonial annals,
+and found their way into Annual Registers and Parliamentary
+Debates,--but they have vanished from popular memory now. Their record
+still retains its interest, however, as that of one of the heroic races
+of the world; and all the more, because it is with their kindred that
+this nation has to deal, in solving the tremendous problem of
+incorporating their liberties with our own. We must remember the story
+of the Maroons, because we cannot afford to ignore a single historic
+fact which bears upon a question so momentous.
+
+
+
+
+THE PROFESSOR'S STORY.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+MR. BERNARD TRIES HIS HAND.
+
+Whether the Student advertised for a school, or whether he fell in with
+the advertisement of a school-committee, is not certain. At any rate, it
+was not long before he found himself the head of a large district, or,
+as it was called by the inhabitants, "deestric" school, in the
+flourishing inland village of Pequawkett, or, as it is commonly spelt,
+Pigwacket Centre. The natives of this place would be surprised, if they
+should hear that any of the readers of a periodical published in Boston
+were unacquainted with so remarkable a locality. As, however, some
+copies of this periodical may be read at a distance from this
+distinguished metropolis, it may be well to give a few particulars
+respecting the place, taken from the Universal Gazetteer.
+
+     "PIGWACKET, sometimes spelt Pequawkett. A post-village and
+     township in ---- Co., State of ----, situated in a fine
+     agricultural region, 2 thriving villages, Pigwacket Centre and
+     Smithville, 3 churches, several schoolhouses, and many handsome
+     private residences. Mink River runs through the town, navigable
+     for small boats after heavy rains. Muddy Pond at N. E. section,
+     well stocked with horned pouts, eels, and shiners. Products,
+     beef, pork, butter, cheese. Manufactures, shoe-pegs,
+     clothes-pins, and tin-ware. Pop. 1373."
+
+The reader may think there is nothing very remarkable implied in this
+description. If, however, he had read the town-history, by the Rev.
+Jabez Grubb, he would have learned, that, like the celebrated Little
+Pedlington, it was distinguished by many _very_ remarkable advantages.
+Thus:--
+
+     "The situation of Pigwacket is eminently beautiful, looking
+     down the lovely valley of Mink River, a tributary of the
+     Musquash. The air is salubrious, and many of the inhabitants
+     have attained great age, several having passed the allotted
+     period of 'three-score years and ten' before succumbing to any
+     of the various 'ills that flesh is heir to.' Widow Comfort
+     Leevins died in 1836, �t. LXXXVII. years. Venus, an African,
+     died in 1841, supposed to be C. years old. The people are
+     distinguished for intelligence, as has been frequently remarked
+     by eminent lyceum-lecturers, who have invariably spoken in the
+     highest terms of a Pigwacket audience. There is a public
+     library, containing nearly a hundred volumes, free to all
+     subscribers. The preached word is well attended, there is a
+     flourishing temperance society, and the schools are excellent.
+     It is a residence admirably adapted to refined families who
+     relish the beauties of Nature and the charms of society. The
+     Honorable John Smith, formerly a member of the State Senate,
+     was a native of this town."
+
+That is the way they all talk. After all, it is probably pretty much
+like other inland New England towns in point of "salubrity,"--that is,
+gives people their choice of dysentery or fever every autumn, with a
+season-ticket for consumption, good all the year round. And so of the
+other pretences. "Pigwacket audience," forsooth! Was there ever an
+audience anywhere, though there wasn't a pair of eyes in it brighter
+than pickled oysters, that didn't think it was "distinguished for
+intelligence"?--"The preach�d word"! That means the Rev. Jabez Grubb's
+sermons. "Temperance society"! "Excellent schools"! Ah, that is just
+what we were talking about.
+
+The truth was, that District No. 1, Pigwacket Centre, had had a good
+deal of trouble of late with its schoolmasters. The committee had done
+their best, but there were a number of well-grown and pretty rough young
+fellows who had got the upperhand of the masters, and meant to keep it.
+Two dynasties had fallen before the uprising of this fierce democracy.
+This was a thing that used to be not very uncommon; but in so
+"intelligent" a community as that of Pigwacket Centre, in an era of
+public libraries and lyceum-lectures, it was portentous and alarming.
+
+The rebellion began under the ferule of Master Weeks, a slender youth
+from a country college, under-fed, thin-blooded, sloping-shouldered,
+knock-kneed, straight-haired, weak-bearded, pale-eyed, wide-pupilled,
+half-colored; a common type enough in in-door races, not rich enough to
+pick and choose in their alliances. Nature kills off a good many of this
+sort in the first teething-time, a few in later childhood, a good many
+again in early adolescence; but every now and then one runs the gauntlet
+of her various diseases, or rather forms of one disease, and grows up,
+as Master Weeks had done.
+
+It was a very foolish thing for him to try to inflict personal
+punishment on such a lusty young fellow as Abner Briggs, Junior, one of
+the "hardest customers" in the way of a rough-and-tumble fight that
+there were anywhere round. No doubt he had been insolent, but it would
+have been better to overlook it. It pains me to report the events which
+took place when the master made his rash attempt to maintain his
+authority. Abner Briggs, Junior, was a great, hulking fellow, who had
+been bred to butchering, but urged by his parents to attend school, in
+order to learn the elegant accomplishments of reading and writing, in
+which he was sadly deficient. He was in the habit of talking and
+laughing pretty loud in school-hours, of throwing wads of paper reduced
+to a pulp by a natural and easy process, of occasional insolence and
+general negligence. One of the soft, but unpleasant missiles just
+alluded to, flew by the master's head one morning, and flattened itself
+against the wall, where it adhered in the form of a convex mass in _alto
+rilievo_. The master looked round and saw the young butcher's arm in an
+attitude which pointed to it unequivocally as the source from which the
+projectile had taken its flight.
+
+Master Weeks turned pale. He must "lick" Abner Briggs, Junior, or
+abdicate. So he determined to lick Abner Briggs, Junior.
+
+"Come here, Sir!" he said; "you have insulted me and outraged the
+decency of the schoolroom often enough! Hold out your hand!"
+
+The young fellow grinned and held it out. The master struck at it with
+his black ruler, with a will in the blow and a snapping of the eyes, as
+much as to say that he meant to make him smart this time. The young
+fellow pulled his hand back as the ruler came down, and the master hit
+himself a vicious blow with it on the right knee. There are things no
+man can stand. The master caught the refractory youth by the collar and
+began shaking him, or rather shaking himself against him.
+
+"Le' go o' that are coat, naow," said the fellow, "or I'll make ye!
+'T 'll take tew on ye t' handle me, I tell ye, 'n' then ye ca�nt dew
+it!"--and the young pupil returned the master's attention by catching
+hold of _his_ collar.
+
+When it comes to that, the _best man_, not exactly in the moral sense,
+but rather in the material, and more especially the muscular point of
+view, is very apt to have the best of it, irrespectively of the merits
+of the case. So it happened now. The unfortunate schoolmaster found
+himself taking the measure of the sanded floor, amid the general uproar
+of the school. From that moment his ferule was broken, and the
+school-committee very soon had a vacancy to fill.
+
+Master Pigeon, the successor of Master Weeks, was of better stature, but
+loosely put together, and slender-limbed. A dreadfully nervous kind of
+man he was, walked on tiptoe, started at sudden noises, was distressed
+when he heard a whisper, had a quick, suspicious look, and was always
+saying, "Hush!" and putting his hands to his ears. The boys were not
+long in finding out this nervous weakness, of course. In less than a
+week a regular system of torments was inaugurated, full of the most
+diabolical malice and ingenuity. The exercises of the conspirators
+varied from day to day, but consisted mainly of foot-scraping, solos on
+the slate-pencil, (making it _screech_ on the slate,) falling of heavy
+books, attacks of coughing, banging of desk-lids, boot-creaking, with
+sounds as of drawing a cork from time to time, followed by suppressed
+chuckles.
+
+Master Pigeon grew worse and worse under these inflictions. The rascally
+boys always had an excuse for any one trick they were caught at.
+"Couldn' help coughin', Sir." "Slipped out o' m' han', Sir." "Didn' go
+to, Sir." "Didn' dew 't o' purpose, Sir." And so on,--always the best of
+reasons for the most outrageous of behavior. The master weighed himself
+at the grocer's on a platform-balance, some ten days after he began
+keeping the school. At the end of a week he weighed himself again. He
+had lost two pounds. At the end of another week he had lost five. He
+made a little calculation, based on these data, from which he learned
+that in a certain number of months, going on at this rate, he should
+come to weigh precisely nothing at all; and as this was a sum in
+subtraction he did not care to work out in practice, Master Pigeon took
+to himself wings and left the school-committee in possession of a letter
+of resignation and a vacant place to fill once more.
+
+This was the school to which Mr. Bernard Langdon found himself appointed
+as master. He accepted the place conditionally, with the understanding
+that he should leave it at the end of a month, if he were tired of it.
+
+The advent of Master Langdon to Pigwacket Centre created a much more
+lively sensation than had attended that of either of his predecessors.
+Looks go a good ways all the world over, and though there were several
+good-looking people in the place, and Major Bush was what the natives of
+the town called a "hahnsome mahn," that is, big, fat, and red, yet the
+sight of a really elegant young fellow, with the natural air which grows
+up with carefully-bred young persons, was a novelty. The Brahmin blood
+which came from his grandfather as well as from his mother, a direct
+descendant of the old Flynt family, well known by the famous tutor,
+Henry Flynt, (see Cat. Harv. Anno 1693,) had been enlivened and enriched
+by that of the Wentworths, which had had a good deal of ripe old Madeira
+and other generous elements mingled with it, so that it ran to gout
+sometimes in the old folks, and to high spirit, warm complexion, and
+curly hair in some of the younger ones. The soft curling hair Mr.
+Bernard had inherited,--something, perhaps, of the high spirit; but that
+we shall have a chance of finding out by-and-by. But the long sermons
+and the frugal board of his Brahmin ancestry, with his own habits of
+study, had told upon his color, which was subdued to something more of
+delicacy than one would care to see in a young fellow with rough work
+before him. This, however, made him look more interesting, or, as the
+young ladies at Major Bush's said, "inter�stin'."
+
+When Mr. Bernard showed himself at meeting, on the first Sunday after
+his arrival, it may be supposed that a good many eyes were turned upon
+the young schoolmaster. There was something heroic in his coming forward
+so readily to take a place which called for a strong hand, and a prompt,
+steady will to guide it. In fact, his position was that of a military
+chieftain on the eve of a battle. Everybody knew everything in Pigwacket
+Centre; and it was an understood thing that the young rebels meant to
+put down the new master, if they could. It was natural that the two
+prettiest girls in the village, called in the local dialect, as nearly
+as our limited alphabet will represent it, Alminy Cutterr, and Arvilly
+Braowne, should feel and express an interest in the good-looking
+stranger, and that, when their flattering comments were repeated in the
+hearing of their indigenous admirers, among whom were some of the older
+"boys" of the school, it should not add to the amiable dispositions of
+the turbulent youth.
+
+Monday came, and the new schoolmaster was in his chair at the upper end
+of the schoolhouse, on the raised platform. The rustics looked at his
+handsome face, thoughtful, peaceful, pleasant, cheerful, but sharply cut
+round the lips and proudly lighted about the eyes. The ringleader of the
+mischief-makers, the young butcher who has before figured in this
+narrative, looked at him stealthily, whenever he got a chance to study
+him unobserved; for the truth was, he felt uncomfortable, whenever he
+found the large, dark eyes fixed on his own little, sharp, deep-set,
+gray ones. But he found means to study him pretty well,--first his face,
+then his neck and shoulders, the set of his arms, the narrowing at the
+loins, the make of his legs, and the way he moved. In short, he examined
+him as he would have examined a steer, to see what he could do and how
+he would cut up. If he could only have gone to him and felt of his
+muscles, he would have been entirely satisfied. He was not a very wise
+youth, but he did know well enough, that, though big arms and legs are
+very good things, there is something besides size that goes to make a
+man; and he had heard stories of a fighting-man, called "The Spider,"
+from his attenuated proportions, who was yet a terrible hitter in the
+ring, and had whipped many a big-limbed fellow in and out of the roped
+arena.
+
+Nothing could be smoother than the way in which everything went on for
+the first day or two. The new master was so kind and courteous, he
+seemed to take everything in such a natural, easy way, that there was no
+chance to pick a quarrel with him. He in the mean time thought it best
+to watch the boys and young men for a day or two with as little show of
+authority as possible. It was easy enough to see that he would have
+occasion for it before long.
+
+The schoolhouse was a grim, old, red, one-story building, perched on a
+bare rock at the top of a hill,--partly because this was a conspicuous
+site for the temple of learning, and partly because land is cheap where
+there is no chance even for rye or buckwheat, and the very sheep find
+nothing to nibble. About the little porch were carved initials and
+dates, at various heights, from the stature of nine to that of eighteen.
+Inside were old unpainted desks,--unpainted, but browned with the umber
+of human contact,--and hacked by innumerable jackknives. It was long
+since the walls had been whitewashed, as might be conjectured by the
+various traces left upon them, wherever idle hands or sleepy heads could
+reach them. A curious appearance was noticeable on various higher parts
+of the wall, namely, a wart-like eruption, as one would be tempted to
+call it, being in reality a crop of the soft missiles before mentioned,
+which, adhering in considerable numbers, and hardening after the usual
+fashion of _papier mach�_, formed at last permanent ornaments of the
+edifice.
+
+The young master's quick eye soon noticed that a particular part of the
+wall was most favored with these ornamental appendages. Their position
+pointed sufficiently clearly to the part of the room they came from. In
+fact, there was a nest of young mutineers just there, which must be
+broken up by a _coup d'�tat_. This was easily effected by redistributing
+the seats and arranging the scholars according to classes, so that a
+mischievous fellow, charged full of the rebellious imponderable, should
+find himself between two non-conductors, in the shape of small boys of
+studious habits. It was managed quietly enough, in such a plausible sort
+of way that its motive was not thought of. But its effects were soon
+felt; and then began a system of correspondence by signs, and the
+throwing of little scrawls done up in pellets, and announced by
+preliminary _a'h'ms!_ to call the attention of the distant youth
+addressed. Some of these were incendiary documents, devoting the
+schoolmaster to the lower divinities, as "a ---- stuck-up dandy," as "a
+---- purse-proud aristocrat," as "a ---- sight too big for his, etc.,"
+and holding him up in a variety of equally forcible phrases to the
+indignation of the youthful community of School District No. 1,
+Pigwacket Centre.
+
+Presently the draughtsman of the school set a caricature in circulation,
+labelled, to prevent mistakes, with the schoolmaster's name. An immense
+bell-crowned hat, and a long, pointed, swallow-tailed coat showed that
+the artist had in his mind the conventional dandy, as shown in prints of
+thirty or forty years ago, rather than any actual human aspect of the
+time. But it was passed round among the boys and made its laugh, helping
+of course to undermine the master's authority, as "Punch" or the
+"Charivari" takes the dignity out of an obnoxious minister. One morning,
+on going to the schoolroom, Master Langdon found an enlarged copy of
+this sketch, with its label, pinned on the door. He took it down, smiled
+a little, put it into his pocket, and entered the schoolroom. An
+insidious silence prevailed, which looked as if some plot were brewing.
+The boys were ripe for mischief, but afraid. They had really no fault to
+find with the master, except that he was dressed like a gentleman, which
+a certain class of fellows always consider a personal insult to
+themselves. But the older ones were evidently plotting, and more than
+once the warning _a'h'm!_ was heard, and a dirty little scrap of paper
+rolled into a wad shot from one seat to another. One of these happened
+to strike the stove-funnel, and lodged on the master's desk. He was cool
+enough not to seem to notice it. He secured it, however, and found an
+opportunity to look at it, without being observed by the boys. It
+required no _immediate_ notice.
+
+He who should have enjoyed the privilege of looking upon Mr. Bernard
+Langdon the next morning, when his toilet was about half finished, would
+have had a very pleasant gratuitous exhibition. First he buckled the
+strap of his trousers pretty tightly. Then he took up a pair of heavy
+dumb-bells, and swung them for a few minutes; then two great "Indian
+clubs," with which he enacted all sorts of impossible-looking feats. His
+limbs were not very large, nor his shoulders remarkably broad; but if
+you knew as much of the muscles as all persons who look at statues and
+pictures with a critical eye ought to have learned,--if you knew the
+_trapezius_, lying diamond-shaped over the back and shoulders like a
+monk's cowl,--or the _deltoid_, which caps the shoulders like an
+epaulette,--or the _triceps_, which furnishes the _calf_ of the upper
+arm,--or the hard-knotted _biceps_,--any of the great sculptural
+landmarks, in fact,--you would have said there was a pretty show of
+them, beneath the white satiny skin of Mr. Bernard Langdon. And if you
+had seen him, when he had laid down the Indian clubs, catch hold of a
+leather strap that hung from the beam of the old-fashioned ceiling, and
+lift and lower himself over and over again by his left hand alone, you
+might have thought it a very simple and easy thing to do, until you
+tried to do it yourself.--Mr. Bernard looked at himself with the eye of
+an expert. "Pretty well!" he said;--"not so much fallen off as I
+expected." Then he set up his bolster in a very knowing sort of way, and
+delivered two or three blows straight as rulers and swift as winks.
+"That will do," he said. Then, as if determined to make a certainty of
+his condition, he took a dynamometer from one of the drawers in his old
+veneered bureau. First he squeezed it with his two hands. Then he placed
+it on the floor and lifted, steadily, strongly. The springs creaked and
+cracked; the index swept with a great stride far up into the high
+figures of the scale; it was a good lift. He was satisfied. He sat down
+on the edge of his bed and looked at his cleanly-shaped arms. "If I
+strike one of those boobies, I am afraid I shall spoil him," he said.
+Yet this young man, when weighed with his class at the college, could
+barely turn one hundred and forty-two pounds in the scale,--not a heavy
+weight, surely; but some of the middle weights, as the present English
+champion, for instance, seem to be of a far finer quality of muscle than
+the bulkier fellows.
+
+The master took his breakfast with a good appetite that morning, but was
+perhaps rather more quiet than usual. After breakfast he went up-stairs
+and put on a light loose frock, instead of his usual dress-coat, which
+was a close-fitting and rather stylish one. On his way to school he met
+Alminy Cutterr, who happened to be walking in the other direction. "Good
+morning, Miss Cutterr," he said; for she and another young lady had been
+introduced to him, on a former occasion, in the usual phrase of polite
+society in presenting ladies to gentlemen,--"Mr. Langdon, let me make y'
+acquainted with Miss Cutterr;--let me make y' acquainted with Miss
+Braowne." So he said, "Good morning"; to which she replied, "Good
+mornin', Mr. Langdon. Haow's your ha�lth?" The answer to this question
+ought naturally to have been the end of the talk; but Alminy Cutterr
+lingered and looked as if she had something more on her mind.
+
+A young fellow does not require a great experience to read a simple
+country-girl's face as if it were a signboard. Alminy was a good soul,
+with red cheeks and bright eyes, kind-hearted as she could be, and it
+was out of the question for her to hide her thoughts or feelings like a
+fine lady. Her bright eyes were moist and her red cheeks paler than
+their wont, as she said, with her lips quivering,--"Oh, Mr. Langdon,
+them boys'll be the death of ye, if ye don't take ca�r!"
+
+"Why, what's the matter, my dear?" said Mr. Bernard.--Don't think there
+was anything very odd in that "my dear," at the second interview with a
+village belle;--some of those woman-tamers call a girl "My dear," after
+five minutes' acquaintance, and it sounds all right _as they say it_.
+But you had better not try it at a venture.
+
+It sounded all right to Alminy, as Mr. Bernard said it.--"I'll tell ye
+what's the mahtterr," she said, in a frightened voice. "Ahbner's go'n'
+to car' his dog, 'n' he'll set him on ye 'z sure 'z y' 'r' alive. 'T's
+the same cretur that ha�f eat up Eben Squires's little Jo, a year
+come nex' Fa�stday."
+
+Now this last statement was undoubtedly overcolored; as little Jo
+Squires was running about the village,--with an ugly scar on his arm, it
+is true, where the beast had caught him with his teeth, on the occasion
+of the child's taking liberties with him, as he had been accustomed to
+do with a good-tempered Newfoundland dog, who seemed to like being
+pulled and hauled round by children. After this the creature was
+commonly muzzled, and, as he was fed on raw meat chiefly, was always
+ready for a fight,--which he was occasionally indulged in, when anything
+stout enough to match him could be found in any of the neighboring
+villages.
+
+Tiger, or, more briefly, Tige, the property of Abner Briggs, Junior,
+belonged to a species not distinctly named in scientific books, but well
+known to our country-folks under the name "Yallah dog." They do not use
+this expression as they would say _black_ dog or _white_ dog, but with
+almost as definite a meaning as when they speak of a terrier or a
+spaniel. A "yallah dog" is a large canine brute, of a dingy old-flannel
+color, of no particular breed except his own, who hangs round a tavern
+or a butcher's shop, or trots alongside of a team, looking as if he were
+disgusted with the world, and the world with him. Our inland population,
+while they tolerate him, speak of him with contempt. Old ----, of
+Meredith Bridge, used to twit the sun for not shining on cloudy days,
+swearing, that, if he hung up his "yallah dog," he would make a better
+show of daylight. A country fellow, abusing a horse of his neighbor's,
+vowed, that, "if he had such a hoss, he'd swap him for a 'yallah
+dog,'--and then shoot the dog."
+
+Tige was an ill-conditioned brute by nature, and art had not improved
+him by cropping his ears and tail and investing him with a spiked
+collar. He bore on his person, also, various not ornamental scars, marks
+of old battles; for Tige had fight in him, as was said before, and as
+might be guessed by a certain bluntness about the muzzle, with a
+projection of the lower jaw, which looked as if there might be a
+bull-dog stripe among the numerous bar-sinisters of his lineage.
+
+It was hardly fair, however, to leave Alminy Cutterr waiting while this
+piece of natural history was telling.--As she spoke of little Jo, who
+had been "ha�f eat up" by Tige, she could not contain her sympathies,
+and began to cry.
+
+"Why, my dear little soul," said Mr. Bernard, "what are you worried
+about? I used to play with a _bear_ when I was a boy; and the bear used
+to hug me, and I used to kiss him,----so!"
+
+It was too bad of Mr. Bernard, only the second time he had seen Alminy;
+but her kind feelings had touched him, and that seemed the most natural
+way of expressing his gratitude. Alminy looked round to see if anybody
+was near; she saw nobody, so of course it would do no good to "holler."
+She saw nobody; but a stout young fellow, leading a yellow dog, muzzled,
+saw _her_ through a crack in a pick�d fence, not a great way off the
+road. Many a year he had been "hangin' 'raoun'" Alminy, and never did he
+see any encouraging look, or hear any "Behave, naow!" or "Come, naow,
+a'n't ye 'shamed?" or other forbidding phrase of acquiescence, such as
+village belles understand as well as ever did the nymph who fled to the
+willows in the eclogue we all remember.
+
+No wonder he was furious, when he saw the schoolmaster, who had never
+seen the girl until within a week, touching with his lips those rosy
+cheeks which he had never dared to approach. But that was all; it was a
+sudden impulse; and the master turned away from the young girl,
+laughing, and telling her not to fret herself about him,--he would take
+care of himself.
+
+So Master Langdon walked on toward his schoolhouse, not displeased,
+perhaps, with his little adventure, nor immensely elated by it; for he
+was one of the natural class of the sex-subduers, and had had many a
+smile without asking, which had been denied to the feeble youth who try
+to win favor by pleading their passion in rhyme, and even to the more
+formidable approaches of young officers in volunteer companies,
+considered by many to be quite irresistible to the fair who have once
+beheld them from their windows in the epaulettes and plumes and sashes
+of the "Pigwacket Invincibles," or the "Hackmatack Rangers."
+
+Master Langdon took his seat and began the exercises of his school. The
+smaller boys recited their lessons well enough, but some of the larger
+ones were negligent and surly. He noticed one or two of them looking
+toward the door, as if expecting somebody or something in that
+direction. At half past nine o'clock, Abner Briggs, Junior, who had not
+yet shown himself, made his appearance. He was followed by his "yallah
+dog," without his muzzle, who squatted down very grimly near the door,
+and gave a wolfish look round the room, as if he were considering which
+was the plumpest boy to begin with. The young butcher, meanwhile, went
+to his seat, looking somewhat flushed, except round the lips, which were
+hardly as red as common, and set pretty sharply.
+
+"Put out that dog, Abner Briggs!"--The master spoke as the captain
+speaks to the helmsman, when there are rocks foaming at the lips, right
+under his lee.
+
+Abner Briggs answered as the helmsman answers, when he knows he has a
+mutinous crew round him that mean to run the ship on the reef, and is
+one of the mutineers himself. "Put him aout y'rself, 'f ye a'n't afeard
+on him!"
+
+The master stepped into the aisle. The great cur showed his teeth,--and
+the devilish instincts of his old wolf-ancestry looked out of his eyes,
+and flashed from his sharp tusks, and yawned in his wide mouth and deep
+red gullet.
+
+The movements of animals are so much quicker than those of human beings
+commonly are, that they avoid blows as easily as one of us steps out of
+the way of an ox-cart. It must be a very stupid dog that lets himself be
+run over by a fast driver in his gig; he can jump out of the wheel's way
+after the tire has already touched him. So, while one is lifting a stick
+to strike or drawing back his foot to kick, the beast makes his spring,
+and the blow or the kick comes too late.
+
+It was not so this time. The master was a fencer, and something of a
+boxer; he had played at single-stick, and was used to watching an
+adversary's eye and coming down on him without any of those premonitory
+symptoms by which unpractised persons show long beforehand what mischief
+they meditate.
+
+"Out with you!" he said, fiercely,--and explained what he meant by a
+sudden flash of his foot that clashed the yellow dog's white teeth
+together like the springing of a bear-trap. The cur knew he had found
+his master at the first word and glance, as low animals on four legs, or
+a smaller number, always do; and the blow took him so by surprise, that
+it curled him up in an instant, and he went bundling out of the open
+schoolhouse-door with a most pitiable yelp, and his stump of a tail shut
+down as close as his owner ever shut the short, stubbed blade of his
+jacknife.
+
+It was time for the other cur to find who his master was.
+
+"Follow your dog, Abner Briggs!" said Master Langdon.
+
+The stout butcher-youth looked round, but the rebels were all cowed and
+sat still.
+
+"I'll go when I'm ready," he said,--"'n' I guess I won't go afore I'm
+ready."
+
+"You're ready now," said Master Langdon, turning up his cuffs so that
+the little boys noticed the yellow gleam of a pair of gold
+sleeve-buttons, once worn by Colonel Percy Wentworth, famous in the Old
+French War.
+
+Abner Briggs, Junior, did not apparently think he was ready, at any
+rate; for he rose up in his place, and stood with clenched fists,
+defiant, as the master strode towards him. The master knew the fellow
+was really frightened, for all his looks, and that he must have no time
+to rally. So he caught him suddenly by the collar, and, with one great
+pull, had him out over his desk and on the open floor. He gave him a
+sharp fling backwards and stood looking at him.
+
+The rough-and-tumble fighters all _clinch_, as everybody knows; and
+Abner Briggs, Junior, was one of that kind. He remembered how he had
+floored Master Weeks, and he had just "spunk" enough left in him to try
+to repeat his former successful experiment on the new master. He sprang
+at him, open-handed, to clutch him. So the master had to strike,--once,
+but very hard, and just in the place to tell. No doubt, the authority
+that doth hedge a schoolmaster added to the effect of the blow; but the
+blow was itself a neat one, and did not require to be repeated.
+
+"Now go home," said the master, "and don't let me see you or your dog
+here again." And he turned his cuffs down again over the gold
+sleeve-buttons.
+
+This finished the great Pigwacket Centre School rebellion. What could be
+done with a master who was so pleasant as long as the boys behaved
+decently, and such a terrible fellow when he got "riled," as they called
+it? In a week's time, everything was reduced to order, and the
+school-committee were delighted. The master, however, had received a
+proposition so much more agreeable and advantageous, that he informed
+the committee he should leave at the end of his month, having in his eye
+a sensible and energetic young college-graduate who would be willing and
+fully competent to take his place.
+
+So, at the expiration of the appointed time, Bernard Langdon, late
+master of the School District No. 1, Pigwacket Centre, took his
+departure from that place for another locality, whither we shall follow
+him, carrying with him the regrets of the committee, of most of the
+scholars, and of several young ladies; also two locks of hair, sent
+unbeknown to payrents, one dark and one warmish auburn, inscribed with
+the respective initials of Alminy Cutterr and Arvilly Braowne.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE MOTH FLIES INTO THE CANDLE.
+
+The invitation which Mr. Bernard Langdon had accepted came from the
+Board of Trustees of the "Apollinean Female Institute," a school for the
+education of young ladies, situated in the flourishing town of Rockland.
+This was an establishment on a considerable scale, in which a hundred
+scholars or thereabouts were taught the ordinary English branches,
+several of the modern languages, something of Latin, if desired, with a
+little natural philosophy, metaphysics, and rhetoric, to finish off with
+in the last year, and music at any time when they would pay for it. At
+the close of their career in the Institute, they were submitted to a
+grand public examination, and received diplomas tied in blue ribbons,
+which proclaimed them with a great flourish of capitals to be graduates
+of the Apollinean Female Institute.
+
+Rockland was a town of no inconsiderable pretensions. It was ennobled by
+lying at the foot of a mountain,--called by the working-folks of the
+place "_the_ maounting,"--which sufficiently showed that it was the
+principal high land of the district in which it was situated. It lay to
+the south of this, and basked in the sunshine as Italy stretches herself
+before the Alps. To pass from the town of Tamarack on the north of the
+mountain to Rockland on the south was like crossing from Coire to
+Chiavenna.
+
+There is nothing gives glory and grandeur and romance and mystery to a
+place like the impending presence of a high mountain. Our beautiful
+Northampton with its fair meadows and noble stream is lovely enough, but
+owes its surpassing attraction to those twin summits which brood over
+it like living presences, looking down into its streets as if they were
+its tutelary divinities, dressing and undressing their green shrines,
+robing themselves in jubilant sunshine or in sorrowing clouds, and doing
+penance in the snowy shroud of winter, as if they had living hearts
+under their rocky ribs and changed their mood like the children of the
+soil at their feet, who grow up under their almost parental smiles and
+frowns. Happy is the child whose first dreams of heaven are blended with
+the evening glories of Mount Holyoke, when the sun is firing its
+treetops, and gilding the white walls that mark its one human dwelling!
+If the other and the wilder of the twain has a scowl of terror in its
+overhanging brows, yet is it a pleasing fear to look upon its savage
+solitudes through the barred nursery-windows in the heart of the sweet,
+companionable village.--And how the mountains love their children! The
+sea is of a facile virtue, and will run to kiss the first comer in any
+port he visits; but the chaste mountains sit apart, and show their faces
+only in the midst of their own families.
+
+The Mountain that kept watch to the north of Rockland lay waste and
+almost inviolate through much of its domain. The catamount still glared
+from the branches of its old hemlocks on the lesser beasts that strayed
+beneath him. It was not long since a wolf had wandered down, famished in
+the winter's dearth, and left a few bones and some tufts of wool of what
+had been a lamb in the morning. Nay, there were broad-footed tracks in
+the snow only two years previously, which could not be mistaken;--the
+black bear alone could have set that plantigrade seal, and little
+children must come home early from school and play, for he is an
+indiscriminate feeder when he is hungry, and a little child would not
+come amiss when other game was wanting.
+
+But these occasional visitors may have been mere wanderers, which,
+straying along in the woods by day, and perhaps stalking through the
+streets of still villages by night, had worked their way along down from
+the ragged mountain-spurs of higher latitudes. The one feature of The
+Mountain that shed the brownest horror on its woods was the existence of
+the terrible region known as Rattlesnake Ledge, and still tenanted by
+those damnable reptiles, which distil a fiercer venom under our cold
+northern sky than the cobra himself in the land of tropical spices and
+poisons.
+
+From the earliest settlement of the place, this fact had been, next to
+the Indians, the reigning nightmare of the inhabitants. It was easy
+enough, after a time, to drive away the savages; for "a screeching
+Indian Divell," as our fathers called him, could not crawl into the
+crack of a rock to escape from his pursuers. But the venomous population
+of Rattlesnake Ledge had a Gibraltar for their fortress that might have
+defied the siege-train dragged to the walls of Sebastopol. In its deep
+embrasures and its impregnable casemates they reared their families,
+they met in love or wrath, they twined together in family knots, they
+hissed defiance in hostile clans, they fed, slept, hybernated, and in
+due time died in peace. Many a foray had the town's-people made, and
+many a stuffed skin was shown as a trophy,--nay, there were families
+where the children's first toy was made from the warning appendage that
+once vibrated to the wrath of one of these "cruel serpents." Sometimes
+one of them, coaxed out by a warm sun, would writhe himself down the
+hillside into the roads, up the walks that led to houses,--worse than
+this, into the long grass, where the bare-footed mowers would soon pass
+with their swinging scythes,--more rarely into houses,--and on one
+memorable occasion, early in the last century, into the meeting-house,
+where he took a position on the pulpit-stairs,--as is narrated in the
+"Account of Some Remarkable Providences," etc., where it is suggested
+that a strong tendency of the Rev. Didymus Bean, the Minister at that
+time, towards the Arminian Heresy may have had something to do with it,
+and that the Serpent supposed to have been killed on the Pulpit-Stairs
+was a false show of the D�mon's Contrivance, he having come in to listen
+to a Discourse which was a sweet Savour in his Nostrils, and, of course,
+not being capable of being killed Himself. Others said, however, that,
+though there was good Reason to think it was a D�mon, yet he did come
+with Intent to bite the Heel of that faithful Servant,--etc.
+
+One Gilson is said to have died of the bite of a rattlesnake in this
+town early in the present century. After this there was a great
+snake-hunt, in which very many of these venomous beasts were
+killed,--one in particular, said to have been as big round as a stout
+man's arm, and to have had no less than _forty_ joints to his
+rattle,--indicating, according to some, that he had lived forty years,
+but, if we might put any faith in the Indian tradition, that he had
+killed forty human beings,--an idle fancy, clearly. This hunt, however,
+had no permanent effect in keeping down the serpent population.
+Viviparous creatures are a kind of specie-paying lot, but oviparous ones
+only give their notes, as it were, for a future brood,--an egg being, so
+to speak, a promise to pay a young one by-and-by, if nothing happen. Now
+the domestic habits of the rattlesnake are not studied very closely, for
+obvious reasons; but it is, no doubt, to all intents and purposes
+oviparous. Consequently it has large families, and is not easy to kill
+out.
+
+In the year 184-, a melancholy proof was afforded to the inhabitants of
+Rockland, that the brood which infested The Mountain was not extirpated.
+A very interesting young married woman, detained at home at the time by
+the state of her health, was bitten in the entry of her own house by a
+rattlesnake which had found its way down from The Mountain. Owing to the
+almost instant employment of powerful remedies, the bite did not prove
+immediately fatal; but she died within a few months of the time when she
+was bitten.
+
+All this seemed to throw a lurid kind of shadow over The Mountain. Yet,
+as many years passed without any accident, people grew comparatively
+careless, and it might rather be said to add a fearful kind of interest
+to the romantic hillside, that the banded reptiles, which had been the
+terror of the red men for nobody knows how many thousand years, were
+there still, with the same poison-bags and spring-teeth at the white
+men's service, if they meddled with them.
+
+The other natural features of Rockland were such as many of our pleasant
+country-towns can boast of. A brook came tumbling down the mountain-side
+and skirted the most thickly settled portion of the village. In the
+parts of its course where it ran through the woods, the water looked
+almost as brown as coffee flowing from its urn,--to say like _smoky
+quartz_ would perhaps give a better idea,--but in the open plain it
+sparkled over the pebbles white as a queen's diamonds. There were
+huckleberry-pastures on the lower flanks of The Mountain, with plenty of
+the sweet-scented bayberry mingled with the other bushes. In other
+fields grew great store of high-bush blackberries. Along the road-side
+were barberry-bushes, hung all over with bright red coral pendants in
+autumn and far into the winter. Then there were swamps set thick with
+dingy-leaved alders, where the three-leaved arum and the skunk's-cabbage
+grew broad and succulent,--shelving down into black boggy pools here and
+there, at the edge of which the green frog, stupidest of his tribe, sat
+waiting to be victimized by boy or snapping-turtle long after the shy
+and agile leopard-frog had taken the six-foot spring that plumped him
+into the middle of the pool. And on the neighboring banks the
+maiden-hair spread its flat disk of embroidered fronds on the wire-like
+stem that glistened brown and polished as the darkest tortoise-shell,
+and pale violets, cheated by the cold skies of their hues and perfume,
+sunned themselves like white-cheeked invalids. Over these rose the old
+forest-trees,--the maple, scarred with the wounds that had drained away
+its sweet life-blood,--the beech, its smooth gray bark mottled so as to
+look like the body of one of those great snakes of old that used to
+frighten armies,--always the mark of lovers' knives, as in the days of
+Musidora and her swain,--the yellow birch, rough as the breast of
+Silenus in old marbles,--the wild cherry, its little bitter fruit lying
+unheeded at its foot,--and, soaring over all, the huge, coarse-barked,
+splintery-limbed, dark-mantled hemlock, in the depths of whose a�rial
+solitudes the crow brooded on her nest unscared, and the gray squirrel
+lived unharmed till his incisors grew to look like ram's-horns.
+
+Rockland would have been but half a town without its pond; Quinnepeg
+Pond was the name of it, but the young ladies of the Apollinean
+Institute were very anxious that it should be called Crystalline Lake.
+It was here that the young folks used to sail in summer and skate in
+winter; here, too, those queer, old, rum-scented, good-for-nothing,
+lazy, story-telling, half-vagabonds, that sawed a little wood or dug a
+few potatoes now and then under the pretence of working for their
+living, used to go and fish through the ice for pickerel every winter.
+And here those three young people were drowned, a few summers ago, by
+the upsetting of a sail-boat in a sudden flaw of wind. There is not one
+of these smiling ponds that has not devoured more youths and maidens
+than any of those monsters the ancients used to tell such lies about.
+But it was a pretty pond, and never looked more innocent--so the native
+"bard" of Rockland said in his elegy--than on the morning when they
+found Sarah Jane and Ellen Maria floating among the lily-pads.
+
+The Apollinean Institute, or Institoot, as it was more commonly called,
+was, in the language of its Prospectus, a "first-class Educational
+Establishment." It employed a considerable corps of instructors to rough
+out and finish the hundred young lady scholars it sheltered beneath its
+roof. First, Mr. and Mrs. Peckham, the Principal and the Matron of the
+school. Silas Peckham was a thorough Yankee, born on a windy part of the
+coast, and reared chiefly on salt-fish. Everybody knows the type of
+Yankee produced by this climate and diet: thin, as if he had been split
+and dried; with an ashen kind of complexion, like the tint of the food
+he is made of; and about as sharp, tough, juiceless, and biting to deal
+with as the other is to the taste. Silas Peckham kept a young ladies'
+school exactly as he would have kept a hundred head of cattle,--for the
+simple, unadorned purpose of making just as much money in just as few
+years as could be safely done. Of course the great problem was, to feed
+these hundred hungry misses at the cheapest practicable rate, precisely
+as it would be with the cattle. So that Mr. Peckham gave very little
+personal attention to the department of instruction, but was always busy
+with contracts for flour and potatoes, beef and pork, and other
+nutritive staples, the amount of which required for such an
+establishment was enough to frighten a quartermaster. Mrs. Peckham was
+from the West, raised on Indian corn and pork, which give a fuller
+outline and a more humid temperament, but may perhaps be thought to
+render people a little coarse-fibred. Her speciality was to look after
+the feathering, cackling, roosting, rising, and general behavior of
+these hundred chicks. An honest, ignorant woman, she could not have
+passed an examination in the youngest class. So this distinguished
+institution was under the charge of a commissary and a housekeeper, and
+its real business was feeding girls to grain, roots, and meats, under
+cover, and making money by it.
+
+Connected with this, however, was the incidental fact, which the public
+took for the principal one, namely, the business of instruction. Mr.
+Peckham knew well enough that it was just as well to have good
+instructors as bad ones, so far as cost was concerned, and a great deal
+better for the reputation of his feeding-establishment. So he tried to
+get the best he could without paying too much, and, having got them, to
+screw all the work out of them that could possibly be extracted.
+
+There was a master for the English branches, with a young lady
+assistant. There was another young lady who taught French, of the
+_ahvahng_ and _pahndahng_ style, which does not exactly smack of the
+_asphalte_ of the Boulevard _trottoirs_. There was also a German teacher
+of music, who sometimes helped in French of the _ahfaung_ and
+_bauntaung_ style,--so that, between the two, the young ladies could
+hardly have been mistaken for Parisians, by a Committee of the French
+Academy. The German teacher also taught a Latin class after his
+fashion,--_benna_, a ben, _gahboot_, a head, and so forth.
+
+The master for the English branches had lately left the school for
+private reasons, which need not be here mentioned,--but he had gone, at
+any rate, and it was his place which had been offered to Mr. Bernard
+Langdon. The offer came just in season,--as, for various causes, he was
+willing to leave the place where he had begun his new experience.
+
+It was on a fine morning, that Mr. Bernard, ushered in by Mr. Peckham,
+made his appearance in the great schoolroom of the Apollinean Institute.
+A general rustle ran all round the seats when the handsome young man was
+introduced. The principal carried him to the desk of the young lady
+English assistant, Miss Darley by name, and introduced him to her.
+
+There was not a great deal of study done that day. The young lady
+assistant had to point out to the new master the whole routine in which
+the classes were engaged when their late teacher left, and which had
+gone on as well as it could since. Then Master Langdon had a great many
+questions to ask, some relating to his new duties, and some, perhaps,
+implying a degree of curiosity not very unnatural under the
+circumstances. The truth is, the general effect of the schoolroom, with
+its scores of young girls, all their eyes naturally centring on him with
+fixed or furtive glances, was enough to bewilder and confuse a young man
+like Master Langdon, though he was not destitute of self-possession, as
+we have already seen.
+
+You cannot get together a hundred girls, taking them as they come, from
+the comfortable and affluent classes, probably anywhere, certainly not
+in New England, without seeing a good deal of beauty. In fact, we very
+commonly mean by _beauty_ the way young girls look when there is nothing
+to hinder their looking as Nature meant them to. And the great
+schoolroom of the Apollinean Institute did really make so pretty a show
+on the morning when Master Langdon entered it, that he might be pardoned
+for asking Miss Darley more questions about his scholars than about
+their lessons.
+
+There were girls of all ages: little creatures, some pallid and
+delicate-looking, the offspring of invalid parents,--much given to
+books, not much to mischief, commonly spoken of as particularly good
+children, and contrasted with another sort, girls of more vigorous
+organization, who were disposed to laughing and play, and required a
+strong hand to manage them;--then young growing misses of every shade of
+Saxon complexion, and here and there one of more Southern hue: blondes,
+some of them so translucent-looking, that it seemed as if you could see
+the souls in their bodies, like bubbles in glass, if souls were objects
+of sight; brunettes, some with rose-red colors, and some with that
+swarthy hue which often carries with it a heavily-shaded lip, and which
+with pure outlines and outspoken reliefs gives us some of our handsomest
+women,--the women whom ornaments of pure gold adorn more than any other
+_parures_; and again, but only here and there, one with dark hair and
+gray or blue eyes, a Celtic type, perhaps, but found in our native stock
+occasionally; rarest of all, a light-haired girl with dark eyes, hazel,
+brown, or of the color of that mountain-brook spoken of in this chapter,
+where it ran through shadowy woodlands. With these were to be seen at
+intervals some of maturer years, full-blown flowers among the opening
+buds, with that conscious look upon their faces which so many women wear
+during the period when they never meet a single man without having his
+monosyllable ready for him,--tied as they are, poor things! on the rock
+of expectation, each of them an Andromeda waiting for her Perseus.
+
+"Who is that girl in ringlets,--the fourth in the third row on the
+right?" said Master Langdon.
+
+"Charlotte Ann Wood," said Miss Darley;--"writes very pretty poems."
+
+"Oh!--And the pink one, three seats from her? Looks bright; anything in
+her?"
+
+"Emma Dean,--day-scholar,--Squire Dean's daughter,--nice girl,--second
+medal last year."
+
+The master asked these two questions in a careless kind of way, and did
+not seem to pay any too much attention to the answers.
+
+"And who and what is that," he said,--"sitting a little apart
+there,--that strange, wild-looking girl?"
+
+This time he put the real question he wanted answered;--the other two
+were asked at random, as masks for the third.
+
+The lady-teacher's face changed;--one would have said she was frightened
+or troubled. She looked at the girl doubtfully, as if she might hear the
+master's question and its answer. But the girl did not look up;--she was
+winding a gold chain about her wrist, and then uncoiling it, as if in a
+kind of reverie.
+
+Miss Darley drew close to the master and placed her hand so as to hide
+her lips. "Don't look at her as if we were talking about her," she
+whispered softly;--"that is Elsie Venner."
+
+
+
+
+MEXICO.
+
+
+A certain immortal fool, who had, like most admitted fools, great
+wisdom, once said, that the number of truces between the Christians and
+Saracens in Palestine made an old man of him; for he had known three of
+them, so that he must be at least one hundred and fifty years old. The
+saying occurs in a romance, to be sure, but one which is not half so
+romantic as the best-accredited decade of Titus Livius, and is quite as
+authentic as most of what Sir Archibald Alison says, when he writes on
+the United States.
+
+What Palestine and the Crusades were to the witty son of Witless, Mexico
+and her politics are to moderns, not even excepting the predestined
+devourers of the Aztec land, who ought to know something of the country
+they purpose bringing within the full light of civilization through the
+aid of slaughter and slavery. There are some myriads of "Americans of
+the North" yet living, and who entertain not the remotest idea of dying,
+who remember Mexico as a Spanish dependency quite as submissive to
+Viceroy Iturrigaray as Cuba is now to Captain-General Serrano; and who
+have seen her both an Empire and a Republic, and the theatre of more
+revolutions than England has known since the days of the Octarchy. The
+mere thought of the changes that have occurred there bewilders the mind;
+and the inhabitants of orderly countries, whether that order be the
+consequence of despotism or of constitutionalism, wonder that society
+should continue to exist in a country where government appears to be
+unknown.
+
+Less than fifty years cover the time between the appearance of Hidalgo
+and that of Miramon; and between the dates of the leaderships of the two
+men, Mexico has had an army of generals, of whom little is now known
+beyond their names. Hidalgo, Morelos, Mina, Bravo, Iturbide, Guerrero,
+Bustamente, Victoria, Pedraza, Gomez Farias, Paredes, and Herrera,--such
+are the names that were once familiar to our countrymen in connection
+with Mexican affairs. We have now a new race of Mexican
+chiefs,--Alvarez, Comonfort, Zuloaga, Uraga, Juarez, Vidaurri, Haro y
+Tamariz, Degollado, and Miramon. Some of these last-named chiefs might,
+perhaps, be classed with those first named, from years and services; but
+whatever of political importance they have belongs to the present time;
+and the most important man of them all, Miramon, is said to be very
+young, and was not born until many years after the last vestiges of the
+vice-regal rule had been removed. Santa A�a, but for his shifting round
+so often,--now an absolute ruler, and then an absolute runaway, yet ever
+contriving to get the better of his antagonists, whether they happen to
+be clever Mexicans or dull Americans,--might be called the isthmus that
+connects the first generation of leaders with that which now misleads
+his country. Santa A�a's public life synchronizes with the independence
+of Mexico of foreign rule, and his career can hardly be pronounced at an
+end. It would be of the nature of a newspaper coincidence, were he to
+know his "last of earth" at the very time when, by all indications,
+Mexico stands in greater danger of losing her national life than she has
+known since the day when Barradas was sent to play the part of Cort�s,
+but proved himself not quite equal to that of Narvaez. Santa A�a owed
+much of his power to his victory over the Spaniards in 1830, though
+pestilence did half the work to his hand; and perhaps no better evidence
+of the hatred of the Mexicans for Spanish rule can be adduced, than the
+hold which he has maintained over their minds, in consequence of the
+part he took in overthrowing that rule, and in rendering its return
+impossible.
+
+Provoked by the anarchy which has so long existed in Mexico, American
+writers, and writers of other countries, have sometimes contrasted the
+condition of that nation with the order that prevailed there during the
+Spanish ascendency, and it is not uncommon to hear Americans say that
+the worst thing that ever happened to the Mexicans was the overthrow of
+that ascendency. They forget that the causes of Mexican anarchy were of
+Spanish creation, and that it must have exhibited itself, all the same,
+if Mexico had not achieved her independence. The shock caused by the
+seizure of the Spanish throne by Napoleon I. led to that war against the
+Spaniards in Mexico which prematurely broke out in 1810, and which was
+of the nature of a _Jacquerie_, but which would have been completely
+successful, had Hidalgo been equal to his position. It had been intended
+that the blow should be struck against the _Gachupines_,--European
+Spaniards, or persons of pure Spanish blood,--who were partisans of
+Spain, whether Spain were ruled by Bourbons or Bonapartes; and it was to
+have been delivered by the Creoles, who remained faithful to the House
+of Bourbon. Circumstances caused the Indian races to commence the war,
+and this was fatal to the original project, as it led to the union of
+both Spaniards and Creoles against the followers of Hidalgo. The army
+with which Calleja overthrew the forces of Hidalgo was an army of
+Creoles. It was composed of the very men who would have been foremost in
+putting down the Spaniards, if the Indians had remained quiet. From that
+time dates the disorder of Mexico, which has ever since continued,
+though at intervals the country has known short periods of comparative
+repose.
+
+In 1811 Morelos was the most conspicuous of the insurgent chiefs, and
+the next year he was successful in several engagements; and it was not
+until the end of 1815 that he fell into the hands of his enemies, by
+whom he was shot, sharing the fate of Hidalgo. During the four years
+that he led the people, efforts were made to settle the controversy on
+an equitable basis that would have left the King of Spain master of
+Mexico; but the pride of the Spaniards would not allow them to listen to
+justice. They acted in Mexico as their ancestors had acted in the
+Netherlands. It is the chief characteristic of the Spaniard, that, in
+dealing with foreigners, he always assumes a Roman-like superiority,
+without possessing the Roman's sense and shrewdness. The treatment of
+the Capuans by the Romans, as told by Livy in his narrative of the
+Hannibalian War, might be read as a history of the manner in which the
+Spaniards ever treat "rebels"; and never did they behave more cruelly
+than they behaved toward the Mexicans in the last days of the viceroys.
+This fact is to be borne in mind, when we think of the sanguinary
+character of Mexican contests; for that character originated in the
+action of the Spaniards during their struggles with the Patriots. The
+latter were not faultless, but they often exhibited a generosity and a
+self-denial that promised much for the future of their country, which
+promise would have been realized but for the ferocious tone of the
+warfare of the old governing race. The Spaniards were ultimately beaten,
+but they left behind them an evil that marred the victory of the
+Patriots, and which has done much to prevent it from proving useful to
+those who obtained it at great cost to themselves and their country.
+
+The defeat and death of Morelos proved fatal, for the time, to regular
+opposition on the part of the Patriots, and it was not until the arrival
+of Mina in Mexico that they renewed the war in force. This was in April,
+1817; and Mina was defeated and put to death in seven months after he
+landed. At the beginning of 1818, the viceroy Apodaca announced to the
+home government, "that he would be answerable for the safety of Mexico
+without a single additional soldier being sent out to reinforce the
+armies that were in the field." Had he been a wise man, the event might
+have justified this boast; but as he was neither wise nor honest, and as
+he sought to restore the old state of things in all its impurity, his
+confidence was fatal to the Spanish cause. The Spanish Constitution of
+1812 had been proclaimed in Mexico in the autumn of that year, and its
+existence kept the Liberal cause alive. So long as the Patriots had any
+power in the field, Apodaca, though an enemy of the Constitution, dared
+not seek its destruction; but after the overthrow of Mina, when he
+believed the Patriot party was "crushed out," he plotted against the
+Constitution, and resolved to restore the system that had existed down
+to 1812. Not a vestige of Liberalism was to remain. He selected for his
+chief tool the once famous Agustin de Iturbide, who turned out an edged
+tool, so sharp, indeed, that he not only cut the viceroy's fingers, but
+severed forever the connection between Mexico and Spain. Iturbide had
+eminently distinguished himself in the royal army, and to him it was
+owing that Morelos had been defeated. He was brave, ambitious, and able,
+and he possessed a handsome person and elegant manners. He was appointed
+to head an army in Western Mexico, on condition that he should
+"pronounce" in favor of the restoration of absolute royal authority. He
+accepted the command; but on the 24th of February, 1821, he astonished
+his employer by proclaiming, not the plan upon which they had agreed,
+but what is known as the _Plan of Iguala_, from the town where the
+proclamation was made. This plan provided that Mexico should be
+independent of Spain, and for the erection of the country into a
+constitutional monarchy, the throne of which should be filled by
+Ferdinand VII., or by one of his brothers,--or by some person chosen
+from among reigning families, should the Spanish Bourbons decline the
+invitation. The monarch was to be called _Emperor_, a title made
+fashionable and cheap by Bonaparte's example. Perfect equality was
+established, and all distinction of castes was abolished. Saving that
+the Catholic religion was declared the national religion, the
+twenty-four articles of this Plan were of a liberal character, and leave
+an impression on the mind highly favorable to their author. Viewing it
+in the light of thirty-nine years, and seeing that republicanism has not
+succeeded in Mexico, even a democrat may regret that the Plan of Iguala
+did not become the constitution of that country.
+
+The simple abolition of Spanish rule would have satisfied the mass of
+the inhabitants, who cared little for political institutions, but who
+knew the evils they suffered from the tyranny of a class that did not
+number above one-eightieth part of the population. For the time, the
+Plan was successful: the clergy, the military, the people, and the old
+partisans of independence all supported it; and O'Donoju, who had
+arrived as successor to Apodaca, recognized Mexican independence. The
+victors entered the capital September 27, 1821, and established a
+provisional Junta, which created a regency, with Iturbide for President.
+On the 24th of February, 1822, a Congress assembled, which contained
+three parties, the representatives of those which existed in the
+country:--1. The Bourbonists, who desired that the Plan of Iguala should
+be adhered to in all its details; 2. The Iturbideans, who wished for a
+monarchy, with their chief as Emperor; and, 3. The Republicans, who were
+hostile to monarchical institutions as well as to Spanish rule. It is
+possible that the first party might have triumphed, had Spain been under
+the dominion of sagacious men; for the clergy must have preferred it,
+not only because it was that polity under which they were sure to have
+most consideration, but because the whole power of Rome might have been
+brought to bear in its behalf, and that the clergy never would have
+seriously thought of resisting;--and the influence of the clergy was
+great over the mass of the people. But the Spanish government would not
+ratify the treaty made by O'Donoju, or abandon its claim on Mexico. This
+left but two factions in the Congress, and their quarrel had a sudden
+termination, for the moment, in the elevation of Iturbide to the
+imperial throne, May 18th, 1822. This was the work of a handful of the
+lowest rabble of the capital, the select few of a vagabondage compared
+with whom the inhabitants of the Five Points may be counted grave
+constitutional politicians. The legislature went through the farce of
+approval, and the people acquiesced,--as they would have done, had he
+been proclaimed Cham. Had Iturbide understood his trade, he might have
+reigned long, perhaps have established a dynasty; but he did what nearly
+every Mexican chief since his time has done, and what, to be just,
+nearly every revolutionary government has sought to do: he endeavored to
+establish a tyranny. He dissolved the Congress, substituting a Junta for
+it, composed of his own adherents. The consequence was revolt in various
+parts of the empire. Santa A�a, then Governor of Vera Cruz, "pronounced"
+against the Emperor; and Echavari, who was sent to punish him, played
+the same part toward Iturbide that Iturbide had played toward Apodaca:
+he joined the enemies of the imperial government. As Iturbide had
+triumphed over the viceroy by the aid of men of all parties but that of
+the old Spaniards, so was he overthrown by a coalition of an equally
+various character. He gave up the crown, after having worn it not quite
+ten months, and was allowed to depart, with the promise of an annual
+pension of twenty-five thousand dollars. Seeking to recover the crown in
+1824, he was seized and shot,--a fate of which he could not complain, as
+he was a man of bloody hand, and, as a royalist leader, had caused
+prisoners to be butchered by the hundred.
+
+The Republicans were now triumphant, but their conduct showed that they
+were not much better qualified to rule than were the Imperialists. They
+made a Federal Constitution,--that which is commonly known as the
+Constitution of 1824,--which was principally modelled on that of the
+United States. This imitation would have been ridiculous, if it had not
+been mischievous. Between the circumstances of America and those of
+Mexico there was no resemblance whatever, and hence the polity which is
+good for the one could be good for nothing to the other. One fact alone
+ought to have convinced the Mexican Constitutionalists of the absurdity
+of their doings. Their Constitution recognized the Catholic religion as
+the religion of the state, and absolutely forbade the profession of any
+other form of faith! In what part of our Constitution they found
+authority for such a provision as this, no man can say. It has been
+mentioned, reproachfully, that our Constitution does not even recognize
+God; yet on a Constitution modelled upon ours Mexican statesmen could
+graft an Established Church, with a monopoly of religion! Just where
+imitation would have been more creditable to them than originality, they
+became original. It has been said, in their defence, that the Church was
+so powerful that they could not choose but admit its claim. This would
+be a good defence, had they sought to make a Constitution in accordance
+with views admitting the validity of an Ecclesiastical Establishment.
+The charge against them is not, that they sanctioned an Establishment,
+but that they sought to couple with it a liberal republican
+Constitution, and thus to reconcile contradictions,--an end not to be
+attained anywhere, and least of all in a country like Mexico.
+
+The factions that arose in Mexico after the establishment of the
+Republic were the Federalists and the Centralists, being substantially
+the same as those which yet exist there. The Federalists have been the
+true liberals throughout the disturbances and troubles of a generation,
+and, though not faultless, are better entitled to the name of patriots
+than are the men by whom they have been opposed. They have been the foes
+of the priesthood, and have often sought to lessen its power and destroy
+its influence. If they could have had their will any time during the
+last thirty-five years, the priests would have been reduced to a
+condition of apostolic simplicity, and the Church's vast property been
+put to uses such as the Apostles would have approved. Guadalupe Victoria
+would probably have been as little averse to the confiscation of
+ecclesiastical property as was Thomas Cromwell himself. The fear that a
+firm and stable federal government would interfere with the privileges
+of the Church, and would not cease such interference until the change
+had been made perfect, which implied the Church's political destruction,
+is one of the chief reasons why no such government has ever had an
+existence in Mexico. The Church has favored every party and faction that
+has been opposed to order and liberty. Royalism, centralism, despotism,
+and even foreign conquest has it preferred to any state of things in
+which there should be found that due union of liberty and law without
+which no country can expect to have constitutional freedom. Had it ever
+been possible to establish a strong central government in Mexico, it is
+very probable the Church would have been one of its firmest pillars. The
+character and organization of that institution, its desire to maintain
+possession of its property, and its aversion to liberty of every kind,
+would all have united to make such a government worthy of the Church's
+support, provided it had supported the Church in its turn. The
+ecclesiastical influence is everywhere observable in the history of
+Mexico, from the beginning of the struggle for independence. The clergy
+were supporters of independence, not because they wished for liberty to
+the country, but that they might monopolize the vast power of their
+order. They hated the Spaniards as bitterly as they were hated by any
+other portion of the inhabitants of Mexico. But they never meant that
+republicanism should obtain the ascendency in the country. A powerful
+monarchy, an empire, was what they aimed at; and the government which
+Iturbide established was one that would have received their aid, could
+it have brought any power to the political firm the clergy desired to
+see in existence. It may be assumed that the clergy would have preferred
+a Spanish prince as emperor, for they were too sagacious not to know
+that the best part of royalty is that which is under ground. Kings must
+be born to their trade to succeed in it; and a brand-new emperor, like
+Iturbide, unless highly favored by circumstances, or singularly endowed
+with intellectual qualifications, could be of little service to the
+clerical party. He fell, as we have seen; but the clerical party
+remained, and, having continued to flourish, is at this time, it is
+probable, stronger than it was in 1822. It is owing to this party that
+the idea has never been altogether abandoned that Mexico should resume
+monarchical institutions; and every attempt that has been made to favor
+what in this country is known as consolidation has either been initiated
+by it or has received its assistance. That we do not misrepresent the
+so-called clerical party, in attributing to it a desire to see a king in
+Mexico, is clear from the candid admission of one of its members, who
+has written at length, and with much ability, in defence of its opinions
+and actions. "Had it been given to that party which is taxed with being
+absolutist," he says, "to see such a government in Mexico as the
+government of Brazil, (not to take examples out of the American
+continent,) their earnest desires would have been accomplished. It is
+therefore wrongfully that that party is the object of the curses
+lavished upon it." This is plain speaking, indeed,--the Brazilian
+government being one of the strongest monarchies in the world, and
+deriving its strength from the fact that it seeks the good of its
+subjects. The blindest republican who ever dreamed it was in the power
+of institutions to "cause or cure" the ills of humanity must admit,
+that, if Bourbon rule in Mexico could have produced results similar to
+those which have proceeded from Braganza rule in Brazil, it would have
+been the best fortune that the former country could have known, had Don
+Carlos or Don Francisco de Paula been allowed to wear the imperial crown
+which was set up in 1822. With less ability than Iturbide, either of
+those princes would have made a better monarch than that adventurer. It
+is not so much intellect as influence that makes a sovereign useful, the
+man being of far less consequence than the institution. Even the case of
+Napoleon I. affords no exception to this rule; for his dynasty and his
+empire fell with him, because they lacked the stability which comes from
+prescription alone. Had Marlborough and Eugene penetrated to Paris, as
+did Wellington and Bl�cher a century later, they never would have
+thought of subverting the Bourbon line; but the Bonaparte line was cut
+off as of course when its chief was defeated. The first king may have
+been a fortunate soldier only, but it requires several generations of
+royalty to give power to a reigning house, as in old times it required
+several descents to give to a man the flavor of genuine nobility. If it
+be objected to this, that it is an admission of the power which is
+claimed for flunkeyism, we can only meet the charge by saying that there
+is much of the flunkey in man, and that whoso shall endeavor to
+construct a government without recognizing a truth which is universal,
+though not great, will find that his structure can better be compared to
+the Syrian flower than to the Syrian cedar. The age of Model Republics
+has passed away even from dreams.
+
+We have called the party in Mexico which represents a certain fixed
+principle the clerical party; but we have done so more for the sake of
+convenience, and from deference to ordinary usage, than because the
+words accurately describe the Mexican reactionists. Conservative party
+would, perhaps, be the better name; and the word _conservative_ would
+not be any more out of place in such a connection, or more perverted
+from its just meaning, than it is in England and the United States. The
+clergy form, as it were, the core of this party, and give to it a shape
+and consistency it could not have without their alliance. Yet, if we
+can believe the Mexican already quoted, and who is apparently well
+acquainted with the subject on which he has sought to enlighten the
+English mind, the party that is opposed to the Liberals is quite as much
+in favor of freedom as are the latter, and is utterly hostile to either
+religious or political despotism. After objecting to the course of those
+Mexicans who found a political pattern in the United States, and showing
+the evils that have followed from their awkward imitation, he says,--"No
+wonder, then, that some men, actuated by the love of their country,
+convinced of the danger to Mexican nationality from such a state of
+things, seeing clearly through all these American intrigues, and
+determined to oppose them by all the means in their power, should have
+formed long ago, and as soon as the first symptoms of anarchy and the
+cause of them became apparent, the centre of a party, which, having
+necessarily to combat the so-called 'Liberal party,' or, in other words,
+the American army, is accused of being a retrograde, absolutist,
+clerical party, bent on nothing but the re�stablishment of the
+Inquisition and the 'worst of the worst times.' Nothing, however, is
+less true. That party contains in its bosom the most enlightened and the
+most respectable part of the community, men who have not as yet to learn
+the advantages and benefits of civil and religious liberty, and who
+would be happy indeed to see liberty established in their country; but
+liberty under the law, rational and wise liberty, liberty compatible
+with order and tranquillity, liberty, in a word, for good purposes,--not
+that savage, licentious, and tyrannical liberty, the object of which is
+anarchy, so well answering the private ends of its partisans, and, above
+all, the iniquitous views of an ambitious neighbor.... For the present,
+no doubt, their object is limited to obtain the triumph over their
+enemies, who are the enemies of Mexico, and to put down anarchy, as the
+first and most pressing want of the country, no matter under what form
+of government or by what means. In pursuance of such an object, the
+clergy naturally side with them; and hence, for those who are ignorant
+of the bottom of things in Mexican affairs, the denomination given to
+this party of 'Clerical party' supported by military despotism; whereas
+the 'Anarchical party' is favored with the name of 'Liberal
+Constitutional party.' It is, however, easy to see that those two
+parties would be more exactly designated, the one as the _Mexican
+Party_, the other as the _American Party_."
+
+If this delineation of the Conservative party be a fair one,--as
+probably it is, after making allowance for partisan coloring,--it is
+easy to see, that, while the clergy are with it, they are not of it; and
+also, that it would be involved in a quarrel with the priesthood in a
+week after it should have succeeded in its contest with the Liberals.
+Where, then, would be the restoration of order, of which this Mexican
+writer has so much to say? The clergy of Mexico are too powerful to
+become the tools of any political organization. They use politicians and
+parties,--are not used by them. The Conservative party, therefore, is
+not the coming party, either for the clergy or for Mexico. It answers
+the clergy's purpose of making it a shield against the Liberals, whose
+palms itch to be at the property of the Church; but it never could
+become their sword; and it is a sword, and a sharp and pointed one,
+firmly held, that the clergy desire, and must have, if their end is to
+be achieved. The defensive is not and cannot be their policy. They must
+rule or perish. Hence the victory of the Conservatives would be the
+signal for the opening of a new warfare, and the clergy would seek to
+found their power solidly on the bodies of the men whom they had used to
+destroy the Liberals. They have pursued one course for thirty-eight
+years, and will not be moved from it by any appeals that shall be made
+to them in the name of order and of law, appeals to which they have been
+utterly insensible when made by Liberals. Indeed, they will not be able
+to see any difference between the two parties, but will hate the
+Conservatives with most bitterness, because standing more immediately in
+their way. A combat would be inevitable, with the chance that the
+American Eagle would descend upon the combatants and swoop them away.
+
+If anarchy were a reason for the formation of a league in Mexico,
+composed of all the conservative men of the country, it ought to have
+been formed long ago. Anarchy was organized there with the Republic, and
+was made much more permanent than Carnot made victory. Unequivocal
+evidences of its existence became visible before the Constitution was in
+a condition to be violated; and when that instrument was accepted, it
+appeared to have been set up in order that politicians and parties might
+have something definite to disregard. The first President was Guadalupe
+Victoria, an honest Republican, whose name has become somewhat dimmed by
+time. With him was associated Nicolas Bravo, as Vice-President. It was
+while Victoria was President that the masonic parties appeared, known as
+the Scotch masons and the York masons, or _Escoceses_ and _Yorkinos_,
+which were nothing but clubs of the Centralists and the Federalists. The
+President was of the _Yorkinos_ or Federalists, and the Vice-President
+was of the other lodge. Bravo and his party were for such changes as
+should substitute a constitutional monarchy, with a Spanish prince at
+its head, for the Constitution of 1824. Bravo "pronounced" openly
+against Victoria,--a proceeding of which the reader can form some idea
+by supposing Mr. Breckinridge heading a rabble force to expel Mr.
+Buchanan from Washington, for the purpose of calling in some member of
+the English royal family to sit on an American throne. Through the aid
+of Guerrero, a man of ability and integrity, and very popular, the
+Liberals triumphed in the field; but Congress elected his competitor,
+Pedraza, President, though the people were mostly for Guerrero. This was
+a most unfortunate circumstance, and to its occurrence much of the evil
+that Mexico has known for thirty years may be directly traced. Instead
+of submitting to the strictly legal choice of President, made by the
+members of Congress, the Federalists set the open example of revolting
+against the action of men who had performed their duties according to
+the requirements of the Constitution. Guerrero was violently made
+President. That the other party contemplated the destruction of the
+Constitution is very probable; but the worst that they, its enemies,
+could have done against it would have been a trifle in comparison with
+the demoralizing consequences of the violation of that instrument by its
+friends. Yet the Presidency of Guerrero will ever have honorable mention
+in history, for one most excellent reason: Slavery was abolished by him
+on the anniversary of Mexican independence, 1829, he deeming it proper
+to signalize that anniversary "by an act of national justice and
+beneficence." Will the time ever come when the Fourth of July shall have
+the same double claim to the reverence of mankind?
+
+Guerrero perished by the sword, as he had risen by it. The
+Vice-President, Bustamente, revolted, and was aided by Santa A�a. His
+popularity was too great to allow him to be spared, and when he was
+captured, Guerrero was shot, in 1831. Of the many infamous acts of which
+Santa A�a has been guilty, the murder of Guerrero is the worst. Possibly
+it would have ruined him, but for his services against the Spaniards, at
+about the same time. He was now the chief man in Mexico, and became
+President in 1833. The next year he dissolved Congress, and established
+a military government. The Constitution of 1824 was formally abolished
+in 1835, and a Central Constitution was proclaimed the next year, by
+which the States were converted into Departments. Santa A�a kept as much
+aloof from these proceedings as he could, and sought to add to his
+popularity by attacking Texas, where he reaped a plentiful crop of
+cypress.
+
+The triumph of the Centralists was the turning-point in the fortunes of
+Mexico, as it furnished a plausible pretext for American interference in
+her affairs, the end of which is rapidly approaching. The Texan revolt
+had no other justification than that which it derived from the overthrow
+of the Federal Constitution; but that was ample, and, had it not been
+for the introduction of slavery into Texas, the judgment of the
+civilized world would have been entirely in favor of the Texans. In
+1844, when our Presidential election was made to turn upon the question
+of the annexation of Texas to the United States, the grand argument of
+the annexationists was drawn from the circumstance that the Mexicans had
+abrogated the Federal Constitution, thereby releasing the Texans from
+their obligations to Mexico. This was an argument to which Americans,
+and especially democrats, those sworn foes of consolidation, were prone
+to lend a favorable ear; and it is certain that it had much weight in
+promoting the election of Mr. Polk. Had the Texan revolt been one of
+ambition merely, and not justifiable on political grounds apart from the
+Slavery question, the decision might have been different, if, indeed,
+the question had ever been introduced into the politics of this country.
+The sagacious men who managed the affairs of the Democratic party knew
+their business too well to attempt the extension of slave-holding
+territory in the gross and palpable form that is common in these
+shameless days. But Texas, as an injured party that had valiantly
+sustained its constitutional rights, was a very different thing from a
+province that had revolted against Mexico because forbidden by Mexican
+authority to allow the existence of slavery within its borders. There
+was much deception in the business, but there was sufficient truth and
+justice in the argument used to deceive honest men who do not trouble
+themselves to look beyond the surface of things. For more than twenty
+years our political controversies have all been colored by the triumph
+of the Mexican Centralists in 1835-6; and but for that triumph, it is
+altogether likely that our territory would not have been increased, and
+that the Slavery question, instead of absorbing the American mind, would
+have held but a subordinate place in our party debates. It may, perhaps,
+be deemed worthy of especial mention, that the action of the Centralists
+of Mexico, destined to affect us so sensibly, was initiated at the same
+time that the modern phase of the Slavery question was opened in the
+United States. The same year that saw the Federal Constitution of Mexico
+abolished saw our government laboring to destroy freedom of the press
+and the sanctity of the mails, by throwing its influence in favor of the
+bill to prevent the circulation of "incendiary publications," that is,
+publications drawn from the writings of Washington and Jefferson; and
+the same year that witnessed the final effort of Santa A�a to "subdue"
+Texas to Centralization beheld General Cushing declaring that slavery
+should not be introduced into the North, thus "agitating" the country,
+and winning for himself that Abolition support without which his
+political career must have been cut short in the morning of its
+existence. Such are the coincidences of history!
+
+From the time of the victory of the Centralists until the commencement
+of the war with the United States, Mexico was the scene of perpetual
+disturbances. Mexia, a rash, but honest man, made an attempt to free his
+country in 1838, but failed, being defeated and executed by Santa A�a,
+who came from the retirement to which his Texan failure had consigned
+him, as champion of the government. After some years of apparent
+anarchy, Santa A�a became Dictator, and in 1843 a new Constitution, more
+centralizing in its nature than its immediate predecessor, was framed
+under his direction. At the beginning of 1845 he fell, and became an
+exile. His successor was General Herrera, who was desirous to avoid war
+with the United States, on which account he was violently opposed by
+Paredes, with success, the latter usurping the Presidency. Aided by our
+government, Santa A�a returned to Mexico, and infused new vigor into his
+countrymen. On his return, he avowed himself a Federalist, and
+recommended a recurrence to the Constitution of 1824, which was
+proclaimed. Paredes had fallen before a "revolution," and was allowed to
+proceed to Europe. He was a monarchist, and at that time the friends of
+monarchy in Mexico had some hopes of success. It is believed that the
+governments of England and France were desirous of establishing a
+Mexican monarchy, and their intervention in the affairs of Mexico was
+feared by our government. Two things, however, prevented their action,
+if ever they seriously contemplated armed intervention. The first was
+the rapid success of our armies, coupled as it was with the exhibition
+of a military spirit and capacity for which European nations had not
+been prepared by anything in our previous history; and the second was
+the potato-rot, which brought Great Britain to the verge of famine, and
+broke up the Tory party. The ill feeling, too, that was created between
+the English and French governments by the Montpensier marriage, and the
+discontent of the French people, which led to the Revolution of 1848,
+were not without their effect on affairs. Had our government resolved to
+seize all Mexico, it could have done so without encountering European
+resistance in 1848, when there was not a stable Continental government
+of the first class west of the Niemen, and when England was too much
+occupied with home matters, and with the revolutions that were happening
+all around her, to pay any regard to the course of events in the
+Occident. But the Polk administration was not equal to the work that was
+before it; and though members of the Democratic party did think of
+acting, and men of property in Mexico were anxious for annexation,
+nothing was done. The American forces left Mexico, and the old routine
+of weakness and disorder was there resumed. Perhaps it would be better
+to say it was continued; for the war had witnessed no intermission of
+the senseless proceedings of the Mexican politicians. Their contests
+were waged as bitterly as they had been while the country enjoyed
+external peace.
+
+Several persons held the Presidential chair after the resignation of
+Herrera. Organic changes were made. The clergy exhibited the same
+selfishness that had characterized their action for five-and-twenty
+years. An Extraordinary Constituent Congress confirmed the readoption of
+the Constitution of 1824, making such slight changes as were deemed
+necessary. Santa A�a again became President. Some of the States formed
+associations for defence, acting independently of the general
+government. After the loss of the capital, Santa A�a resigned the
+Presidency, and Pe�a y Pe�a succeeded him, followed by Anaya; but the
+first soon returned to office. Peace was made, and Santa A�a again went
+into exile. Herrera was chosen President, and for more than two years
+devoted himself to the work of reformation, with considerable success,
+though outbreaks and rebellions occurred in many quarters. President
+Arista also showed himself to be a firm and patriotic chief. But in 1852
+a reaction took place, under favor of which Santa A�a returned home and
+became President for the fifth time, and Arista was banished. The
+government of Santa A�a was absolute in its character, and much
+resembled that which Napoleon III. has established in France,--with this
+difference, that it wanted that strength which is the chief merit of the
+French imperial system. It encountered opposition of the usual form,
+from time to time, until it was broken down, in August, 1855, when the
+President left both office and the country, and has since resided
+abroad. The new revolution favored Federalism. Alvarez was chosen
+President, but he was too liberal for the Church party, being so
+unreasonable as to require that the property of the Church should be
+taxed. Plots and conspiracies were formed against him, and it being
+discovered that the climate of the capital did not agree with him, he
+resigned, and was succeeded by General Comonfort. Half a dozen leaders
+"pronounced" against Comonfort, one of them announcing his purpose to
+establish an Empire. Government made head against these attacks, and
+seized property belonging to the Church. Some eminent Church officers
+were banished, for the part they had taken in exciting insurrections. At
+the close of 1857, Comonfort made himself Dictator; but the very men who
+urged him to the step became his enemies, and he was deprived of power.
+Zuloaga, who was one of his advisers and subsequent enemies, succeeded
+him, being chosen President by a Council of Notables. Comonfort's
+measures for the confiscation of Church property were repealed. The
+Constitution of 1857 placed the Presidential power in the hands of the
+Chief Justice, on the resignation of the President, whence the
+prominence of Juarez lately, he being Chief Justice when Comonfort
+resigned. Assembling troops, he encountered Zuloaga, but was defeated.
+The Juarez "government" then left the country, but shortly after
+returned. Insurrections broke out in different places, and confusion
+reigned on all sides. General Robles deposed Zuloaga, and made an honest
+effort to unite the Liberals and Conservatives; but the Junta which he
+assembled elected Miramon President, a new man, who had distinguished
+himself as a leader of the Conservative forces. Miramon reinstated
+Zuloaga, but accepted the Presidency on the latter's abdication, and has
+since been the principal personage in Mexico, and, though he has
+experienced occasional reverses, has far more power than Juarez. At the
+close of the year 1859, the greater part of Mexico was either disposed
+to submit to the Miramon government, or cared little for either Miramon
+or Juarez.
+
+It is impossible to believe that the Juarez government is possessed of
+much strength; and the gentleman who lately represented the United
+States in Mexico (Mr. Forsyth) is of opinion that it is powerless.
+Nevertheless, our government acknowledges that of Juarez, and has made
+itself a party to the contests in Mexico. In his last Annual Message,
+President Buchanan devotes much space to Mexican affairs, drawing a
+deplorable picture thereof, and recommending armed intervention by the
+United States in behalf of the Liberal party. "I recommend to Congress,"
+says the President, "to pass a law authorizing the President, under such
+conditions as they may deem expedient, to employ a sufficient military
+force to enter Mexico for the purpose of obtaining indemnity for the
+past and security for the future." This force, should Congress respond
+favorably to the Presidential recommendation, is to act in concert with
+the Juarez government, and to "restore" it to power. In return for such
+aid, that government is to indemnify the Americans, and to provide that
+no more Americans shall be wronged by Mexican governments. Does the
+President believe this theory of Mexican settlement will be accepted by
+the world? If yes, then is he a man of marvellous faith, considering the
+uncommonly excellent opportunities he has had to learn what the
+political settlements of Mexico really mean. If no, then he has a
+meaning beneath his words, and that meaning is the conquest of Mexico.
+We do not charge duplicity upon President Buchanan, but it is vexatious
+and humiliating to be compelled to choose between such charge and the
+belief of a degree of simplicity in him that would be astonishing in a
+yearling politician, and which is astounding in a man who has held high
+office for well-nigh forty years. Let us suppose that Congress should
+kindly listen to President Buchanan's recommendation,--that a strong
+fleet and a great army should be sent to the aid of the Juarez
+government, and should establish it in the capital of Mexico, and then
+leave the country and the coasts of "our sister Republic,"--what would
+follow? Why, exactly what we have seen follow the Peace of 1848. The
+Juarez government could not be stronger or more honest than was that of
+Herrera, or more anxious to effect the rehabilitation of Mexico; yet
+Herrera's government had to encounter rebellions, and outrages were
+common during its existence, and afterward, when men of similar views
+held sway, or what passes for sway in "our sister Republic." So would it
+be again, should we effect a "restoration" of the Liberals. In a week
+after our last regiment should have returned home, there would be
+rebellions for our allies to suppress. If they should succeed in
+maintaining their power, it would be as the consequence of a violation
+of their agreement with us; and where, then, would be the "indemnity"
+for which we are to fight? If they should be overthrown, as probably
+would be their fate, where would be the "security" for which we are to
+pay so highly in blood and gold? It is useless to quote the treaty which
+the Juarez government has just made with our government, as evidence of
+its liberality and good faith. That treaty is of no more value than
+would be one between the United States and the ex-king of Delhi. Nothing
+is more notorious than the liberality of parties that are not in power.
+There is no stipulation to which they will not assent, and violate, if
+their interest should be supposed to lie in the direction of perjury.
+Have we, in the hour of our success, been invariably true to the
+promises made in the hour of our necessities? A study of the treaty we
+made with France in 1778, by the light of after years, would be useful
+to men who think that a treaty made is an accomplished fact. The people
+of the United States have to choose between the conquest of Mexico and
+non-intervention in Mexican affairs. There may be something to be said
+in favor of conquest, though the President's arguments in that
+direction--for such they are, disguised though they be--remind us
+strongly of those which were put forth in justification of the partition
+of Poland; but the policy of intervention does not bear criticism for
+one moment. Either it is conquest veiled, or it is a blunder, the chance
+to commit which is to be purchased at an enormous price; and blunders
+are to be had for nothing, and without the expenditure of life and
+money.
+
+We had purposed speaking of the condition of Mexico, the character of
+her population, and the probable effect of her absorption by the United
+States; but the length to which our article has been drawn in the
+statement of preliminary facts--a statement made necessary by the
+general disregard of Mexican matters by most Americans--warns us to
+forbear. We may return to the subject, should the action of Congress on
+the President's recommendation lead to the placing of the Mexican
+question on the list of those questions that must be decided by the
+event of the national election of the current year.
+
+
+
+
+REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+
+_The Florence Stories._ By JACOB ABBOTT. _Florence and John._ New York:
+Sheldon & Co. 16mo. pp. 252.
+
+_Ernest Bracebridge, or Schoolboy Days._ By W. H. G. KINGSTON. Boston:
+Ticknor & Fields. 16mo. pp. 344.
+
+How should a book for children be written?
+
+Three rules will suffice. It should be written clearly and simply; for
+young minds will spend little time in difficult investigation. It should
+have a good moral. It should be interesting; or it will generally be
+left unread, and thus any other excellence that it may possess will be
+useless. Some writers seem to have a fourth rule,--that it should be
+instructive; but, really, it is no great matter, if a child should have
+some books without wisdom. Moreover, this maxim is eminently perilous in
+its practical application, and, indeed, is seldom followed but at the
+expense of the other three.
+
+To these three rules all writers of children's books profess to conform;
+yet a good book for children is a rarity; for, simple as the rules are,
+they are very little understood. While all admit that the style should
+be simple and familiar, some appear to think that anything simple to
+them will be equally simple to their child-readers, and write as nearly
+as possible in the style of "The Rambler." Such a book is "The Percy
+Family," whose author is guilty of an additional impropriety in putting
+his ponderous sentences into the mouth of a child not ten years old.
+Another and more numerous class, evidently piquing themselves not a
+little upon avoiding this error, fall into another by fancying it
+necessary to _write down_ to their young readers. They explain
+everything with a tiresome minuteness of detail, although any observer
+of children ought to know that a child's mind does not want everything
+explained. They think that simplicity demands this lengthy discussion of
+every trivial matter. There is such a thing as a conceited simplicity,
+and there is a technical simplicity, that in its barrenness and
+insipidity is worthy only of a simpleton. In Jacob Abbott's "Juveniles"
+especially, by means of this minuteness, a very scanty stock of ideas is
+made to go a great way. Does simplicity require such trash as this?
+
+     "The place was known by the name of the Octagon. The reason why
+     it was called by this name was, that the principal sitting-room
+     in the house was built in the form of an octagon, that is,
+     instead of having four sides, as a room usually has, this room
+     had eight sides. An octagon is a figure of eight sides.
+
+     "A figure of four sides is called a square. A figure of five
+     sides is called a pentagon, of six sides a hexagon, of eight
+     sides an octagon. There might be a figure of seven sides, but
+     it would not be very easily made, and it would not be very
+     pretty when it was made, and so it is seldom used or spoken of.
+     But octagons and hexagons are very common, for they are easily
+     made, and they are very regular and symmetrical in form."
+
+The object of all this is, doubtless, to impart valuable information.
+But while such slipshod writing is singularly uninteresting, it may also
+be censured as inaccurate. Mr. Abbott seems to think all polygons
+necessarily regular. Any child can make a heptagon at once,
+notwithstanding Mr. Abbott calls it so difficult. A _regular_ heptagon,
+indeed, is another matter. Then what does he mean by saying octagons and
+hexagons are very regular? A regular octagon is regular, though an
+octagon in general is no more regular than any other figure. But Mr.
+Abbott continues:--
+
+     "If you wish to see exactly what the form of an octagon is, you
+     can make one in this way. First cut out a piece of paper in the
+     form of a square. This square will, of course, have four sides
+     and four corners. Now, if you cut off the four corners, you
+     will have four new sides, for at every place where you cut off
+     a corner you will have a new side. These four new sides,
+     together with the parts of the old sides that are left, will
+     make eight sides, and so you will have an octagon.
+
+     "If you wish your octagon to be regular, you must be careful
+     how much you cut off at each corner. If you cut off too little,
+     the new sides which you make will not be so long as what
+     remains of the old ones. If you cut off too much, they will be
+     longer. You had better cut off a little at first from each
+     corner, all around, and then compare the new sides with what
+     is left of the old ones. You can then cut off a little more,
+     and so on, until you make your octagon nearly regular.
+
+     "There are other much more exact modes of making octagons than
+     this, but I cannot stop to describe them here."
+
+Must we have no more pennyworths of sense to such a monstrous quantity
+of verbiage than Mr. Abbott gives us here? We would defy any man to
+parody that. He could teach the penny-a-liners a trick of the trade
+worth knowing. The great Chrononhotonthologos, crying,
+
+    "Go call a coach, and let a coach be called,
+    And let the man that calleth be the caller,
+    And when he calleth, let him nothing call
+    But 'Coach! coach! coach! Oh, for a coach, ye gods!'"
+
+is comparatively a very Spartan for brevity. This may be a cheap way of
+writing books; but the books are a dear bargain to the buyer.
+
+A book is not necessarily ill adapted to a child because its ideas and
+expressions are over his head. Some books, that were not written for
+children and would shock all Mr. Abbott's most dearly cherished ideas,
+are still excellent reading for them. Walter Scott's poems and novels
+will please an intelligent child. Cooper's Leatherstocking tales will
+not be read by the lad of fourteen more eagerly than by his little
+sister who cannot understand half of them. A child fond of reading can
+have no more delightful book than the "Fa�rie Queene," unless it be the
+"Arabian Nights," which was not written as a "juvenile." There are pages
+by the score in "Robinson Crusoe" that a child cannot understand,--and
+it is all the better reading for him on that account. A child has a
+comfort in unintelligible words that few men can understand. Homer's
+"Iliad" is good reading, though only a small part may be comprehended.
+(We are not, however, so much in favor of mystery as to recommend the
+original Greek.) Do our children of the year 1860 ever read a book
+called "The Pilgrim's Progress"? Hawthorne's "Wonder-Book" is good for
+children, though better for adults.
+
+Then look at our second rule. What, after all, constitutes a "good
+moral"? We say that no book has a good moral which teaches a child that
+goodness and effeminacy, laziness and virtue, are convertible terms; no
+book is good that is "goody," no book is moral that moralizes. The
+intention may be good, but the teaching is not. Have as much as you will
+of poetical justice, but beware of making your books mere vehicles for
+conveying maxims of propriety. You cannot so deceive a child. You may
+talk _at_ him, while pretending to tell him a story, but he will soon be
+shy of you. He has learned by bitter experience too much of the
+falseness of this world, and has been too often beguiled by sugared
+pills, to be slow in detecting the sugared pills of your
+literature,--especially, O Jacob Abbott! when the pills have so little,
+so very little, sugar.
+
+Our notion of a good moral is a strong, breezy, open-air moral, one that
+teaches courage, and therefore truth. These are the most important
+things for a child to know, and a book which teaches these alone is
+moral enough. And these can be taught without offending the mind of the
+young reader, however keenly suspicious. But if you wish to teach
+gentleness and kindness as well, let them be shown in your story by some
+noisy boy who can climb trees, or some active, merry, hoydenish girl who
+can run like Atalanta; and don't imply a falsehood by attributing them
+always to the quiet children.
+
+Mr. Abbott's books have spoiled our children's books, and have done
+their best to spoil our children, too. There is no fresh, manly life in
+his stories; anything of the kind is sourly frowned down. Rollo, while
+strolling along, picturesquely, perhaps, but stupidly, sees A Noisy Boy,
+and is warned by his insufferable father to keep out of that boy's way.
+That Noisy Boy infallibly turns out vicious. Is that sound doctrine?
+Will that teach a child to admire courage and activity? If he is ever
+able to appreciate the swing and vigor of Macaulay's Lays, it will not
+be because you trained him on such lyrics as
+
+    "In the winter, when 'tis mild,
+    We may run, but not be wild;
+    But in summer, we must walk,
+    And improve our time by talk" (!)
+
+but because that Noisy Boy found him out,--and, quarrelling with him,
+(your boy, marvellous to relate! having provoked the quarrel by some
+mean trick, in spite of his seraphic training,) gave him a black
+eye,--and afterwards, turning out to be the best-hearted Noisy Boy in
+the world, taught him to climb trees and hunt for birds' nests,--and
+stopped him when he was going to kill the little birds, (for your
+pattern boy--poor child! how could he help it?--was as cruel as he was
+timid,)--and imparted to him the sublime mysteries of base-ball and tag
+and hockey,--and taught him to swim and row, and to fight bigger boys
+and leave smaller boys in peace, instructions which he was at first
+inclined to reverse,--and put him in the way to be an honest, fearless
+man, when he was in danger of becoming a white-faced and white-livered
+spooney. And that Noisy Boy himself, perversely declining to verify Mr.
+Abbott's decorous prophecies, has not turned out badly, after all, but
+has Reverend before his name and reverence in his heart, and has his
+theology sound because his lungs are so. No doubt, Tom Jones often turns
+out badly, but Master Blifil always does,--a fact which Mr. Abbott would
+do well to note and perpend.
+
+What! Because Rollo is virtuous, shall there be no more mud-cakes and
+ale? Marry, but there shall! Don't keep a boy out of his share of free
+movement and free air, and don't keep a girl out. Poor little child! she
+will be dieted soon enough on "stewed prunes." Children need air and
+water,--milk and water won't do. They are longing for our common mother
+earth, in the dear, familiar form of dirt; and it is no matter how much
+dirt they get on them, if they only have water enough to wash it off.
+The more they are allowed to eat literal dirt now, the less metaphorical
+dirt will they eat a few years hence. The great Free-Soil principle is
+good for their hearts, if not for their clothes; and which is it more
+important to have clean? Just make up your mind to let the clothes go;
+and if you can't afford to have your children soil and tear their laced
+pantalets and plumed hats and open-work stockings, why, take off all
+those devices of the enemy, and substitute stout cloth and stout boots.
+What have they to do with open-work stockings?
+
+    "Doff them for shame,
+    And hang a calf-skin on those recreant limbs."
+
+Believe now, instead of learning by sad experience, that tin trumpets
+and torn clothes do not necessarily signify depravity, and that quiet
+children are not always free from deceit, cruelty, and meanness. The
+quiet, ideal child, of whom Mr. Abbott thinks so highly, generally
+proves, in real life, neither more nor less than a prig. He is more
+likely to die than live; and if he lives, you may wish he had died.
+
+These models not only check a child's spirit, but tend to make him
+dishonest. Ask a child now what he thinks, and, ten to one, he mentally
+refers to some eminent exemplar of all the virtues for instructions,
+and, instead of telling you what he does think, quotes listlessly what
+he ought to think. So that his mincing affectation is not merely
+ungraceful, but is a sign of an inward taint, which may prove fatal to
+the whole character. It is very easy to make a child disingenuous; if he
+be at all timid, the work is already half done to one's hand. Of course,
+all children are not bad who are brought up on such books,--one
+circumstance or another may counteract their hurtful tendency,--but the
+tendency is no less evident, nor is it a vindication of any system to
+prove that some are good in its despite.
+
+Again, the popularity of these tame, spiritless books is no conclusive
+evidence of their merit. The poor children are given nothing else to
+read, and, of course, they take what they can get as better than
+nothing. An eager child, fond of reading, will read the shipping
+intelligence in a newspaper, if there be nothing else at hand. Does that
+show that he is properly supplied with reading matter? They will read
+these books; but they would read better books with more pleasure and
+more profit.
+
+For our third rule, let our children's stories have no lack of incident
+and adventure. That will redeem any number of faults. Thus, Marryatt's
+stories, and Mayne Reid's, although in many respects open to censure and
+ridicule, are very popular, and deserve to be. The books first put into
+a child's hands are right enough, for they are vivid. Whether the letter
+A be associated in our infant minds with the impressive moral of "In
+Adam's fall We sinned all," or gave us a foretaste of the Apollo in "A
+was an Archer, and shot at a Frog,"--in either case, the story is a
+plainly told incident, (carefully observing the unities,) which the
+child's fancy can embellish for itself, and the whole has an additional
+charm from the gorgeous coloring of an accompanying picture. The
+vividness is good, and is the only thing that is good. Why, then, should
+this one merit be omitted, as our children grow a little older? A
+lifeless moral will not school a child into propriety. If a twig be
+unreasonably bent, it is very likely to struggle in quite a different
+direction, especially if in so doing it struggle towards the light.
+There is much truth in a blundering version of the old Scriptural maxim,
+"Chain up a child, and away he will go." If you want to do any good by
+your books, make them interesting.
+
+And with reference to all three rules, remember that they are to be
+interpreted by the light of common sense, and you will hardly need the
+following remarks:--
+
+It is alike uncomfortable and useless to a child to be perpetually
+waylaid by a moral. A child reading "The Pilgrim's Progress" will omit
+the occasional explanations of the allegory or resolutely ignore their
+meaning. If you want to keep a poor child on such dry food, don't
+mistake your own reason for doing so. It may be eminently proper, but it
+is very uncomfortable to him. If you want children to enjoy themselves,
+let them run about freely, and don't put them into a ring, in
+picturesque attitudes, and then throw bouquets of flowers at them. But,
+if you will do so, confess it is not for their gratification, but for
+your own.
+
+If you choose to try the dangerous experiment of writing "instructive"
+stories, beware of defeating your own object. You write a story rather
+than a treatise, because information is often more effective when
+indirectly conveyed. Clearly, then, if you convey your information too
+directly, you lose all this advantage.
+
+Perfection is as intolerable in these as in any other stories. We all
+want, especially children, some amiable weaknesses to sympathize with.
+Thus, in "Ernest Bracebridge," an English story of school-life, the hero
+is a dreadfully unpleasant boy who is always successful and always
+right, and we are soon heartily weary of him. Besides, he is a horrible
+boy for mastery of all the arts and sciences, and delivers brief and
+epigrammatic discourses, being about twelve years old. However, the book
+is full of adventure and out-door games, and so far is good.
+
+After all, a child does not need many books. If, however, we are to have
+them, we may as well have good ones. There is no reason why dulness
+should be diverted from its legitimate channels into the writing of
+children's books. Let us disabuse ourselves of the idea that these are
+the easiest books to write. Let us remember that the alphabet is harder
+to teach than the Greek Drama, and no longer think that the proper man
+to write children's books is the man who is able to write nothing else.
+
+
+_The Simplicity of Christ's Teachings, set forth in Sermons._ By CHARLES
+T. BROOKS, Pastor of the Unitarian Church, Newport, R. I. Boston:
+Crosby, Nichols, & Co. 1859. 16mo. pp. 342.
+
+The name of the author of this volume has long been known as that of an
+accomplished man of letters. Successive volumes of poetic versions,
+chiefly from the German, had, by their various merit, gained for him a
+high rank among our translators, when four years ago, in 1856, by a
+translation of "Faust," he set himself at the head of living authors in
+this department of literature. It is little to say of his work, that it
+is the best of the numerous English renderings of Goethe's tragedy. It
+is not extravagant to assert that a better translation is scarcely
+possible. It is a work which combines extraordinary fidelity to the form
+of the original with true appreciation of its spirit. It is at once
+literal and free, and displays in its execution the qualities both of
+exact scholarship and of poetic feeling and capacity.
+
+This work, and the others of a similar kind which preceded it, were the
+result of the intervals of leisure occurring in the course of their
+author's professional life as a clergyman. While the wider world has
+known him only through these volumes, a smaller circle has long known
+and loved him as the faithful and able preacher and pastor,--as one to
+whom the most beautiful description ever written of the character of a
+good parson might be truly applied; for
+
+    "A good man he was of religioun,
+    That was a poure Persone of a toun:
+    But riche he was of holy thought and werk;
+    He was also a lerned man, a clerk,
+    That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche,
+    His parishens devoutly wolde he teche.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    And Cristes lore and his apostles' twelve
+    He taught, but first he folwed it himselve."
+
+And it is in this character that he now comes before us in the volume
+which is well entitled "The Simplicity of Christ's Teachings."
+
+It is a misfortune that the qualities which distinguish most published
+sermons are not such as to recommend them on the score of literary
+merit. The volumes of religious discourses which are worthy to hold a
+place in literature, when judged by the usual critical standard, are
+very few. A very large proportion of those which are continually
+appearing from the press deserve no remembrance, and fortunately have no
+permanence. They are addressed to a special class of readers,--a class
+generally neither of highly cultivated taste, nor of acute critical
+perception. Their writers are rarely men of sufficient talent to win for
+themselves recognition out of their own narrow set. What in the slang of
+the day are called "sensation" sermons are no exception to the common
+rule. Their momentary effect, depending upon exaggeration and
+extravagance, is no indication of worth. We should no more think of
+criticizing them in a literary journal, than of criticizing the novels
+of Mr. Cobb or Mr. Reynolds. Some of the causes of the poverty of
+thought and of the negligence of style of average sermons are obvious.
+The very interest and importance of the subjects with which the preacher
+has to deal oftentimes serve to deaden rather than to excite the mind of
+one who takes them up in the formal round of duty. The pretensions of
+the clergy of many sects, pretensions as readily acknowledged as made,
+save them from the necessity of intellectual exertion. The frequent
+recurrence of the necessity of writing, whether they have anything to
+say or not, leads them into substituting words for thoughts, platitudes
+for truths. The natural weariness of long-continued solitary
+professional labor brings mental lassitude and feebleness. The absence
+of the fear of close and watchful criticism prevents them from bestowing
+suitable pains upon their composition. These and other causes combine to
+make the mass of the writing which is delivered from the pulpit poorer
+than any other which passes current in the world,--perhaps, indeed, not
+poorer in an absolute sense, but poorer when compared with the nature of
+the subjects that it treats. It is by no means, however, to be inferred,
+that, because a sermon is totally without merit as a work of literature,
+it is incapable of producing some good in those who listen to it. On the
+contrary, such is the frame of mind of many who regularly attend church,
+that they are not unlikely to derive good from a performance which, if
+weak, may yet be sincere, and which deals with the highest truths, even
+if it deal with them in an imperfect and unsatisfactory manner. And,
+indeed, as George Herbert says, good may be got from the worst
+preaching; for,
+
+                        "if all want sense,
+    God takes the text, and preacheth patience."
+
+Unquestionably, however, there is too much preaching in these days; too
+many sermons are written, and the spirit of Christianity is less
+effective than if the words concerning it were less numerous.
+
+It is a rare satisfaction, therefore, to find such a volume of sermons
+as that of Mr. Brooks, which, though not possessing the highest merit in
+point of style, are the discourses of a thoughtful and cultivated man,
+with a peculiar spiritual refinement, and with a devout intellect, made
+clear by its combination with purity of heart and simplicity of faith.
+The religious questions which are chiefly stirring the minds of men are
+taken up in them and discussed with what may be called an earnest
+moderation, with elevation of feeling and insight of spirit.
+
+
+_Goethe's Correspondence with a Child._ Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1859.
+
+The immediate cause of the republication of these letters is the recent
+death of Bettina, the child with whom Goethe corresponded. Though this
+fact, and the beauty of the volume, may quicken the sale of the work,
+and draw out fresh encomiums on its excellence, it has long since passed
+the critical crisis and taken its place as one of the most remarkable
+series of letters which the public have ever been invited to peruse.
+Something of the marvellous vanishes from them, however, when we find
+that the title, "Correspondence with a Child," is a misnomer; Bettina
+having been, in truth, twenty-two years of age when she first visited
+Goethe. Yet while this important circumstance abates much of the wonder
+with which we once read her thoughts and confessions, they really become
+all the more valuable as studies in human nature when we learn that they
+are the exhalations of a heart in full flower, and one upon which the
+dews of morning should not linger. The poet had reached the age of sixty
+when this tide of tender sentiment, original ideas, and enthusiastic
+admiration began to flow in upon him. Their first interview, as Bettina
+describes it, with singular freedom, in one of the letters to Goethe's
+mother, will be found a useful key, though perhaps not a complete one,
+by which to interpret the glowing passion which gushed from her pen.
+That the poet was pleased with the homage of this sweet, graceful, and
+affectionate girl, and drew her on to the revealing of her whole nature,
+is readily perceived. But when we inquire, To what end? we should
+remember, that, like Parrhasius, Goethe was before all things an artist;
+and furthermore, the correspondence of time will show that from this
+crowning knowledge the "Elective Affinities" sprang. It may be that her
+admiration was for his genius alone; if so, she chose love's language
+for its wealth of expression. Were it so received, it could not but be
+regarded as a peerless offering, for she was certainly a kindred spirit.
+There are many rare thoughts and profound confessions in these letters,
+which would have commanded the praise of Goethe, had they been written
+by a rival; and coming, as they did, from a devotee who declared that
+she drew her inspiration from him alone, they must have filled his soul
+with incense, of which that burned by the priest in the temple of the
+gods is only an emblem. To be brief and compendious on this book, it
+appears to be a heart unveiled. German critics throw some doubts on the
+literal veracity of the book; but it belongs at any rate to the better
+class of the _ben trovati_, and among its leaves, the dreamer, the
+lover, and the poet will find that ambrosial fruit on which fancy loves
+to feed, but whose blossoms are so generally blasted by the common air
+that only the few favored ones have had their longings for it appeased.
+In imagination, at least, Bettina partook of this banquet, and had the
+genius to wreak on words the emotions which swept through her heart.
+
+
+_Sir Rohan's Ghost._ A Romance. Boston: J. E. Tilton & Company. 1860.
+pp. 352.
+
+It is very plain that we have got a new poet,--a tremendous
+responsibility both for him who will have to learn how to carry the
+brimming vase of Art from the Pierian spring without squandering a drop,
+and for us critics who are to reconcile ourselves to what is new in him,
+and to hold him strictly to that apprenticeship to the old which is the
+condition of mastery at last.
+
+Criticism in America has reached something like the state of the old
+Continental currency. There is no honest relation between the promises
+we make and the specie basis of meaning they profess to represent. "The
+most extraordinary book of the age" is published every week; "genius"
+springs up like mullein, wherever the soil is thin enough; the yearly
+catch of "weird imagination," "thrilling pathos," "splendid
+description," and "sublime imagery" does not fall short of an ordinary
+mackerel-crop; and "profound originality" is so plenty that one not in
+the secret would be apt to take it for commonplace. Now Tithonus, whom,
+as the oldest inhabitant, we have engaged to oversee the criticism of
+the "Atlantic," has a prodigiously long memory,--almost as long as one
+of Dickens's descriptive passages,--he remembers perfectly well all the
+promising young fellows from Orpheus down, and has made a notch on the
+stalk of a devil's-apron for every one who ever came to anything that
+was of more consequence to the world than to himself. His tally has not
+yet mounted to a baker's dozen. Accordingly, when a young enthusiast
+rushes to tell Tithonus that a surprising genius has turned up, that
+venerable and cautious being either puts his hand behind his ear and
+absconds into an extemporary deafness, or says dryly, "American kind, I
+suppose?" This coolness of our wary senior is infectious, and we confess
+ourselves so far disenchanted by it, that, when we go into a library,
+the lettering on the backs of nine-tenths of the volumes contrives to
+shape itself into a laconic _Hic jacet_.
+
+It is of prime necessity to bring back the currency of criticism to the
+old hard-money basis. We have been gradually losing all sense of the
+true relation between words and things,--the surest symptom of
+intellectual decline. And this looseness of criticism reacts in the most
+damaging way upon literature by continually debasing the standard, and
+by confounding all distinction between fame and notoriety. Ought it to
+be gratifying to the author of "Popular Sovereignty, a Poem in Twelve
+Cantos," to be called the most remarkable man of the age, when he knows
+that he shares that pre�minence with Mr. Tupper, nay, with half the
+names in the Directory? Indiscriminate eulogy is the subtlest form of
+depreciation, for it makes all praise suspicious.
+
+We look upon artistic genius as the rarest and most wayward apparition
+among mankind. It cannot be predicated upon any of Mr. Buckle's
+averages. Given the census, you may, perhaps, say so many murders, so
+many suicides, so many misdirected letters (and men of letters), but not
+so many geniuses. In this one thing old Mother Nature will be whimsical
+and womanish. This is a gift that John Bull, or Johnny Crapaud, or
+Brother Jonathan does not find in his stocking every Christmas. Crude
+imagination is common enough,--every hypochondriac has a more than
+Shakspearian allowance of it; fancy is cheap, or nobody would dream;
+eloquence sits ten deep on every platform. But genius in Art is that
+supreme organizing and idealizing faculty which, by combining,
+arranging, modulating, by suppressing the abnormal and perpetuating the
+essential, apes creation,--which from the shapeless terror or tipsy
+fancy of the benighted ploughman can conjure the sisters of Fores heath
+and the court of Titania,--which can make language thunder or coo at
+will,--which, in short, is the ruler of those qualities any one of which
+in excess is sure to overmaster the ordinary mind, and which can
+crystallize helpless vagary into the clearly outlined and imperishable
+forms of Art.
+
+It is not, therefore, from any grudging incapacity to appreciate new
+authors, but from a strong feeling that we are to guard the graves of
+the dead from encroachment, and their fames from vulgarization, that the
+"Atlantic" has been and will be sparing in its use of the word _genius_.
+One may safely predicate power, nicety of thought and language, a clear
+eye for scenery and character, and grace of poetic conception of a book,
+without being willing to say that it gives proof of genius. For genius
+is the _shaping_ faculty, the power of using material in the best way,
+and may not work itself clear of the besetting temptation of personal
+gifts and of circumstances in a first or even second work. It is
+something capable of education and accomplishment, and the patience with
+which it submits itself to this needful schooling and self-abnegation is
+one of the surest tests of its actual possession. Could even
+Shakspeare's poems and earlier plays come before us for judgment, we
+could only say of them, as of Keats's "Endymion," that they showed
+affluence, but made no sure prophecy of that artistic self-possession
+without which plenty is but confusion and incumbrance.
+
+So much by way of preface, lest we might seem cold to the very
+remarkable merits of "Sir Rohan's Ghost," if we treated it as a book
+worth finding fault with, instead of condemning it to the indifferent
+limbo of general eulogy. It is our deliberate judgment that no first
+volume by any author has ever been published in America showing more
+undoubtful symptoms of genuine poetic power than this. There are
+passages in it where imagination and language combine in the most
+artistic completeness, and the first quatrain of the song which Sir
+Rohan fancies he hears,--
+
+    ----"In a summer twilight,
+      While yet the dew was hoar,
+    I went plucking purple pansies
+      Till my love should come to shore,"--
+
+seems to us absolutely perfect in its simplicity and suggestiveness. It
+has that wayward and seemingly accidental just-right-ness that is so
+delightful in old ballads. The hesitating cadence of the third line is
+impregnated with the very mood of the singer, and lingers like the
+action it pictures. All those passages in the book, too, where the
+symptoms of Sir Rohan's possession by his diseased memory are handled,
+where we see all outward nature but as wax to the plastic will of
+imagination, are to the utmost well-conceived and carried out. It was
+part of the necessity of the case that the book should be conjectural
+and metaphysical, for it is plain that the author is young and has
+little experience of the actual. Accordingly, with a true instinct, she
+(for the newspapers ascribe the authorship of the book to Miss Prescott)
+calls her story a Romance, thus absolving it from any cumbersome
+allegiance to fact, and lays the scene of it in England, where she can
+have old castles, old traditions, old families, old servants, and all
+the other olds so essential to the young writer, ready to her hand.
+
+We like the book better for being in the main _subjective_ (to use the
+convenient word Mr. Ruskin is so angry with); for a young writer can
+only follow the German plan of conjuring things up "from the depths of
+his inward consciousness." The moment our author quits this sure ground,
+her touch becomes uncertain and her colors inharmonious.
+Character-painting is unessential to a romance, belonging as it does
+properly to the novel of actual life, in which the romantic element is
+equally out of place. Fielding, accordingly, the greatest artist in
+character since Shakspeare, hardly admits sentiment, and never romance,
+into his master-pieces. Hawthorne, again, another great master, feeling
+instinctively the poverty and want of sharp contrast in the externals of
+our New England life, always shades off the edges of the actual, till,
+at some indefinable line, they meet and mingle with the supersensual and
+imaginative.
+
+The author of "Sir Rohan" attempts character in Redruth the butler, and
+in the villain and heroine of her story. We are inclined to think the
+villain the best hit of the three, because he is downright scoundrel
+without a redeeming point, as the Nemesis of the story required him to
+be, and because he is so far a purely ideal character. But there is no
+such thing possible as an ideal butler, at least in the sense our author
+assumes in the cellar-scene. The better poet, the worse butler; and so
+we are made impatient by his more than Redi-isms about wine, full of
+fancy as they are in themselves, because they are an impertinence. For
+the same reason, we forgive the heroine her rhapsodies about the figures
+of the Arthur-romances, but cannot pardon her descents into real life
+and her incursions on what should be the sanctuary of the
+breakfast-table. The author attributes to her a dash of gypsy blood; and
+if her style of humorous conversation be a fair type of that of the race
+in general, we no longer wonder that they are homeless exiles from human
+society. When will men learn the true nature of a pun,--that it is a
+play upon ideas, and not upon sounds,--and that a perfect one is as rare
+as a perfect poem?
+
+In the prose "Edda," the dwarfs tell a monstrous fib, when they pretend
+that Kvasir, the inventor of poetry, has been suffocated by his own
+wisdom. Nevertheless, the little fellows showed thereby that they were
+not short of intelligence; for it is almost always in their own overflow
+that young poets are drowned. This superabundance seems to us the chief
+defect in "Sir Rohan's Ghost." The superabundance is all very fine, of
+the costliest kind; but was Clarence any the better for being done to
+death in Malmsey instead of water?
+
+This fault we look on as a fault of promise. There is always a chance
+that luxuriance may be pruned, but none short of a miracle that a
+broomstick may be made to blossom. There is, however, one absolute, and
+not relative fault in the book, which we find it harder to forgive,
+since it is one of instinct rather than of Art. The author seems to us
+prone to confound the _terrible_, (the only true subject of Art) with
+the _horrible_. The one rouses moral terror or aversion, the other only
+physical disgust. This is one of the worst effects of the modern French
+school upon literature, the inevitable result of its degrading the
+sensuous into the sensual.
+
+We have found all the fault we could with this volume, because we
+sincerely think that the author of it is destined for great things, and
+that she owes it to the rare gift she has been endowed with to do
+nothing inconsiderately, and by honest self-culture to raise natural
+qualities to conscious and beneficent powers.
+
+
+
+
+RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS
+
+RECEIVED BY THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
+
+
+Essays of Elia. By Charles Lamb. A New Edition. Boston. William Veazie.
+8vo. pp. 466. $1.25.
+
+Archaia; or, Studies of the Cosmogony and Natural History of the Hebrew
+Scriptures. By J. W. Dawson, LL. D., F. G. S., Principal of McGill
+College, Author of "Acadian Geology," etc. Montreal. B. Dawson & Son.
+12mo. pp. 406.
+
+Manual of Public Libraries, Institutions, and Societies in the United
+States and British Provinces of North America. By William J. Rhees,
+Chief Clerk of the Smithsonian Institution. Philadelphia. J. B.
+Lippincott & Co. 8vo. pp. xxviii., 687. $3.00.
+
+The Oakland Stories. By George R. Taylor, of Virginia. Volume I. Kenny.
+New York. Sheldon & Co. 16mo. pp. 176. 50 cts.
+
+The Florence Stories. By Jacob Abbott. Florence and John. New York.
+Sheldon & Co. 16mo. pp. 252. 60 cents.
+
+Poems read at the Opening of the Fraternity Lectures, 1858-9. By F. B.
+Sanborn and Rufus Leighton, Jr. Boston. Printed for the Fraternity.
+16mo. pp. 59. 25 cts.
+
+The Law of the Territories. Philadelphia. Printed by C. Sherman and Son.
+16mo. pp. 127. 50 cts.
+
+The Wife's Trials and Triumphs. By the Author of "Grace Hamilton's
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+Abridgment of the Debates of Congress, from 1789 to 1856. From Gales and
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+"Thirty Years' View." Volume XII. New York. Appleton & Co. 8vo. pp. 807.
+$2.50.
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+Lectures, delivered in Boston, November, 1859. By Caroline H. Dall.
+Boston. Walker, Wise, & Co. 16mo. pp. xvi., 184. 50 cts.
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+12mo. pp. xii., 406; xii., 388. $2.00.
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+312. $1.00.
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+490. $1.00.
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+Evenings at the Microscope; or, Researches among the Minuter Organs and
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+A Report of the Celebration at Norwich, Ct., on the 200th Anniversary of
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+History of the Republic of the United States of America, as traced in
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+Hamilton. Vol. V. New York. Appleton & Co. 8vo. pp. xii., 603. $2.50.
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+Life of Lafayette. Written for Children. By E. Cecil. With Six
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+Boston. Ticknor & Fields. 8vo. pp. 180. 30 cts.
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+The Professor at the Breakfast-Table; with the Story of Iris. By Oliver
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+Misrepresentation. A Novel. By Anna H. Drury, Author of "Friends and
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+History of Peter the Great, Emperor of Russia. By Jacob Abbott. With
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+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 5, No.
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 5, No. 28,
+February, 1860, 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 Atlantic Monthly, Volume 5, No. 28, February, 1860
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: December 2, 2006 [EBook #19995]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci 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>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h4>THE</h4>
+
+<h1>ATLANTIC MONTHLY.</h1>
+
+<h2>A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.</h2>
+
+<h3>VOL. V.&mdash;FEBRUARY, 1860.&mdash;NO. XXVIII.</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p>Transcriber's Note: Minor typos have been corrected. Footnotes have been
+moved to the end of the article. Contents have been created for HTML version.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p>
+<a href="#COUNTING_AND_MEASURING"><b>COUNTING AND MEASURING.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#MY_LAST_LOVE"><b>MY LAST LOVE.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#A_SHETLAND_SHAWL"><b>A SHETLAND SHAWL.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ROBA_DI_ROMA"><b>ROBA DI ROMA.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#THE_AMBER_GODS"><b>THE AMBER GODS.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#THE_POETS_FRIENDS"><b>THE POET'S FRIENDS.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#THE_MEMORIAL_OF_A_B_OR_MATILDA_MUFFIN"><b>THE MEMORIAL OF A. B., OR MATILDA MUFFIN.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#SOME_ACCOUNT_OF_A_VISIONARY"><b>SOME ACCOUNT OF A VISIONARY.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#THE_TRUCE_OF_PISCATAQUA"><b>THE TRUCE OF PISCATAQUA.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#THE_MAROONS_OF_JAMAICA"><b>THE MAROONS OF JAMAICA.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#THE_PROFESSORS_STORY"><b>THE PROFESSOR'S STORY.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#MEXICO"><b>MEXICO.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#REVIEWS_AND_LITERARY_NOTICES"><b>REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#RECENT_AMERICAN_PUBLICATIONS"><b>RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS</b></a><br />
+</p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="COUNTING_AND_MEASURING" id="COUNTING_AND_MEASURING"></a>COUNTING AND MEASURING.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Though, from the rapid action of the eye and the mind, grouping and
+counting by groups appear to be a single operation, yet, as things can
+be seen in succession only, however rapidly, the counting of things,
+whether ideal or real, is necessarily one by one. This is the first step
+of the art. The second step is grouping. The use of grouping is to
+economize speech in numeration, and writing in notation, by the exercise
+of the memory. The memorizing of groups is, therefore, a part of the
+primary education of every individual. Until this art is attained, to a
+certain extent, it is very convenient to use the fingers as
+representatives of the individuals of which the groups are composed.
+This practice led to the general adoption of a group derived from the
+fingers of the left hand. The adoption of this group was the first
+distinct step toward mental arithmetic. Previous groupings were for
+particular numerations; this for numeration in general; being, in fact,
+the first numeric base,&mdash;the quinary. As men advanced in the use of
+numbers, they adopted a group derived from the fingers of both hands;
+thus ten became the base of numeration.</p>
+
+<p>Notation, like numeration, began with ones, advanced to fives, then to
+tens, etc. Roman notation consisted of a series of signs signifying 1,
+5, 10, 50, 100, 500, 1000, etc.,&mdash;a series evidently the result of
+counting by the five fingers and the two hands, the numbers signified
+being the products of continued multiplication by five and by two
+alternately. The Romans adhered to their mode, nor is it entirely out of
+use at the present day, being revered for its antiquity, admired for its
+beauty, and practised for its convenience.</p>
+
+<p>The ancient Greek series corresponded to that of the Romans, though
+primarily the signs for 50, 500 and 5000 had no place. Ultimately,
+however, those places were supplied by means of compound signs.</p>
+
+<p>The Greeks abandoned their ancient mode in favor of the alphabetic,
+which, as it signified by a single letter each number of the
+arithmetical series from one to nine separately, and also in union by
+multiplication with the successive powers of the base of numeration, was
+a decided improvement; yet, as it consisted of signs which by their
+number were difficult to remember, and by their resemblance easy to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>mistake, it was far from being perfect.</p>
+
+<p>Doubtless, strenuous efforts were made to remedy these defects, and,
+apparently as the result of those efforts, the Arabic or Indian mode
+appeared; which, signifying the powers of the base by position, reduced
+the number of signs to that of the arithmetical series, beginning with
+nought and ending with a number of the value of the base less one.</p>
+
+<p>The peculiarity of the Arabic mode, therefore, in comparison with the
+Greek, the Roman, or the alphabetic, is place value; the value of a
+combination by either of these being simply equal to the sum of its
+elements. By that, the value of the successive places, counting from
+right to left, being equal to the successive powers of the base,
+beginning with the noughth power, each figure in the combination is
+multiplied in value by the power of the base proper to its place, and
+the value of the whole is equal to the sum of those products.</p>
+
+<p>The Arabic mode is justly esteemed one of the happiest results of human
+intelligence; and though the most complex ever practised, its
+efficiency, as an arithmetical means, has obtained for it the reputation
+of great simplicity,&mdash;a reputation that extends even to the present
+base, which, from its intimate and habitual association with the mode,
+is taken to be a part of the mode itself.</p>
+
+<p>With regard to this impression it may be remarked, that the qualities
+proper to a mode bear no resemblance to those proper to a base. The
+qualities of the present mode are well known and well accepted. Those of
+the present base are accepted with the mode, but those proper to a base
+remain to be determined. In attempting to ascertain these, it will be
+necessary to consider the uses of numeration and of notation.</p>
+
+<p>These may be arranged in three divisions,&mdash;scientific, mechanical, and
+commercial. The first is limited, being confined to a few; the second is
+general, being common to many; the third is universal, being necessary
+to all. Commercial use, therefore, will govern the present inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>Commerce, being the exchange of property, requires real quantity to be
+determined, and this in such proportions as are most readily obtained
+and most frequently required. This can be done only by the adoption of a
+unit of quantity that is both real and constant, and such multiples and
+divisions of it as are consistent with the nature of things and the
+requirements of use: real, because property, being real, can be measured
+by real measures only; constant, because the determination of quantity
+requires a standard of comparison that is invariable; conveniently
+proportioned, because both time and labor are precious. These rules
+being acted on, the result will be a system of real, constant, and
+convenient weights, measures, and coins. Consequently, the numeration
+and notation best suited to commerce will be those which agree best with
+such a system.</p>
+
+<p>From the earliest periods, special attention has been paid to units of
+quantity, and, in the ignorance of more constant quantities, the
+governors of men have offered their own persons as measures; hence the
+fathom, yard, pace, cubit, foot, span, hand, digit, pound, and pint. It
+is quite probable that the Egyptians first gave to such measures the
+permanent form of government standards, and that copies of them were
+carried by commerce, and otherwise, to surrounding nations. In time,
+these became vitiated, and should have been verified by their originals;
+but for distant nations this was not convenient; moreover, the governors
+of those nations had a variety of reasons for preferring to verify them
+by their own persons. Thus they became doubly vitiated; yet, as they
+were not duly enforced, the people pleased themselves, so that almost
+every market-town and fair had its own weights and measures; and as, in
+the regulation of coins, governments, like the people, pleased
+themselves, so that almost every nation had a peculiar currency, the
+general result was, that with the laws and the practices of the
+governors and the governed, neither of whom pursued a legitimate
+course,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> confusion reigned supreme. Indeed, a system of weights,
+measures, and coins, with a constant and real standard, and
+corresponding multiples and divisions, though indulged in as a day-dream
+by a few, has never yet been presented to the world in a definite form;
+and as, in the absence of such a system, a corresponding system of
+numeration and notation can be of no real use, the probability is, that
+neither the one nor the other has ever been fully idealized. On the
+contrary, the present base is taken to be a fixed fact, of the order of
+the laws of the Medes and Persians; so much so, that, when the great
+question is asked, one of the leading questions of the age,&mdash;How is this
+mass of confusion to be brought into harmony?&mdash;the reply is,&mdash;It is only
+necessary to adopt one constant and real standard, with decimal
+multiples and divisions, and a corresponding nomenclature, and the work
+is done: a reply that is still persisted in, though the proposition has
+been fairly tried, and clearly proved to be impracticable.</p>
+
+<p>Ever since commerce began, merchants, and governments for them, have,
+from time to time, established multiples and divisions of given
+standards; yet, for some reason, they have seldom chosen the number ten
+as a base. From the long-continued and intimate connection of decimal
+numeration and notation with the quantities commerce requires, may not
+the fact, that it has not been so used more frequently, be considered as
+sufficient evidence that this use is not proper to it? That it is not
+may be shown thus:&mdash;A thing may be divided directly into equal parts
+only by first dividing it into two, then dividing each of the parts into
+two, etc., producing 2, 4, 8, 16, etc., equal parts, but ten never. This
+results from the fact, that doubling or folding is the only direct mode
+of dividing real quantities into equal parts, and that balancing is the
+nearest indirect mode,&mdash;two facts that go far to prove binary division
+to be proper to weights, measures, and coins. Moreover, use evidently
+requires things to be divided by two more frequently than by any other
+number,&mdash;a fact apparently due to a natural agreement between men and
+things. Thus it appears the binary division of things is not only most
+readily obtained, but also most frequently required. Indeed, it is to
+some extent necessary; and though it may be set aside in part, with
+proportionate inconvenience, it can never be set aside entirely, as has
+been proved by experience. That men have set it aside in part, to their
+own loss, is sufficiently evidenced. Witness the heterogeneous mass of
+irregularities already pointed out. Of these our own coins present a
+familiar example. For the reasons above stated, coins, to be practical,
+should represent the powers of two; yet, on examination, it will be
+found, that, of our twelve grades of coins, only one-half are obtained
+by binary division, and these not in a regular series. Do not these six
+grades, irregular as they are, give to our coins their principal
+convenience? Then why do we claim that our coins are decimal? Are not
+their gradations produced by the following multiplications: 1 x 5 x 2 x
+2-1/2 x 2 x 2 x 2-1/2 x 2 x 2 x 2, and 1 x 3 x 100? Are any of these
+decimal? We might have decimal coins by dropping all but cents, dimes,
+dollars, and eagles; but the question is not, What we might have, but,
+What have we? Certainly we have not decimal coins. A purely decimal
+system of coins would be an intolerable nuisance, because it would
+require a greatly increased number of small coins. This may be
+illustrated by means of the ancient Greek notation, using the simple
+signs only, with the exception of the second sign, to make it purely
+decimal. To express $9.99 by such a notation, only three signs can be
+used; consequently nine repetitions of each are required, making a total
+of twenty-seven signs. To pay it in decimal coins, the same number of
+pieces are required. Including the second Greek sign, twenty-three signs
+are required; including the compound signs also, only fifteen. By Roman
+notation, without subtraction, fifteen; with subtraction, nine. By
+alphabetic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> notation, three signs without repetition. By the Arabic, one
+sign thrice repeated. By Federal coins, nine pieces, one of them being a
+repetition. By dual coins, six pieces without a repetition, a fraction
+remaining.</p>
+
+<p>In the gradation of real weights, measures, and coins, it is important
+to adopt those grades which are most convenient, which require the least
+expense of capital, time, and labor, and which are least likely to be
+mistaken for each other. What, then, is the most convenient gradation?
+The base two gives a series of seven weights that may be used: 1, 2, 4,
+8, 16, 32, 64 lbs. By these any weight from one to one hundred and
+twenty-seven pounds may be weighed. This is, perhaps, the smallest
+number of weights or of coins with which those several quantities of
+pounds or of dollars may be weighed or paid. With the same number of
+weights, representing the arithmetical series from one to seven, only
+from one to twenty-eight pounds may be weighed; and though a more
+extended series may be used, this will only add to their inconvenience;
+moreover, from similarity of size, such weights will be readily
+mistaken. The base ten gives only two weights that may be used. The base
+three gives a series of weights, 1, 3, 9, 27, etc., which has a great
+promise of convenience; but as only four may be used, the fifth being
+too heavy to handle, and as their use requires subtraction as well as
+addition, they have neither the convenience nor the capability of binary
+weights; moreover, the necessity for subtraction renders this series
+peculiarly unfit for coins.</p>
+
+<p>The legitimate inference from the foregoing seems to be, that a
+perfectly practical system of weights, measures, and coins, one not
+practical only, but also agreeable and convenient, because requiring the
+smallest possible number of pieces, and these not readily mistaken for
+each other, and because agreeing with the natural division of things,
+and therefore commercially proper, and avoiding much fractional
+calculation, is that, and that only, the successive grades of which
+represent the successive powers of two.</p>
+
+<p>That much fractional calculation may thus be avoided is evident from the
+fact that the system will be homogeneous. Thus, as binary gradation
+supplies one coin for every binary division of the dollar, down to the
+sixty-fourth part, and farther, if necessary, any of those divisions may
+be paid without a remainder. On the contrary, Federal gradation, though
+in part binary, gives one coin for each of the first two divisions only.
+Of the remaining four divisions, one requires two coins, and another
+three, and not one of them can be paid in full. Thus it appears there
+are four divisions of the dollar that cannot be paid in Federal coins,
+divisions that are constantly in use, and unavoidable, because resulting
+from the natural division of things, and from the popular division of
+the pound, gallon, yard, inch, etc., that has grown out of it. Those
+fractious that cannot be paid, the proper result of a heterogeneous
+system, are a constant source of jealousy, and often produce disputes,
+and sometimes bitter wrangling, between buyer and seller. The injury to
+public morals arising from this cause, like the destructive effect of
+the constant dropping of water, though too slow in its progress to be
+distinctly traced, is not the less certain. The economic value of binary
+gradation is, in the aggregate, immense; yet its moral value is not to
+be overlooked, when a full estimate of its worth is required.</p>
+
+<p>Admitting binary gradation to be proper to weights, measures, and coins,
+it follows that a corresponding base of numeration and notation must be
+provided, as that best suited to commerce. For this purpose, the number
+two immediately presents itself; but binary numeration and notation
+being too prolix for arithmetical practice, it becomes necessary to
+select for a base a power of two that will afford a more comprehensive
+notation: a power of two, because no other number will agree with binary
+gradation. It is scarcely proper to say the third power has been
+selected, for there was no alternative,&mdash;the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> second power being too
+small, and the fourth too large. Happily, the third is admirably suited
+to the purpose, combining, as it does, the comprehensiveness of eight
+with the simplicity of two.</p>
+
+<p>It may be asked, how a number, hitherto almost entirely overlooked as a
+base of numeration, is suddenly found to be so well suited to the
+purpose. The fact is, the present base being accepted as proper for
+numeration, however erroneously, it is assumed to be proper for
+gradation also; and a very flattering assumption it is, promising a
+perfectly homogeneous system of weights, measures, coins, and numbers,
+than which nothing can be more desirable; but, siren-like, it draws the
+mind away from a proper investigation of the subject, and the basic
+qualities of numbers, being unquestioned, remain unknown. When the
+natural order is adopted, and the base of gradation is ascertained by
+its adaptation to things, and the base of numeration by its agreement
+with that of gradation, then, the basic qualities of numbers being
+questioned, two is found to be proper to the first use, and eight to the
+second.</p>
+
+<p>The idea of changing the base of numeration will appear to most persons
+as absurd, and its realization as impossible; yet the probability is, it
+will be done. The question is one of time rather than of fact, and there
+is plenty of time. The diffusion of education will ultimately cause it
+to be demanded. A change of notation is not an impossible thing. The
+Greeks changed theirs, first for the alphabetic, and afterwards, with
+the rest of the civilized world, for the Arabic,&mdash;both greater changes
+than that now proposed. A change of numeration is truly a more serious
+matter, yet the difficulty may not be as great as our apprehensions
+paint it. Its inauguration must not be compared with that of French
+gradation, which, though theoretically perfect, is practically absurd.</p>
+
+<p>Decimal numeration grew out of the fact that each person has ten fingers
+and thumbs, without reference to science, art, or commerce. Ultimately
+scientific men discovered that it was not the best for certain purposes,
+consequently that a change might be desirable; but as they were not
+disposed to accommodate themselves to popular practices, which they
+erroneously viewed, not as necessary consequences, but simply as bad
+habits, they suggested a base with reference not so much to commerce as
+to science. The suggestion was never acted on, however; indeed, it would
+have been in vain, as Delambre remarks, for the French commission to
+have made the attempt, not only for the reason he presents, but also
+because it does not agree with natural division, and is therefore not
+suited to commerce; neither is it suited to the average capacity of
+mankind for numbers; for, though some may be able to use duodecimal
+numeration and notation with ease, the great majority find themselves
+equal to decimal only, and some come short even of that, except in its
+simplest use. Theoretically, twelve should be preferred to ten, because
+it agrees with circle measure at least, and ten agrees with nothing;
+besides, it affords a more comprehensive notation, and is divisible by
+6, 4, 3, and 2 without a fraction, qualities that are theoretically
+valuable.</p>
+
+<p>At first sight, the universal use of decimal numeration seems to be an
+argument in its favor. It appears as though Nature had pointed directly
+to it, on account of some peculiar fitness. It is assumed, indeed, that
+this is the case, and habit confirms the assumption; yet, when
+reflection has overcome habit, it will be seen that its adoption was due
+to accident alone,&mdash;that it took place before any attention was paid to
+a general system, in short, without reflection,&mdash;and that its supposed
+perfection is a mere delusion; for, as a member of such a system, it
+presents disagreements on every hand; as has been said, it has no
+agreement with anything, unless it be allowable to say that it agrees
+with the Arabic mode of notation. This kind of agreement it has, in
+common with every other base. It is this that gives it character. On
+this account alone it is believed by many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> to be the perfection of
+harmony. They get the base of numeration and the mode of notation so
+mingled together, that they cannot separate them sufficiently to obtain
+a distinct idea of either; and some are not conscious that they are
+distinct, but see in the Arabic mode nothing save decimal notation, and
+attribute to it all those high qualities that belong to the mode only.
+The Arabic mode is an invention of the highest merit, not surpassed by
+any other; but the admiration that belongs to it is thus bestowed upon a
+quite commonplace idea, a misapplication, which, in this as in many
+other cases, arises from the fact, that it is much easier to admire than
+to investigate. This result of carelessness, if isolated, might be
+excused; but all errors are productive, and it should be remembered that
+this one has produced that extraordinary perversion of truth to be found
+in the reply to the question, How is all this confusion to be brought
+into harmony? It has produced it not only in words, but in deed. Was it
+not this reply that led the French commission to extend the use of the
+present base from numeration to gradation also, under the delusive hope
+of producing a perfectly homogeneous system, that would be practical
+also? Was it not under its influence, that, adhering to the base to
+which the world had been so long accustomed, instead of attempting to
+regulate ideal division by real, which might have led to the adoption of
+the true base and a practical system, they committed the one great error
+of endeavoring to reverse true order, by forcing real division into
+conformity with a preconceived ideal? This attempt was made at a time
+supposed by many to be peculiarly suited to the purpose, a time of
+changes. It was a time of changes, truly; but these were the result of
+high excitement, not of quiet thought, such as the subject requires,&mdash;a
+time for rushing forward, not for retracing misguided steps.
+Accordingly, a system was produced which from its magnitude and
+importance was truly imposing, and which, to the present day, is highly
+applauded by all those who, under the influence of the error alluded to,
+conceive decimal numeration to be a sacred truth: applauded, not because
+of its adaptation to commerce, but simply because of its beautiful
+proportions, its elegant symmetry, to say nothing of the array of
+learning and power engaged in its production and inauguration: imposing,
+truly, and alike on its authors and admirers; for the qualities they so
+much admire are not peculiar to the decimal base, but to the use of one
+and the same base for numeration, notation, and gradation. But if the
+base ten agrees with nothing, over, on, or under the earth, can it be
+the best for scientific use? can it be at all suited to commercial
+purposes? If true order is the object to be attained, and that for the
+sake of its utility, then agreement between real and ideal division is
+the one thing needful, the one essential change without which all other
+changes are vain, the only change that will yield the greatest good to
+the greatest number,&mdash;a change, which, as volition is with the ideal,
+and inertia with the real, can be attained only by adaptation of the
+ideal to the real.</p>
+
+<p>A full investigation of the existing heterogeneous or fragmentary system
+will lead to the discovery that it contains two elements which are at
+variance with natural division and with each other, and that the
+unsuccessful issue of every attempt at regulation hitherto made has been
+the proper result of the mistake of supposing agreement between those
+elements to be a possible thing.</p>
+
+<p>The first element of discord to be considered is the division of things
+by personal proportion, as by fathom, yard, cubit, foot, etc. It is
+obvious at a glance, that these do not agree with binary division, nor
+with decimal, nor yet with each other. It is this element that has
+suggested the duodecimal base, to which some adhere so tenaciously,
+apparently because they have not ascertained the essential quality of a
+base.</p>
+
+<p>The second is the numeration of things by personal parts, as fingers,
+hands, etc.,&mdash;suggesting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> a base of numeration that has no agreement
+with the binary, nor with personal proportion, neither can it have with
+any proper general system. Are there any things in Nature that exist by
+tens, that associate by tens, that separate into tenths? Are there any
+things that are sold by tens, or by tenths? Even the fingers number
+eight, and, had there been any reflection used in the adoption of a base
+of numeration, the thumbs would not have been included. The ease with
+which the simplest arithmetical series may be continued led our fathers
+quietly to the adoption, first, of the quinary, and second, of the
+decimal group; and we have continued its use so quietly, that its
+propriety has rarely been questioned; indeed, most persons are both
+surprised and offended, when they hear it declared to be a purely
+artificial base, proper only to abstract numbers.</p>
+
+<p>The binary base, on the contrary, is natural, real, simple,
+and accords with the tendency of the mind to simplify, to
+individualize. In business, who ever thinks of a half as
+two-fourths, or three-sixths, much less as two-and-a-half-fifths,
+or three-and-a-half-sevenths? For division by two produces a half
+at one operation; but with any other divisor, the reduction is too
+great, and must be followed by multiplication. Think of calling
+a half five-tenths, a quarter twenty-five-hundredths, an eighth
+one-hundred-and-twenty-five-thousandths! Arithmetic is seldom used as a
+plaything. It generally comes into use when the mind is too much
+occupied for sporting. Consequently, the smallest divisor that will
+serve the purpose is always preferred. A calculation is an appendage to
+a mercantile transaction, not a part of the transaction itself; it is,
+indeed, a hindrance, and in large business is performed by a distinct
+person. But even with him, simplicity, because necessary to speed, is
+second in merit only to correctness.</p>
+
+<p>The binary base is not only simple, it is real. Accordingly, it has
+large agreement with the popular divisions of weights, etc. Grocers'
+weights, up to the four-pound piece, and all their measures, are binary;
+so are the divisions of the yard, the inch, etc.</p>
+
+<p>It is not only simple and real, it is natural. On every hand, things may
+be found that are duplex in form, that associate in pairs, that separate
+into halves, that may be divided into two equal parts. Things are
+continually sold in pairs, in halves, and in quantities produced by
+halving.</p>
+
+<p>The binary base, therefore, is here proposed, as the only proper base
+for gradation; and the octonal, as the true commercial base, for
+numeration and notation: two bases which in combination form a
+binoctonal system that is at once simple, comprehensive, and efficient.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="MY_LAST_LOVE" id="MY_LAST_LOVE"></a>MY LAST LOVE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>I had counted many more in my girlhood, in the first flush of
+blossoming,&mdash;and a few, good men and true, whom I never meet even now
+without an added color; for, at one time or another, I thought I loved
+each of them.</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't I marry them, then?"</p>
+
+<p>For the same reason that many another woman does not. We are afraid to
+trust our own likings. Too many of them are but sunrise vapors, very
+rosy to begin with, but by mid-day as dingy as any old dead cloud with
+the rain all shed out of it. I never see any of those old swains of
+mine, without feeling profoundly thankful that I don't belong to him. I
+shouldn't want to look over my husband's head in any sense. So they all
+got wives<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> and children, and I lived an old maid,&mdash;although I was
+scarcely conscious of the state; for, if my own eyes or other people's
+testimony were to be trusted, I didn't look old, and I'm quite sure I
+didn't feel so. But I came to myself on my thirty-second birthday, an
+old maid most truly, without benefit of clergy. And thereby hangs this
+tale; for on that birthday I first made acquaintance with my last love.</p>
+
+<p>Something like a month before, there had come to Huntsville two
+gentlemen in search of game and quiet quarters for the summer. They soon
+found that a hotel in a country village affords little seclusion; but
+the woods were full of game, the mountain-brooks swarmed with trout too
+fine to be given up, and they decided to take a house of their own.
+After some search, they fixed on an old house, (I've forgotten whose
+"folly" it was called,) full a mile and a half from town, standing upon
+a mossy hill that bounded my fields, square and stiff and
+weather-beaten, and without any protection except a ragged pine-tree
+that thrust its huge limbs beneath the empty windows, as though it were
+running away with a stolen house under its arm. The place was musty,
+rat-eaten, and tenanted by a couple of ghosts, who thought a fever, once
+quite fatal within the walls, no suitable discharge from the property,
+and made themselves perfectly free of the quarters in properly weird
+seasons. But money and labor cleared out all the cobwebs, (for ghosts
+are but spiritual cobwebs, you know,) and the old house soon wore a
+charming air of rustic comfort.</p>
+
+<p>I used to look over sometimes, for it was full in view from my
+chamber-windows, and see the sportsmen going off by sunrise with their
+guns or fishing-rods, or lying, after their late dinner, stretched upon
+the grass in front of the house, smoking and reading. Sometimes a
+fragment of a song would be dropped down from the lazy wings of the
+south wind, sometimes a long laugh filled all the summer air and
+frightened the pinewood into echoes, and, altogether, the new neighbors
+seemed to live an enviable life. They were very civil people, too; for,
+though their nearest path out lay across my fields, and close by the
+doorway, and they often stopped to buy fruit or cream or butter, we were
+never annoyed by an impertinent question or look. Once only I overheard
+a remark not altogether civil, and that was on the evening before my
+birthday. One of them, the elder, said, as he went away from my house
+with a basket of cherries, that he should like to get speech with that
+polyglot old maid, who read, and wrote, and made her own butter-pats.
+The other answered, that the butter was excellent at any rate, and
+perhaps she had a classical cow; and they went down the lane laughingly
+disputing about the matter, not knowing that I was behind the
+currant-bushes.</p>
+
+<p>"Polyglot old maid!" I thought, very indignantly, as I went into the
+house. "I've a mind not to sell them another cake of my butter. But I
+wonder if people call me an old maid. I wonder if I am one."</p>
+
+<p>I thought of it all the evening, and dreamt of it all night, waking the
+next morning with a new realization of the subject. That first sense of
+a lost youth! How sharp and strong it comes! That suddenly opened north
+door of middle life, through which the winter winds rush in, sweeping
+out of the southern windows all the splendors of the earlier time; it is
+like a sea-turn in late summer. It has seemed to be June all along, and
+we thought it was June, until the wind went round to the east, and the
+first red leaf admonished us. By-and-by we close, as well as we may,
+that open door, and look out again from the windows upon blooms,
+beautiful in their way, to which some birds yet sing; but, alas! the
+wind is still from the east, and blows as though, far away, it had lain
+among icebergs.</p>
+
+<p>So I mused all the morning, watering the sentiment with a bit of a
+shower out of my cloud; and when the shadows turned themselves, I went
+out to see how old age would look to me in the fields and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> woods. It was
+a delicious afternoon, more like a warm dream of hay-making, odorous,
+misty, sleepily musical, than a waking reality, on which the sun shone.
+Tremulous blue clouds lay down all around upon the mountains, and lazy
+white ones lost themselves in the waters; and through the dozing air,
+the faint chirp of robin or cricket, and ding of bells in the woods, and
+mellow cut of scythe, melted into one song, as though the heart-beat of
+the luscious midsummer-time had set itself to tune.</p>
+
+<p>I walked on to loiter through the woods. No dust-brush for brain or
+heart like the boughs of trees! There dwells a truth, and pure, strong
+health within them, an ever-returning youth, promising us a glorious
+leafage in some strange spring-time, and a symmetry and sweetness that
+possess us until our thoughts grow skyward like them, and wave and sing
+in some sunnier strata of soul-air. In the woods I was a girl again, and
+forgot the flow of the hours in their pleasant companionship. I must
+have grown tired and sat down by a thicket of pines to rest, though I
+have forgotten, and perhaps I had fallen asleep; for suddenly I became
+conscious of a sharp report, and a sharper pain in my shoulder, and,
+tearing off my cape, I found the blood was flowing from a wound just
+below the joint. I remember little more, for a sudden faintness came
+over me; but I have an indistinct remembrance of people coming up, of
+voices, of being carried home, and of the consternation there, and long
+delay in obtaining the surgeon. The pain of an operation brought me
+fully to my senses; and when that was over, I was left alone to sleep,
+or to think over my situation at leisure. I'm afraid I had but little of
+a Christian spirit then. All my plans of labor and pleasure spoiled by
+this one piece of carelessness! to call it by the mildest term. All
+those nice little fancies that should have grown into real
+flesh-and-blood articles for my publisher, hung up to dry and shrivel
+without shape or comeliness! The garden, the dairy, the new bit of
+carriage-way through the beeches,&mdash;my pet scheme,&mdash;the new music, the
+sewing, all laid upon the shelf for an indefinite time, and I with no
+better employment than to watch the wall-paper, and to wonder if it
+wasn't almost dinner- or supper-time, or nearly daylight! To be sure, I
+knew and thought of all the improving reflections of a sick-room; but it
+was much like a mild-spoken person making peace among twenty quarrelsome
+ones. You can see him making mouths, but you don't hear a word he says.</p>
+
+<p>A sick mind breeds fever fast in a sick body, and by night I was in a
+high fever, and for a day or two knew but little of what went on about
+me. One of the first things I heard, when I grew easier, was, that my
+neighbor, the sportsman, was waiting below to hear how I was. It was the
+younger one whose gun had wounded me; and he had shown great solicitude,
+they said, coming several times each day to inquire for me. He brought
+some birds to be cooked for me, too,&mdash;and came again to bring some
+lilies he had gone a mile to fetch, he told the girl. Every day he came
+to inquire, or to bring some delicacy, or a few flowers, or a new
+magazine for me, until the report of his visit came to be an expected
+excitement, and varied the dull days wonderfully. Sickness and seclusion
+are a new birth to our senses, oftentimes. Not only do we get a real
+glimpse of ourselves, undecked and unclothed, but the commonest habits
+of life, and the things that have helped to shape them day by day, put
+on a sort of strangeness, and come to shake hands with us again, and
+make us wonder that they should be just exactly what they are. We get at
+the primitive meaning of them, as if we rubbed off the nap of life, and
+looked to see how the threads were woven; and they come and go before us
+with a sort of old newness that affects us much as if we should meet our
+own ghost some time, and wonder if we are really our own or some other
+person's housekeeper.</p>
+
+<p>I went through all this, and came out with a stock of small facts
+beside,&mdash;as,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> that the paper-hanger had patched the hangings in my
+chamber very badly in certain dark spots, (I had got several headaches,
+making it out,)&mdash;that the chimney was a little too much on one
+side,&mdash;that certain boards in the entry-floor creaked of their own
+accord in the night,&mdash;that Neighbor Brown had tucked a few new shingles
+into the roof of his barn, so that it seemed to have broken out with
+them,&mdash;and any number of other things equally important. At length I got
+down-stairs, and was allowed to see a few friends. Of course there was
+an inundation of them; and each one expected to hear my story, and to
+tell a companion one, something like mine, only a little more so. It was
+astonishing, the immense number of people that had been hurt with guns.
+No wonder I was sick for a day or two afterward. I was more prudent next
+time, however, and, as the gossips had got all they wanted, I saw only
+my particular friends. Among these my neighbor, the sportsman, insisted
+on being reckoned, and after a little hesitation we were obliged to
+admit him. I say we,&mdash;for, on hearing of my injury, my good cousin, Mary
+Mead, had come to nurse and amuse me. She was one of those safe,
+serviceable, amiable people, made of just the stuff for a satellite, and
+she proved invaluable to me. She was immensely taken with Mr. Ames, too,
+(I speak of the younger, for, after the first call of condolence, the
+elder sportsman never came,) and to her I left the task of entertaining
+him, or rather of doing the honors of the house,&mdash;for the gentleman
+contrived to entertain himself and us.</p>
+
+<p>Now don't imagine the man a hero, for he was no such thing. He was very
+good-looking,&mdash;some might say handsome,&mdash;well-bred, well educated, with
+plenty of common information picked up in a promiscuous intercourse with
+town and country people, rather fine tastes, and a great, strong,
+magnanimous, physical nature, modest, but perfectly self-conscious. That
+was his only charm for me. I despise a mere animal; but, other things
+being equal, I admire a man who is big and strong, and aware of his
+advantages; and I think most women, and very refined ones, too, love
+physical beauty and strength much more than they are willing to
+acknowledge. So I had the same admiration for Mr. Ames that I should
+have had for any other finely proportioned thing, and enjoyed him very
+much, sitting quietly in my corner while he chatted with Mary, or told
+me stories of travel or hunting, or read aloud, which he soon fell into
+the way of doing.</p>
+
+<p>We did try, as much as hospitality permitted, to confine his visits to a
+few ceremonious calls; but he persisted in coming almost every day, and
+walked in past the girl with that quiet sort of authority which it is so
+difficult to resist. In the same way he took possession of Mary and me.
+He was sure it must be very dull for both of us; therefore he was going,
+if we would pardon the liberty, to offer his services as reader, while
+my nurse went out for a ride or a walk. Couldn't I sit out under the
+shadow of the beech-trees, as well as in that hot room? He could lift
+the chair and me perfectly well, and arrange all so that I should be
+comfortable. He would like to superintend the cooking of some birds he
+brought one day. He noticed that the girl didn't do them quite as nicely
+as he had learned to do them in the woods. And so in a thousand things
+he quietly made us do as he chose, without seeming to outrage any rule
+of propriety. When I was able to sit in a carriage, he persuaded me to
+drive with him; and I had to lean on his arm, when I first went round
+the place to see how matters went on.</p>
+
+<p>Once I protested against his making himself so necessary to us, and told
+him that I didn't care to furnish the gossips so much food as we were
+doing.</p>
+
+<p>When I turned him out of doors, he would certainly stay away, he said;
+but he thought, that, as long as I was an invalid, I needed some one to
+think and act for me and save me the trouble, and, as no one else seemed
+disposed to take the office, he thought it was rather his duty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> and
+privilege,&mdash;especially, he added, with a slight smile, as he was quite
+sure that it was not very disagreeable to us. As for the gossips, he
+didn't think they would make much out of it, with such an excellent
+duenna as Cousin Mary,&mdash;and, indeed, he heard the other day that he was
+paying attention to her.</p>
+
+<p>I thought it all over by myself, when he had gone, and came to the
+conclusion that it was not necessary for me to resign so great a
+pleasure as his society had become, merely for the fear of what a few
+curious people might say. Even Mary, cautious as she was, protested
+against banishing him for such a reason; and, after a little talking
+over of the matter among ourselves, we decided to let Mr. Ames come as
+often as he chose, for the remaining month of his stay.</p>
+
+<p>That month went rapidly enough, for I was well enough to ride and walk
+out, and half the time had Mr. Ames to accompany me. I got to value him
+very much, as I knew him better, and as he grew acquainted with my
+peculiarities; and we were the best friends in the world, without a
+thought of being more. No one would have laughed at that more than we,
+there was such an evident unsuitableness in the idea. At length the time
+came for him to leave Huntsville; his house was closed, except one room
+where he still preferred to remain, and his friend was already gone. He
+came to take tea with us for the last time, and made himself as
+agreeable as ever, although it evidently required some effort to do so.
+Soft-hearted Cousin Mary broke down and went off crying when he bade her
+good-bye, after tea; but I was not of such stuff, and laughingly rallied
+him on the impression he had made.</p>
+
+<p>"Get your bonnet, and walk over to the stile with me, Miss Rachel," he
+said. "It isn't sunset quite yet, and the afternoon is warm. Come! it's
+the last walk we shall take together."</p>
+
+<p>I followed him out, and we went almost silently across the fields to the
+hill that overlooked the strip of meadow between our houses. There was
+the stile over which I had looked to see him spring, many a time.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down a moment, until the sun is quite down," he said, making room
+for me beside him on the topmost step. "See how splendid that sky is! a
+pavilion for the gods!"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think they were airing all their finery," I answered. "It
+looks more like a counter spread with bright goods than anything else I
+can think of."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a decidedly vulgar comparison, and you're not in a spiritual
+mood at all," he said. "You've snubbed me two or three times to-night,
+when I've tried to be sentimental. What's amiss with you?" and he bent
+his eyes, full of a saucy sort of triumph, upon mine.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like parting with friends; it sets me all awry," I said, giving
+back his own self-assured look. I was sorry to have him go; but if he
+thought I was going to cry or blush, he was mistaken.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll write to me, Miss Rachel?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mr. Ames,&mdash;not at all," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Not write? Why not?" he asked, in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I don't believe in galvanizing dead friendships," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Dead friendships, Miss Rachel? I hope ours has much life in it yet," he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"It's in the last agony, Sir. It will be comfortably dead and buried
+before long, with a neat little epitaph over it,&mdash;which is much the best
+way to dispose of them finally, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"You're harder than I thought you were," he said. "Is that the way you
+feel towards all your friends?"</p>
+
+<p>"I love my friends as well as any one," I answered. "But I never hold
+them when they wish to be gone. My life-yarn spins against some other
+yarn, catches the fibres, and twists into the very heart"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"So far?" he asked, turning his eyes down to mine.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, coolly,&mdash;"for the time being. You don't play at your
+friendships, do you? If so, I pity you. As I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> was saying, they're like
+one thread. By-and-by one spindle is moved, the strands spin away from
+each other, and become strange yarn. What's the use of sending little
+locks of wool across to keep them acquainted? They're two yarns from
+henceforth. Reach out for some other thread,&mdash;there's plenty near,&mdash;and
+spin into that. We're made all up of little locks from other people, Mr.
+Ames. Won't it be strange, in that great Hereafter, to hunt up our own
+fibres, and return other people's? It would take about forty-five
+degrees of an eternity to do that."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never return mine," he said. "I couldn't take myself to pieces
+in such a style. But won't you write at all?"</p>
+
+<p>"To what purpose? You'll be glad of one letter,&mdash;possibly of two. Then
+it will be, 'Confound it! here's a missive from that old maid! What a
+bore! Now I suppose I must air my wits in her behalf; but, if you ever
+catch me again,'&mdash;&mdash;<i>Exit</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"And you?" he asked, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be as weary as you, and find it as difficult to keep warmth in
+the poor dying body. No, Mr. Ames. Let the poor thing die a natural
+death, and we'll wear a bit of crape a little while, and get a new
+friend for the old."</p>
+
+<p>"So you mean to forget me altogether?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed! I shall recollect you as a very pleasant tale that is
+told,&mdash;not a friend to hanker after. Isn't that good common sense?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's all head-work,&mdash;mere cold calculation," he said; "while I"&mdash;&mdash;He
+stopped and colored.</p>
+
+<p>"Your gods, there, are downright turn-coats," I said, coming down from
+the stile. "Their red mantles are nothing but pearl-colored now, and
+presently they'll be russet-gray. That whippoorwill always brings the
+dew with him, too; so I must go home. Good-night, and good-bye, Mr.
+Ames."</p>
+
+<p>"I scarcely know how to part with you," he said, taking my hand. "It's
+not so easy a thing to do."</p>
+
+<p>"People say, 'Good-bye,' or 'God bless you,' or some such civil phrase,
+usually," I said, with just the least curl of my lip,&mdash;for I knew I had
+got the better of him.</p>
+
+<p>He colored again, and then smiled a little sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I'm afraid I leave a bigger lock than I take," he exclaimed. "Well,
+then, good friend! good-bye, and God bless you, too! Don't be quite so
+hard as you promise to be."</p>
+
+<p>I missed him very much, indeed; but if any think I cried after him, or
+wrote verses, or soliloquized for his sake, they are much mistaken. I
+had lost friends before, and made it a point to think just as little of
+them as possible, until the sore spot grew strong enough to handle
+without wincing. Besides, my cousin stayed with me, and all my good
+friends in the village had to come out for a call or a visit to see how
+the land lay; so I had occupation enough. Once in a while I used to look
+over to the old house, and wish for one good breezy conversation with
+its master; and when the snow came and lay in one mass upon the old
+roof, clear down to the eaves, like a night-cap pulled down to the eyes
+of a low-browed old woman, I moved my bed against the window that looked
+that way. These forsaken nests are gloomy things enough!</p>
+
+<p>I had no thought of hearing again of him or from him, and was surprised,
+when, in a month, a review came, and before long another, and afterwards
+a box, by express, with a finely kept bouquet, and, in mid-winter, a
+little oil-painting,&mdash;a delicious bit of landscape for my <i>sanctum</i>, as
+he said in the note that accompanied it. I heard from him in this way
+all winter, although I never sent word or message back again, and tried
+to think I was sorry that he did not forget me, as I had supposed he
+would. Of course I never thought of acknowledging to myself that it was
+possible for me to love him. I was too good a sophist for that; and,
+indeed, I think that between a perfect friendship and a perfect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> love a
+fainter distinction exists than many people imagine. I have known
+likings to be colored as rosily as love, and seen what called itself
+love as cold as the chilliest liking.</p>
+
+<p>One day, after spring had been some time come, I was returning from a
+walk and saw that Mr. Ames's house was open. I could not see any person
+there; but the door and windows were opened, and a faint smoke crept out
+of the chimney and up among the new spring foliage after the squirrels.
+I had walked some distance, and was tired, and the weather was not
+perfect; but I thought I would go round that way and see what was going
+on. It was one of those charming child-days in early May, laughing and
+crying all in one, the fine mist-drops shining down in the sun's rays,
+like star-dust from some new world in process of rasping up for use. I
+liked such days. The showers were as good for me as for the trees. I
+grew and budded under them, and they filled my soul's soil full of
+singing brooks.</p>
+
+<p>When I reached the lawn before the door, Mr. Ames came out to see
+me,&mdash;so glad to meet that he held my hand and drew me in, asking two or
+three times how I was and if I were glad to see him. He had called at
+the house and seen Cousin Mary, on his way over, he said,&mdash;for he was
+hungering for a sight of us. He was not looking as well as when he left
+in the autumn,&mdash;thinner, paler, and with a more anxious expression when
+he was not speaking; but when I began to talk with him, he brightened
+up, and seemed like his old self. He had two or three workmen already
+tearing down portions of the finishing, and after a few moments asked me
+to go round and see what improvements he was to make. We stopped at last
+at his chamber, a room that looked through the foliage towards my house.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my lounging-place," he said, pointing to the sofa beneath the
+window. "I shall sit here with my cigar and watch you this summer; so be
+circumspect! But are you sure that you are glad to see me?"</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure. Do you take me for a heathen?" I said. "But what are you
+making such a change for? Couldn't the old house content you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It satisfies me well enough; but I expect visitors this summer who are
+quite fastidious, and this old worm-eaten wood-work wouldn't do for
+them. What makes you look so dark? Don't you like the notion of my
+lady-visitors?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know that they were to be ladies until you told me," I said;
+"and it's none of my business whom you entertain, Mr. Ames."</p>
+
+<p>"There wasn't much of a welcome for them in your face, at any rate," he
+answered. "And to tell the truth, I am not much pleased with the
+arrangement myself. But they took a sudden fancy for coming, and no
+amount of persuasion could induce them to change their minds. It's
+hardly a suitable place for ladies; but if they will come, they must
+make the best of it."</p>
+
+<p>"How came you ever to take a fancy to this place? and what makes you
+spend so much money on it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't like to see the money thrown away," he said, laughing. "The
+truth is, that I've got a skeleton, like many another man, and I've been
+trying these two years to get away from it. The first time I stopped to
+rest under this tree, I felt light-hearted. I don't know why, except it
+was some mysterious influence; but I loved the place, and I love it no
+less now, although my skeleton has found a lodging-place here too."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," I said, "and very appropriately. The house was haunted
+before you came."</p>
+
+<p>"It was haunted for me afterward," he said softly, more to himself than
+to me; "sweet, shadowy visions I should be glad to call up now." And he
+turned away and swallowed a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>I pitied him all the way home, and sat up to pity him, looking through
+the soft May starlight to see the lamp burning steadily at his window
+until after midnight. From that time I seemed to have a trouble,&mdash;though
+I could scarcely have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> named or owned it, it was so indefinite.</p>
+
+<p>He came to see me a few days afterward, and sat quite dull and
+abstracted until I warmed him up with a little lively opposition. I
+vexed him first, and then, when I saw he was interested enough to talk,
+I let him have a chance; and I had never seen him so interesting. He
+showed me a new phase of his character, and I listened, and answered him
+in as few words as possible, that I might lose nothing of the
+revelation. When he got up to go away, I asked him where he had been to
+learn and think so much since the last autumn. He began to be, I thought
+and hoped, what a sterner teaching might have made him before.</p>
+
+<p>He seemed a little embarrassed; said no one else had discovered any
+change in him, and he thought it must be only a reflected light. He had
+observed that I had "a remarkable faculty for drawing people out. What
+was my witchcraft?"</p>
+
+<p>I disclaimed all witchcraft, and told him it was only because I
+quarrelled with people. A little wholesome opposition had warmed him
+into quite a flight of fancy.</p>
+
+<p>"If I could only,"&mdash;&mdash;he began, hurriedly; but took out his watch, said
+it was time for him to go, and went off quite hastily. It was very weak
+in me, but I wished very much to know what he would have said.</p>
+
+<p>The next time, he called a few moments to tell me that his
+lady-visitors, with a friend of theirs, had come, and had expressed a
+wish to make my acquaintance. He promised them that he would call and
+let me know,&mdash;though he hoped I would not come, unless I felt inclined.
+He was very absent-minded, and went off the moment I asked him where he
+had left his good spirits. This made me a little cold to him when I
+called on the ladies, for I found them all sitting after tea out at the
+door. It was a miserably constrained affair, though we all tried to be
+civil,&mdash;for I could see that both ladies were taking, or trying to take,
+my measure, and it did not set me at ease in the least. But in the mean
+time I had measured them; and as experience has confirmed that first
+impression, I may as well sketch them here. I protest, in the first
+place, against any imputation of prejudice or jealousy. I thought much
+more charitably of them than others did.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Winslow was one of those pleasant, well-bred ladies, who can look
+at you until you are obliged to look away, contradict you flatly, and
+say the most grossly impertinent things in the mildest voice and
+choicest words. A woman of the world, without nobility enough to
+appreciate a magnanimous thought or action, and with very narrow,
+shallow views of everything about her, she had still some agreeable
+traits of character,&mdash;much shrewd knowledge of the world, as she saw it,
+some taste for Art, and an excellent judgment in relation to all things
+appertaining to polite society. I had really some pleasant intercourse
+with her, although I think she was one of the most insulting persons I
+ever met. I made a point of never letting her get any advantage of me,
+and so we got along very well. Whenever she had a chance, she was sure
+to say something that would mortify or hurt me; and I never failed to
+repay both principal and interest with a voice and face as smooth as
+hers. And here let me say that there is no other way of dealing with
+such people. Self-denial, modesty, magnanimity, they do not and cannot
+understand. Never turn them the other cheek, but give a smart slap back
+again. It will do them good.</p>
+
+<p>The daughter was a very pretty, artificial, silly girl, who might have
+been very amiable in a different position, and was not ill-natured as it
+was. I might have liked her very well, if she had not conceived such a
+wonderful liking for me, and hugged and kissed me as much as she did.
+She cooed, too, and I dislike to hear a woman coo; it is a sure mark of
+inferiority.</p>
+
+<p>We were quite intimate soon, and Miss Lucy fell into the habit of coming
+early in the morning to ride with me, and after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> dinner to sit and sew,
+and after tea for a walk. She showed me all her heart, apparently,
+though there was not much of it, and vowed that she scarcely knew how
+she should exist without me. I let her play at liking me, just as I
+should have indulged a playful kitten, and tried to say and do something
+that might improve her for Mr. Ames's sake. I saw now what his skeleton
+was. He was to marry the poor child, and shrunk from it as I should have
+shrunk from a shallow husband.</p>
+
+<p>He used to come with her sometimes, and I must confess that he behaved
+admirably. I never saw him in the least rude, or ill-natured, or
+contemptuous towards her, even when she was silliest and tried his
+patience most severely; and I felt my respect for him increasing every
+day. As for Mrs. Winslow, she came sometimes to see me, and was very
+particular to invite me there; but I saw that she watched both me and
+Mr. Ames, and suspected that she had come to Huntsville for that
+purpose. She sought every opportunity, too, of making me seem awkward or
+ignorant before him; and he perceived it, I know, and was mortified and
+annoyed by it, though he left the chastisement entirely to me. Once in a
+while Cousin Mary and I had a real old-fashioned visit from him all
+alone, either when it was very stormy, or when the ladies were visiting
+elsewhere. He always came serious and abstracted, and went away in good
+spirits, and he said that those few hours were the pleasantest he
+passed. Mrs. Winslow looked on them with an evil eye, I knew, and
+suspected a great deal of which we were all innocent; for one day, when
+she had been dining at my house with her daughter, and we were all out
+in the garden together, I overheard her saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"She is just the person to captivate him, and you mustn't bring yourself
+into competition with her, Lucy. She can out-shine you in conversation,
+and I know that she is playing a deep game."</p>
+
+<p>"La, ma!" the girl exclaimed. "An old maid, without the least style! and
+she makes butter too, and actually climbs up in a chair to scrub down
+her closets,&mdash;for Edward and I caught her at it one day."</p>
+
+<p>"And did she seem confused?" asked Mrs. Winslow.</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed! Now I should have died, if he had caught me in such a
+plight; but she shook down her dress as though it were a matter of
+course, and they were soon talking about some German stuff,&mdash;I don't
+know what it was,&mdash;while I had to amuse myself with the drawings."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the way!" retorted the mother. "You play dummy for them. I wish
+you had a little more spirit, Lucy. You wouldn't play into the hands of
+this designing"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, mamma! She's a real clever, good-natured old thing, and I
+like her," exclaimed the daughter. "You're so suspicious!"</p>
+
+<p>"You're so foolishly secure!" answered mamma. "A man is never certain
+until after the ceremony; and you don't know Edward Ames, Lucy."</p>
+
+<p>"I know he's got plenty of money, mother, and I know he's real nice and
+handsome," was the reply; and they walked out of hearing.</p>
+
+<p>I wouldn't have listened even to so much as that, if I could have
+avoided it; and as soon as I could, I went into the parlor, and sat down
+to some work, trying to keep down that old trouble, which somehow
+gathered size like a rolling snowball. I might have known what it was,
+if I had not closed my eyes resolutely, and said to myself, "The summer
+will soon be gone, and there will be an end of it all then"; and I
+winced, as I said it, like one who sees a blow coming.</p>
+
+<p>The summer went by imperceptibly; it was autumn, and still all things
+remained outwardly as they had been. We went back and forth continually,
+rode and walked out, sang and read together, and Lucy grew fonder and
+fonder of me. She could scarcely live out of my presence, and confided
+to me all her plans when she and Edward should be married,&mdash;how much she
+thought of him, and he of her, all about their courtship,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> how he
+declared himself and how she accepted him one soft moonlight night in
+far Italy, how agitated and distressed he had been when she had a fever,
+and a thousand other details which swelled that great stone in my heart
+more and more. But I shut my eyes, until one day when I saw them
+together. He was listening, intent, and very pale, to something she told
+him, and, to my surprise, she was pale too, and weeping. Before she
+could finish, she broke into a passionate rush of tears, and would have
+thrown herself at his feet; but he caught her, and she sunk down upon
+his shoulder, and he stooped towards her as he might if he had loved
+her. Then I knew how I loved him.</p>
+
+<p>I had to bear up a little while, for they were in my house, and I must
+bid them good-night, and talk idly, so that they should not suspect the
+wound I had. But I must do something, or go mad; and so I went out to
+the garden-wall, and struck my hand upon it until the blood ran. The
+pain of that balanced the terrible pain within for a few moments, and I
+went in to them calm and smiling. They were sitting on the sofa, he with
+a perplexed, pale face, and she blushing and radiant. They started up
+when they saw my hand bandaged, and she was full of sympathy for my
+hurt. He said but little, though he looked fixedly at my face. I know I
+must have looked strangely. When they were gone, I went into my chamber
+and shut the door, with some such feeling as I should have closed the
+entrance of a tomb behind me forever. I fought myself all that night. My
+heart was hungry and cried out for food, and I would promise it none at
+all. Is there anyone who thinks that youth has monopolized all the
+passion of life, all the rapture, all the wild despair? Let them breast
+the deep, strong current of middle life.</p>
+
+<p>I never could quite recollect how that last month went away. I know that
+I kept myself incessantly occupied, and that I saw them almost daily,
+without departing from the tone of familiar friendship I had worn
+throughout, although my heart was full of jealousy and a fast-growing
+hatred that would not be quelled. Not for a thousand happy loves would I
+have let them see my humiliation. I was even afraid that already he
+might suspect it, for his manner was changed. Sometimes he was distant,
+sometimes sad, and sometimes almost tenderer than a friend.</p>
+
+<p>It got to be October, and I felt that I could not bear such a state of
+things any longer, and questioned within myself whether I had better not
+leave home for a while. If I had been alone, it would have been easy;
+but my cousin Mary was still with me, and I could give no good reason
+for such a step. Before I had settled upon anything, Lucy came to me in
+great distress, with a confession that Mr. Ames was somehow turned
+against her, and that she was almost heart-broken about it. If she lost
+him, she must die; for she had so long looked upon him as her husband,
+and loved him so well, that life would be nothing without him. What
+should she do? Would I advise her?</p>
+
+<p>I didn't know, until long afterward, that it was a consummate piece of
+acting, dictated by the mother, and that she was as heartless as it was
+possible for a young girl to be; and while she lay weeping at my feet, I
+pitied her, and wondered if, perhaps, there might not be some spring of
+generous feeling in her heart, that a happy love would unlock. The next
+morning I went out alone, for a ride, in a direction where I thought I
+could not be disturbed. Up hill and down, over roads, pastures, and
+streams, I tore until the fever within was allayed, and then I stopped
+to rest, and look upon the beauties of the bright October day. All
+overhead and around, the sky and patches of water were of that
+far-looking blue which seems all ready to open upon new and wonderful
+worlds. Big, bright drops of a night-shower lay asleep in the curled-up
+leaves, as though the trees had stretched out a million hands to catch
+them. And such hands! What comparison could match them? Clouds of
+butterflies, such as sleep among the flowers of Paradise,&mdash;forgotten
+dreams of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> children, who sleep and smile,&mdash;fancies of fairy laureates,
+strung shining together for some high festival,&mdash;anything most rich or
+unreal, might furnish a type for the foliage that was painted upon the
+golden blue of that October day. I could almost have forgotten my
+trouble in the charmed gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"You turn up in strange places, Rachel!" said a voice behind me.</p>
+
+<p>This was what I had dreaded; but I swallowed love and fear in one great
+gulp, and shut my teeth with a resolution of iron. I would not be guilty
+of the meanness of standing in that child's way, if she were but a fool;
+so I answered him gayly.</p>
+
+<p>"'The same to yourself,' as Neighbor Dawkins would say. Why didn't you
+all go to the lake, as you planned last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"For some good reasons. Were you bewitched, that you stood here so
+still?" He looked brightly into my face, as he came up.</p>
+
+<p>"No,&mdash;but the trees are. Shouldn't you think that Oberon had held high
+court here over-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"And that they had left their wedding-dresses upon the boughs? Yes, they
+are gay enough! But where have you been these four weeks, that I haven't
+got speech with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"A pretty question, when you've been at my house almost every day! Where
+are your senses, man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know too well where they are," he said. "But I've wanted a good talk
+with you, face to face,&mdash;not with a veil of commonplace people between.
+You're not yourself among them. I like you best when your spirits are a
+little ruffled, and your eye kindles, and your lip curls, as it does
+now,&mdash;not when you say, "No, Sir," or "Yes, Ma'am," and smile as though
+it were only skin-deep."</p>
+
+<p>I started my horse.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's be going, Jessie," I said. "It's our duty to feel insulted. He
+accuses your mistress of being deceitful among her friends, and says he
+likes her when she's cross."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed lightly, and walked along by my side.</p>
+
+<p>"How are your ladies? and when will Miss Lucy come to ride out with me?"
+I asked, fearing a look into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>This brought him down. I knew it would.</p>
+
+<p>He answered that she was well, and walked along with his head down,
+quite like another man. At length he looked up, very pale, and put his
+hand on my bridle.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to put a case to you," he said. "Suppose a man to have made some
+engagement before his mind was mature, and under a strong outside
+pressure of which he was not aware. When he grows to a better knowledge
+of the world and himself, and finds that he has been half cheated, and
+that to keep his word will entail lasting misery and ruin on himself,
+without really benefiting any one else, is he bound to keep it?"</p>
+
+<p>I stopped an instant to press my heart back, and then I answered him.</p>
+
+<p>"A promise is a promise, Mr. Ames. I have thought that a man of honor
+valued his word more than happiness or life."</p>
+
+<p>He flushed a moment, and then looked down again; and we walked on
+slowly, without a word, over the stubbly ground, and through brooklets
+and groves and thickets, towards home. If I could only reach there
+before he spoke again! How could I hold out to do my duty, if I were
+tempted any farther? At last he checked the horse, and, putting his hand
+heavily on mine, looked me full in the face, while his was pale and
+agitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Rachel," he said, huskily, "if a man came to you and said, 'I am bound
+to another; but my heart, my soul, my life are at your feet,' would you
+turn him away?"</p>
+
+<p>I gasped one long breath of fresh air.</p>
+
+<p>"Do I look like a woman who would take a man's love at second hand?" I
+said, haughtily. "Women like me <i>must</i> respect the man they marry, Sir."</p>
+
+<p>He dropped his hand, and turned away his head, with a deep-drawn breath.
+I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> saw him stoop and lift himself again, as though some weight were laid
+upon his shoulders. I saw the muscles round and ridgy upon his clenched
+hand. "All this for a silly, shallow thing, who knows nothing of the
+heart she loses!" some tempter whispered, and passionate words of love
+rushed up and beat hard against my shut teeth. "Get thee behind me!" I
+muttered, and resolutely started my horse forward. "Not for her,&mdash;but
+for myself,&mdash;for self-respect! The best love in the world shall not buy
+that!"</p>
+
+<p>He came along beside me, silent, and stepping heavily, and thus we went
+to the leafy lane that came out near my house. There I stopped; for I
+felt that this must end now.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Ames, you must leave this place, directly," I said, with as much
+sternness as I could assume. "If you please, I will bid you good-bye,
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"Not see you again, Rachel?" he exclaimed, sharply. "No! not that!
+Forgive me, if I have said too much; but don't send me away!"</p>
+
+<p>He took my hand in both his, and gazed as one might for a sentence of
+life or death.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you let a woman's strength shame you?" I cried, desperately. "I
+thought you were a man of honor, Mr. Ames. I trusted you entirely, but I
+will never trust any one again."</p>
+
+<p>He dropped my hand, and drew himself up.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Rachel! you are right," he said, after a moment's
+thought. "No one must trust me, and be disappointed. I have never
+forgotten that before; please God, I never will again. But must I say
+farewell here?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is better," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, then, dear friend!&mdash;dear friend!" he whispered. "If you ever
+love any better than yourself, you will know how to forgive me."</p>
+
+<p>I felt his kiss on my hand, and felt, rather than saw, his last look,
+for I dared not raise my eyes to his; and I knew that he had turned
+back, and that I had seen the last of him. For one instant I thought I
+would follow and tell him that he did not suffer alone; but before my
+horse was half turned, I was myself again.</p>
+
+<p>"Fool!" I said. "If you let the dam down, can you push the waters back
+again? Would that man let anything upon earth stand between him and a
+woman that loved him? Let him go so. He'll forget you in six months."</p>
+
+<p>I had to endure a farewell call from Lucy and her mother. Mr. Ames had
+received a sudden summons home, and they were to accompany him a part of
+the way. The elder scrutinized me very closely, but I think she got
+nothing to satisfy her; the younger kissed and shed tears enough for the
+parting of twin sisters. How I hated her! In a couple of days they were
+gone, Mr. Ames calling to see me when he knew me to be out, and leaving
+a civil message only. The house was closed, the faded leaves fell all
+about the doorway, and the grass withered upon the little lawn.</p>
+
+<p>"That play is over, and the curtain dropped," I said to myself, as I
+took one long look towards the old house, and closed the shutters that
+opened that way.</p>
+
+<p>You who have suffered some great loss, and stagger for want of strength
+to walk alone, thank God for work. Nothing like that for bracing up a
+feeble heart! I worked restlessly from morning till night, and often
+encroached on what should have been sleep. Hard work, real sinewy labor,
+was all that would content me; and I found enough of it. To have been a
+proper heroine, I suppose I should have devoted myself to works of
+charity, read sentimental poetry, and folded my hands very meekly and
+prettily; but I did no such thing. I ripped up carpets, and scoured
+paint, and swept down cobwebs, I made sweetmeats and winter clothing, I
+dug up and set out trees, and smoothed the turf in my garden, and
+tramped round my fields with the man behind me, to see if the fences
+needed mending, or if the marshes were properly drained, or the fallow
+land wanted ploughing. It made me better. All the sickliness of my grief
+passed away,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> and only the deep-lying regret was left like a weight to
+which my heart soon became accustomed. We can manage trouble much better
+than we often do, if we only choose to try resolutely.</p>
+
+<p>I had but one relapse. It was when I got news of their marriage. I
+remember the day with a peculiar distinctness; for it was the first
+snow-storm of the season, and I had been out walking all the afternoon.
+It was one of those soft, leaden-colored, expectant days, of late autumn
+or early winter, when one is sure of snow; and I went out on purpose to
+see it fall among the woods; for it was just upon Christmas, and I
+longed to see the black ground covered. By-and-by a few flakes sauntered
+down, coquetting as to where they would alight; then a few more
+followed, thickening and thickening until the whole upper air was alive
+with them, and the frozen ridges whitened along their backs, and every
+little stiff blade of grass or rush or dead bush held all it could
+carry. It was pleasant to see the quiet wonder go on, until the
+landscape was completely changed,&mdash;to walk home <i>scuffing</i> the snow from
+the frozen road on which my feet had ground as I came that way, and see
+the fences full, and the hollows heaped up level, and the birches bent
+down with their hair hidden, and the broad arms of the fir-trees loaded,
+like sombre cotton-pickers going home heavily laden. Then to see the
+brassy streak widen in the west, and the cold moon hang astonished upon
+the dead tops of some distant pine-trees, was to enjoy a most beautiful
+picture, with only the cost of a little fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>When I got home, I found among my letters one from Mr. Ames. He could
+not leave the country without pleading once more for my esteem, he
+wrote. He had not intended to marry until he could think more calmly of
+the past; but Lucy's mother had married again very suddenly into a
+family where her daughter found it not pleasant to follow her. She was
+poor, without very near relatives now, and friends, on both sides, had
+urged the marriage. He had told her the state of his feelings, and
+offered, if she could overlook the want of love, to be everything else
+to her. She should never repent the step, and he prayed me, when I
+thought of him, to think as leniently as possible. Alas! now I must not
+think at all.</p>
+
+<p>How I fought that thought,&mdash;how I worked by day, and studied deep into
+the night, filling every hour full to the brim with activity, seems now
+a feverish dream to me. Such dead thoughts will not be buried out of
+sight, but lie cold and stiff, until the falling foliage of seasons of
+labor and experience eddies round them, and moss and herbs venture to
+grow over their decay, and birds come slowly and curiously to sing a
+little there. In time, the mound is beautiful with the richness of the
+growth, but the lord of the manor shudders as he walks that way. For
+him, it is always haunted.</p>
+
+<p>Thus with me. I knew that the sorrow was doing me good, that it had been
+needed long, and I tried to profit by it, as the time came when I could
+think calmly of it all. I thought I had ceased to love him; but the news
+of her death (for she died in two years) taught me better. I heard of
+him from others,&mdash;that he had been most tender and indulgent to a
+selfish, heartless woman, who trifled with his best feelings, and almost
+broke his heart before she went. I heard that he had one child, a poor
+little blind baby, for whom the mother had neither love nor care, and
+that he still continued abroad. But from himself I never heard a word.
+No doubt he had forgotten me, as I had always thought he would.</p>
+
+<p>More than two years passed, and spring-time was upon us, when I heard
+that he had returned to the country, and was to be married shortly to a
+wealthy, beautiful widow he had found abroad. At first we heard that he
+was married, and then that he was making great preparations, but would
+not marry until autumn. Even the bride's dress was described, and the
+furniture of the house of which she was to be mistress. I had expected
+some such thing, but it added one more drop of bitterness to the
+yearning I had for him. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> was so hard to think him like any other man!</p>
+
+<p>However, now, as before, I covered up the wound with a smiling face, and
+went about my business. I had been making extensive improvements on my
+farm, and kept out all day often, over-seeing the laborers. One night, a
+soft, starlight evening in late May, I came home very tired, and, being
+quite alone, sat down on the portico to watch the stars and think. I had
+not been long there, when a man's step came up the avenue, and some
+person, I could not tell who in the darkness, opened the gate, and came
+slowly up towards me. I rose, and bade him good-evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it you, Rachel?" he said, quite faintly. It was his voice. Thank
+Heaven for the darkness! The hand I gave him might tremble, but my face
+should betray nothing. I invited him into the parlor, and rang for
+lights.</p>
+
+<p>"He's come to see about selling the old house," I thought; there was a
+report that he would sell it by auction. When the lights came, he looked
+eagerly at me.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I much changed?" I said, with a half-bitter smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so much as I," he answered, sighing and looking down;&mdash;he seemed to
+be in deep thought for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>He was much changed. His hair was turning gray; his face was thin, with
+a subdued expression I had never expected to see him wear. He must have
+suffered greatly; and, as I looked, my heart began to melt. That would
+not do; and besides, what was the need of pity, when he had consoled
+himself? I asked some ordinary question about his journey, and led him
+into a conversation on foreign travel.</p>
+
+<p>The evening passed away as it might with two strangers, and he rose to
+go, with a grave face and manner as cold as mine,&mdash;for I had been very
+cold. I followed him to the door, and asked how long he stayed at
+Huntsville.</p>
+
+<p>Only a part of the next day, he said; his child could not be left any
+longer; but he wished very much to see me, and so had contrived to get a
+few days.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" I said. "You honor me. Your Huntsville friends scarcely
+expected to be remembered so long."</p>
+
+<p>"They have not done me justice, then," he said, quietly. "I seem to have
+the warmest recollection of any. Good-night, Miss Mead. I shall not be
+likely to see you again."</p>
+
+<p>He gave me his hand, but it was very cold, and I let it slip as coldly
+from mine. He went down the gravel-walk slowly and heavily, and he
+certainly sighed as he closed the gate. Could I give him up thus? "Down
+pride! You have held sway long enough! I must part more kindly, or die!"
+I ran down the gravel-walk and overtook him in the avenue. He stopped as
+I came up, and turned to meet me.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me," I said, breathlessly. "I could not part with old friends
+so, after wishing so much for them."</p>
+
+<p>He took both my hands in his. "Have you wished for me, Rachel?" he said,
+tenderly. "I thought you would scarcely have treated a stranger with so
+little kindness."</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid to be warmer," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Afraid of what?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>My mouth was unsealed. "Are you to be married?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no such expectation," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>"And are not engaged to any one?"</p>
+
+<p>"To nothing but an old love, dear! Was that why you were afraid to show
+yourself to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" I answered, making no resistance to the arm that was put gently
+round me. He was mine now, I knew, as I felt the strong heart beating
+fast against my own.</p>
+
+<p>"Rachel," he whispered, "the only woman I ever did or ever can love,
+will you send me away again?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="A_SHETLAND_SHAWL" id="A_SHETLAND_SHAWL"></a>A SHETLAND SHAWL.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was made of the purest and finest wool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As fine as silk, and as soft and cool;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was pearly white, of that cloud-like hue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which has a shadowy tinge of blue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And brought by the good ship, miles and miles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the distant shores of the Shetland Isles.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And in it were woven, here and there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The golden threads of a maiden's hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the wanton wind with tosses and twirls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blew in and out of her floating curls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While her busy fingers swiftly drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ivory needle through and through.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The warm sun flashed on the brilliant dyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the purple and golden butterflies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the drowsy bees, with a changeless tune,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hummed in the perfumed air of June,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the gossamer fabric, fair to view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the maiden's fingers grew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The shadows of tender thought arise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the tranquil depths of her dreamy eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her blushing cheek bears the first impress<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the spirit's awakening consciousness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the rose, when it bursts, in a single hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the folded bud to the perfect flower.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Many a tremulous hope and care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Many a loving wish and prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the blissful dreams of one who stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At the golden gate of womanhood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The little maiden's tireless hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wove in and out of the shining strands.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The buds that burst in an April sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had seen the wonderful shawl begun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was finished, and folded up with pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the vintage purpled the mountain-side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And smiles made light in the violet eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At the thought of a lover's pleased surprise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The spider hung from the budding thorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His baseless web, when the shawl was worn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the cobwebs, silvered by the dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the morning sunshine breaking through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The maiden's toil might well recall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the vanished year, on the Shetland Shawl.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For the rose had died in the autumn showers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That bloomed in the summer's golden hours;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the shining tissue of hopes and dreams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With misty glories and rainbow gleams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Woven within and out, was one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the slender thread by the spider spun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As fresh and as pure as the sad young face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The snowy shawl with its clinging grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seems a fitting veil for a form so fair:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But who would think what a tale of care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of love and grief and faith, might all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be folded up in a Shetland Shawl?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ROBA_DI_ROMA" id="ROBA_DI_ROMA"></a>ROBA DI ROMA.</h2>
+
+<h4>[Continued.]</h4>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3>
+
+<h3>GAMES IN ROME.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Walking, during pleasant weather, almost anywhere in Rome, but
+especially in passing through the enormous arches of the Temple of
+Peace, or along by the Colosseum, or some wayside <i>osteria</i> outside the
+city-walls, the ear of the traveller is often saluted by the loud,
+explosive tones of two voices going off together, at little intervals,
+like a brace of pistol-shots; and turning round to seek the cause of
+these strange sounds, he will see two men, in a very excited state,
+shouting, as they fling out their hands at each other with violent
+gesticulation. Ten to one he will say to himself, if he be a stranger in
+Rome, "How quarrelsome and passionate these Italians are!" If he be an
+Englishman or an American, he will be sure to congratulate himself on
+the superiority of his own countrymen, and wonder why these fellows
+stand there shaking their fists at each other, and screaming, instead of
+fighting it out like men,&mdash;and muttering, "A cowardly pack, too!" will
+pass on, perfectly satisfied with his facts and his philosophy. But what
+he has seen was really not a quarrel. It is simply the game of <i>Mora</i>,
+as old as the Pyramids, and formerly played among the host of Pharaoh
+and the armies of C&aelig;sar as now by the subjects of Pius IX. It is thus
+played.</p>
+
+<p>Two persons place themselves opposite each other, holding their right
+hands closed before them. They then simultaneously and with a sudden
+gesture throw out their hands, some of the fingers being extended, and
+others shut up on the palm,&mdash;each calling out in a loud voice, at the
+same moment, the number he guesses the fingers extended by himself and
+his adversary to make. If neither cry out aright, or if both cry out
+aright, nothing is gained or lost; but if only one guess the true
+number, he wins a point. Thus, if one throw out four fingers and the
+other two, he who cries out six makes a point, unless the other cry out
+the same number. The points are generally five, though sometimes they
+are doubled, and as they are made, they are marked by the left hand,
+which, during the whole game, is held stiffly in the air at about the
+shoulders' height, one finger being extended for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> every point. When the
+<i>partito</i> is won, the winner cries out, "<i>Fatto!</i>" or "<i>Guadagnato!</i>" or
+"<i>Vinto!</i>" or else strikes his hands across each other in sign of
+triumph. This last sign is also used when Double <i>Mora</i> is played, to
+indicate that five points are made.</p>
+
+<p>So universal is this game in Rome, that the very beggars play away their
+earnings at it. It was only yesterday, as I came out of the gallery of
+the Capitol, that I saw two who had stopped screaming for "<i>baiocchi per
+amor di Dio</i>," to play pauls against each other at <i>Mora</i>. One, a
+cripple, supported himself against a column, and the other, with his
+ragged cloak slung on his shoulder, stood opposite him. They staked a
+paul each time with the utmost <i>nonchalance</i>, and played with an
+earnestness and rapidity which showed that they were old hands at it,
+while the coachmen from their boxes cracked their whips, and jeered and
+joked them, and the shabby circle around them cheered them on. I stopped
+to see the result, and found that the cripple won two successive games.
+But his cloaked antagonist bore his losses like a hero, and when all was
+over, he did his best with the strangers issuing from the Capitol to
+line his pockets for a new chance.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing is more simple and apparently easy than <i>Mora</i>, yet to play it
+well requires quickness of perception and readiness in the calculation
+of chances. As each player, of course, knows how many fingers he himself
+throws out, the main point is to guess the number of fingers thrown by
+his opponent, and to add the two instantaneously together. A player of
+skill will soon detect the favorite numbers of his antagonist, and it is
+curious to see how remarkably clever some of them are in divining, from
+the movement of the hand, the number to be thrown. The game is always
+played with great vivacity, the hands being flung out with vehemence,
+and the numbers shouted at the full pitch of the voice, so as to be
+heard at a considerable distance. It is from the sudden opening of the
+fingers, while the hands are in the air, that the old Roman phrase,
+<i>micare digitis</i>, "to flash with the fingers," is derived.</p>
+
+<p>A bottle of wine is generally the stake; and round the <i>osterias</i>, of a
+<i>festa</i>-day, when the game is played after the blood has been heated and
+the nerves strained by previous potations, the regular volleyed
+explosions of "<i>Tre! Cinque! Otto! Tutti!</i>" are often interrupted by hot
+discussions. But these are generally settled peacefully by the
+bystanders, who act as umpires,&mdash;and the excitement goes off in talk.
+The question arises almost invariably upon the number of fingers flashed
+out; for an unscrupulous player has great opportunities of cheating, by
+holding a finger half extended, so as to be able to close or open it
+afterwards according to circumstances; but sometimes the losing party
+will dispute as to the number called out. The thumb is the father of all
+evil at <i>Mora</i>, it being often impossible to say whether it was intended
+to be closed or not, and an unskilful player is easily deceived in this
+matter by a clever one. When "<i>Tutti</i>" is called, all the fingers, thumb
+and all, must be extended, and then it is an even chance that a
+discussion will take place as to whether the thumb was out. Sometimes,
+when the blood is hot, and one of the parties has been losing, violent
+quarrels will arise, which the umpires cannot decide, and, in very rare
+cases, knives are drawn and blood is spilled. Generally these disputes
+end in nothing, and, often as I have seen this game, I have never been a
+spectator of any quarrel, though discussions numberless I have heard.
+But, beyond vague stories by foreigners, in which I put no confidence,
+the vivacity of the Italians easily leading persons unacquainted with
+their characters to mistake a very peaceable talk for a violent quarrel,
+I know of only one case that ended tragically. There a savage quarrel,
+begun at <i>Mora</i>, was with difficulty pacified by the bystanders, and one
+of the parties withdrew to an <i>osteria</i> to drink with his companions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>
+But while he was there, the rage which had been smothered, but not
+extinguished, in the breast of his antagonist, blazed out anew. Rushing
+at the other, as he sat by the table of the <i>osteria</i>, he attacked him
+fiercely with his knife. The friends of both parties started at once to
+their feet, to interpose and tear them apart; but before they could
+reach them, one of the combatants dropped bleeding and dying on the
+floor, and the other fled like a maniac from the room.</p>
+
+<p>This readiness of the Italians to use the knife, for the settlement of
+every dispute, is generally attributed by foreigners to the
+passionateness of their nature; but I am inclined to believe that it
+also results from their entire distrust of the possibility of legal
+redress in the courts. Where courts are organized as they are in Naples,
+who but a fool would trust to them? Open tribunals, where justice should
+be impartially administered, would soon check private assassinations;
+and were there more honest and efficient police courts, there would be
+far fewer knives drawn. The Englishman invokes the aid of the law,
+knowing that he can count upon prompt justice; take that belief from
+him, he, too, like Harry Gow, would "fight for his own hand." In the
+half-organized society of the less civilized parts of the United States,
+the pistol and bowie-knife are as frequent arbiters of disputes as the
+stiletto is among the Italians. But it would be a gross error to argue
+from this, that the Americans are violent and passionate by nature; for,
+among the same people in the older States, where justice is cheaply and
+strictly administered, the pistol and bowie-knife are almost unknown.
+Despotism and slavery nurse the passions of men; and wherever law is
+loose, or courts are venal, public justice assumes the shape of private
+vengeance. The farther south one goes in Italy, the more frequent is
+violence and the more unrepressed are the passions. Compare Piedmont
+with Naples, and the difference is immense. The dregs of vice and
+violence settle to the south. Rome is worse than Tuscany, and Naples
+worse than Rome,&mdash;not so much because of the nature of the people, as of
+the government and the laws.</p>
+
+<p>But to return to <i>Mora</i>. As I was walking out beyond the Porta San
+Giovanni the other day, I heard the most ingenious and consolatory
+periphrasis for a defeat that it was ever my good-fortune to hear; and,
+as it shows the peculiar humor of the Romans, it may here have a place.
+Two of a party of <i>contadini</i> had been playing at <i>Mora</i>, the stakes
+being, as usual, a bottle of wine, and each, in turn, had lost and won.
+A lively and jocose discussion now arose between the friends on the one
+side and the players on the other,&mdash;the former claiming that each of the
+latter was to pay his bottle of wine for the game he lost, (to be drunk,
+of course, by all,) and the latter insisting, that, as one loss offset
+the other, nothing was to be paid by either. As I passed, one of the
+players was speaking. "<i>Il primo partito</i>," he said, "<i>ho guadagnato io;
+e poi, nel secondo</i>,"&mdash;here a pause,&mdash;"<i>ho perso la vittoria</i>": "The
+first game, I won; the second, I&mdash;&mdash;<i>lost the victory</i>." And with this
+happy periphrasis, our friend admitted his defeat. I could not but think
+how much better it would have been for the French, if this ingenious
+mode of adjusting with the English the Battle of Waterloo had ever
+occurred to them. To admit that they were defeated was of course
+impossible; but to acknowledge that they "lost the victory" would by no
+means have been humiliating. This would have soothed their irritable
+national vanity, prevented many heart-burnings, saved long and idle
+arguments and terrible "kicking against the pricks," and rendered a
+friendly alliance possible.</p>
+
+<p>No game has a better pedigree than <i>Mora</i>. It was played by the
+Egyptians more than two thousand years before the Christian era. In the
+paintings at Thebes and in the temples of Beni-Hassan, seated figures
+may be seen playing it,&mdash;some keeping their reckoning with the left hand
+uplifted,&mdash;some striking off the game with both hands, to show that it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>
+was won,&mdash;and, in a word, using the same gestures as the modern Romans.
+From Egypt it was introduced into Greece. The Romans brought it from
+Greece at an early period, and it has existed among them ever since,
+having suffered apparently no alteration. Its ancient Roman name was
+<i>Micatio</i>, and to play it was called <i>micare digitis</i>,&mdash;"to flash the
+fingers,"&mdash;the modern name <i>Mora</i> being merely a corruption of the verb
+<i>micare</i>. Varro describes it precisely as it is now played; and Cicero,
+in the first book of his treatise "De Divinatione," thus alludes to
+it:&mdash;"<i>Quid enim est sors? Idem propemodum quod</i> micare, <i>quod talos
+jacere, quod tesseras; quibus in rebus temeritas et casus, non ratio et
+consilium valent.</i>" So common was it, that it became the basis of an
+admirable proverb, to denote the honesty of a person:&mdash;"<i>Dignus est
+quicum in tenebris mices</i>": "So trustworthy, that one may play <i>Mora</i>
+with him in the dark." At one period they carried their love of it so
+far, that they used to settle by <i>micatio</i> the sales of merchandise and
+meat in the Forum, until Apronius, prefect of the city, prohibited the
+practice in the following terms, as appears by an old inscription, which
+is particularly interesting as containing an admirable pun: "<i>Sub exagio
+potius pecora vendere quam digitis concludentibus tradere</i>": "Sell your
+sheep by the balance, and do not bargain or deceive" (<i>tradere</i> having
+both these meanings) "by opening and shutting your fingers at <i>Mora</i>."</p>
+
+<p>One of the various kinds of the old Roman game of <i>Pila</i> still survives
+under the modern name of <i>Pallone</i>. It is played between two sides, each
+numbering from five to eight persons. Each of the players is armed with
+a <i>bracciale</i>, or gantlet of wood, covering the hand and extending
+nearly up to the elbow, with which a heavy ball is beaten backwards and
+forwards, high into the air, from one side to the other. The object of
+the game is to keep the ball in constant flight, and whoever suffers it
+to fall dead within his bounds loses. It may, however, be struck in its
+rebound, though the best strokes are before it touches the ground. The
+<i>bracciali</i> are hollow tubes of wood, thickly studded outside with
+pointed bosses, projecting an inch and a half, and having inside, across
+the end, a transverse bar, which is grasped by the hand, so as to render
+them manageable to the wearer. The balls, which are of the size of a
+large cricket-ball, are made of leather, and are so heavy, that, when
+well played, they are capable of breaking the arm, unless properly
+received on the <i>bracciale</i>. They are inflated with air, which is pumped
+into them with a long syringe, through a small aperture closed by a
+valve inside. The game is played on an oblong figure, marked out on the
+ground, or designated by the wall around the sunken platform on which it
+is played; across the centre is drawn a transverse line, dividing
+equally the two sides. Whenever a ball either falls outside the lateral
+boundary or is not struck over the central line, it counts against the
+party playing it. When it flies over the extreme limits, it is called a
+<i>volata</i>, and is reckoned the best stroke that can be made. At the end
+of the lists is a spring-board, on which the principal player stands.
+The best batter is always selected for this post; the others are
+distributed about. Near him stands the <i>pallonaio</i>, whose office is to
+keep the balls well inflated with air, and he is busy nearly all the
+time. Facing him, at a short distance, is the <i>mandarino</i>, who gives
+ball. As soon as the ball leaves the <i>mandarino's</i> hand, the chief
+batter runs forward to meet it, and strikes it as far and high as he
+can, with the <i>bracciale</i>. Four times in succession have I seen a good
+player strike a <i>volata</i>, with the loud applause of the spectators. When
+this does not occur, the two sides bat the ball backwards and forwards,
+from one to the other, sometimes fifteen or twenty times before the
+point is won; and as it falls here and there, now flying high in the air
+and caught at once on the <i>bracciale</i> before touching the ground, now
+glancing back from the wall which generally forms one side of the lists,
+the players rush eagerly to hit it, calling loudly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> to each other, and
+often displaying great agility, skill, and strength. The interest now
+becomes very exciting; the bystanders shout when a good stroke is made,
+and groan and hiss at a miss, until, finally, the ball is struck over
+the lists, or lost within them. The points of the game are fifty,&mdash;the
+first two strokes counting fifteen each, and the others ten each. When
+one side makes the fifty before the other has made anything, it is
+called a <i>marcio</i>, and counts double. As each point is made, it is
+shouted by the caller, who stands in the middle and keeps the count, and
+proclaims the bets of the spectators.</p>
+
+<p>This game is as national to the Italians as cricket to the English; it
+is not only, as it seems to me, much more interesting than the latter,
+but requires vastly more strength, agility, and dexterity, to play it
+well. The Italians give themselves to it with all the enthusiasm of
+their nature, and many a young fellow injures himself for life by the
+fierceness of his batting. After the excitement and stir of this game,
+which only the young and athletic can play well, cricket seems a very
+dull affair.</p>
+
+<p>The game of <i>Pallone</i> has always been a favorite one in Rome; and near
+the summit of the Quattro Fontane, in the Barberini grounds, there is a
+circus, which used to be specially devoted to public exhibitions during
+the summer afternoons. At these representations, the most renowned
+players were engaged by an <i>impresario</i>. The audience was generally
+large, and the entrance-fee was one paul. Wonderful feats were sometimes
+performed here; and on the wall are marked the heights of some
+remarkable <i>volate</i>. The players were clothed in a thin, tight dress,
+like <i>saltimbanchi</i>. One side wore a blue, and the other a red ribbon,
+on the arm. The contests, generally, were fiercely disputed,&mdash;the
+spectators betting heavily, and shouting, as good or bad strokes were
+made. Sometimes a line was extended across the amphitheatre, from wall
+to wall, over which it was necessary to strike the ball, a point being
+lost in case it passed below. But this is a variation from the game as
+ordinarily played, and can be ventured on only when the players are of
+the first force. The games here, however, are now suspended; for the
+French, since their occupation, have not only seized the post-office, to
+convert it into a club-room, and the <i>piano nobile</i> of some of the
+richest palaces, to serve as barracks for their soldiers, but have also
+driven the Romans from their amphitheatre, where <i>Pallone</i> was played,
+to make it into <i>ateliers de g&eacute;nie</i>. Still, one may see the game played
+by ordinary players, towards the twilight of any summer day, in the
+Piazza di Termini, or near the Tempio della Pace, or the Colosseo. The
+boys from the studios and shops also play in the streets a sort of
+mongrel game called <i>Pillotta</i>, beating a small ball back and forth,
+with a round bat, shaped like a small <i>tamburello</i> and covered with
+parchment. But the real game, played by skilful players, may be seen
+almost every summer night outside the Porta a Pinti, in Florence; and I
+have also seen it admirably played under the fortress-wall at Siena, the
+players being dressed entirely in white, with loose ruffled jackets,
+breeches, long stockings, and shoes of undressed leather, and the
+audience sitting round on the stone benches, or leaning over the lofty
+wall, cheering on the game, while they ate the cherries or <i>zucca</i>-seeds
+which were hawked about among them by itinerant peddlers. Here, towards
+twilight, one could lounge away an hour pleasantly under the shadow of
+the fortress, looking now at the game and now at the rolling country
+beyond, where olives and long battalions of vines marched knee-deep
+through the golden grain, until the purple splendors of sunset had
+ceased to transfigure the distant hills, and the crickets chirped louder
+under the deepening gray of the sky.</p>
+
+<p>In the walls of the amphitheatre at Florence is a bust in colored marble
+of one of the most famous players of his day, whose battered face seems
+still to preside over the game, getting now and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> then a smart blow from
+the <i>Pallone</i> itself, which, in its inflation, is no respecter of
+persons. The honorable inscription beneath the bust, celebrating the
+powers of this champion, who rejoiced in the surname of Earthquake, is
+as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>"Josephus Barnius, Petiolensis, vir in jactando repercutiendoque folle
+singularis, qui ob robur ingens maximamque artis peritiam, et collusores
+ubique devictos, Terr&aelig;motus formidabili cognomento dictus est."</i></p>
+
+<p>Another favorite game of ball among the Romans is <i>Bocce</i> or <i>Boccette</i>.
+It is played between two sides, consisting of any number of persons,
+each of whom has two large wooden balls of about the size of an average
+American nine-pin ball. Beside these, there is a little ball called the
+<i>lecco</i>. This is rolled first by one of the winning party to any
+distance he pleases, and the object is to roll or pitch the <i>boccette</i>
+or large balls so as to place them beside the <i>lecco</i>. Every ball of one
+side nearer to the <i>lecco</i> than any ball of the other counts one point
+in the game,&mdash;the number of points depending on the agreement of the
+parties. The game is played on the ground, and not upon any smooth or
+prepared plane; and as the <i>lecco</i> often runs into hollows, or poises
+itself on some uneven declivity, it is sometimes a matter of no small
+difficulty to play the other balls near to it. The great skill of the
+game consists, however, in displacing the balls of the adverse party so
+as to make the balls of the playing party count, and a clever player
+will often change the whole aspect of affairs by one well-directed
+throw. The balls are thrown alternately,&mdash;first by a player on one side,
+and then by a player on the other. As the game advances, the interest
+increases, and there is a constant variety. However good a throw is
+made, it may be ruined by the next. Sometimes the ball is pitched with
+great accuracy, so as to strike a close-counting ball far into the
+distance, while the new ball takes its place. Sometimes the <i>lecco</i>
+itself is suddenly transplanted into a new position, which entirely
+reverses all the previous counting. It is the last ball which decides
+the game, and, of course, it is eagerly watched. In the Piazza di
+Termini numerous parties may be seen every bright day in summer or
+spring playing this game under the locust-trees, surrounded by idlers,
+who stand by to approve or condemn, and to give their advice. The French
+soldiers, once free from drill or guard or from practising trumpet-calls
+on the old Agger of Servius Tullius near by, are sure to be rolling
+balls in this fascinating game. Having heated their blood sufficiently
+at it, they adjourn to a little <i>osteria</i> in the Piazza to refresh
+themselves with a glass of <i>asciutto</i> wine, after which they sit on a
+bench outside the door, or stretch themselves under the trees, and take
+a <i>siesta</i>, with their handkerchiefs over their eyes, while other
+parties take their turn at the <i>bocce</i>. Meanwhile, from the Agger beyond
+are heard the distressing trumpets struggling with false notes and
+wheezing and shrieking in ludicrous discord, while now and then the
+solemn bell of Santa Maria Maggiore tolls from the neighboring hill.</p>
+
+<p>Another favorite game in Rome and Tuscany is <i>Ruzzola</i>, so called from
+the circular disk of wood with which it is played. Round this the player
+winds tightly a cord, which, by a sudden cast and backward jerk of the
+hand, he uncoils so as to send the disk whirling along the road. Outside
+the walls, and along all the principal avenues leading to the city,
+parties are constantly to be met playing at this game; and oftentimes
+before the players are visible, the disk is seen bounding round some
+curve, to the great danger of one's legs. He whose disk whirls the
+farthest wins a point. It is an excellent walking game, and it requires
+some knack to play the disk evenly along the road. Often the swiftest
+disks, when not well-directed, bound over the hedges, knock themselves
+down against the walls, or bury themselves in the tangled ditches; and
+when well played, if they chance to hit a stone in the road, they will
+leap like mad into the air, at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> risk of serious injury to any
+unfortunate passer. In the country, instead of wooden disks, the
+<i>contadini</i> often use <i>cacio di pecora</i>, a kind of hard goat's cheese,
+whose rind will resist the roughest play. What, then, must be the
+digestive powers of those who eat it, may be imagined. Like the peptic
+countryman, they probably do not know they have a stomach, not having
+ever felt it; and certainly they can say with Tony Lumpkin, "It never
+hurts me, and I sleep like a hound after it."</p>
+
+<p>In common with the French, the Romans have a passion for the game of
+Dominos. Every <i>caff&egrave;</i> is supplied with a number of boxes, and, in the
+evening especially, it is played by young and old, with a seriousness
+which strikes us Saxons with surprise. We generally have a contempt for
+this game, and look upon it as childish. But I know not why. It is by no
+means easy to play well, and requires a careful memory and quick powers
+of combination and calculation. No <i>caff&egrave;</i> in Rome or Marseilles would
+be complete without its little black and white counters; and as it
+interests at once the most mercurial and fidgety of people and the
+laziest and languidest, it must have some hidden charm as yet unrevealed
+to the Anglo-Saxon.</p>
+
+<p>Beside Dominos, Chess (<i>Scacchi</i>) is often played in public in the
+<i>caff&egrave;s</i>; and there is one <i>caff&egrave;</i> named <i>Dei Scacchi</i>, because it is
+frequented by the best chess-players in Rome. Here matches are often
+made, and admirable games are played.</p>
+
+<p>Among the Roman boys the game of <i>Campana</i> is also common. A
+parallelogram is drawn upon the ground and subdivided into four squares,
+which are numbered. At the top and bottom are two small semicircles, or
+<i>bells</i>, thus:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 199px;">
+<img src="images/image028.jpg" width="199" height="63" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Each of the players, having deposited his stake in the semicircle (<i>b</i>)
+at the farthest end, takes his station at a short distance, and
+endeavors to pitch some object, either a disk or a bit of <i>terracotta</i>,
+or more generally a <i>baiocco</i>, into one of the compartments. If he lodge
+it in the nearest bell, (<i>a</i>,) he pays a new stake into the pool; if
+into the farthest bell, (<i>b</i>,) he takes the whole pool; if into either
+of the other compartments, he takes one, two, three, or four of the
+stakes, according to the number of the compartment. If he lodge on a
+line, he is <i>abbrucciato</i>, as it is termed, and his play goes for
+nothing. Among the boys, the pool is frequently filled with
+buttons,&mdash;among the men, with <i>baiocchi</i>; but buttons or <i>baiocchi</i> are
+all the same to the players,&mdash;they are the representatives of luck or
+skill.</p>
+
+<p>But the game of games in Rome is the Lottery. This is under the
+direction of the government, which, with a truly ecclesiastic regard for
+its subjects, has organized it into a means of raising revenue. The
+financial objection to this method of taxation is, that its hardest
+pressure is upon the poorest classes; but the moral and political
+objections are still stronger. The habit of gambling engendered by it
+ruins the temper, depraves the morals, and keeps up a constant state of
+excitement at variance with any settled and serious occupation. The
+temptations to laziness which it offers are too great for any people
+luxurious or idle by temperament; and the demon of Luck is set upon the
+altar which should be dedicated to Industry. If one happy chance can
+bring a fortune, who will spend laborious days to gain a competence? The
+common classes in Rome are those who are most corrupted by the lottery;
+and when they can neither earn nor borrow <i>baiocchi</i> to play, they
+strive to obtain them by beggary, cheating, and sometimes theft. The
+fallacious hope that their ticket will some day bring a prize leads them
+from step to step, until, having emptied their purses, they are tempted
+to raise the necessary funds by any unjustifiable means. When you pay
+them their wages or throw them a <i>buona-mano</i>, they instantly run to the
+lottery-office to play it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> Loss after loss does not discourage them. It
+is always, "The next time they are to win,&mdash;there was a slight mistake
+in their calculation before." Some good reason or other is always at
+hand. If by chance one of them do happen to win a large sum, it is ten
+to one that it will cost him his life,&mdash;that he will fall into a fit, or
+drop in an apoplexy, on hearing the news. There is a most melancholy
+instance of this in the very next house,&mdash;of a Jew made suddenly and
+unexpectedly rich, who instantly became insane in consequence, and is
+now the most wretched and melancholy spectacle that man can ever
+become,&mdash;starving in the midst of abundance, and moving like a beast
+about his house. But of all ill luck that can happen to the
+lottery-gambler, the worst is to win a small prize. It is all over with
+him from that time forward; into the great pit of the lottery everything
+that he can lay his hands on is sure to go.</p>
+
+<p>There has been some difference of opinion as to whether the lottery was
+of later Italian invention, or dated back to the Roman Empire,&mdash;some
+even contending that it was in existence in Egypt long before that
+period; and several ingenious discussions may be found on this subject
+in the journals and annals of the French <i>savans</i>. A strong claim has
+been put forward for the ancient Romans, on the ground that Nero, Titus,
+and Heliogabalus were in the habit of writing on bits of wood and shells
+the names of various articles which they intended to distribute, and
+then casting them to the crowd to be scrambled for.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> On some of these
+shells and billets were inscribed the names of slaves, precious vases,
+costly dresses, articles of silver and gold, valuable beasts, etc.,
+which became the property of the fortunate persons who secured the
+billets and shells. On others were written absurd and useless articles,
+which turned the laugh against the unfortunate finder. Some, for
+instance, had inscribed upon them ten pieces of gold, and some ten
+cabbages. Some were for one hundred bears, and some for one egg. Some
+for five camels, and some for ten flies. In one sense, these were
+lotteries, and the Emperors deserve all due credit for their invention.
+But the lottery, according to its modern signification, is of Italian
+origin, and had its birth in Upper Italy as early as the fourteenth or
+fifteenth century. Here it was principally practised by the Venetians
+and Genoese, under the name of <i>Borsa di Ventura</i>,&mdash;the prizes
+consisting originally, not of money, but of merchandise of every
+kind,&mdash;precious stones, pictures, gold and silver work, and similar
+articles. The great difference between them and the ancient lotteries of
+Heliogabalus and Nero was, that tickets were bought and prizes drawn.
+The lottery soon came to be played, however, for money, and was
+considered so admirable an invention, that it was early imported into
+France, where Francis I., in 1539, granted letters-patent for the
+establishment of one. In the seventeenth century, this "<i>infezione</i>," as
+an old Italian writer calls it, was introduced into Holland and England,
+and at a still later date into Germany. Those who invented it still
+retain it; but those who adopted it have rejected it. After nearly three
+centuries' existence in France, it was abolished on the 31st of
+December, 1835. The last drawing was at Paris on the 27th of the same
+month, when the number of players was so great that it became necessary
+to close the offices before the appointed time, and one Englishman is
+said to have gained a <i>quaterno</i> of the sum of one million two hundred
+thousand francs. When abolished in France, the government was drawing
+from it a net revenue of twenty million francs.</p>
+
+<p>In Italy the lottery was proscribed by Innocent XII., Benedict XIII.,
+and Clement XII. But it was soon revived. It was not without vehement
+opposers then as now, as may be seen by a little work published at Pisa
+in the early part of the last century, entitled, "L'Inganno non
+conosciuto, oppure non voluto conoscere, nell'Estrazione del Lotto."
+Muratori, in 1696, calls it, in his "Annals of Italy,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> "<i>Inventione
+dell' amara malizia per succiare il sangue dei malaccorti giuocatori</i>."
+In a late number of the "Civilt&agrave; Cattolica," published at Rome by the
+Jesuits, (the motto of which is "<i>Beatus Populus cujus Dominus Deus
+est</i>,") there is, on the other hand, an elaborate and most Jesuitical
+article, in which the lottery is defended with amusing skill. What
+Christendom in general has agreed to consider immoral and pernicious in
+its effects on a people seems, on the contrary, to the writer of this
+article, to be highly moral and commendable.</p>
+
+<p>The numbers which can be played are from one to ninety. Of these only
+five are now drawn. Originally the numbers drawn were eight,
+(<i>otto</i>,)&mdash;and it is said that the Italian name of this game, <i>lotto</i>,
+was derived from this circumstance. The player may stake upon one, two,
+three, four, or five numbers,&mdash;but no ticket can be taken for more than
+five; and he may stake upon his ticket any sum, from one <i>baiocco</i> up to
+five <i>scudi</i>,&mdash;but the latter sum only in case he play upon several
+chances on the same ticket. If he play one number, he may either play it
+<i>al posto assegnato</i>, according to its place in the drawing, as first,
+second, third, etc.,&mdash;or he may play it <i>senza posto</i>, without place, in
+which case he wins, if the number come anywhere among the five drawn. In
+the latter case, however, the prize is much less in proportion to the
+sum staked. Thus, for one <i>baiocco</i> staked <i>al posto assegnato</i>, a
+<i>scudo</i> may be won; but to gain a <i>scudo</i> on a number <i>senza posto</i>,
+seven <i>baiocchi</i> must be played. A sum staked upon two numbers is called
+an <i>ambo</i>,&mdash;on three, a <i>terno</i>,&mdash;on four, a <i>quaterno</i>,&mdash;and on five, a
+<i>cinquino</i>; and of course the prizes increase in rapid proportion to the
+numbers played,&mdash;the sum gained multiplying very largely on each
+additional number. For instance, if two <i>baiocchi</i> be staked on an
+<i>ambo</i>, the prize is one <i>scudo</i>; but if the same sum be staked on a
+<i>terno</i>, the prize is a hundred <i>scudi</i>. When an <i>ambo</i> is played for,
+the same two numbers may be played as single numbers, either <i>al posto</i>
+or <i>senza posto</i>, and in such case one of the numbers alone may win. So,
+also, a <i>terno</i> may be played so as to include an <i>ambo</i>, and a
+<i>quaterno</i> so as to include a <i>terno</i> and <i>ambo</i>, and a <i>cinquino</i> so as
+to include all. But whenever more than one chance is played for, the
+price is proportionally increased. For a simple <i>terno</i> the limit of
+price is thirty-five pauls. The ordinary rule is to play for every
+chance within the numbers taken; but the common people rarely attempt
+more than a <i>terno</i>. If four numbers are played with all their chances,
+they are reckoned as four <i>terni</i>, and paid for accordingly. If five
+numbers are taken, the price is for five <i>terni</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Where two numbers are played, there is always an augment to the nominal
+prize of twenty per cent.; where three numbers are played, the augment
+is of eighty per cent.; and from every prize is deducted ten per cent.,
+to be devoted to the hospitals and the poor. The rule creating the
+augments was decreed by Innocent XIII. Such is the rage for the lottery
+in Rome, as well as in all the Italian States, and so great is the
+number of tickets bought within the year, that this tax on the prizes
+brings in a very considerable revenue for ele&euml;mosynary purposes.</p>
+
+<p>The lottery is a branch of the department of finance, and is under the
+direction of a Monsignore. The tickets originally issue from one grand
+central office in the Palazzo Madama; but there is scarcely a street in
+Rome without some subsidiary and distributing office, which is easily
+recognized, not only by its great sign of "<i>Prenditoria di Lotti</i>" over
+the door, but by scores of boards set round the windows and doorway, on
+which are displayed, in large figures, hundreds of combinations of
+numbers for sale. The tickets sold here are merely purchased on
+speculation for resale, and though it is rare that all are sold, yet, as
+a small advance of price is asked on each ticket beyond what was given
+at the original office, there is enough profit to support these shops.
+The large show of placards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> would to a stranger indicate a very
+considerable investment; yet, in point of fact, as the tickets rarely
+cost more than a few <i>baioicchi</i>, the amount risked is small. No ticket
+is available for a prize, unless it bear the stamp and signature of the
+central office, as well as of the distributing shop, if bought in the
+latter.</p>
+
+<p>Every Saturday, at noon, the lottery is drawn in Rome, in the Piazza
+Madama. Half an hour before the appointed time, the Piazza begins to be
+thronged with ticket-holders, who eagerly watch a large balcony of the
+sombre old Palazzo Madama, (built by the infamous Catharine de' Medici,)
+where the drawing is to take place. This is covered by an awning and
+colored draperies. In front, and fastened to the balustrade, is a glass
+barrel, standing on thin brass legs and turned by a handle. Five or six
+persons are in the balcony, making arrangements for the drawing. These
+are the officials,&mdash;one of them being the government officer, and the
+others persons taken at random, to supervise the proceedings. The chief
+official first takes from the table beside him a slip of paper on which
+a number is inscribed. He names it aloud, passes it to the next, who
+verifies it and passes it on, until it has been subjected to the
+examination of all. The last person then proclaims the number in a loud
+voice to the populace below, folds it up, and drops it into the glass
+barrel. This operation is repeated until every number from one to ninety
+is passed, verified by all, proclaimed, folded, and dropped into the
+barrel. The last number is rather sung than called, and with more
+ceremony than all the rest. The crowd shout back from below. The bell
+strikes noon. A blast of trumpets sounds from the balcony, and a boy
+dressed in white robes advances from within, ascends the steps, and
+stands high up before the people, facing the Piazza. The barrel is then
+whirled rapidly round and round, so as to mix in inextricable confusion
+all the tickets. This over, the boy lifts high his right hand, makes the
+sign of the cross on his breast, then, waving his open hand in the air,
+to show that nothing is concealed, plunges it into the barrel, and draws
+out a number. This he hands to the official, who names it, and passes it
+along the line of his companions. There is dead silence below, all
+listening eagerly. Then, in a loud voice, the number is sung out by the
+last official, "<i>Primo estratto, numero 14</i>," or whatever the number may
+be. Then sound the trumpets again, and there is a rustle and buzz among
+the crowd. All the five numbers are drawn with like ceremony, and all is
+over. Within a surprisingly short space of time, these numbers are
+exhibited in the long frames which are to be seen over the door of every
+<i>Prenditoria di Lotti</i> in Rome, and there they remain until the next
+drawing takes place. The boy who does the drawing belongs to a college
+of orphans, an admirable institution, at which children who have lost
+both parents and are left helpless are lodged, cared for, and educated,
+and the members of which are employed to perform this office in
+rotation, receiving therefor a few <i>scudi</i>.</p>
+
+<p>It will be seen from the manner in which the drawing of the lottery is
+conducted, that no precaution is spared by the government to assure the
+public of the perfect good faith and fairness observed in it. This is,
+in fact, absolutely necessary in order to establish that confidence
+without which its very object would be frustrated. But the Italians are
+a very suspicious and jealous people, and I fear that there is less
+faith in the uprightness of the government than in their own
+watchfulness and the difficulty of deception. There can be little doubt
+that no deceit is practised by the government, so far as the drawing is
+concerned,&mdash;for it would be nearly impossible to employ it. Still there
+are not wanting stories of fortunate coincidences which are singular and
+interesting; one case, which I have every reason to believe authentic,
+was related to me by a most trustworthy person, as being within his own
+knowledge. A few years ago, the Monsignore who was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> at the head of the
+lottery had occasion to diminish his household, and accordingly
+dismissed an old servant who had been long in his palace. Often the old
+man returned and asked for relief, and as often was charitably received.
+But his visits at last became importunate, and the Monsignore
+remonstrated. The answer of the servant was, "I have given my best years
+to the service of your Eminence,&mdash;I am too old to labor,&mdash;what shall I
+do?" The case was a hard one. His Eminence paused and reflected;&mdash;at
+last he said, "Why not buy a ticket in the lottery?" "Ah!" was the
+answer, "I have not even money to supply my daily needs. What you now
+give me is all I have. If I risk it, I may lose it,&mdash;and that lost, what
+can I do?" Still the Monsignore said, "Buy a ticket in the lottery."
+"Since your Eminence commands me, I will," said the old man; "but what
+numbers?" "Play on number so and so for the first drawing," was the
+answer, "<i>e Dio ti benedica</i>!" The servant did as he was ordered, and,
+to his surprise and joy, the first number drawn was his. He was a rich
+man for life,&mdash;and his Eminence lost a troublesome dependant.</p>
+
+<p>A capital story is told by the author of the article in the "Civilt&agrave;
+Cattolica," which is to the point here, and which, even were it not told
+on such respectable authority, bears its truth on the face of it. As
+very frequently happens, a poor <i>bottegaio</i>, or shopkeeper, being
+hard-driven by his creditors, went to his priest, an <i>uomo apostolico</i>,
+and prayed him earnestly to give him three numbers to play in the
+lottery.</p>
+
+<p>"But how under heaven," says the innocent priest, "has it ever got into
+your head that I can know the five numbers which are to issue in the
+lottery?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Eh! Padre mio!</i> what will it cost you?" was the answer. "Just look at
+me and my wretched family; if we do not pay our rent on Saturday, out we
+go into the street. There is nothing left but the lottery, and you can
+give us the three numbers that will set all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there you are again! I am ready to do all I can to assist you, but
+this matter of the lottery is impossible; and I must say, that your
+folly, in supposing I can give you the three lucky numbers, does little
+credit to your brains."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! no! do not say so, <i>Padre mio</i>! Give me a <i>terno</i>. It will be
+like rain in May, or cheese on my maccaroni. On my word of honor, I'll
+keep it secret. <i>Via!</i> You, so good and charitable, cannot refuse me the
+three numbers. Pray, content me this once."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Caro mio!</i> I will give you a rule for always being content:&mdash;Avoid
+Sin, think often on Death, and behave so as to deserve Paradise,&mdash;and
+so"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Basta! basta! Padre mio!</i> That's enough. Thanks! thanks! God will
+reward you."</p>
+
+<p>And, making a profound reverence, off the <i>bottegaio</i> rushes to his
+house. There he takes down the "Libro del Sogni," calls into
+consultation his wife and children, and, after a long and earnest
+discussion and study, the three numbers corresponding to the terms Sin,
+Death, and Paradise are settled upon, and away goes our friend to play
+them in the lottery. Will you believe it? the three numbers are
+drawn,&mdash;and the joy of the poor <i>bottegaio</i> and his family may well be
+imagined. But what you will not imagine is the persecution of the poor
+<i>uomo apostolico</i> which followed. The secret was all over town the next
+day, and he was beset by scores of applicants for numbers. Vainly he
+protested and declared that he knew nothing, and that the man's drawing
+the right numbers was all chance. Every word he spoke turned into
+numbers, and off ran his hearers to play them. He was like the girl in
+the fairy story, who dropped pearls every time she spoke. The worst of
+the imbroglio was, that in an hour the good priest had uttered words
+equivalent to all the ninety numbers in the lottery, and the players
+were all at loggerheads with each other. Nor did this persecution cease
+for weeks, nor until those who had played the numbers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> corresponding to
+his words found themselves, as the Italians say, with only flies in
+their hands.</p>
+
+<p>The stupidity of many of the common people in regard to these numbers is
+wonderful. When the number drawn is next to the number they have, they
+console themselves with thinking that they were within one of it,&mdash;as if
+in such cases a miss were not as bad as a mile. But when the number
+drawn is a multiple of the one they play, it is a sympathetic number,
+and is next door to winning; and if the number come reversed,&mdash;as if,
+having played 12, it come out 21,&mdash;he laughs with delight. "Eh, don't
+you see, you stupid fellow," said the <i>speziale</i> of a village one day to
+a dunce of a <i>contadino</i>, of whose infallible <i>terno</i> not a single
+number had been drawn,&mdash;"Don't you see, in substance all your three
+numbers have been drawn? and it's shameful in you to be discontented.
+Here you have played 8&mdash;44&mdash;26, and instead of these have been drawn
+7&mdash;11&mdash;62. Well! just observe! Your 8 is just within one point of being
+7; your 44 is in substance 11, for 4 times 11 are 44 exactly; and your
+26 is nothing more or less than precisely 62 reversed;&mdash;what would you
+ask more?" And by his own mode of reasoning, the poor <i>contadino</i> sees
+as clearly as possible that he has really won,&mdash;only the difficulty is
+that he cannot touch the prize without correcting the little variations.
+<i>Ma, pazienza!</i> he came so near this time, that he will be sure to win
+the next,&mdash;and away he goes to hunt out more sympathetic numbers, and to
+rejoice with his friends on coming so near winning.</p>
+
+<p>Dreams of numbers are, of course, very frequent,&mdash;and are justly much
+prized. Yet one must know how to use them, and be brave and bold, or the
+opportunity is lost. I myself once dreamt of having gained a <i>terno</i> in
+the lottery, but was fool enough not to play it,&mdash;and in consequence
+lost a prize, the very numbers coming up in the next drawing. The next
+time I have such a dream, of course I shall play; but perhaps I shall be
+too late, and only lose. And this recalls to my mind a story, which may
+serve as a warning to the timid and an encouragement to the bold. An
+Englishman, who had lived on bad terms with a very quarrelsome and
+annoying wife, (according to his own account, of course,) had finally
+the luck, I mean the misfortune, to lose her. He had lived long enough
+in Italy, however, to say "<i>Pazienza</i>" and buried his sorrows and his
+wife in the same grave. But, after the lapse of some time, his wife
+appeared to him in a dream, and confessed her sins towards him during
+her life, and prayed his forgiveness, and added, that in token of
+reconciliation he must accept three numbers to play in the lottery,
+which would certainly win a great prize. But the husband was obstinate,
+and absolutely refused to follow the advice of a friend to whom he
+recounted the odd dream, and who urged him to play the numbers. "Bah!"
+he answered to this good counsel; "I know her too well;&mdash;she never meant
+well to me during her life, and I don't believe she's changed now that
+she's dead. She only means to play me a trick, and make me lose. But I'm
+too old a bird to be taken with her chaff." "Better play them," said his
+friend, and they separated. In the course of a week they met again. "By
+the way," said the friend, "did you see that your three numbers came up
+in the lottery this morning?" "The Devil they did! What a consummate
+fool I was not to play them!" "You didn't play them?" "No!" "Well, I
+did, and won a good round sum with them, too." So the obstinate husband,
+mad at his ill luck, cursed himself for a fool, and had his curses for
+his pains. That very night, however, his wife again appeared to him,
+and, though she reproached him a little for his want of faith in her,
+(no woman could be expected to forego such an opportunity, even though
+she were dead,) yet she forgave him, and added,&mdash;"Think no more about it
+now, for here are three more numbers, just as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> good." The husband, who
+had eaten the bitter food of experience, was determined at all events
+not to let his fortune slip again through his fingers, and played the
+highest possible <i>terno</i> in the lottery, and waited anxiously for the
+next drawing. He could scarcely eat his breakfast for nervousness, that
+morning,&mdash;but at last mid-day sounded, and the drawing took place, but
+no one of his numbers came up. "Too late! taken in!" he cried. "Confound
+her! she knew me better than I knew myself. She gave me a prize the
+first time, because she knew I wouldn't play it; and, having so whet my
+passions, she then gave me a blank the second time, because she knew I
+would play it. I might have known better."</p>
+
+<p>From the moment one lottery is drawn, the mind of the people is intent
+on selecting numbers for the next. Nor is this an easy matter,&mdash;all
+sorts of superstitions existing as to figures and numbers. Some are
+lucky, some unlucky, in themselves,&mdash;some lucky only in certain
+combinations, and some sympathetic with others. The chances, therefore,
+must be carefully calculated, no number or combination being ever played
+without profound consideration, and under advice of skilful friends.
+Almost every event in life has a numerical signification; and such is
+the reverence paid to dreams, that a large book exists of several
+hundred pages, called "Libro dei Sogni," containing, besides various
+cabala and mystical figures and lists of numbers which are
+"sympathetic," with directions for their use, a dictionary of thousands
+of objects with the numbers supposed to be represented by each, as well
+as rules for interpreting into numbers all dreams in which these objects
+appear,&mdash;and this book is the constant <i>vade-mecum</i> of a true
+lottery-player. As Boniface lived, ate, and slept on his ale, so do the
+Romans on their numbers. The very children "lisp in numbers, for the
+numbers come," and the fathers run immediately to play them. Accidents,
+executions, deaths, apoplexies, marriages, assassinations, births,
+anomalies of all kinds, become auguries and enigmas of numbers. A
+lottery-gambler will count the stabs on a dead body, the drops of blood
+from a decollated head, the passengers in an overturned coach, the
+wrinkles in the forehead of a new-born child, the gasps of a person
+struck by apoplexy, the day of the month and the hour and the minute of
+his death, the <i>scudi</i> lost by a friend, the forks stolen by a thief,
+anything and everything, to play them in the lottery. If a strange dream
+is dreamed,&mdash;as of one being in a desert on a camel, which turns into a
+rat, and runs down into the Maelstr&ouml;m to hide,&mdash;the "Libro dei Sogni" is
+at once consulted, the numbers for desert, rat, camel, and Maelstr&ouml;m are
+found and combined, and the hopeful player waits in eager expectation of
+a prize. Of course, dream after dream of particular numbers and
+combinations occurs,&mdash;for the mind bent to this subject plays freaks in
+the night, and repeats contortedly the thoughts of the day,&mdash;and these
+dreams are considered of special value. Sometimes, when a startling
+incident takes place with a special numerical signification, the run
+upon the numbers indicated becomes so great, that the government, which
+is always careful to guard against any losses on its own part, refuses
+to allow more than a certain amount to be played on them, cancels the
+rest, and returns the price of the tickets.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, in passing through the streets, one may see a crowd collected
+about a man mounted upon a chair or stool. Fixed to a stand at his side
+or on the back of his chair is a glass bottle, in which are two or three
+hollow manikins of glass, so arranged as to rise and sink by pressure of
+the confined air. The neck of the bottle is cased in a tin box which
+surmounts it and has a movable cover. This personage is a charlatan,
+with an apparatus for divining lucky numbers for the lottery. The "soft
+bastard Latin" runs off his tongue in an uninterrupted stream of talk,
+while he offers on a waiter to the bystanders a number of little folded
+papers containing a <i>pianeta</i>, or augury, on which are printed a
+fortune<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> and a <i>terno</i>. "Who will buy a <i>pianeta</i>," he cries, "with the
+numbers sure to bring him a prize? He shall have his fortune told him
+who buys. Who does not need counsel must surely be wise. Here's Master
+Tommetto, who never tells lies. And here is his brother, still smaller
+in size. And Madama Medea Plutonia to advise. They'll write you a
+fortune and bring you a prize for a single <i>baiocco</i>. No creature so
+wise as not to need counsel. A fool I despise, who keeps his <i>baiocco</i>
+and loses his prize. Who knows what a fortune he'll get till he tries?
+Time's going, Signori,&mdash;who buys? who buys?" And so on by the yard.
+Meantime the crowd about him gape, stare, wonder, and finally put their
+hands to their pockets, out with their <i>baiocchi</i>, and buy their papers.
+Each then makes a mark on his paper to verify it, and returns it to the
+charlatan. After several are thus collected, he opens the cover of the
+tin box, deposits them therein with a certain ceremony, and commences an
+exhortatory discourse to the manikins in the bottle,&mdash;two of whom,
+Maestro Tommetto and his brother, are made to resemble little black
+imps, while Madama Medea Plutonia is dressed <i>alla Francese</i>. "<i>Fa una
+reverenza, Maestro Tommetto!</i>" "Make a bow, Master Tommetto!" he now
+begins. The puppet bows. "<i>Ancora!</i>" "Again!" Again he bows. "<i>Lesto,
+Signore, un piccolo giretto!</i>" "Quick, Sir, a little turn!" And round
+whirls the puppet. "Now, up, up, to make a registry on the ticket! and
+do it conscientiously, Master Tommetto!" And up the imp goes, and
+disappears through the neck of the bottle. Then comes a burst of
+admiration at his cleverness from the charlatan. Then, turning to the
+brother imp, he goes through the same <i>r&ocirc;le</i> with him. "And now, Madama
+Medea, make a reverence, and follow your husband! Quick, quick, a little
+<i>giretto</i>!" And up she goes. A moment after, down they all come again at
+his call; he lifts the cover of the box; cries, "<i>Quanto sei caro,
+Tommetto!</i>" and triumphantly exhibits the papers, each with a little
+freshly written inscription, and distributes them to the purchasers. Now
+and then he takes from his pocket a little bottle containing a mixture
+of the color of wine, and a paper filled with some sort of powder, and,
+exclaiming, "<i>Ah! tu hai fame e sete. Bisogna che ti dia da bere e
+mangiare</i>," pours them into the tin cup.</p>
+
+<p>It is astonishing to see how many of these little tickets a clever
+charlatan will sell in an hour, and principally on account of the
+lottery-numbers they contain. The fortunes are all the stereotype thing,
+and almost invariably warn you to be careful lest you should be
+"<i>tradito</i>," or promise you that you shall not be "<i>tradito</i>"; for the
+idea of betrayal is the corner-stone of every Italian's mind.</p>
+
+<p>In not only permitting, but promoting the lottery, Italy is certainly
+far behind England, France, and America. This system no longer exists
+with us, except in the disguised shape of gift-enterprises, art-unions,
+and that unpleasant institution of mendicant robbery called the raffle,
+and employed specially by those "who have seen better days." But a fair
+parallel to this rage of the Italians for the lottery is to be found in
+the love of betting, which is a national characteristic of the English.
+I do not refer to the bets upon horseflesh at Ascot, Epsom, and
+Goodwood, by which fortunes change owners in an hour and so many men are
+ruined, but rather to the general habit of betting upon any and every
+subject to settle a question, no matter how trivial, for which the
+Englishman is everywhere renowned on the Continent. Betting is with most
+other nations a form of speech, but with Englishmen it is a serious
+fact, and no one will be long in their company without finding an
+opinion backed up by a bet. It would not be very difficult to parallel
+those cases where the Italians disregard the solemnity of death, in
+their eagerness for omens of lottery-numbers, with equally reprehensible
+and apparently heartless cases of betting in England. Let any one who
+doubts this examine the betting-books at White's and Brookes's. In them
+he will find a most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> startling catalogue of bets,&mdash;some so bad as to
+justify the good parson in Walpole's story, who declared that they were
+such an impious set in this respect at White's, that, "if the last trump
+were to sound, they would bet puppet-show against judgment." Let one
+instance suffice. A man, happening to drop down at the door of White's,
+was lifted up and carried in. He was insensible, and the question was,
+whether he were dead or not. Bets were at once given and taken on both
+sides, and, it being proposed to bleed him, those who had taken odds
+that he was dead protested, on the ground that the use of the lancet
+would affect the fairness of the bet.<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> In the matter of play, things
+have now much changed since the time when Mr. Thynne left the club at
+White's in disgust, because he had won only twelve hundred guineas in
+two months. There is also a description of one of Fox's mornings, about
+the year 1783, which Horace Walpole has left us, and the truth of which
+Lord Holland admits, which it would be well for those to read who
+measure out hard justice to the Italians for their love of the lottery.
+Let us be fair. Italy is in these respects behind England in morals and
+practice by nearly a century; but it is as idle to argue
+hard-heartedness in an Italian who counts the drops of blood at a
+beheading as to suppose that the English have no feeling because in the
+bet we have mentioned there was a protest against the use of the lancet,
+or to deny kindliness to a surgeon who lectures on structure and disease
+while he removes a cancer.</p>
+
+<p>Vehement protests against the lottery and all gaming are as often
+uttered in Italy as elsewhere; and among them may be cited this eloquent
+passage from one of the most powerful of her modern writers. Guerrazzi,
+in the thirteenth chapter of "L'Assedio di Firenze," speaking on this
+subject, says, "You would in vain seek anything more fatal to men than
+play. It brings ignorance, poverty, despair, and at last crime....
+Gambling (the wicked gambling of the lottery) forms a precious jewel in
+the crown of princes."</p>
+
+<p>In a recent work, by the same author, called "L'Asino," occurs the
+following indignant and satirical passage, which, for the sake of the
+story, if for no other reason, deserves a place here:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"In our search for the history of human perfection, shall I speak of
+Naples or Rome? Alas! At the contemplation of such misery, in vain you
+constrain your lips to smile; they pout, and the uncalled tears stream
+over your face. Pity, in these most unhappy countries, blinded with
+weeping and hoarse with vain supplication, when she has no more voice to
+cry out to heaven, flies thither, and, kneeling before the throne of
+God, with outstretched hand, and proffering no word, begs that He will
+look at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Behold, O Lord, and judge whether our sins were remitted, or whether
+the sins of others exceed ours.</p>
+
+<p>"Is not Tuscany the garden of Italy? So say the Tuscans; and the
+Florentines add, that Florence is the Athens of Tuscany. Truly, both
+seem beautiful. Let us search in Tuscany. At Barberino di Mugello, in
+the midst of an olive-grove is a cemetery, where the vines, which have
+taken root in the outer walls and climbed over their summit, fall into
+the inclosed space, as if they wished to garland Death with vine-leaves
+and make it smile; over the gate, strange guardians of the tombs, two
+fig-trees give their shadow and fruit to recompense the piety of the
+passers-by, giving a fig in exchange for a <i>De Profundis</i>; while the
+ivy, stretching its wanton arms over the black cross, endeavors to
+clothe the austere sign of the Redemption with the jocund leaves of
+Bacchus, and recalls to your mind the mad Phryne who vainly tempted
+Xenocrates. A beautiful cemetery, by my faith!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> a cemetery to arouse in
+the body an intense desire to die, if only for the pleasure of being
+buried there. Now observe. Look into my magic-lantern. What figures do
+you see? A priest with a pick; after him a peasant with a spade; and
+behind them a woman with a hatchet: the priest holds a corpse by the
+hair; the peasant, with one blow, strikes off its head; then, all things
+being carefully rearranged, priest, peasant, and woman, after thrusting
+the head into a sack, return as they came. Attention now, for I change
+the picture. What figures are these that now appear? A kitchen; a fire
+that has not its superior, even in the Inferno; and a caldron, where the
+hissing and boiling water sends up its bubbles. Look about and what do
+you see? Enter the priest, the peasant, and the housewife, and in a
+moment empty a sack into the caldron. Lo! a head rolls out, dives into
+the water, and floats to the surface, now showing its nape and now its
+face. The Lord help us! It is an abominable spectacle; this poor head,
+with its ashy, open lips, seems to say, Give me again my Christian
+burial! That is enough. Only take note that in Tuscany, in the beautiful
+middle of the nineteenth century, a sepulchre was violated, and a
+sacrilege committed, to obtain from the boiled head of a corpse good
+numbers to play in the lottery! And, by way of corollary, add this to
+your note, that in Rome, <i>Caput Mundi</i>, and in Tuscany, Garden of Italy,
+it is prohibited, under the severest penalties, to play at <i>Faro</i>,
+<i>Zecchinetto</i>, <i>Banco-Fallito</i>, <i>Rossa e Nera</i>, and other similar games
+at cards, where each party may lose the whole or half the stakes, while
+the government encourage the play of the Lottery, by which, out of one
+hundred and twenty chances of winning, eighty are reserved for the bank,
+and forty or so allowed to the player. Finally, take note that in Rome,
+<i>Caput Mundi</i>, and in Tuscany, Garden of Italy, <i>Faro</i>, <i>Zecchinetto</i>,
+<i>Rossa e Nera</i> were prohibited, as acknowledged pests of social
+existence and open death to honest customs,&mdash;as a set-off for which
+deprivation, the game of the Lottery is still kept on foot."</p>
+
+<p>The following extraordinary story, improbable as it seems, is founded
+upon fact, and was clearly proved, on judicial investigation, a few
+years since. It is well known in Tuscany, and forms the subject of a
+satirical narrative ("Il Sortilegio") by Giusti, a modern Tuscan poet,
+of true fire and genius, who has lashed the vices of his country in
+verses remarkable for point, idiom, and power. According to him, the
+method of divination resorted to in this case was as follows:&mdash;The
+sorcerer who invented it ordered his dupes to procure, either at dawn or
+twilight, ninety dry beans, called <i>ceci</i>, and upon each of these to
+write one of the ninety numbers drawn in the lottery, with an ink made
+of pitch and lard, which would not be affected by water. They were then
+to sharpen a knife, taking care that he who did so should touch no one
+during the operation; and after a day of fasting, they were to dig up at
+night a body recently dead, and, having cut off the head and removed the
+brain, they were to count the beans thrice, and to shake them thrice,
+and then, on their knees, to put them one by one into the skull. This
+was then to be placed in a caldron of water and set on the fire to boil.
+As soon as the water boiled violently, the head would be rolled about so
+that some of the beans would be ejected, and the first three which were
+thus thrown to the surface would be a sure <i>terno</i> for the lottery. The
+wretched dupes added yet another feature of superstition to insure the
+success of this horrible device. They selected the head of their curate,
+who had recently died,&mdash;on the ground that, as he had studied algebra,
+he was a great cabalist, and any numbers from his head would be sure to
+draw a prize.</p>
+
+<p>Some one, I have no doubt, will here be anxious to know the numbers that
+bubbled up to the surface; but I am very sorry to say that I cannot
+gratify their laudable curiosity, for the interference of the police
+prevented the completion of the sorcery. So the curious must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> be content
+to consult some other cabalist,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i13">"sull'arti segrete<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Di menar la Fortuna per il naso,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pescando il certo nel gran mar del Caso."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Despite a wide-spread feeling among the higher classes against the
+lottery, it still continues to exist, for it has fastened itself into
+the habits and prejudices of many; and an institution which takes such
+hold of the passions of the people, and has lived so long, dies hard.
+Nor are there ever wanting specious excuses for the continuance of this,
+as of other reprobated systems,&mdash;of which the strongest is, that its
+abolition would not only deprive of their present means of subsistence
+numbers of persons employed in its administration, but would cut off
+certain charities dependent upon it, amounting to no less than forty
+thousand <i>scudi</i> annually. Among these may be mentioned the dowry of
+forty <i>scudi</i> which is given out of the profits received by the
+government at the drawing of every lottery to some five or six of the
+poor girls of Rome. The list of those who would profit by this charity
+is open to all, and contains thousands of names. The first number drawn
+in the lottery decides the fortunate persons; and, on the subsequent
+day, each receives a draft for forty <i>scudi</i> on the government, payable
+on the presentation of the certificate of marriage. On the accession of
+the present Pope, an attempt was made to abolish the system; but these
+considerations, among others, had weight enough to prevent any changes.</p>
+
+<p>Though the play is generally small, yet sometimes large fortunes are
+gained. The family of the Marchese del Cinque, for instance, derive
+their title and fortune from the luck of an ancestor who played and won
+the highest prize, a <i>Cinquino</i>. With the money thus acquired he
+purchased his marquisate, and took the title <i>del Cinque</i>, "of the
+Five," in reference to the lucky five numbers. The Villa Quaranta Cinque
+in Rome derives its name from a similar circumstance. A lucky Monsignore
+played the single number of forty-five, <i>al posto</i>, and with his
+winnings built the villa, to which the Romans, always addicted to
+nicknames, gave the name of <i>Quaranta Cinque</i>. This love of nicknames,
+or <i>soprannomi</i>, as they are called, is, by the way, an odd peculiarity
+of the Italians, and it often occurs that persons are known only
+thereby. Examples of these, among the celebrated names of Italy, are so
+frequent as to form a rule in favor of the surname rather than of the
+real name, and in many cases the former has utterly obliterated the
+latter. Thus, Squint Eye, (<i>Guercino</i>,) Dirty Tom, (<i>Masaccio</i>,) The
+Little Dyer, (<i>Tintoretto</i>,) Great George, (<i>Giorgione</i>,) The
+Garland-Maker, (<i>Ghirlandaio</i>,) Luke of the Madder, (<i>Luca della
+Robbia</i>,) The Little Spaniard, (<i>Spagnoletto</i>,) and The Tailor's Son,
+(<i>Del Sarto</i>,) would scarcely be known under their real names of
+Barbieri, Tommaso, Guido, Robusti, Barbarelli, Corradi, Ribera, and
+Vannuchi. The list might be very much enlarged, but let it suffice to
+add the following well-known names, all of which are nicknames derived
+from their places of birth: Perugino, Veronese, Aretino, Pisano, Giulio
+Romano, Correggio, Parmegiano.</p>
+
+<p>The other day a curious instance of this occurred to me in taking the
+testimony of a Roman coachman. On being called upon to give the names of
+some of his companions, with whom he had been in daily and intimate
+intercourse for more than two years, he could give only their
+<i>soprannomi</i>; their real names he did not know, and had never heard. A
+little, gay, odd genius, whom I took into my service during a
+<i>villeggiatura</i> at Siena, would not answer to his real name, Lorenzo,
+but remonstrated on being so called, and said he was only <i>Pipetta</i>,
+(The Little Pipe,) a nickname given to him when a child, from his
+precocity in smoking, and of which he was as tenacious as if it were a
+title of honor. "You prefer, then, to be called Pipetta?" I asked.
+"<i>Felicissimo! s&igrave;</i>," was his answer. Not a foreigner comes to Rome that
+his name does not "suffer a sea-change into something rich and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>
+strange." Our break-jaw Saxon names are discarded, and a new christening
+takes place. One friend I had who was called <i>Il Malinconico</i>,&mdash;another,
+<i>La Barbarossa</i>,&mdash;another, <i>Il bel Signore</i>; but generally they are
+called after the number of the house or the name of the street in which
+they live,&mdash;<i>La Signora bella Bionda di Palazzo Albani</i>,&mdash;<i>Il Signore
+Quattordici Capo le Case</i>,&mdash;<i>Monsieur</i> and <i>Madama Terzo Piano, Corso</i>.</p>
+
+<p>But to return from this digression.&mdash;At every country festival may be
+seen a peculiar form of the lottery called <i>Tombola</i>; and in the notices
+of these <i>festas</i>, which are always placarded over the walls of Rome for
+weeks before they take place, the eye will always be attracted first by
+the imposing word <i>Tombola</i>, printed in the largest and blackest of
+letters. This is, in fact, the characteristic feature of the <i>festa</i>,
+and attracts large numbers of <i>contadini</i>. As in the ordinary lottery,
+only ninety numbers are played. Every ticket contains blank spaces for
+fifteen numbers, which are inserted by the purchaser, and registered
+duly at the office or booth where the ticket is bought. The price of
+tickets in any single <i>Tombola</i> is uniform; but in different <i>Tombolas</i>
+it varies, of course, according to the amount of the prizes. These are
+generally five, namely,&mdash;the <i>Ambo</i>, <i>Terno</i>, <i>Quaterno</i>, <i>Cinquino</i>,
+and <i>Tombola</i>, though sometimes a second <i>Tombola</i> or <i>Tomboletta</i> is
+added. The drawing takes place in precisely the same manner as in the
+ordinary lottery, but with more ceremony. A large staging, with a
+pavilion, is erected, where the officers who are to superintend the
+drawing stand. In the centre is a glass vase, in which the numbers are
+placed after having been separately verified and proclaimed, and a boy
+gayly dressed draws them. All the ninety numbers are drawn; and as each
+issues, it is called out, and exhibited on a large card. Near by stands
+a large framework, elevated so as to be visible to all, with ninety
+divisions corresponding to the ninety numbers, and on this, also, every
+number is shown as soon as it is drawn. The first person who has upon
+his ticket two drawn numbers gains an <i>Ambo</i>, which is the smallest
+prize. Whoever first has three numbers drawn gains a <i>Terno</i>; and so on
+with the <i>Quaterno</i> and <i>Cinquino</i>. The <i>Tombola</i>, which is the great
+prize, is won by whoever first has his whole fifteen numbers drawn. As
+soon as any one finds two of the drawn numbers on his ticket, he cries,
+"<i>Ambo</i>," at the top of his lungs. A flag is then raised on the
+pavilion, the band plays, and the game is suspended, while the claimant
+at once makes his way to the judges on the platform to present his
+ticket for examination. No sooner does the cry of "<i>Ambo</i>," "<i>Terno</i>,"
+"<i>Quaterno</i>," take place, than there is a great rustle all around.
+Everybody looks out for the fortunate person, who is immediately to be
+seen running through the parting crowd, which opens before him, cheering
+him as he goes, if his appearance be poor and needy, and greeting him
+with sarcasms, if he be apparently well to do in the world. Sometimes
+there are two or three claimants for the same prize, in which case it is
+divided among them. The <i>Ambo</i> is soon taken, and there is little room
+for a mistake; but when it comes to the <i>Quaterno</i> or <i>Cinquino</i>,
+mistakes are very common, and the claimant is almost always saluted with
+chaff and jests. After his ticket has been examined, if he have won, a
+placard is exhibited with <i>Ambo</i>, <i>Terno</i>, <i>Quaterno</i> on it, as the case
+may be. But if he have committed an error, down goes the flag, and, amid
+a burst of laughter, jeering, whistling, screaming, and catcalls, the
+disappointed claimant sneaks back and hides himself in the excited
+crowd. At a really good <i>Tombola</i>, where the prizes are high, there is
+no end of fun and gayety among the people. They stand with their tickets
+in their hands, congratulating each other ironically, as they fail to
+find the numbers on them, paying all sorts of absurd compliments to each
+other and the drawer, offering to sell out their chances at enormous
+prices when they are behindhand, and letting off all sorts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> of squibs
+and jests, not so excellent in themselves as provocative of laughter. If
+the wit be little, the fun is great,&mdash;and, in the excitement of
+expectation, a great deal of real Italian humor is often ventilated.
+Sometimes, at the country fairs, the fun is rather slow, particularly
+where the prizes are small; but on exciting occasions, there is a
+constant small fire of jests, which is very amusing.</p>
+
+<p>These <i>Tombole</i> are sometimes got up with great pomp. That, for
+instance, which sometimes takes place in the Villa Borghese is one of
+the most striking spectacles which can be seen in Rome. At one end of
+the great open-air amphitheatre is erected a large pavilion, flanked on
+either side with covered <i>logge</i> or <i>palchi</i>, festooned with yellow and
+white,&mdash;the Papal colors,&mdash;adorned with flags, and closed round with
+rich old arrases all pictured over with Scripture stories. Beneath the
+central pavilion is a band. Midway down the amphitheatre, on either
+side, are two more <i>logge</i>, similarly draped, where two more bands are
+stationed,&mdash;and still another at the opposite end, for the same purpose.
+The <i>logge</i> which flank the pavilion are sold by ticket, and filled with
+the richer classes. Three great stagings show the numbers as they are
+drawn. The pit of the amphitheatre is densely packed with a motley
+crowd. Under the ilexes and noble stone-pines that show their dark-green
+foliage against the sky, the helmets and swords of cavalry glitter as
+they move to and fro. All around on the green slopes are the
+people,&mdash;soldiers, <i>contadini</i>, priests, mingled together,&mdash;and
+thousands of gay dresses and ribbons and parasols enliven the mass. The
+four bands play successively as the multitude gathers. They have already
+arrived in tens of thousands, but the game has not yet begun, and
+thousands are still flocking to see it. All the gay equipages are on the
+outskirts, and through the trees and up the avenues stream the crowds on
+foot. As we stand in the centre of the amphitheatre and look up, we get
+a faint idea of the old Roman gatherings when Rome emptied itself to
+join in the games at the Colosseum. Row upon row they stand, a mass of
+gay and swarming life. The sunlight flashes over them, and blazes on the
+rich colors. The tall pines and dark ilexes shadow them here and there;
+over them is the soft blue dome of the Italian sky. They are gathered
+round the <i>villetta</i>,&mdash;they throng the roof and balconies,&mdash;they crowd
+the stone steps,&mdash;they pack the green oval of the amphitheatre's pit.
+The ring of cymbals, the clarion of trumpets, and the clash of brazen
+music vibrate in the air. All the world is abroad to see, from the
+infant in arms to the oldest inhabitant. <i>Monsignori</i> in purple
+stockings and tricornered hats, <i>contadini</i> in gay reds and crimsons,
+cardinals in scarlet. Princes, shopkeepers, beggars, foreigners, all
+mingle together; while the screams of the vendors of cigars,
+pumpkin-seeds, cakes, and lemonade are everywhere heard over the
+suppressed roar of the crowd. As you walk along the outskirts of the
+mass, you may see Monte Gennaro's dark peak looking over the Campagna,
+and all the Sabine hills trembling in a purple haze,&mdash;or, strolling down
+through the green avenues, you may watch the silver columns of fountains
+as they crumble in foam and plash in their mossy basins,&mdash;or gather
+masses of the sweet Parma violet and other beautiful wild-flowers.</p>
+
+<p>The only other games among the modern Romans, which deserve particular
+notice from their peculiarity, are those of Cards. In an Italian pack
+there are only forty cards,&mdash;the eight, nine, and ten of the French and
+English cards having no existence. The suits also have different signs
+and names, and, instead of hearts, spades, clubs, and diamonds, they are
+called <i>coppe</i>, <i>spade</i>, <i>bastoni</i>, and <i>denari</i>,&mdash;all being of the same
+color, and differing entirely in form from our cards. The <i>coppe</i> are
+cups or vases; the <i>spade</i> are swords; the <i>bastoni</i> are veritable clubs
+or bludgeons; and the <i>denari</i> are coins. The games are still more
+different from ours than the cards, and they are legion in number. There
+are <i>Briscola</i>, <i>Tresette</i>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> <i>Calabresella</i>, <i>Banco-Fallito</i>, <i>Rossa e
+Nera</i>, <i>Scaraccoccia</i>, <i>Scopa</i>, <i>Spizzica</i>, <i>Faraone</i>, <i>Zecchinetto</i>,
+<i>Mercante in Fiera</i>, <i>La Bazzica</i>, <i>Ruba-Monte</i>, <i>Uomo-Nero</i>, <i>La
+Paura</i>, and I know not how many others,&mdash;but they are recorded and
+explained in no book, and are only to be picked up orally. Wherever you
+go, on <i>festa</i>-day, you will find persons playing cards. At the common
+<i>osterias</i>, before the doors or on the soiled tables within, on the
+ruins of the C&aelig;sars' palaces and in the Temple of Peace, on the stone
+tables in the <i>vigna</i>, on the walls along the public roads, on the
+uncarved blocks of marble in front of the sculptors' studios, in the
+antechambers or gateways of palaces,&mdash;everywhere, cards are played.
+Every <i>contadino</i> has a pack in his pocket, with the flavor of the soil
+upon it. The playing is ordinarily for very low sums, often for nothing
+at all. But there are some games which are purely games of luck, and
+dangerous. Some of these, as <i>Rossa e Nera</i>, <i>Banco-Fallito</i>, and
+<i>Zecchinetto</i>, though prohibited by the government, are none the less
+favorite games in Rome, particularly among those who play for money.
+<i>Zecchinetto</i> may be played by any number of persons, after the
+following manner:&mdash;The dealer, who plays against the whole table, deals
+to each player one card. The next card is then turned up as a trump.
+Each player then makes his bet on the card dealt to him, and places his
+money on it. The dealer then deals to the table the other cards in
+order, and any of the players may bet on them as they are thrown down.
+If a card of the number of that bet on issue before a card corresponding
+to the number of the trump, the dealer wins the stake on that card; but
+whenever a card corresponding to the trump issues, the player wins on
+every card on which he has bet. When the banker or dealer loses at once,
+the bank "<i>fa toppa</i>," and the deal passes, but not otherwise. Nothing
+can be more simple than this game, and it is just as dangerous as it is
+simple, and as exciting as it is dangerous. A late Roman <i>principessa</i>
+is said to have been passionately fond of it, and to have lost
+enormously by it. The story runs, that, while passing the evening at a
+friend's house, after losing ten thousand <i>scudi</i> at one sitting, she
+staked her horses and carriage, which were at the door waiting to take
+her home, and lost them also. She then wrote a note to the prince, her
+husband, saying that she had lost her carriage and horses at
+<i>Zecchinetto</i>, and wished others to be sent for her. To which he
+answered, that she might return on foot,&mdash;which she was obliged to do.</p>
+
+<p>This will serve at least as a specimen of the games of chance played by
+the Romans at cards. Of the more innocent games, <i>Briscola</i>, <i>Tresette</i>,
+and <i>Scaraccoccia</i> are the favorites among the common people. And the
+first of these may not be uninteresting, as being, perhaps, the most
+popular of all. It is played by either two or four persons. The <i>Fante</i>
+(or Knave) counts as two; the <i>Carallo</i> (equal to our Queen) as three;
+the <i>R&egrave;</i> (King) as four; the Three-spot as ten; and the Ace as eleven.
+Three cards are dealt to each person, and after the deal the next card
+is turned as trump, or <i>Briscola</i>. Each plays, and, after one card all
+round is played, its place is supplied by a new deal of one card to
+each. Every card of the trump-suit takes any card of the other suits.
+Each player takes as many counting-cards as he can, and, at the end of
+the game, he who counts the most wins,&mdash;the account being made according
+to the value of the cards, as stated above.</p>
+
+<p>[To be continued.]</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> See Dessault, <i>Trait&eacute; de la Passion du Jeu</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Even while I am writing these notes, I find almost the same
+incident recorded as a "modern instance," in a recent work by
+Lieutenant-Colonel Addison, entitled <i>Traits and Stories of Anglo-Indian
+Life</i>; but, despite the authority of Colonel Addison, I cannot but
+suspect that he has simply changed the <i>venue</i>, and that his story is
+but a <i>rifacimento</i> of the actual case alluded to above.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_AMBER_GODS" id="THE_AMBER_GODS"></a>THE AMBER GODS.</h2>
+
+<h3>[Concluded.]</h3>
+
+
+<p>Papa made Mr. Dudley stay and dine, and of course we were almost bored
+to death, when in came Rose again, stealing behind Lu's chair and
+showering her in the twilight with a rain of May-flowers.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you'll have to gather them again," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how exquisite! how delicious! how I thank you!" she exclaimed,
+without disturbing one, however.</p>
+
+<p>"You won't touch them again? Then I must," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"No! no! Mr. Rose!" I cried. "I'll pick them up and take toll."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't touch them!" said Lu, "they're so sweet!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he murmured lower, "they're like you. I always said so, you
+remember."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! and every May-day but the last you have brought them to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you the trailing-arbutus there?" asked Mr. Dudley.</p>
+
+<p>"No," returned Rose.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I detected strawberries," submitted the other,&mdash;"a pleasant
+odor which recalls childhood to memory."</p>
+
+<p>For some noses all sweet scents are lumped in one big strawberry;
+clovers, or hyacinths, or every laden air indifferently, they still
+sniff strawberries. Commonplace things!</p>
+
+<p>"It's a sign of high birth to track strawberry-beds where no fruit is,
+Mr. Dudley," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Very true, Miss Willoughby. I was born pretty high up in the Green
+Mountains."</p>
+
+<p>"And so keep your memory green?"</p>
+
+<p>"Strawberries in June," said Rose, good-naturedly. "But fruit out of
+season is trouble out of reason, the Dream-Book says. It's May now, and
+these are its blossoms."</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody makes such a fuss about ground-laurel!" said I. "I don't see
+why, I'm sure. They're never perfect. The leaf is hideous,&mdash;a stupid
+duenna! You get great green leaves, and the flowers all white; you get
+deep, rosy flowers, and the leaves are all brown and bitten. They're
+neither one thing nor another. They're just like heliotropes,&mdash;no bloom
+at all, only scent. I've torn up myriads, to the ten stamens in their
+feathered case, to find where that smell comes from,&mdash;that is perfectly
+delicious,&mdash;and I never could. They are a cheat."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you finished your tirade?" asked Rose, indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe you mean so," murmured Lu. "They have a color of their
+own, almost human, infantine; and when you mass them, the tone is more
+soft and mellow than a flute. Everybody loves May-flowers."</p>
+
+<p>"Just about. I despise flutes. I like bassoons."</p>
+
+<p>"They are prophets of apple-blossoms."</p>
+
+<p>"Which brings them at once into the culinary."</p>
+
+<p>"They are not very showy," said Mr. Dudley; "but when we remember the
+Fathers"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing like them," said Rose, gently, as he knelt by Lu,
+slowly putting them into order; "nothing but pure, clear things; they're
+the fruit of snowflakes, the firstlings of the year. When one thinks how
+sweetly they come from their warm coverts and look into this cold,
+breezy sky so unshrinkingly, and from what a soil they gather such a
+wealth of simple beauty, one feels ashamed."</p>
+
+<p>"Climax worthy of the useless things!" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"The moment in which first we are thoroughly ashamed, Miss Willoughby,
+is the sovereign one of our life. Useless things? They are worth king
+and bishop. Every year, weariness and depression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> melt away when atop of
+the seasons' crucible boil these little bubbles. Isn't everybody better
+for lavishing love? And no one merely likes these; whoever cares at all
+loves entirely. We always take and give resemblances or sympathies from
+any close connection, and so these are in their way a type of their
+lovers. What virtue is in them to distil the shadow of the great pines,
+that wave layer after layer with a grave rhythm over them,
+into this delicate tint, I wonder. They have so decided an
+individuality,&mdash;different there from hot-house belles;&mdash;fashion strips
+us of our characteristics"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't turn to me for illustration of exotics," said I.</p>
+
+<p>He threw me a cluster, half-hidden in its green towers, and went on,
+laying one by one and bringing out little effects.</p>
+
+<p>"The sweetest modesty clings to them, which Alphonse Karr denies to the
+violet, so that they are almost out of place in a drawing-room; one
+ought to give them there the shelter of their large, kind leaves."</p>
+
+<p>"Hemlock's the only wear," said Louise.</p>
+
+<p>"Or last year's scarlet blackberry triads. Vines together," he
+suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"But sometimes they forget their nun-like habit," she added, "put on a
+frolicsome mood, and clamber out and flush all the deep ruts of the
+carriage-road in Follymill woods, you remember."</p>
+
+<p>"Penance next year," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; you are not to bring your old world into my new," objected
+Rose. "Perhaps they ran out so to greet the winter-worn mariners of
+Plymouth, and have been pursued by the love of their descendants ever
+since, they getting charier. Just remember how they grow. Why, you'd
+never suspect a flower there, till, happening to turn up a leaf, you're
+in the midst of harvest. You may tramp acres in vain, and within a
+stone's throw they've been awaiting you. There's something very
+charming, too, about them in this,&mdash;that when the buds are set, and at
+last a single blossom starts the trail, you plucking at one end of the
+vine, your heart's delight may touch the other a hundred miles away.
+Spring's telegraph. So they bind our coast with this network of flower
+and root."</p>
+
+<p>"By no means," I asserted. "They grow in spots."</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw! I won't believe it. They're everywhere just the same, only
+underground preparing their little witnesses, whom they send out where
+most needed. You don't suppose they find much joy in the fellowship of
+brown pine pins and sad, gray mosses, do you? Some folks say they don't
+grow away from the shore; but I've found them, I'm sorry to say, up in
+New Hampshire."</p>
+
+<p>"Why sorry?" asked Lu.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I like it best that they need our sea. They're eminently choice for
+this hour, too, when you scarcely gather their tint,&mdash;that tint, as if
+moonlight should wish to become a flower,&mdash;but their fragrance is an
+atmosphere all about you. How genuinely spicy it is! It's the very
+quintessence of those regions all whose sweetness exudes in
+sun-saturated balsams,&mdash;the very breath of pine woods and salt sea
+winds. How could it live away from the sea?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Sir," said Mr. Dudley, "you speak as if it were a creature!"</p>
+
+<p>"A hard, woody stem, a green, robust leaf, a delicate, odorous flower,
+Mr. Dudley, what is it all but an expression of New England character?"</p>
+
+<p>"Doxology!" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Miss Louise, as you have made me atone for my freedom, the task
+being done, let me present them in form."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure she needn't praise them," said I.</p>
+
+<p>She didn't.</p>
+
+<p>"I declared people make a great fuss over them," I continued. "And you
+prove it. You put me in mind of a sound, to be heard where one gets
+them,&mdash;a strange sound, like low, distant thunder, and it's nothing but
+the drum of a little partridge! a great song out of nothing.&mdash;Bless me!
+what's that?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the fireworks!" said Lu. And we all thronged to the windows.</p>
+
+<p>"It's very good of your uncle to have them," said Rose. "What a crowd
+from the town! Think of the pyrotechnics among comets and a&euml;rolites some
+fellows may have! It's quite right, too, to make our festivals with
+light; it's the highest and last of all things; we never can carry our
+imaginations beyond light"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Our imaginations ought to carry us," said Lu.</p>
+
+<p>"Come," I said, "you can play what pranks you please with the little
+May; but light is my province, my absorption; let it alone."</p>
+
+<p>It grew quite dark, interrupted now and then by the glare of rockets;
+but at last a stream of central fire went out in a slow rain of
+countless violets, reflected with pale blue flashes in the river below,
+and then the gloom was unbroken. I saw them, in that long, dim gleam,
+standing together at a window. Louise, her figure almost swaying as if
+to some inaudible music, but her face turned to him with such a steady
+quiet. Ah, me! what a tremulous joy, what passion, and what search, lit
+those eyes! But you know that passion means suffering, and, tracing it
+in the original through its roots, you come to pathos, and still
+farther, to lamentation, I've heard. But he was not looking down at her,
+only out and away, paler than ever in the blue light, sad and resolved.
+I ordered candles.</p>
+
+<p>"Sing to me, Louise," said Rose, at length. "It is two years since I
+heard you."</p>
+
+<p>"Sing 'What's a' the steer, kimmer,'" I said. But instead, she gave the
+little ballad, 'And bring my love again, for he lies among the moors.'</p>
+
+<p>Rose went and leaned over the pianoforte while she sang, bending and
+commanding her eyes. He seemed to wish to put himself where he was
+before he ever left her, to awaken everything lovely in her, to bring
+her before him as utterly developed as she might be,&mdash;not only to afford
+her, but to force upon her every chance to master him. He seemed to wish
+to love, I thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he said, as she ceased. "Did you choose it purposely,
+Louise?"</p>
+
+<p>Lu sang very nicely, and, though I dare say she would rather not then,
+when Mr. Dudley asked for the "Vale of Avoca" and the "Margin of
+Z&uuml;rich's Fair Waters," she gave them just as kindly. Altogether, quite a
+damp programme. Then papa came in, bright and blithe, whirled me round
+in a <i>pas de deux</i>, and we all very gay and hilarious slipped into the
+second of May.</p>
+
+<p>Dear me! how time goes! I must hurry.&mdash;After that, <i>I</i> didn't see so
+much of Rose; but he met Lu everywhere, came in when I was out, and, if
+I returned, he went, perfectly regardless of my existence, it seemed.
+They rode, too, all round the country; and she sat to him, though he
+never filled out the sketch. For weeks he was devoted; but I fancied,
+when I saw them, that there lingered in his manner the same thing as on
+the first evening while she sang to him. Lu was so gay and sweet and
+happy that I hardly knew her; she was always very gentle, but such a
+decided body,&mdash;that's the Willoughby, her mother. Yet during these weeks
+Rose had not spoken, not formally; delicate and friendly kindness was
+all Lu could have found, had she sought. One night, I remember, he came
+in and wanted us to go out and row with him on the river. Lu wouldn't go
+without me.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you come?" said he, coolly, as if I were merely necessary as a
+thwart or thole-pin might have been, turning and letting his eyes fall
+on me an instant, then snatching them off with a sparkle and flush, and
+such a lordly carelessness of manner otherwise.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not," I replied.</p>
+
+<p>So they remained, and Lu began to open a bundle of Border Ballads, which
+he had brought her. The very first one was "Whistle an' I'll come to
+you, my lad." I laughed. She glanced up quickly, then held it in her
+hands a moment,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> repeated the name, and asked if he liked it.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," he said. "There couldn't be a Scotch song without that rhythm
+better than melody, which, after all, is Beethoven's secret."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," said Louise. "But I shall not sing this."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do!" he said, turning with surprise. "You don't know what an
+a&euml;rial, whistling little thing it is!"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Louise! There is nobody could sing it but you."</p>
+
+<p>"Of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what
+color it please God," quoted I, and in came Mr. Dudley, as he usually
+did when not wanted; though I've no reason to find fault with him,
+notwithstanding his blank treatment of me. He never took any notice,
+because he was in love with Lu. Rose never took any notice of me,
+either. But with a difference!</p>
+
+<p>Lu was singularly condescending to Mr. Dudley that evening; and Rose,
+sitting aside, looked so very much disturbed&mdash;whether pleasantly or
+otherwise didn't occur to me&mdash;that I couldn't help enjoying his
+discomfiture, and watching him through it.</p>
+
+<p>Now, though I told you I wasn't nervous, I never should know I had this
+luxurious calm, if there were nothing to measure it by; and once in a
+great while a perfect whirlpool seizes me,&mdash;my blood is all in
+turmoil,&mdash;I bubble with silent laughter, or cry with all my heart. I had
+been in such a strange state a good while, and now, as I surveyed Rose,
+it gradually grew fiercer, till I actually sprang to my feet, and
+exclaimed, "There! it is insupportable! I've been in the magnetic storm
+long enough! it is time something took it from me!" and ran out-doors.</p>
+
+<p>Rose sauntered after, by-and-by, as if unwillingly drawn by a loadstone,
+and found the heavens wrapped in a rosy flame of Northern Lights. He
+looked as though he belonged to them, so pale and elf-like was his face
+then, like one bewitched.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa's fireworks fade before mine," I said. "Now we can live in the
+woods, as Lu has been wishing; for a dry southerly wind follows this,
+with a blue smoke filming all the distant fields. Won't it be
+delicious?"</p>
+
+<p>"Or rain," he replied; "I think it will rain to-morrow,&mdash;warm, full
+rains"; and he seemed as if such a chance would dissolve him entirely.</p>
+
+<p>As for me, those shifting, silent sheets of splendor abstracted all that
+was alien, and left me in my normal state.</p>
+
+<p>"There they come!" I said, as Lu and Mr. Dudley, and some others who had
+entered in my absence,&mdash;gnats dancing in the beam,&mdash;stepped down toward
+us. "How charming for us all to sit out here!"</p>
+
+<p>"How annoying, you mean," he replied, simply for contradiction.</p>
+
+<p>"It hasn't been warm enough before," I added.</p>
+
+<p>"And Louise may take cold now," he said, as if wishing to exhibit his
+care for her. "Whom is she speaking with? Blarsaye? And who comes
+after?"</p>
+
+<p>"Parti. A delightful person,&mdash;been abroad, too. You and he can have a
+crack about Louvres and Vaticans now, and leave Lu and Mr. Dudley to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Rose suddenly inspected me and then Parti, as if he preferred the crack
+to be with cudgels; but in a second the little blaze vanished, and he
+only stripped a weigelia branch of every blossom.</p>
+
+<p>I wonder what made Lu behave so that night; she scarcely spoke to Rose,
+appeared entirely unconcerned while he hovered round her like an
+officious sprite, was all grace to the others and sweetness to Mr.
+Dudley. And Rose, oblivious of snubs, paraded his devotion, seemed
+determined to show his love for Lu,&mdash;as if any one cared a straw,&mdash;and
+took the pains to be positively rude to me. He was possessed of an odd
+restlessness; a little defiance bristled his movements, an air of
+contrariness; and whenever he became quiet, he seemed again like one
+enchanted and folded up in a dream, to break whose spell he was about to
+abandon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> efforts. He told me life had destroyed my enchantment; I wonder
+what will destroy his. Lu refused to sit in the garden-chair he
+offered,&mdash;just suffered the wreath of pink bells he gave her to hang in
+her hand, and by-and-by fall,&mdash;and when the north grew ruddier and swept
+the zenith with lances of light, and when it faded, and a dim cloud
+hazed all the stars, preserved the same equanimity, kept on the <i>evil</i>
+tenor of her way, and bade every one an impartial farewell at
+separating. She is preciously well-bred.</p>
+
+<p>We hadn't remained in the garden all that time, though,&mdash;but, strolling
+through the gate and over the field, had reached a small grove that
+fringes the gully worn by Wild Fall and crossed by the railway. As we
+emerged from that, talking gayly, and our voices almost drowned by the
+dash of the little waterfall and the echo from the opposite rock, I
+sprang across the curving track, thinking them behind, and at the same
+instant a thunderous roar burst all about, a torrent of hot air whizzed
+and eddied over me, I fell dizzied and stunned, and the night
+express-train shot by like a burning arrow. Of course I was dreadfully
+hurt by my fall and fright,&mdash;I feel the shock now,&mdash;but they all stood
+on the little mound, from which I had sprung, like so many
+petrifactions: Rose, just as he had caught Louise back on firmer ground,
+when she was about to follow me, his arm wound swiftly round her waist,
+yet his head thrust forward eagerly, his pale face and glowing eyes
+bent, not on her, but me. Still he never stirred, and poor Mr. Dudley
+first came to my assistance. We all drew breath at our escape, and, a
+little slowly, on my account, turned homeward.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not bruised, Miss Willoughby?" asked Blarsaye, wakened.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Yone!" Lu said, leaving Mr. Dudley's arm, "you're so very pale!
+It's not pain, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not conscious of any. Why should I be injured, any more than you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," said Rose, <i>sotto voce</i>, turning and bending merely his
+head to me, "I thought I heard you scream, and that you were dead."</p>
+
+<p>"And what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, but that you were lying dead and torn, and I should see you,"
+he said,&mdash;and said as if he liked to say it, experiencing a kind of
+savage delight at his ability to say it.</p>
+
+<p>"A pity to have disappointed you!" I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw it coming before you leaped," he added, as a malignant finality,
+and drawing nearer. "You were both on the brink. I called, but probably
+neither you nor Lu heard me. So I snatched her back."</p>
+
+<p>Now I had been next him then.</p>
+
+<p>"Jove's balance," I said, taking Parti's arm.</p>
+
+<p>He turned instantly to Lu, and kept by her during the remainder of the
+walk, Mr. Dudley being at the other side. I was puzzled a little by Lu,
+as I have been a good many times since; I thought she liked Rose so
+much. Papa met us in the field, and there the affair must be detailed to
+him, and then he would have us celebrate our safety in Champagne.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Louise," said Rose, beside her at the gate, and offering his
+hand, somewhat later. "I'm going away to-morrow, if it's fine."</p>
+
+<p>"Going?" with involuntary surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"To camp out in Maine."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I hope you will enjoy it."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you stay long, Louise?"</p>
+
+<p>"If the sketching-grounds are good."</p>
+
+<p>"When I come back, you'll sing my songs? Shake hands."</p>
+
+<p>She just laid a cold touch on his.</p>
+
+<p>"Louise, are you offended with me?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked up with so much simplicity. "Offended, Rose, with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not offended, but frozen," I could have said. Lu is like that little
+sensitive-plant, shrinking into herself with stiff unconsciousness at a
+certain touch. But I don't think he noticed the sad tone in her voice,
+as she said good-night; I didn't, till, the others being gone, I saw her
+turn after his disappearing figure, with a look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> that would have been
+despairing, but for its supplication.</p>
+
+<p>The only thing Lu ever said to me about this was,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think Rose a little altered, Yone, since he came home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Altered?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have noticed it ever since you showed him your beads, that day."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! it's the amber," I said. "They are amulets, and have bound him in a
+thrall. You must wear them, and dissolve the charm. He's in a dream."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it to be in a dream?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"To lose thought of past or future."</p>
+
+<p>She repeated my words,&mdash;"Yes, he's in a dream," she said, musingly.</p>
+
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<p>Rose didn't come near us for a fortnight; but he had not camped at all,
+as he said. It was the first stone thrown into Lu's life, and I never
+saw any one keep the ripples under so; but her suspicions were aroused.
+Finally he came in again, all as before, and I thought things might have
+been different, if in that fortnight Mr. Dudley had not been so
+assiduous; and now, to the latter's happiness, there were several ragged
+children and infirm old women in whom, Lu having taken them in charge,
+he chose to be especially interested. Lu always was housekeeper, both
+because it had fallen to her while mamma and I were away, and because
+she had an administrative faculty equal to General Jackson's; and Rose,
+who had frequently gone about with her, inspecting jellies and cordials
+and adding up her accounts, now unexpectedly found Mr. Dudley so near
+his former place that he disdained to resume it himself;&mdash;not entirely,
+because the man of course couldn't be as familiar as an old playmate;
+but just enough to put Rose aside. He never would compete with any one;
+and Lu did not know how to repulse the other.</p>
+
+<p>If the amulets had ravished Rose from himself, they did it at a
+distance, for I had not worn them since that day.&mdash;You needn't look.
+Thales imagined amber had a spirit; and Pliny says it is a counter-charm
+for sorceries. There are a great many mysterious things in the world.
+Aren't there any hidden relations between us and certain substances?
+Will you tell me something impossible?&mdash;But he came and went about
+Louise, and she sung his songs, and all was going finely again, when we
+gave our midsummer party.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody was there, of course, and we had enrapturing music. Louise
+wore&mdash;no matter&mdash;something of twilight purple, and begged for the amber,
+since it was too much for my toilette,&mdash;a double India muslin, whose
+snowy sheen scintillated with festoons of gorgeous green beetles' wings
+flaming like fiery emeralds.&mdash;A family dress, my dear, and worn by my
+aunt before me,&mdash;only that individual must have been frightened out of
+her wits by it. A cruel, savage dress, very like, but ineffably
+gorgeous.&mdash;So I wore her aquamarina, though the other would have been
+better; and when I sailed in, with all the airy folds in a hoar-frost
+mistiness fluttering round me and the glitter of Lu's jewels,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Why!" said Rose, "you look like the moon in a halo."</p>
+
+<p>But Lu disliked a hostess out-dressing her guests.</p>
+
+<p>It was dull enough till quite late, and then I stepped out with Mr.
+Parti, and walked up and down a garden-path. Others were outside as
+well, and the last time I passed a little arbor I caught a yellow gleam
+of amber. Lu, of course. Who was with her? A gentleman, bending low to
+catch her words, holding her hand in an irresistible pressure. Not Rose,
+for he was flitting in beyond. Mr. Dudley. And I saw then that Lu's
+kindness was too great to allow her to repel him angrily; her gentle
+conscience let her wound no one. Had Rose seen the pantomime? Without
+doubt. He had been seeking her, and he found her, he thought, in Mr.
+Dudley's arms. After a while we went in, and, finding all smooth
+enough,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> I slipped through the balcony-window and hung over the
+balustrade, glad to be alone a moment. The wind, blowing in, carried the
+gay sounds away from me, even the music came richly muffled through the
+heavy curtains, and I wished to breathe balm and calm. The moon, round
+and full, was just rising, making the gloom below more sweet. A full
+moon is poison to some; they shut it out at every crevice, and do not
+suffer a ray to cross them; it has a chemical or magnetic effect; it
+sickens them. But I am never more free and royal than when the subtile
+celerity of its magic combinations, whatever they are, is at work. Never
+had I known the mere joy of being so intimately as to-night. The river
+slept soft and mystic below the woods, the sky was full of light, the
+air ripe with summer. Out of the yellow honeysuckles that climbed
+around, clouds of delicious fragrance stole and swathed me; long wafts
+of faint harmony gently thrilled me. Dewy and dark and uncertain was all
+beyond. I, possessed with a joyousness so deep through its contented
+languor as to counterfeit serenity, forgot all my wealth of nature, my
+pomp of beauty, abandoned myself to the hour.</p>
+
+<p>A strain of melancholy dance-music pierced the air and fell. I half
+turned my head, and my eyes met Rose. He had been there before me,
+perhaps. His face, white and shining in the light, shining with a
+strange sweet smile of relief, of satisfaction, of delight, his lips
+quivering with unspoken words, his eyes dusky with depth after depth of
+passion. How long did my eyes swim on his? I cannot tell. He never
+stirred; still leaned there against the pillar, still looked down on me
+like a marble god. The sudden tears dazzled my gaze, fell down my hot
+cheek, and still I knelt fascinated by that smile. In that moment I felt
+that he was more beautiful than the night, than the music, than I. Then
+I knew that all this time, all summer, all past summers, all my life
+long, I had loved him.</p>
+
+<p>Some one was waiting to make his adieux; I heard my father seeking me; I
+parted the curtains, and went in. One after one those tedious people
+left, the lights grew dim, and still he stayed without. I ran to the
+window, and, lifting the curtain, bent forward, crying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Rose! do you spend the night on the balcony?"</p>
+
+<p>Then he moved, stepped down, murmured something to my father, bowed
+loftily to Louise, passed me without a sign, and went out. In a moment,
+Lu's voice, a quick, sharp exclamation, touched him; he turned, came
+back. She, wondering at him, had stood toying with the amber, and at
+last crushing the miracle of the whole, a bell-wort wrought most
+delicately with all the dusty pollen grained upon its anthers, crushing
+it between her fingers, breaking the thread, and scattering the beads
+upon the carpet. He stooped with her to gather them again, he took from
+her hand and restored to her afterward the shattered fragments of the
+bell-wort, he helped her disentangle the aromatic string from her
+falling braids,&mdash;for I kept apart,&mdash;he breathed the penetrating incense
+of each separate amulet, and I saw that from that hour, when every atom
+of his sensation was tense and vibrating, she would be associated with
+the loathed amber in his undefined consciousness, would be surrounded
+with an atmosphere of its perfume, that Lu was truly sealed from him in
+it, sealed into herself. Then again, saying no word, he went out.</p>
+
+<p>Louise stood like one lost,&mdash;took aimlessly a few steps,&mdash;retraced
+them,&mdash;approached a table,&mdash;touched something,&mdash;left it.</p>
+
+<p>"I am so sorry about your beads!" she said, apologetically, when she
+looked up and saw me astonished, putting the broken pieces into my hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness! Is that what you are fluttering about so for?"</p>
+
+<p>"They can't be mended," she continued, "but I will thread them again."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care about them, I'm sick of amber," I answered, consolingly.
+"You may have them, if you will."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No. I must pay too great a price for them," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! when they break again, I'll pay you back," I said, without in
+the least knowing what she meant. "I didn't know you were too proud for
+a 'thank you!'"</p>
+
+<p>She came up and put both her arms round my neck, laid her cheek beside
+mine a minute, kissed me, and went up-stairs. Lu always rather
+worshipped me.</p>
+
+<p>Dressing my hair that night, Carmine, my maid, begged for the remnants
+of the bell-wort to "make a scent-bag with, Miss."</p>
+
+<p>Next day, no Rose; it rained. But at night he came and took possession
+of the room, with a strange, airy gayety never seen in him before. It
+was so chilly, that I had heaped the wood-boughs, used in the
+yesterday's decorations, on the hearth, and lighted a fragrant crackling
+flame that danced up wildly at my touch,&mdash;for I have the faculty of
+fire. I sat at one side, Lu at the other, papa was holding a skein of
+silk for her to wind, the amber beads were twinkling in the
+firelight,&mdash;and when she slipped them slowly on the thread, bead after
+bead, warmed through and through by the real blaze, they crowded the
+room afresh with their pungent spiciness. Papa had called Rose to take
+his place at the other end of the silk, and had gone out; and when Lu
+finished, she fastened the ends, cut the thread, Rose likening her to
+Atropos, and put them back into her basket. Still playing with the
+scissors, following down the lines of her hand, a little snap was heard.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Louise, "I have broken my ring!"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't it be repaired?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she returned briefly, but pleasantly, and threw the pieces into
+the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"The hand must not be ringless," said Rose; and slipping off the ring of
+hers that he wore, he dropped it upon the amber, then got up and threw
+an armful of fresh boughs upon the blaze.</p>
+
+<p>So that was all done. Then Rose was gayer than before. He is one of
+those people to whom you must allow moods,&mdash;when their sun shines,
+dance, and when their vapors rise, sit in the shadow. Every variation of
+the atmosphere affects him, though by no means uniformly; and so
+sensitive is he, that, when connected with you by any intimate
+<i>rapport</i>, even if but momentary, he almost divines your thoughts. He is
+full of perpetual surprises. I am sure he was a nightingale before he
+was Rose. An iridescence like sea-foam sparkled in him that evening, he
+laughed as lightly as the little tinkling mass-bells at every moment,
+and seemed to diffuse a rosy glow wherever he went in the room. Yet
+gayety was not his peculiar specialty, and at length he sat before the
+fire, and, taking Lu's scissors, commenced cutting bits of paper in
+profiles. Somehow they all looked strangely like and unlike Mr. Dudley.
+I pointed one out to Lu, and, if he had needed confirmation, her
+changing color gave it. He only glanced at her askance, and then broke
+into the merriest description of his life in Rome, of which he declared
+he had not spoken to us yet, talking fast and laughing as gleefully as a
+child, and illustrating people and localities with scissors and paper as
+he went on, a couple of careless snips putting a whole scene before us.</p>
+
+<p>The floor was well-strewn with such chips,&mdash;fountains, statues, baths,
+and all the persons of his little drama,&mdash;when papa came in. He held an
+open letter, and, sitting down, read it over again. Rose fell into
+silence, clipping the scissors daintily in and out the white sheet
+through twinkling intricacies. As the design dropped out, I caught
+it,&mdash;a long wreath of honeysuckle-blossoms. Lu was humming a little
+tune. Rose joined, and hummed the last bars, then bade us good-night.</p>
+
+<p>"Yone," said papa, "your Aunt Willoughby is very ill,&mdash;will not recover.
+She is my elder brother's widow; you are her heir. You must go and stay
+with her."</p>
+
+<p>Now it was very likely that just at this time I was going away to nurse
+Aunt Willoughby! Moreover, illness is my very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> antipodes,&mdash;its nearness
+is invasion,&mdash;we are utterly antipathetic,&mdash;it disgusts and repels me.
+What sympathy can there be between my florid health, my rank, redundant
+life, and any wasting disease of death? What more hostile than focal
+concentration and obscure decomposition? You see, we cannot breathe the
+same atmosphere. I banish the thought of such a thing from my feeling,
+from my memory. So I said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It's impossible. I'm not going an inch to Aunt Willoughby's. Why, papa,
+it's more than a hundred miles, and in this weather!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the wind has changed."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it will be too warm for such a journey."</p>
+
+<p>"A new idea, Yone! Too warm for the mountains?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, papa. I'm not going a step."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Yone, you astonish me! Your sick aunt!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the very thing. If she were well, I might,&mdash;perhaps. Sick! What
+can I do for her? I never go into a sick-room. I hate it. I don't know
+how to do a thing there. Don't say another word, papa. I can't go."</p>
+
+<p>"It is out of the question to let it pass so, my dear. Here you are
+nursing all the invalids in town, yet"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, I'm not, papa. I don't know and don't care whether they're dead
+or alive."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, it's Lu."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, she's hospital-agent for half the country."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it is time that you also got a little experience."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, papa! I don't want it. I never saw anybody die, and I never mean
+to."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't I do as well, uncle?" asked Lu.</p>
+
+<p>"You, darling? Yes; but it isn't your duty."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought, perhaps," she said, "you would rather Yone went."</p>
+
+<p>"So I would."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear papa, don't vex me! Ask anything else!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is so unpleasant to Yone," Lu murmured, "that maybe I had better go.
+And if you've no objection, Sir, I'll take the early train to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Wasn't she an angel?</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Lu was away a month. Rose came in, expressing his surprise. I said,
+"Othello's occupation's gone?"</p>
+
+<p>"And left him room for pleasure now," he retorted.</p>
+
+<p>"Which means seclusion from the world, in the society of lakes and
+chromes."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Willoughby," said he, turning and looking directly past me, "may I
+paint you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me? Oh, you can't."</p>
+
+<p>"No; but may I try?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot go to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I will come to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you suppose it will be like?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all, of course. It is to be, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I've no more right than any other piece of Nature to refuse an
+artist a study in color."</p>
+
+<p>He faced about, half pouting, as if he would go out, then returned and
+fixed the time.</p>
+
+<p>So he painted. He generally put me into a broad beam that slanted from
+the top of the veiled window, and day after day he worked. Ah, what
+glorious days they were! how gay! how full of life! I almost feared to
+let him image me on canvas, do you know? I had a fancy it would lay my
+soul so bare to his inspection. What secrets might be searched, what
+depths fathomed, at such times, if men knew! I feared lest he should see
+me as I am, in those great masses of warm light lying before him, as I
+feared he saw when he said amber harmonized with me,&mdash;all being things
+not polarized, not organized, without centre, so to speak. But it
+escaped him, and he wrought on. Did he succeed? Bless you! he might as
+well have painted the sun; and who could do that? No; but shades and
+combinations that he had hardly touched or known, before, he had to
+lavish now; he learned more than some years might have taught him; he,
+who worshipped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> beauty, saw how thoroughly I possessed it; he has told
+me that through me he learned the sacredness of color. "Since he loves
+beauty so, why does he not love me?" I asked myself; and perhaps the
+feverish hope and suspense only lit up that beauty and fed it with fresh
+fires. Ah, the July days! Did you ever wander over barren, parched
+stubble-fields, and suddenly front a knot of red Turk's-cap lilies,
+flaring as if they had drawn all the heat and brilliance from the land
+into their tissues? Such were they. And if I were to grow old and gray,
+they would light down all my life, and I could be willing to lead a
+dull, grave age, looking back and remembering them, warming myself
+forever in their constant youth. If I had nothing to hope, they would
+become my whole existence. Think, then, what it will be to have all days
+like those!</p>
+
+<p>He never satisfied himself, as he might have done, had he known me
+better,&mdash;and he never <i>shall</i> know me!&mdash;and used to look at me for the
+secret of his failure, till I laughed; then the look grew wistful, grew
+enamored. By-and-by we left the pictures. We went into the woods, warm,
+dry woods; we stayed there from morning till night. In the burning
+noons, we hung suspended between two heavens, in our boat on glassy
+forest-pools, where now and then a shoal of white lilies rose and
+crowded out the under-sky. Sunsets burst like bubbles over us. When the
+hidden thrushes were breaking one's heart with music, and the sweet fern
+sent up a tropical fragrance beneath our crushing steps, we came home to
+rooms full of guests and my father's genial warmth. What a month it was!</p>
+
+<p>One day papa went up into New Hampshire; Aunt Willoughby was dead; and
+one day Lu came home.</p>
+
+<p>She was very pale and thin. Her eyes were hollow and purple.</p>
+
+<p>"There is some mistake, Lu," I said. "It is you who are dead, instead of
+Aunt Willoughby."</p>
+
+<p>"Do I look so wretchedly?" she asked, glancing at the mirror.</p>
+
+<p>"Dreadfully! Is it all watching and grief?"</p>
+
+<p>"Watching and grief," said Lu.</p>
+
+<p>How melancholy her smile was! She would have crazed me in a little
+while, if I had minded her.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you care so much for fretful, crabbed Aunt Willoughby?"</p>
+
+<p>"She was very kind to me," Lu replied.</p>
+
+<p>There was an odd air with her that day. She didn't go at once and get
+off her travelling-dress, but trifled about in a kind of expectancy, a
+little fever going and coming in her cheeks, and turning at any noise.</p>
+
+<p>Will you believe it?&mdash;though I know Lu had refused him,&mdash;who met her at
+the half-way junction, saw about her luggage, and drove home with her,
+but Mr. Dudley, and was with us, a half-hour afterward, when Rose came
+in? Lu didn't turn at his step, but the little fever in her face
+prevented his seeing her as I had done. He shook hands with her and
+asked after her health, and shook hands with Mr. Dudley, (who hadn't
+been near us during her absence,) and seemed to wish she should feel
+that he recognized without pain a connection between herself and that
+personage. But when he came back to me, I was perplexed again at that
+bewitched look in his face,&mdash;as if Lu's presence made him feel that he
+was in a dream, I the enchantress of that dream. It did not last long,
+though. And soon she saw Mr. Dudley out, and went up-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>When Lu came down to tea, she had my beads in her hand again.</p>
+
+<p>"I went into your room and got them, dear Yone," she said, "because I
+have found something to replace the broken bell-wort"; and she showed us
+a little amber bee, black and golden. "Not so lovely as the bell-wort,"
+she resumed, "and I must pierce it for the thread; but it will fill the
+number. Was I not fortunate to find it?"</p>
+
+<p>But when at a flame she heated a long, slender needle to pierce it, the
+little winged wonder shivered between her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> fingers, and under the hot
+steel filled the room with the honeyed smell of its dusted substance.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," said I again. "It's a shame, though,&mdash;it was so much
+prettier than the bell-wort! We might have known it was too brittle.
+It's just as well, Lu."</p>
+
+<p>The room smelt like a chancel at vespers. Rose sauntered to the window,
+and so down the garden, and then home.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It cannot be helped," she said, with a smile. "But I really
+counted upon seeing it on the string. I'm not lucky at amber. You know
+little Asian said it would bring bane to the bearer."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear! dear! I had quite forgotten!" I exclaimed. "Oh, Lu, keep it, or
+give it away, or something! I don't want it any longer."</p>
+
+<p>"You're very vehement," she said, laughing now. "I am not afraid of your
+gods. Shall I wear them?"</p>
+
+<p>So the rest of the summer Lu twined them round her throat,&mdash;amulets of
+sorcery, orbs of separation; but one night she brought them back to me.
+That was last night. There they lie.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, in the high golden noon, Rose came. I was on the lounge in
+the alcove parlor, my hair half streaming out of Lu's net; but he didn't
+mind. The light was toned and mellow, the air soft and cool. He came and
+sat on the opposite side, so that he faced the wall table with its dish
+of white, stiflingly sweet lilies, while I looked down the drawing-room.
+He had brought a book, and by-and-by opened at the part commencing, "Do
+not die, Phene." He read it through,&mdash;all that perfect, perfect scene.
+From the moment when he said,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i20">"I overlean<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This length of hair and lustrous front,&mdash;they turn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like an entire flower upward,"&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>his voice low, sustained, clear,&mdash;till he reached the line,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Look at the woman here with the new soul,"&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>till he turned the leaf and murmured,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Shall to produce form out of unshaped stuff<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be art,&mdash;and, further, to evoke a soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From form be nothing? This new soul is mine!"&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>till then, he never glanced up. Now, with a proud grace, he raised his
+head,&mdash;not to look at me, but across me, at the lilies, to satiate
+himself with their odorous snowiness. When he again pronounced words,
+his voice was husky and vibrant; but what music dwelt in it and seemed
+to prolong rather than break the silver silence, as he echoed,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Some unsuspected isle in the far seas"!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>How many read to descend to a prosaic life! how few to meet one as rich
+and full beside them! The tone grew ever lower; he looked up slowly,
+fastening his glance on mine.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And you are ever by me while I gaze,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are in my arms, as now,&mdash;as now,&mdash;as now!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>he said. He swayed forward with those wild questioning eyes,&mdash;his breath
+blew over my cheek; I was drawn,&mdash;I bent; the full passion of his soul
+broke to being, wrapped me with a blinding light, a glowing kiss on
+lingering lips, a clasp strong and tender as heaven. All my hair fell
+down like a shining cloud and veiled us, the great rolling folds in wave
+after wave of crisp splendor. I drew back from that long, silent kiss, I
+gathered up each gold thread of the straying tresses, blushing, defiant.
+He also, he drew back. But I knew all then. I had no need to wait
+longer; I had achieved. Rose loved me. Rose had loved me from that first
+day.&mdash;You scarcely hear what I say, I talk so low and fast? Well, no
+matter, dear, you wouldn't care.&mdash;For a moment that gaze continued, then
+the lids fell, the face grew utterly white. He rose, flung the book,
+crushed and torn, upon the floor, went out, speaking no word to me, nor
+greeting Louise in the next room. Could he have seen her? No. I, only,
+had that. For, as I drew from his arm, a meteoric crimson, shooting
+across the pale face bent over work there, flashed upon me, and then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> a
+few great tears, like sudden thunder-drops, falling slowly and wetting
+the heavy fingers. The long mirror opposite her reflected the interior
+of the alcove parlor. No,&mdash;he could not have seen, he must have felt
+her.</p>
+
+<p>I wonder whether I should have cared, if I had never met him any
+more,&mdash;happy in this new consciousness. But in the afternoon he
+returned, bright and eager.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you so very busy, dear Yone," he said, without noticing Lu, "that
+you cannot drive with me to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>Busy! In five minutes I whirled down the avenue beside him. I had not
+been Yone to him before. How quiet we were! he driving on, bent forward,
+seeing out and away; I leaning back, my eyes closed, and, whenever a
+remembrance of that instant at noon thrilled me, a stinging blush
+staining my cheek. I, who had believed myself incapable of love, till
+that night on the balcony, felt its floods welling from my spirit,&mdash;who
+had believed myself so completely cold, was warm to my heart's core.
+Again that breath fanned me, those lips touched mine, lightly, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yone, my Yone!" he said. "Is it true? No dream within dream? Do you
+love me?"</p>
+
+<p>Wistful, longing, tender eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Do I love you? I would die for you!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Ah, me! If the July days were such, how perfect were the August and
+September nights! their young moon's lingering twilight, their full
+broad bays of silver, their interlunar season! The winds were warm about
+us, the whole earth seemed the wealthier for our love. We almost lived
+upon the river, he and I alone,&mdash;floating seaward, swimming slowly up
+with late tides, reaching home drenched with dew, parting in passionate
+silence. Once he said to me,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Is it because it is so much larger, more strange and beautiful, than
+any other love could be, that I feel guilty, Yone,&mdash;feel as if I sinned
+in loving you so, my great white flower?"</p>
+
+<p>I ought to tell you how splendid papa was, never seemed to consider that
+Rose had only his art, said I had enough from Aunt Willoughby for both,
+we should live up there among the mountains, and set off at once to make
+arrangements. Lu has a wonderful tact, too,&mdash;seeing at once where her
+path lay. She is always so well oriented! How full of peace and bliss
+these two months have been! Last night Lu came in here. She brought back
+my amber gods, saying she had not intended to keep them, and yet
+loitering.</p>
+
+<p>"Yone," she said at last, "I want you to tell me if you love him."</p>
+
+<p>Now, as if that were any affair of hers! I looked what I thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be angry," she pleaded. "You and I have been sisters, have we
+not? and always shall be. I love you very much, dear,&mdash;more than you may
+believe; I only want to know if you will make him happy."</p>
+
+<p>"That's according," said I, with a yawn.</p>
+
+<p>She still stood before me. Her eyes said, "I have a right,&mdash;I have a
+right to know."</p>
+
+<p>"You want me to say how much I love Vaughan Rose?" I asked, finally.
+"Well, listen, Lu,&mdash;so much, that, when he forgets me,&mdash;and he will, Lu,
+one day,&mdash;I shall die."</p>
+
+<p>"Prevent his forgetting you, Yone!" she returned. "Make your soul white
+and clear, like his."</p>
+
+<p>"No! no!" I answered. "He loves me as I am. I will never change."</p>
+
+<p>Then somehow tears began to come. I didn't want to cry; I had to crowd
+them back behind my fingers and shut lids.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Lu!" I said, "I cannot think what it would be to live, and he not a
+part of me! not for either of us to be in the world without the other!"</p>
+
+<p>Then Lu's tears fell with mine, as she drew her fingers over my hair.
+She said she was happy, too; and to-day has been down and gathered every
+one, so that, when you see her, her white array will be wreathed with
+purple hearts-ease. But I didn't tell Lu quite the truth, you must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>
+know. I don't think I should die, except to my former self, if Rose
+ceased to love me. I should change. Oh, I should hate him! Hate is as
+intense as love.</p>
+
+<p>Bless me! What time can it be? There are papa and Rose walking in the
+garden. I turned out my maid to find chance for all this talk; I must
+ring for her. There, there's my hair! silken coil after coil, full of
+broken lights, rippling below the knees, fine and fragrant. Who could
+have such hair but I? I am the last of the Willoughbys, a decayed race,
+and from such strong decay what blossom less gorgeous should spring?</p>
+
+<p>October now. All the world swings at the top of its beauty; and those
+hills where we shall live, what robes of color fold them! Tawny filemot
+gilding the valleys, each seam and rut a scroll or arabesque, and all
+the year pouring out her heart's blood to flush the maples, the great
+impurpled granites warm with the sunshine they have drunk all summer! So
+I am to be married to-day, at noon. I like it best so; it is my hour.
+There is my veil, that regal Venice point. Fling it round you. No, you
+would look like a ghost in one,&mdash;Lu like a corpse. Dear me! That's the
+second time I've rung for Carmine. I dare say the hussy is trying on my
+gown. You think it strange I don't delay? Why, child, why tempt
+Providence? Once mine, always mine. He might wake up. No, no, I couldn't
+have meant that! It is not possible that I have merely led him into a
+region of richer dyes, lapped him in this vision of color, kindled his
+heart to such a flame, that it may light him towards further effort. Can
+you believe that he will slip from me and return to one in better
+harmony with him? Is any one? Will he ever find himself with that love
+lost, this love exhausted, only his art left him? Never! <i>I</i> am his
+crown. See me! how singularly, gloriously beautiful! For him only! all
+for him! I love him! I cannot, I will not lose him! I defy all! My
+heart's proud pulse assures me! I defy Fate! Hush! One,&mdash;two,&mdash;twelve
+o'clock. Carmine!</p>
+
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Astra castra, numen lumen.</i></p>
+
+<p>The click of her needles and the soft singing of the night-lamp are the
+only sounds breaking the stillness, the awful stillness, of this room.
+How the wind blows without! it must be whirling white gusty drifts
+through the split hills. If I were as free! Whistling round the gray
+gable, tearing the bleak boughs, crying faint, hoarse moans down the
+chimneys! A wild, sad gale! There is a lull, a long breathless lull,
+before it soughs up again. Oh, it is like a pain! Pain! Why do I think
+the word? Must I suffer any more? Am I crazed with opiates? or am I
+dying? They are in that drawer,&mdash;laudanum, morphine, hyoscyamus, and all
+the drowsy sirups,&mdash;little drops, but soaring like a fog, and wrapping
+the whole world in a dull ache, with no salient sting to catch a groan
+on. They are so small, they might be lost in this long, dark room; why
+not the pain too, the point of pain, I? A long, dark room; I at one end,
+she at the other; the curtains drawn away from me that I may breathe.
+Ah, I have been stifled so long! They look down on me, all those old
+dead and gone faces, those portraits on the wall,&mdash;look all from their
+frames at me, the last term of the race, the vanishing summit of their
+design. A fierce weapon thrust into the world for evil has that race
+been,&mdash;from the great gray Willoughby, threatening with his iron eyes
+there, to me, the sharp apex of its suffering. A fierce, glittering
+blade! Why I alone singled for this curse? Rank blossom, rank decay,
+they answer, but falsely. I lie here, through no fault of mine, blasted
+by disease, the dread with no relief. A hundred ancestors look from my
+walls, and see in me the centre of their lives, of all their little
+splendor, of their sins and follies; what slept in them wakes in me. Oh,
+let me sleep too!</p>
+
+<p>How long could I live and lose nothing? I saw my face in the hand-glass
+this morning,&mdash;more lovely than health fashioned it;&mdash;transparent skin,
+bounding blood,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> with its fire burning behind the eye, on cheek, on
+lip,&mdash;a beauty that every pang has aggravated, heightened, sharpened, to
+a superb intensity, flushing, rapid, unearthly,&mdash;a brilliancy to be
+dreamed of. Like a great autumn-leaf I fall, for I am dying,&mdash;dying!
+Yes, death finds me more beautiful than life made me; but have I lost
+nothing? Great Heaven, I have lost all!</p>
+
+<p>A fancy comes to me, that to-day was my birthday. I have forgotten to
+mark time; but if it was, I am thirty-two years old. I remember
+birthdays of a child,&mdash;loving, cordial days. No one remembers to-day.
+Why should they? But I ache for a little love. Thirty-two,&mdash;that is
+young to die! I am too fair, too rich, for death!&mdash;not his fit spoil! Is
+there no one to save me? no help? can I not escape? Ah, what a vain
+eagerness! what an idle hope! Fall back again, heart! Escape? I do not
+desire to. Come, come, kind rest! I am tired.</p>
+
+<p>That cap-string has loosened now, and all this golden cataract of hair
+has rushed out over the piled pillows. It oppresses and terrifies me. If
+I could speak, it seems to me that I would ask Louise to come and bind
+it up. Won't she turn and see?</p>
+
+<p>Have I been asleep? What is this in my hands? The amber gods? Oh, yes! I
+asked to see them again; I like their smell, I think. It is ten years I
+have had them. They enchant; but the charm will not last; nothing will.
+I rubbed a little yellow smoke out of them,&mdash;a cloud that hung between
+him and the world, so that he saw only me,&mdash;at least&mdash;&mdash;What am I
+dreaming of? All manner of illusions haunt me. Who said anything about
+ten years? I have been married ten years. Happy, then, ten years? Oh,
+no! One day he woke.&mdash;How close the room is! I want some air. Why don't
+they do something&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Once, in the pride of a fool, I fear having made some confidence, some
+recital of my joy to ears that never had any. Did I say I would not lose
+him? Did I say I could live just on the memory of that summer? I lash
+myself that I must remember it! that I ever loved him! When he stirred,
+when the mist left him, when he found a mere passion had blinded him,
+when he spread his easel, when he abandoned love,&mdash;was I wretched? I,
+too, abandoned love!&mdash;more,&mdash;I hated! All who hate are wretched. But he
+was bound to me! Yes, he might move restlessly,&mdash;it only clanked his
+chains. Did he wound me? I was cruel. He never spoke. He became
+artist,&mdash;ceased to be man,&mdash;was more indifferent than the cloud. He
+could paint me then,&mdash;and, revealed and bare, all our histories written
+in me, he hung me up beside my ancestors. There I hang. Come from thy
+frame, thou substance, and let this troubled phantom go! Come! for he
+gave my life to thee. In thee he shut and sealed it all, and left me as
+the empty husk. Did she come then? No! I sent for her. I meant to teach
+him that he was yet a man,&mdash;to open before him a gulf of anguish; but
+<i>I</i> slipped down it. Then I dogged them; they never spoke alone; I
+intercepted the eye's language; I withered their wintry smiles to
+frowns; I stifled their sighs; I checked their breath, their motion.
+Idle words passed our lips; we three lived in a real world of silence,
+agonized mutes. She went. Summer by summer my father brought her to us.
+Always memory was kindled afresh, always sorrow kept smouldering. Once
+she came; I lay here; she has not left me since. He,&mdash;he also comes; he
+has soothed pain with that loveless eye, carried me in untender arms,
+watched calmly beside my delirious nights. He who loved beauty has
+learned disgust. Why should I care? I, from the slave of bald form,
+enlarged him to the master of gorgeous color; his blaze is my ashes. He
+studies me. I owe him nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Is it near morning? Have I dozed again? Night is long. The great
+hall-clock is striking,&mdash;throb after throb on the darkness. I remember,
+when I was a child, watching its lengthened pendulum swing as if time
+were its own, and it measured the thread slowly, loath to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>
+part,&mdash;remember streaking its great ebony case with a little finger,
+misting it with a warm breath. Throb after throb,&mdash;is it going to peal
+forever? Stop, solemn clangor! hearts, stop! Midnight.</p>
+
+<p>The nurses have gone down; she sits there alone. Her bent side-face is
+full of pity. Now and then her head turns; the great brown eyes lift
+heavily, and lie on me,&mdash;heavily, as if the sight of me pained her. Ah,
+in me perishes her youth! death enters her world! Besides, she loves me.
+I do not want her love,&mdash;I would fling it off; but I am faint,&mdash;I am
+impotent,&mdash;I am so cold! Not that she lives, and I die,&mdash;not that she
+has peace, and I tumult,&mdash;not for her voice's music,&mdash;not for her eye's
+lustre,&mdash;not for any charm of her womanly presence,&mdash;neither for her
+clear, fair soul,&mdash;nor that, when the storm and winter pass, and I am
+stiff and frozen, she smiles in the sun, and leads new life,&mdash;not for
+all this I hate her; but because my going gives her what I
+lost,&mdash;because, I stepped aside, the light falls on her,&mdash;because from
+my despair springs her happiness. Poor fool! let her be happy, if she
+can! Her mother was a Willoughby! And what is a flower that blows on a
+grave?</p>
+
+<p>Why do I remember so distinctly one night alone of all my life,&mdash;one
+night, when we dance in the low room of a seaside cottage,&mdash;dance to
+Lu's singing? He leads me to her, when the dance is through, brushing
+with his head the festooned nets that swing from the rafters,&mdash;and in at
+the open casement is blown a butterfly, a dead butterfly, from off the
+sea. She holds it compassionately till I pin it on my dress,&mdash;the wings,
+twin magnificences, freckled and barred and dusty with gold, fluttering
+at my breath. Some one speaks with me; she strays to the window, he
+follows, and they are silent. He looks far away over the gray loneliness
+stretching beyond. At length he murmurs: "A brief madness makes my long
+misery. Louise, if the earth were dazzled aside from her constant
+pole-star to worship some bewildering comet, would she be more forlorn
+than I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Rose! your art remains," I hear her say.</p>
+
+<p>He bends lower, that his breath may scorch her brow. "Was I wrong? Am I
+right?" he whispers, hurriedly. "You loved me once; you love me now,
+Louise, if I were free?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you are not free."</p>
+
+<p>She does not recoil, yet her very atmosphere repels him, while looking
+up with those woful eyes blanching her cheek by their gathering
+darkness. "And, Rose,"&mdash;&mdash;she sighs, then ceases abruptly, while a
+quiver of sudden scorn writhes spurningly down eyelid and nostril and
+pains the whole face.</p>
+
+<p>He erects himself, then reaches his hand for the rose in her belt,
+glances at me,&mdash;the dead thing in my bosom rising and falling with my
+turbulent heart,&mdash;holds the rose to his lips, leaves her. How keen are
+my ears! how flushed my cheek! how eager and fierce my eyes! He
+approaches; I snatch the rose and tear its petals in an angry shower,
+and then a dim east-wind pours in and scatters my dream like flakes of
+foam. All dreams go; youth and hope desert me; the dark claims me. O
+room, surrender me! O sickness and sorrow, loose your weary hold!</p>
+
+<p>It maddens me to know that the sun will shine again, the tender grass
+grow green, the veery sing, the crocus come. She will walk in the light
+and re-gather youth, and I moulder, a forgotten heap. Oh, why not all
+things crash to ruin with me?</p>
+
+<p>Pain, pain, pain! Where is my father? Why is he away, when they know I
+die? He used to hold me once; he ought to hear me when I call. He would
+rest me, and stroke the grief aside,&mdash;he is so strong. Where is he?</p>
+
+<p>These amulets stumbling round again? Amber, amber gods, you did mischief
+in your day! If I clutched you hard, as Lu did once, all your spells
+would be broken.&mdash;It is colder than it was. I think I will go to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>What was that? How loud and resonant! It stuns me. It is too sonorous.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
+Does sound flash? Ah! the hour. Another? How long the silver toll swims
+on the silent air! It is one o'clock,&mdash;a passing bell, a knell. If I
+were at home by the river, the tide would be turning down, down, and out
+to the broad, broad sea. Is it worth while to have lived?</p>
+
+<p>Have I spoken? She looks at me, rises, and touches that bell-rope that
+always brings him. How softly he opens the door! Waiting, perhaps. Well.
+Ten years have not altered him much. The face is brighter,
+finer,&mdash;shines with the eternal youth of genius. They pause a moment; I
+suppose they are coming to me; but their eyes are on each other.</p>
+
+<p>Why must the long, silent look with which he met her the day I got my
+amber strike back on me now so vindictively? I remember three looks:
+that, and this, and one other,&mdash;one fervid noon, a look that drank my
+soul, that culminated my existence. Oh, I remember! I lost it a little
+while ago. I have it now. You are coming? Can't you hear me? See! these
+costly <i>liqueurs</i>, these precious perfumes beside me here, if I can
+reach them, I will drench the coverlet in them; it shall be white and
+sweet as a little child's. I wish they were the great rich lilies of
+that day; it is too late for the baby May-flowers. You do not like
+amber? There the thread breaks again! the little cruel gods go tumbling
+down the floor! Come, lay my head on your breast! kiss my life off my
+lips! I am your Yone! I forgot a little while,&mdash;but I love you, Rose!
+Rose!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Why! I thought arms held me. How clear the space is! The wind from
+out-doors, rising again, must have rushed in. There is the quarter
+striking. How free I am! No one here? No swarm of souls about me? Oh,
+those two faces looked from a great mist, a moment since; I scarcely see
+them now. Drop, mask! I will not pick you up! Out, out into the gale!
+back to my elements!</p>
+
+<p>So I passed out of the room, down the staircase. The servants below did
+not see me, but the hounds crouched and whined. I paused before the
+great ebony clock; again the fountain broke, and it chimed the
+half-hour; it was half-past one; another quarter, and the next time its
+ponderous silver hammers woke the house it would be two. Half-past one?
+Why, then, did not the hands move? Why cling fixed on a point five
+minutes before the first quarter struck? To and fro, soundless and
+purposeless, swung the long pendulum. And, ah! what was this thing I had
+become? I had done with time. Not for me the hands moved on their
+recurrent circle any more.</p>
+
+<p>I must have died at ten minutes past one.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_POETS_FRIENDS" id="THE_POETS_FRIENDS"></a>THE POET'S FRIENDS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Robin sings in the elm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The cattle stand beneath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sedate and grave, with great brown eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And fragrant meadow-breath.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They listen to the flattered bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The wise-looking, stupid things!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they never understand a word<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of all the Robin sings.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_MEMORIAL_OF_A_B_OR_MATILDA_MUFFIN" id="THE_MEMORIAL_OF_A_B_OR_MATILDA_MUFFIN"></a>THE MEMORIAL OF A. B., OR MATILDA MUFFIN.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>THE MEMORIAL OF A. B.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Humbly Showeth</i>:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Ladies and gentlemen,&mdash;enlightened public,&mdash;kind audience,&mdash;dear
+readers,&mdash;or whatever else you may be styled,&mdash;whose eyes, from remote
+regions of east, west, or next door, solace themselves between the brown
+covers of this magazine, making of themselves flowers to its lunar
+brilliancy,&mdash;I wish to state, with all humility and self-disgust, that I
+am what is popularly called a literary woman.</p>
+
+<p>In the present state of society, I should feel less shame in declaring
+myself the elect lady of Dunderhed Van Nudel, Esquire, that wealthy
+Dutch gentleman, aged seventy, whom we all know. It is true, that, as I
+am young and gay and intelligent, while he is old and stupid and very
+low Dutch indeed, such an announcement would be equivalent to saying
+that I was bought by Mr. Van Nudel for half a million of dollars; but
+then that is customary, and you would all congratulate me.</p>
+
+<p>Also, I should stand a better chance of finding favor in your eyes, if I
+declared myself to be an indigent tailoress; for no woman should use her
+head who can use her hands,&mdash;a maxim older than Confucius.</p>
+
+<p>Or even if I were a school-ma'am! (blessed be the man who has brought
+them into fashion and the long path!) In that case, you might say, "Poor
+thing! isn't she interesting? quite like <i>the</i> school-mistress!"&mdash;And I
+am not averse to pity, since it is love's poor cousin, nor to belonging
+to a class mentioned in Boston literary society. I really am not!</p>
+
+<p>But the plain truth is, I earn my living by writing. Sewing does not
+pay. I have no "faculty" at school-keeping; for I invariably spoil all
+the good children, and pet all the pretty ones,&mdash;a process not
+conducive, as I am told, to the development of manners or morals;&mdash;so I
+write: just as Mr. Jones makes shoes, Mr. Peters harangues the jury, Mr.
+Smith sells calico, or Mr. Robinson rolls pills.</p>
+
+<p>For, strange as it may seem, when it is so easy to read, it is hard work
+to write,&mdash;<i>bon&acirc; fide</i>, undeniable hard work. Suppose my head cracks and
+rings and reels with a great ache that stupefies me? In comes Biddy with
+a letter.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"The editor of the 'Monthly Signpost' would be much obliged to
+Miss Matilda Muffin for a tale of four pages, to make up the
+June number, before the end of next week.</p></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16">"Very respectfully, etc., etc."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Miss Muffin's head looks her in the face, (metaphorically,) and says,
+"You can't!"&mdash;but her last year's bonnet creaks and rustles from the
+bandbox, finally lifts the lid and peeps out. Gracious! the ghost in
+Hamlet was not more of an "airy nothing" than that ragged, faded,
+dilapidated old structure of crape and blonde. The bonnet retires to the
+sound of slow music; the head slinks back and holds its tongue; Miss
+Muffin sits down at her table; scratch, scratch, scratch, goes the old
+pen, and the ideas catch up with it, it is so shaky; and the words go
+tumbling over it, till the <i>t</i>s go out without any hats on, and the
+eyes&mdash;no, the <i>i</i>s (<i>is</i> that the way to pluralize them?)&mdash;get no dots
+at all; and every now and then the head says, softly, "Oh, dear!" Miss
+Muffin goes to something called by novel-writers "repose," toward one
+o'clock that night, and the next night, and the next; she obliges the
+"Monthly Signpost" with a comic story at a low price, and buys herself a
+decent little bonnet for Sundays, replenishing her wardrobe generally by
+the same process; and the head considers it work, I assure you.</p>
+
+<p>But this is not the special grievance to which I direct this Memorial. I
+like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> to work; it suits me much better to obtain my money by steady,
+honest effort than it would to depend on anybody else for one round
+cent. If I had a thousand dollars unexpectedly left me by some unknown
+benefactor, I don't think it would be worth five cents on the dollar,
+compared with what I earn; there is a healthy, trustworthy pleasure in
+that, never yet attained by gifted or inherited specie. Neither is it
+the publicity of the occupation that I here object to. I knew that,
+before I began to write; and many an hour have I cried over the thought
+of being known, and talked about, and commented on,&mdash;having my dear
+name, that my mother called me by, printed on the cover of a magazine,
+seeing it in newspapers, hearing it in whispers, when Miss Brown says to
+Miss Black under her breath,&mdash;"That girl in the straw bonnet is Matilda
+Muffin, who writes for the 'Snapdragon' and the 'Signpost.'"</p>
+
+<p>I knew all this, as I say. I dreaded and hated it. I hate it now. But I
+had to work, and this was the only way open to me; so I tried to be
+brave, and to do what I ought, and let the rest go. I cannot say I am
+very brave yet, or that I don't feel all this; but I do not memorialize
+against it, because it is necessary to be borne, and I must bear it.
+When I go to the dentist's to have a tooth out, I sit down, and hold the
+chair tight, and open my mouth as wide as it will open, but I always
+say, "Oh! don't, doctor! I can't! I can't possibly!" till the iron
+what-d'you-call-it enters my soul and stops my tongue.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, when I began to write, I knew I should some day see my name in
+print. I knew people would wonder who and what I was, and how I
+looked;&mdash;I had done it myself. I knew that I should be delivered over to
+be the prey of tongues and the spoil of eyes. I was aware, I think, I am
+aware now, of every possible "disagreeable" that can befall the state. I
+am accustomed to hear people say, if I venture a modest opinion about a
+dinner, "Dear me! as if a literary woman knew anything about
+cooking!"&mdash;I endure that meekly, sustained by the inner consciousness
+that I <i>can</i> cook much better than any artist in that line I ever yet
+encountered. Likewise I am used to hear people say, "I suppose you don't
+waste your valuable time in sewing?" when a look at my left forefinger
+would insure me a fraternal grip from any member of the Seamstress's
+Friends Society anywhere. I do not either scold or cry when accidentally
+some visitor discovers me fitting my dress or making my bonnet, and
+looks at me with a "fearful joy," as if I were on a tight-rope. I even
+smile when people lay my ugly shawl or <i>pass&eacute;</i> bonnet, that I bought
+because they were cheap, and wear for the same reason, at the door of
+the "eccentricities of genius." And I am case-hardened to the
+instantaneous scattering and dodging of young men that ensue the moment
+I enter a little party, because "gentlemen are so afraid of literary
+women." I don't think gentlemen are; I know two or three who never
+conceal a revolver in the breast of their coat when they talk to me, and
+who sometimes even offer to go home with me from a tea-party all alone,
+and after dark too. It is true, one or two of these are "literary"
+themselves; the others I knew before I was dyed blue; which may account
+for it. Also I am impervious to anonymous letters, exhorting me to all
+kinds of mental and moral improvement, or indulging in idle
+impertinences about my private affairs, the result of a knowledge about
+me and the aforesaid affairs drawn solely from my "Pieces in Prose and
+Verse."</p>
+
+<p>Then as to the matter of the romantic stories that are afloat concerning
+me, I am rather amused than otherwise by them. I have a sentimental
+name, by the religious and customary ordinance of baptism, legally my
+own; and at first, being rather loath to enter the great alliterative
+ranks of female writers by my lawful title of Matilda Muffin, I signed
+my writings "A. B."</p>
+
+<p>Two reprobatory poems addressed to those initials came to me through
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> medium of the "Snapdragon," immediately after my having printed in
+that spicy paper a pensive little poem called "The Rooster's Cry": one,
+in Spenserian measure, rebuking me for alluding lightly to serious
+subjects,&mdash;a thing I never do, I am sure, and I can't imagine what "J.
+H. P." meant; and another, in hexameter, calling upon me to "arouse,"
+and "smile," and "struggle on," and, in short, to stop crying and behave
+myself,&mdash;only it was said in figures. I'm much obliged to "Quintius" for
+the advice; but I should like to explain, that I am subject to the
+toothache, and when it is bad I cannot possibly write comic poetry. I
+must be miserable, but it's only toothache, thank you!</p>
+
+<p>Then I have heard several times, in the strictest confidence, the whole
+history of "A. B., who writes for the 'Snapdragon.'" Somebody told me
+she was a lady living on the North River, very wealthy, very haughty,
+and very unhappy in her domestic relations. Another said she was a young
+widow in Alabama, whose mother was extremely tyrannical, and opposed her
+second marriage. A third person declared to me that A. B. was a
+physician in the navy,&mdash;a highly educated man, but reduced in
+circumstances. I think that was a great compliment,&mdash;to be actually
+taken for a man! I felt it to be "the proudest moment of my life," as
+ship-captains say, when they return thanks for the silver teapot richly
+chased with nautical emblems, presented by the passengers saved from the
+wreck, as a token of gratitude for the hencoops thrown overboard by the
+manly commander. However, I called myself a woman in the very next
+contribution, for fear of the united wrath of the stronger sex, should I
+ever be discovered to have so imposed upon the public; although I know
+several old women who remain undiscovered to this day, simply because
+they avail themselves of a masculine signature.</p>
+
+<p>There were other romances, too tedious to mention, depicting me
+sometimes as a lovely blonde, writing graceful tales beneath a bower of
+roses in the warm light of June; sometimes as a respectable old maid,
+rather sharp, fierce, and snuffy; sometimes as a tall, delicate,
+aristocratic, poetic looking creature, with liquid dark eyes and heavy
+tresses of raven hair; sometimes as a languishing, heart-broken woman in
+the prime of life, with auburn curls and a slow consumption.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps it may be as well to silence all conjecture at once, by stating
+that I am a woman of&mdash;&mdash;no, I won't say how old, because everybody will
+date me from this time forward, and I shall not always be willing to
+tell how old I am! I am not very young now, it is true; I am more than
+sixteen and less than forty; so when our clergyman requested all between
+those ages to remain after service for the purpose of forming a week-day
+Bible-class, I sat still, and so did everybody else except Mrs. Van
+Doren, whose great-grandchild was christened in the morning;&mdash;our church
+is a new one.</p>
+
+<p>However, this is digressing. I am not very tall, nor very short; I am
+rather odd-looking, but decidedly plain. I have brown hair and eyes, a
+pale light complexion, a commonplace figure, pretty good taste in dress,
+and a quick sense of the ludicrous, that makes me laugh a great deal,
+and have a good time generally.</p>
+
+<p>I live at home, in the town of Blank, in a quiet by-street. My parents
+are both living, and we keep one Irish girl. I go to church on Sundays,
+and follow my trade week-days.</p>
+
+<p>I write everything I do write in my own room, which is not so pleasant
+as a bower of roses in some respects, but is preferable in regard to
+earwigs and caterpillars, which are troublesome in bowers. I have a
+small pine table to write on, as much elderly furniture as supplies me
+places for sleep and my books, a small stove in winter, (which is
+another advantage over bowers,) and my "flowing draperies" are blue
+chintz, which I bought at a bargain; some quaint old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> engravings of
+Bartolozzi's in black and gilt frames; a few books, among which are
+prominently set forth a volume of "The Doctor,"&mdash;Nicol&ograve; de' Lapi, in
+delightful bindings of white parchment,&mdash;Thomas &agrave; Kempis,&mdash;a Bible, of
+English type and paper,&mdash;and Emerson's Poems, bound in Russia leather.
+Not that I have no other books,&mdash;grammars, and novels, and cook-books,
+in gorgeous array,&mdash;but these are within reach from my pillow, when I
+want to read myself asleep; and a plaster cast of Minerva's owl mounts
+guard above them, curious fowl that it is.</p>
+
+<p>The neighbors think I am a pretty nice girl, and my papa secretly exults
+over me as a genius, but he don't say much about it. And there, dear
+public, you have Matilda Muffin as she is, which I hope will quash the
+romances, amusing though they be.</p>
+
+<p>But when, after much editorial correspondence, and persevering whispers
+of kind friends who had been told the facts in confidence, A. B. became
+only the pretext of a mystery, and I signed myself by my full name, the
+question naturally arose,&mdash;"Who <i>is</i> Matilda Muffin?"</p>
+
+<p>Now, for the first time in my life, do I experience the benefits of a
+sentimental name, which has rather troubled me before, as belonging to a
+quite unsentimental and commonplace person, and thereby raising
+expectations, through hearsay, which actual vision dispelled with
+painful suddenness. But now I find its advantage, for nobody believes it
+is my own, but confidently expects that Ann Tubbs or Susan Bucket will
+appear from a long suppression, like a Jack-in-a-box, and startle the
+public as she throws back the cover.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, I am told that not long since a circle of literary
+experimentalists, discussing a recent number of a certain magazine, and
+displaying great knowledge of <i>noms-de-plume</i>, ran aground all at once
+upon "Who is Matilda Muffin?"&mdash;even as, in the innocent faith of
+childhood, I pondered ten minutes upon "Who was the father of Zebedee's
+children?" and at last "gave up." But these professional gentlemen,
+nowise daunted by the practical difficulties of the subject, held on,
+till at last one, wiser in his generation than the rest, confidently
+announced that he knew Matilda Muffin's real name, but was not at
+liberty to disclose it. Should this little confidence ever reach the
+eyes of those friends, I wish to indorse that statement in every
+particular; that gentleman does know my name; and know all men, by these
+presents, I give him full leave to disclose it,&mdash;or rather, to save him
+the trouble, I disclose it myself. My name, my own, that would have been
+printed in the marriage-list of the "Snapdragon" before now, if it had
+not appeared in the list of contributors, and which will appear in its
+list of deaths some day to come,&mdash;my name, that is called to breakfast,
+marked on my pocket-handkerchiefs, written in my books, and done in
+yellow paint on my trunk, <i>is</i>&mdash;Matilda Muffin. "Only that, and nothing
+more!" And "A. B.," which I adopted once as a species of veil to the
+aforesaid alliterative title, did not mean, as was supposed, "A Beauty,"
+or "Any Body," or "Another Barrett," or "Anti Bedott," or "After
+Breakfast," but only "A. B.," the first two letters of the alphabet.
+Peace to their ashes!&mdash;let them rest!</p>
+
+<p>But, dear me! I forgot the Memorial! As I have said, all these
+enumerated troubles do not much move me, nor yet the world-old cry of
+all literary women's being, in virtue of their calling, unfeminine. I
+don't think anybody who knows me can say that about me; in fact, I am
+generally regarded by my male cousins as a "little goose," and a
+"foolish child," and "a perfectly absurd little thing,"&mdash;epithets that
+forbid the supposition of their object being strong-minded or having
+Women's Rights;&mdash;and as for people who don't know me, I care very little
+what they think. If I want them to like me, I can generally make
+them,&mdash;having a knack that way.</p>
+
+<p>But there is one thing against which I do solemnly protest and uplift
+my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> voice, as a piece of ridiculous injustice and supererogation,&mdash;and
+that is, that every new poem or fresh story I write and print should be
+supposed and declared to be part and parcel of my autobiography. Good
+gracious! Goethe himself, "many-sided" as the old stone Colossus might
+have been, would have retreated in dismay from such a host of characters
+as I have appeared in, according to the announcement of admiring
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>My dear creatures, do just look at the common sense of the thing! Can I
+have been, by any dexterity known to man, of mind or body, such a
+various creature, such a polycorporate animal, as you make me to be?
+Because I write the anguish and suffering of an elderly widow with a
+drunken husband, am I therefore meek and of middle age, the slave of a
+rum-jug? I have heard of myself successively as figuring in the
+character of a strong-minded, self-denying Yankee girl,&mdash;a
+broken-hearted Georgia beauty,&mdash;a fairy princess,&mdash;a consumptive
+school-mistress,&mdash;a young woman dying of the perfidy of her lover,&mdash;a
+mysterious widow; and I daily expect to hear that a caterpillar which
+figured as hero in one of my tales was an allegory of myself, and that a
+cat mentioned in "The New Tobias" is a travesty of my heart-experience.</p>
+
+<p>Now this is rather more than "human natur" can stand. It is true that in
+my day and generation I have suffered as everybody does, more or less.
+It is likewise true that I have suffered from the same causes that other
+people do. I am happy to state that in the allotments of this life
+authoresses are not looked upon as "literary," but simply as women, and
+have the same general dispensations with the just and the unjust;
+therefore, in attempting to excite other people's sympathies, I have
+certainly touched and told many stories that were not strange to my own
+consciousness; I do not know very well how I could do otherwise. And in
+trying to draw the common joys and sorrows of life, I certainly have
+availed myself of experience as well as observation; but I should seem
+to myself singularly wanting in many traits which I believe I possess,
+were I to obtrude the details of my own personal and private affairs
+upon the public. And I offer to those who have so interpreted me a
+declaration which I trust may relieve them from all responsibility of
+this kind in future; I hereby declare, asseverate, affirm, and whatever
+else means to swear, that I never have offered and never intend to offer
+any history whatever of my personal experience, social, literary, or
+emotional, to the readers of any magazine, newspaper, novel, or
+correspondence whatever. Nor is there any one human being who has ever
+heard or ever will hear the whole of that experience,&mdash;no, not even
+Dunderhed Van Nudel, Esquire, should he buy me to-morrow!</p>
+
+<p>Also, I wish to relieve the minds of many friendly readers, who, hearing
+and believing these reports, bestow upon me a vast amount of sympathy
+that is worthy of a better fate. My dear friends, as I said before, it
+is principally toothache; poetry is next best to clove-oil, and less
+injurious to the enamel. I beg of you not to suppose that every poet who
+howls audibly in the anguish of his soul is really afflicted in the said
+soul; but one must have respect for the dignity of High Art. Answer me
+now with frankness, what should you think of a poem that ran in this
+style?&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The sunset's gorgeous wonder<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Flashes and fades away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But my back-tooth aches like thunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And I cannot now be gay!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Now just see how affecting it is, when you "change the venue," as
+lawyers say:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The sunset's gorgeous wonder<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Flashes and fades away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I hear the muttering thunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And my sad heart dies like the day."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>I leave it to any candid mind, what would be the result to literature,
+if such a course were pursued?</p>
+
+<p>Besides, look at the facts in the case. You read the most tearful
+strains of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> most melancholy poet you know; if you took them
+<i>verbatim</i>, you would expect him to be found by the printer's-boy, sent
+for copy, "by starlight on the north side of a tombstone," as Dr.
+Bellamy said, enjoying a northeaster without any umbrella, and soaking
+the ground with tears, unwittingly antiseptic, in fact, as Mr. Mantalini
+expressed himself, "a damp, moist, unpleasant body." But where, I ask,
+does that imp find the aforesaid poet, when he goes to get the seventh
+stanza of the "Lonely Heart"? Why, in the gentlemen's parlor of a
+first-class hotel, his feet tilted up in the window, his apparel
+perfectly dry and shiny with various ornamental articles appended, his
+eyes half open over a daily paper, his parted lips clinging to a cigar,
+his whole aspect well-to-do and comfortable. And aren't you glad of it?
+I am; there is so much real misery in the world, that don't know how to
+write for the papers, and has to have its toothache all by itself, when
+a simple application of bread and milk or bread and meat would cure it,
+that I am glad to have the apparent sum of human misery diminished, even
+at the expense of being a traitor in the camp.</p>
+
+<p>And still further, for your sakes, dear tender-hearted friends, who may
+suppose that I am wearing this mask of joy for the sake of deluding you
+into a grim and respectful sympathy,&mdash;you, who will pity me whether or
+no,&mdash;I confess that I have some material sorrows for which I will gladly
+accept your tears. My best bonnet is very unbecoming. I even heard it
+said the other day, striking horror to my soul, that it looked literary!
+And I'm afraid it does! Moreover, my only silk dress that is presentable
+begins to show awful symptoms of decline and fall; and though you may
+suppose literature to be a lucrative business, between ourselves it is
+not so at all, (very likely the "Atlantic" gentlemen will omit that
+sentence, for fear of a libel-suit from the trade,&mdash;but it's all the
+same a fact, unless you write for the "Dodger,")&mdash;and, I'm likely to
+mend and patch and court-plaster the holes in that old black silk,
+another year at least: but this is my solitary real anguish at present.</p>
+
+<p>I do assure all and sundry my reporters, my sympathizers, and my
+readers, that all that I have stated in this present Memorial is
+unvarnished fact, whatever they may say, read, or feel to the
+contrary,&mdash;and that, although I am a literary woman, and labor under all
+the liabilities and disabilities contingent thereto, I am yet sound in
+mind and body, (except for the toothache,) and a very amusing person to
+know, with no quarrel against life in general or anybody in particular.
+Indeed, I find one advantage in the very credulous and inquisitive
+gossip against which I memorialize; for I think I may expect fact to be
+believed, when fiction is swallowed whole; and I feel sure of seeing,
+directly on the publication of this document, a notice in the
+"Snapdragon," the "Badger," or the "Coon," (whichever paper gets that
+number of the magazine first,) running in this wise:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Matilda Muffin</span>.&mdash;We welcome in the last number of the
+'Atlantic Monthly' a brief and spirited autobiography of this
+lady, whose birth, parentage, and home have so long been wrapt
+in mystery. The hand of genius has rent asunder the veil of
+reserve, and we welcome the fair writer to her proper position
+in the Blank City Directory, and post-office list of boxes."</p></div>
+
+<p>After which, I shall resign myself tranquilly to my fate as a unit, and
+glide down the stream of life under whatever skies shine or scowl above,
+always and forever nobody but</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Matilda Muffin</span>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Blank</span>, <i>67 Smith Street</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="SOME_ACCOUNT_OF_A_VISIONARY" id="SOME_ACCOUNT_OF_A_VISIONARY"></a>SOME ACCOUNT OF A VISIONARY.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Dear old Visionary!" It was the epithet usually applied to Everett Gray
+by his friends and neighbors. It expresses very well the estimation in
+which he was held by nineteen-twentieths of his world. People couldn't
+help feeling affection for him, considerably leavened by a half-pitying,
+half-wondering appreciation of his character. He was so good, so kind,
+so gifted, too. Pity he was so dreamy and romantic, <i>et cetera, et
+cetera</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Now, from his youth up, nay, from very childhood, Everett had borne the
+character thus implied. A verdict was early pronounced on him by an
+eminent phrenologist who happened to be visiting the family. "A
+beautiful mind, a comprehensive intellect, but marvellously
+unpractical,&mdash;singularly unfitted to cope with the difficulties of
+every-day life." And Everett's mother, hanging on the words of the man
+of science, breathless and tearful, murmured to herself, while stroking
+her unconscious little son's bright curls,&mdash;"I always feared he was too
+good for this wicked world."</p>
+
+<p>The child began to justify the professor's <i>dictum</i> with his very first
+entry into active life. He entertained ideas for improving the social
+condition of rabbits, some time before he could conveniently raise
+himself to a level with the hutch in which three of them, jointly
+belonging to himself and his brother, abode. His theory was consummate;
+in practice, however, it proved imperfect,&mdash;and great wrath on the part
+of Richard Gray, and much confusion and disappointment to Everett, were
+the result.</p>
+
+<p>Richard, two years younger than Everett by the calendar, was at least
+three older than he in size, appearance, habits, and self-assertion. He
+was what is understood by "a regular boy": a fine, manly little fellow,
+practical, unsensitive, hard-headed, and overflowing with life and
+vigor. He had little patience with his brother's quiet ways; and his
+unsuccessful attempts at working out theories met with no sympathy at
+his hands.</p>
+
+<p>After the affair of the rabbits, his experiments, however certain of
+success he deemed them, were always made on or with regard to his own
+belongings. The little plot of garden-ground which he held in absolute
+possession was continually being dug up and refashioned, in his eager
+efforts to convert it successively into a vineyard, a Portuguese
+<i>quinta</i>, (to effect which he diligently planted orange-pips and manured
+the earth with the peel,) or, favorite scheme of all, a
+wheat-field,&mdash;dimensions, eighteen feet by twelve,&mdash;the harvest of which
+was to provide all the poor children of the village with bread, in those
+hard seasons when their pinched faces and shrill, complaining cries
+appealed so mightily to little Everett's heart.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, and in spite of all his care and watching, it is to be
+feared that very few of the big loaves which found their way from the
+hall to the village, that winter, were composed of the produce of his
+corn-field. More experienced farmers than this youthful agriculturist
+might not have been surprised at the failure of his crop. He was.
+Indeed, it was a valiant characteristic of him, throughout his life,
+that he never grew accustomed to failure, however serenely he took it,
+when it came. He grieved and perplexed himself about it, silently, but
+not hopelessly. New ideas dawned on his mind, fresh designs of relief
+were soon entertained, and essayed to be put in practice. These were
+many, and of various degrees of feasibility,&mdash;ranging from the
+rigorously pursued plan of setting aside a portion of his daily bread
+and butter in a bag, and of his milk in a can, and bestowing the little
+store on the nearest eligible object, up to the often pondered one of
+obtaining possession of the large barn in the cow-field, furnishing the
+same, and establishing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> therein all the numerous houseless wanderers who
+used to come and ask for aid at the hands of Everett's worthy and
+magisterial father.</p>
+
+<p>That father's judicial functions caused his eldest son considerable
+trouble and bewilderment of mind. He asked searching questions
+sometimes, when, of an evening, perched on Mr. Gray's knee, and looking
+with his wondering, steadfast eyes into the face of that erewhile stern
+and impassible magistrate. The large justice-room, where the prisoners
+were examined, had an awful fascination to him; and so had the little
+"strong-room," in which sometimes they were locked up before being
+conveyed away to the county jail. Often, he wandered restlessly near it,
+looking at the door with strange, mournful eyes; and if by chance the
+culprit passed out before him, under the guardianship of the terrible,
+red-faced constable,&mdash;Everett's earliest and latest conception of the
+Devil,&mdash;how wistfully he would gaze at him, and what a world of thought
+and puzzled speculation would float through his childish mind!</p>
+
+<p>Once, he had a somewhat serious adventure connected with that dreadful
+strong-room.</p>
+
+<p>There had been a man brought up before Mr. Gray, charged with
+poultry-stealing; and he had been remanded for further examination.
+Meanwhile, he was placed in the strong-room, under lock-and-key,&mdash;Roger
+Manby, as usual, standing sentinel in the passage. Now Roger's red face
+betokened a lively appreciation of the sublunary and substantial
+attractions of beef and beer; and it seems probable that the servants'
+dinner, going on below-stairs, was too great a temptation for even that
+inflexible constable to resist. Howbeit, when the prisoner should have
+been produced before the waiting bench, he was nowhere to be found. He
+had vanished, as by magic, from the strong-room, without bolt being
+wrenched, or lock forced, or bar broken. The door was unfastened, and
+the prisoner gone. Great was the consternation, profound the
+mystification of all parties. Roger was severely reprimanded, and
+officers were sent off in various directions to recapture the offender.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gray seldom alluded to his public affairs when among his children;
+but that evening he broke through the rule. At dessert, with little
+Everett, as usual, beside him, he mentioned the mysterious incident of
+the morning to some friends who were dining with him, adding his own
+conjectures as to the cause of the strange disappearance.</p>
+
+<p>"It is certain he was <i>let out</i>. He could not have released himself.
+Circumstances are suspicious against Manby, too; and he will probably
+lose his office. Like C&aelig;sar's wife, a constable should be beyond
+suspicion, and he must be dismissed, if"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa!"&mdash;and Everett's orange fell to the floor, and Everett's face
+was lifted to his father's, all-aglow with eager, painful feeling.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't like old Roger," said Mr. Gray, patting his cheek. "Well, it
+is likely you won't be troubled by him any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa! oh, papa! Roger is an ugly, cross man. But he didn't,&mdash;he
+didn't"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't what, my boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let the man out. He was in the kitchen all the time. I heard him
+laughing."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i> heard him? How?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;oh, papa!"</p>
+
+<p>The curly head sunk on the inquisitor's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, Everett. What do you mean? Tell me the whole truth. You are not
+afraid to do that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, papa."</p>
+
+<p>He looked up, with steady eyes, but cheeks on which the color flickered
+most agitatedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I only wanted to look at the man; and the men had left a ladder against
+the wall by the little grated window; and I climbed up, and looked in.
+And, oh! he had such a miserable face, papa! And I couldn't help
+speaking to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go on."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The tone was not so peremptory as the words; and the child, too ignorant
+to be really frightened at what he had done, went on with his
+confession, quite heedless of the numerous eyes fixed upon him with
+various expressions of tenderness, amusement, and dismay. And very soon
+all came out. Everett had deliberately and intentionally done the deed.
+He had been unable to withstand the misery and entreaties of the man,
+and he had slipped down the ladder, run round to the unguarded strong
+door, and with much toil forced back the great bolt, unfastened the
+chain, and set the prisoner free.</p>
+
+<p>"And do you know, Everett, what it is you have done?&mdash;how wrong you have
+been?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid it was a little wrong,"&mdash;he hesitated; "but,"&mdash;and his
+courage seemed to rise again at the recollection,&mdash;"it would have been
+so dreadful for the poor man to go to prison! He said he should be quite
+ruined,&mdash;quite ruined, papa; and his wife and the little children would
+starve. You are not <i>very</i> angry, are you? Oh, papa!"</p>
+
+<p>For Everett could hardly believe the stern gaze with which the
+magistrate forced himself to regard his little son; and sternly uttered
+were the few words that followed, by which he endeavored to make clear
+to the childish comprehension the gravity of the fault he had committed.
+Everett was utterly subdued. The tone of displeasure smote on his heart
+and crushed it for the time. Only once he brightened up, as with a
+sudden hope of complete justification, when Mr. Gray adverted to the
+crime of the man, which had made it right and necessary that he should
+be punished.</p>
+
+<p>"But, papa," eagerly broke in the boy, "he hadn't stolen the things. He
+told me so. He wasn't a thief."</p>
+
+<p>"One case was proved beyond doubt."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, indeed, papa, you must be mistaken," cried Everett, with
+tearful vehemence; "he couldn't have done it; I know he couldn't. He
+said, <i>upon his word</i>, he hadn't."</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible to persuade him that such an asseveration could be
+false. And when the little offender had left the room, various remarks
+and interjections were indulged in,&mdash;all breathing the same spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"What a jolly little muff Everett is!" was his brother Dick's
+contingent.</p>
+
+<p>"Innocent little fellow!" said one.</p>
+
+<p>"Happy little visionary!" sighed another.</p>
+
+<p>And Everett grew in years and stature, and still unconsciously
+maintained the same character. It is true that he was a quiet, sensitive
+boy, with an almost feminine affectionateness and tenderness of
+heart,&mdash;and that keen, exquisite appreciation both of the joyful and the
+painful, which is a feminine characteristic, too. Yet he was far enough
+from being effeminate. He was thoughtful, naturally, yet he could be
+active and take pleasure in action. He was always ready to work, and
+feared neither hardship nor fatigue. When the great flood came and
+caused such terror and distress in the village, no one, not even Dick,
+home from Sandhurst for the midsummer holidays, was more energetic or
+worked harder or more effectually than Everett. And the boys (his
+brother's chums at Hazlewood) never forgot the day when Everett found
+them ill-treating a little dog; how he rescued it from them,
+single-handed, and knocked down young Brooke, who attacked him both with
+insults and blows. Dick, not ill-pleased, was looking on. He never
+called his brother a "sop" from that day, but praised him and patronized
+him considerably for a good while after, and began, as he said, "to have
+hopes of him."</p>
+
+<p>But the two brothers never had much in common, and were, indeed, little
+thrown together. Everett was educated at home; he was not strong, and
+was naturally his mother's darling, and she persuaded his father and
+herself that a public school would be harmful to him. So he studied the
+classics with the clergyman of the parish, and the lighter details of
+learning with his sister. Between that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> sister and himself there was a
+strong attachment, though she, too, was of widely differing temperament
+and disposition. Agnes was two years older than he,&mdash;and overflowing
+with saucy life, energy, and activity. She liked to run wild about the
+woods near their house, or to gallop over the country on her pony,&mdash;to
+go scrambling in the hedges for blackberries, or among the copses for
+nuts. The still contentment that Everett found in reading,&mdash;his
+thoughtful enjoyment of landscape, or sunset, or flower,&mdash;all this might
+have been incomprehensible to her, only that she loved her dreamy
+brother so well. Love lends faith, and faith makes many things clear;
+and Agnes learned to understand, and would wait patiently beside him on
+such occasions, only tapping her feet, or swinging her bonnet by its
+strings, as a relief for the superabundant vitality thus held in check.
+And she was Everett's <i>confidante</i> in all his schemes, wishes, and
+anticipations. To her he would unfold the various plans he was
+continually cogitating. Agnes would listen, sympathizingly sometimes,
+but reverently always. <i>She</i> never called or thought him a Visionary. If
+his plans for the regeneration of the world were Utopian and
+impracticable, it was the world that was in fault, not he. To her he was
+the dearest of brothers, who would one day be acknowledged the greatest
+of men.</p>
+
+<p>And thus Everett grew to early manhood, till the time arrived when he
+was to leave home for Cambridge. It was his first advent in the world.
+Hitherto, his world had been one of books and thought. He imagined
+college to be a place wherein a studious life, such as he loved, would
+be most natural, most easy to be pursued. He should find a
+brother-enthusiast in every student; he should meet with sympathy and
+help in all his dearest aspirations, on every side. Perhaps it is
+needless to say that this young Visionary was disappointed, and that his
+collegiate career was, in fact, the beginning of that crusade, active
+and passive, which it appeared to be his destiny to wage against what is
+generally termed Real Life.</p>
+
+<p>He was considerably laughed at, of course, by the majority of those
+about him. Some few choice spirits tried to get up a lofty contempt of
+his quiet ways and simple earnestness,&mdash;but they failed,&mdash;it not being
+in human nature, even the most scampish, to entertain scorn for that
+which is innately true and noble. So, finally, the worst that befell him
+was ridicule,&mdash;which, even when he was aware of it, hurt him little.
+Often, indeed, he would receive their jests and artful civilities with
+implicit good faith; acknowledging apparent attentions with a gentle,
+kindly courtesy, indescribably mystifying to those excellent young men
+who expended so much needless pains on the easy work of "selling Old
+Gray."</p>
+
+<p>However, from out the very ranks of the enemy, before he left college at
+the end of his first term, he had one intimate. It would, perhaps, be
+difficult to understand how two-thirds of the friendships in the world
+have their birth and maintain their existence. The connection between
+Everett and Charles Barclay appeared to be of this enigmatical order.
+One would have said the two could possess no single taste or sentiment
+in common. Charles was a handsome, athletic fellow, warm-hearted,
+impassioned, generous, and thoughtless to cruelty. He had splendid
+gifts, but no application,&mdash;plenty of power, but no perseverance.
+Supposed to be one of the most brilliant men of his years, he had just
+been "plucked," to the dismay of his college and the immense wrath of
+his friends. Everybody knew that Barclay was an orphan, left with a very
+slender patrimony, who had gained a scholarship at the grammar-school.
+He was of no family,&mdash;he was poor, and had his own way to make in life.
+It was doubly necessary to <i>him</i> that he should succeed in his
+collegiate career. It was probably while under the temporary shadow of
+the disgrace and disappointment of defeat, that the young man suddenly
+turned to Everett Gray, fastened upon him with an affection most
+enthusiastic, a devotion that everybody found unaccountable. He had
+energy enough<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> for what he willed to do. He willed to have Everett's
+friendship, and he would not be denied. The incongruous pair became
+friends. Whereupon, the rollicking comrades, who had gladly welcomed
+Barclay into their set, for his fun and his wit and his convivial
+qualities, turned sharp round, and marvelled at young Gray, who came of
+a high family, for choosing as his intimate a fellow of no birth, no
+position. Not but that it was just like the Old Visionary to do it; he'd
+no idea of life,&mdash;not he; and so forth.</p>
+
+<p>During the next term, the friendship grew and strengthened. Everett's
+influence was working for good, and Barclay was in earnest addressing
+himself to study. He accompanied Everett to his home at the long
+vacation. And it ought to have surprised nobody who was acquainted with
+the <i>rationale</i> of such affairs, that the principal event of that golden
+holiday-summer was the falling in love with each other of Everett's
+sister and Everett's friend. Agnes was the only daughter and special
+pride of a rich and well-born man. Barclay was of plebeian birth, with
+nothing in the world to depend on but his own talents, which he had
+abused, and the before-named patrimony, which was already nearly
+exhausted. It will at once be seen that there could hardly be a more
+felicitous conjunction of circumstances to make everybody miserable by
+one easy, natural step; and the step was duly taken. Of course, the
+young people fell in love immediately,&mdash;Everett, the Dreamer, looking on
+with a sort of reverent interest that was almost awe; for the very
+thought of love thrilled him with a sense of new and strange
+life,&mdash;unknown, unguessed of, as heaven itself, but as certain, and
+hardly less beautiful. So he watched the gradual progress of these two,
+who were passing through that which was so untrodden a mystery to him.
+If he ever thought about their love in a more definite way, it was&mdash;oh,
+the Visionary!&mdash;to congratulate himself and everybody concerned. He saw
+nothing but what was most happy and desirable in it all. He knew no one
+so worthy of Agnes as Barclay, whom, in spite of all his faults, he
+believed to be one of the noblest and greatest of men; and he felt sure
+that all that was wanting to complete and solidify his character was
+just this love for a good, high-souled woman, which would arouse him to
+energy and action, sustain and encourage him through all difficulties,
+and make life at once more precious and more sacred.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, other members of the family, who were rational beings,
+and looked on life in a practical and sensible manner, were very
+differently affected by the discovery of this attachment. In brief,
+there ensued upon the <i>&eacute;claircissement</i> much storm on one side, much
+grief on the other, and keen pain to all,&mdash;to none more than to Everett.
+Our Visionary's heart swelled hotly with alternate indignation and
+tenderness, as he knew his friend was forbidden the house, heard his
+father's wrathful comments upon him, and saw his bright sister Agnes
+broken down by all the heaviness of a first despair. You may imagine his
+passionate denunciation of the spirit of worldliness, which would, for
+its own mean ends, separate those whom the divine sacrament of Love had
+joined together. No less easily may be pictured the angry, yet
+half-compassionate reception of his vehemence, the contemptuous wave of
+the hand with which the stern old banker deprecated discussion with one
+so ignorant of the world, so utterly incapable of forming a judgment on
+such a question, as his son. His mother sat by, during these scenes,
+trembling and grieved. It was not in her meek nature to take part
+<i>against</i> either husband or son. She strove to soothe, to soften each in
+turn,&mdash;with but little effect, it may be added. For all he was so gentle
+and so loving, Everett was not to be persuaded or influenced in this
+matter. He took up his friend's cause and withstood all antagonism,
+resisted all entreaties to turn him from his fealty thereto.</p>
+
+<p>Ay, and he bore up against what was harder yet to encounter than all
+these.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> Charles Barclay's was one of those natures which, being
+miserable, are apt to become desperate. To such men, affliction seems to
+be torture, but no discipline. But our humanity perceives from a level,
+and therefore a short-sighted point of view. We may well be thankful
+that the Great Ruler sees above and around and on all sides the
+creatures to be governed, the events to be disposed.</p>
+
+<p>Charles Barclay went to London. One or two brief and most miserable
+letters Everett received from him,&mdash;then <i>all</i> a blank silence.
+Everett's repeated appeals were unanswered, unnoticed. It might have
+been as if Death had come between and separated these lovers and
+friends, except that by indirect means they learned that he was alive
+and still in London. At length came more definite tidings, and the
+brother and sister knew that this Charles Barclay, whom they loved so
+well, had plunged into a reckless life, as into a whirlpool of
+destruction,&mdash;that he was among those associates, of high rank socially,
+of nearly the lowest morally, whom he had formerly known at college.
+Here was triumph for the prudent father,&mdash;desolation to the loving
+woman,&mdash;and to Everett, what? Pain, keen pain, and bitter anxiety,&mdash;but
+no quailing of the heart. He had too much faith in his friend for that.</p>
+
+<p>He went after him to London,&mdash;he penetrated to him, and would not be
+denied. He braved his assumed anger and forced violence; he had the
+courage of twenty lions, this Visionary, in battling with the devils
+that had entered into the spirit of his friend. The struggle was fierce
+and lengthened. Love conquered at last, as it always does, could we so
+believe. And during the time of utter depression into which the
+mercurial nature then relapsed, Everett cheered and sustained him,&mdash;till
+the young man's soul seemed melted within him, and the surrender to the
+good influence was as absolute as the resistance had been passionate.</p>
+
+<p>"What have I done, what am I," he would oftentimes say, "that I should
+be saved and sustained and <i>loved</i> by you, Everett?" For, truly, he
+looked on him as no less than an angel, whom God had sent to succor him.
+It was one of those problems the mystery of which is most sacred and
+most sweet. In proportion as the erring man needed it, Everett's love
+grew and deepened and widened, and his influence strengthened with it
+almost unconsciously to himself. He was too humble to recognize all that
+he was to his friend.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, imagine the turmoil at home, in respect of Everett's absence,
+and the errand which detained him. No disguise was sought. The son wrote
+to his mother frankly, stating where he was, and under what
+circumstances. He received a missive from his father of furious
+remonstrance; he replied by one so firm, yet so loving withal, that old
+Mr. Gray could not choose but change his tone to one of angry
+compassion. "The boy believes he's doing right. Heaven send him a little
+sense!" was all he could say.</p>
+
+<p>But there came a yet more overwhelming evidence of Everett's utter
+destitution of that commodity. A mercantile appointment was offered to
+Charles Barclay in one of the colonies, and Everett advanced the large
+sum necessary to enable his friend to accept it. To do this, he
+sacrificed the whole of what he possessed independently of his father,
+namely, a legacy left to him by his uncle, over which he had full
+control. It must be years before he could be repaid, of course,&mdash;it
+might be never! But, rash as was the act, he could not be hindered from
+doing it. His father raged and stormed, and again subsided into gloomy
+resignation. Henceforth he would wonder at nothing, for his son was mad,
+unfit to take part in the world. "A mere visionary, and no man," the
+hapless parent said, whenever he alluded to him.</p>
+
+<p>When Everett returned, Charles Barclay was on his way to Canada,
+vigorously intent on the new life before him. Agnes drew strength and
+comfort from the steadfast look of her brother's eyes, as he whispered
+to her, "Don't fear. Trust<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> God, and be patient." The blight fell away
+from her, after that. If she was never a light-hearted girl again, she
+became something even sweeter and nobler. They never talked together
+about him, for the father had forbidden it; and, indeed, they needed
+not. Openly, and before them all, Everett would say when he heard from
+his friend. And so the months passed on.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the era in our Visionary's life,&mdash;an era, indeed, to such as
+he!&mdash;the first love. First love,&mdash;and last,&mdash;to him it was nothing less
+than fateful. It was his nature to be steadfast and thorough. He could
+no more have <i>transferred</i> the love that rose straightly and purely from
+the very innermost fire of his soul than he could have changed the soul
+itself. Not many natures are thus created with the inevitable necessity
+to be constant. Few among women, fewer yet among men, love as Everett
+Gray loved Rosa Beauchamp.</p>
+
+<p>When they became aware of this love, at his home, there ensued much
+marvelling. Mr. Gray cordially congratulated himself, with wonder and
+pleasure, to think that actually his mad boy should have chosen so
+reasonably. Captain Gray, home on leave, observed that Old Everett
+wasn't such a flat as he seemed, by Jove! to select the daughter of an
+ancient house, and a wealthy house, like the Beauchamps of Hollingsley.
+The alliance was in every way honorable and advantageous. The family was
+one of the most influential in the county; and a lady's being at the
+head of it&mdash;for Sir Ralph Beauchamp had died many years before, when his
+eldest son was but a child, and Lady Beauchamp had been sole regent over
+the property ever since&mdash;made it all the pleasanter. Everett, if he
+chose, might be virtual master of Beauchamp; for the young baronet was
+but a weak, good-natured boy, whom any one might lead. Everett had
+displayed first-rate generalship. "These simple-seeming fellows are
+often deeper than most people," argued the soldier, wise in his
+knowledge of the world; "you may trust them to take care of themselves,
+when it comes to the point. Everett's a shrewd fellow."</p>
+
+<p>The father rubbed his hands, and was delighted to take this view of the
+case. He should make something of his son and heir in time. Often as he
+had regretted that Richard was not the elder, on whom it would rest to
+keep up the distinction and honor of the family, he began to see an
+admirable fitness in things as they were. Everett was, after all, better
+suited for the career that lay before him, in which he trusted he would
+not need that knowledge of mankind and judgment on worldly matters that
+were indispensable to those who had to carve their own way in life. "It
+is better as it is," thought the father, unconscious that he was echoing
+such an unsubstantial philosophy as a poet's.</p>
+
+<p>And so the first days of Everett's love were as cloudless and divinely
+radiant as a summer dawn. But events were gathering, like storm-clouds,
+about the house of Gray. Disaster, most unforeseen, was impending over
+this family. For Mr. Gray, though, as we have said, a practical and
+matter-of-fact man, and having neither sympathy nor patience with
+"visionary schemes or ideas," had yet, as practical men will do,
+indulged in divers speculations during his life, in one of which he had
+at last been induced to embark to the utmost extent. Of course, it
+seemed safe and reasonable enough, even to the banker's shrewd eyes;
+but, nevertheless, it proved as delusive and destructive as any that
+ever led a less worldly man astray. The fair-seeming bubble burst, and
+the rich man of one day found himself on the morrow virtually reduced to
+beggary. All he had had it in his power to risk was gone, and
+liabilities remained to the extent of twice as much. The crash came, the
+bank stopped payment, and the unhappy man was stricken to the dust. He
+never lifted up his head again. The shrewd man of the world utterly
+succumbed beneath this blow of fate; it killed him. Old Mr. Gray died of
+that supposed disease, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> broken heart,&mdash;leaving a legacy of ruin, or
+the alternative of disgrace, to his heir.</p>
+
+<p>The reins of government thus fell into Everett's hands. "The poor Grays!
+it's all over with them!" said the pitying world. And, indeed, the way
+in which the young man proceeded to arrange his father's affairs savored
+no less of the Visionary than had every action of his life theretofore.
+Captain Gray, who hastened home from his gay quarters in Dublin, on the
+disastrous news reaching him, found his brother already deeply engaged
+with lawyers, bills, and deeds.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Richard, there is but one thing to be done," he said, in his
+usual simple, earnest way; "we must cut off the entail, and sell the
+property to pay my father's debts. It is a hard thing to do,&mdash;to part
+with the old place; but it would be worse, bitterer pain and crueler
+shame, to hold it, with the money that, whatever the worldly code of
+morality may say, is not <i>ours</i>. There must be no widows and orphans
+reduced to poverty through us. Thank God, there will be enough produced
+by the sale of the estate to clear off every liability,&mdash;to the last
+shilling. You feel with me in this matter?" he went on, confidently
+appealing to his brother; yet with a certain inflection of anxiety in
+his voice. It would have wounded Everett cruelly, had he been
+misunderstood or rebuffed in this. "You have your commission, and Uncle
+Everett's legacy, and the reversion of my mother's fortune, which will
+not be touched. This act of justice, therefore, can injure no one."</p>
+
+<p>"Except yourself,&mdash;yourself, old fellow," said Richard, moved, in spite
+of his light nature. He grasped his brother's hand. "It's a noble thing
+to do; but have you considered how it will affect your future? You, with
+neither fortune nor profession,&mdash;how do you propose to live? And your
+marriage,&mdash;the Beauchamps will never consent to Rosa becoming the wife
+of a&mdash;a"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Not a beggar, Richard," Everett said, smiling, "if that was the word
+you hesitated about; no, I shall be no beggar. I have plans for my own
+future;&mdash;you shall know of them. Our marriage will, of course, be
+delayed. I must work, to win a home and position for my wife." He
+paused,&mdash;looked up bravely,&mdash;"It is no harder fate than falls to most
+men. And for Rosa,&mdash;true love, true woman as she is, she helps me, she
+encourages me in all I do and purpose."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Gray shrugged his shoulders. "Two mad young people!" he thought
+to himself. "They never think of consequences, and it's of no use
+warning them, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>No. It would have been useless to "warn" or advise Everett against doing
+this thing, which he held to be simply his duty. And it was the
+characteristic of our Visionary, that, when he saw a Duty so placed
+before him, he knew no other course than straightly to pursue it,
+looking neither to the right hand nor to the left, unprevented by
+obstacles, and fearless of consequences.</p>
+
+<p>So in this case. His brother advised a temporizing course,&mdash;to mortgage
+the estate, for instance, and pay a moiety of the debts. It was surely
+all that could be expected from a man who had not actually incurred
+them. And then he might still be the nominal owner of Hazlewood,&mdash;he
+might still marry Rosa.</p>
+
+<p>"While, if you do as you propose," argued the Captain, "(and you know,
+of course, old fellow, I fully appreciate your noble and honorable
+feeling in the matter,) you ruin your own hopes; and I can't see that a
+fellow is called upon to do <i>that</i>, as a point of filial duty. What are
+you to do? that's the thing. It isn't as though you had anything to fall
+back upon, by Jove! It's a case of beggaring yourself"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Instead of beggaring other people," Everett said. "No, Richard,&mdash;I
+cannot see either the justice or the wisdom of what you propose. I will
+not cast the burden on other shoulders. As my father's representative, I
+must abide the penalty of his mistake,&mdash;and I only. I cannot rest while
+our name is as the catchword of ruin and misery to thousands<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> around us,
+less able to bear both, perhaps, than I, who am young and strong,&mdash;able
+to work both with head and hands."</p>
+
+<p>"But think of Rosa!" said his brother. "How do you get over <i>that</i>?
+Isn't her happiness worth some consideration?"</p>
+
+<p>"It has been my thought, night and day, ever since," Everett said, in a
+low voice. "It has come between me and what I felt to be the Right, more
+than once. You don't know what that thought has been, or you would not
+challenge it against me now."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well,&mdash;I only want you to look on all sides of what you are about
+to do, and to count the cost beforehand."</p>
+
+<p>Everett smiled quietly. As if "the cost" were not already counted, felt,
+and suffered in that deep heart of his! But he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"In the next place, what do you propose to do?" pursued his brother.
+"Will you enter a profession? Can't say you're much adapted for a
+lawyer; and perhaps you're too tender-hearted for a doctor, either. But
+I remember, as a boy, you always said you should like to be a clergyman.
+And, by Jove! when one comes to think of it, you've a good deal of the
+cut of the village priest about you. What do you say to that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. I have other plans." And Everett proceeded briefly to tell him
+these. He had heard from Charles Barclay, now high in the confidence of
+one of the leading mercantile firms of Montreal; and through him, he had
+obtained the offer of an appointment in the same house.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Gray listened to all this, with ill-concealed amusement
+twitching the corners of his mouth. He thought the idea of his brother's
+turning man-of-business one of the "richest" he had ever heard.</p>
+
+<p>"With your hard head and shrewd notions, I should say you were likely to
+make a sensation in the mercantile world," he observed. "It's a hopeful
+scheme, altogether. Oh, hang it!" proceeding from sarcasm to
+remonstrance, "that'll never do, Everett! You'll be getting into some
+precious scrape or other. You're not the fellow for a merchant's office,
+trust me. Now something in the way of a government appointment is much
+more like it. A pleasant, poetical sort of sinecure,&mdash;there are lots of
+them to be had. You just trundle down for an hour or two every day,
+write letters, or poems, or whatever you like, with the official
+stationery, and receive your salary quarterly. You <i>can't</i> do any
+mischief in a place like that. Now that's the sort of thing for you,&mdash;if
+one could get hold of some of those fellows in power. Why!" brightening
+with the sudden dash of an idea, "there are the Beauchamps themselves!
+They've a legion of influential relatives. Couldn't they get you into a
+snug berth? Oh, the Devil!"&mdash;for Everett's look was not to be
+mistaken,&mdash;"if you bring your high-flown ideas of dignity and
+independence into this plain, practical question of subsistence, it's
+all up with you. Do you mean to tell me that you seriously think of this
+Canada scheme?"</p>
+
+<p>Everett assented.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you informed Lady Beauchamp of your intention of becoming a
+merchant's clerk? I should like to see her face when you tell her; she's
+such a shrewd old soul; and when a woman <i>does</i> take to the sharp and
+worldly style of thing, it's the very deuse! Expect no indulgence in
+that quarter."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't ask it. Rosa, of course, cannot become my wife till I am able
+to give her a worthy home. Her mother will not wish to cancel our
+engagement in the mean time."</p>
+
+<p>"The deuse she won't! Trust her!" the consolatory brother rejoined.
+"Why, it will be her first natural step. The idea of her daughter
+betrothed to a merchant's clerk is preposterous on the face of it. You
+yourself must see <i>that</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't," Everett said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I suppose you intend to make a large fortune in a twelvemonth, and
+then return and marry?"</p>
+
+<p>"No,&mdash;but in ten years,&mdash;less than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> that, God helping me,&mdash;if I live, I
+will return and marry Rosa."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't say so? And poor little Rosa is to wait patiently for you all
+that time! By Jove! a modest expectation of yours! It's a likely notion
+that Miss Beauchamp will remain unmarried for ten years, because you
+choose to go to Canada."</p>
+
+<p>"She will never marry, if she does not marry me," Everett said, with
+simple gravity. "It is not alone the outward sacrament of marriage that
+sanctifies a union. The diviner and more vital consecration that binds
+us together, it is too late, now, to seek to undo."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, hang it! It's of no use talking poetry to <i>me</i>. I don't understand
+that sort of thing," Captain Gray frankly said. "I'll tell you
+what,&mdash;it'll never do to take those transcendental ideas with you into
+the world. All very well to poetize and maunder about in quiet
+Hazlewood; but, by Jove! you'll find it won't do in practical life. Take
+my word for it, if you go to Canada, long before the ten years are out,
+Rosa Beauchamp will be wooed and won over again. 'Tisn't in nature that
+it should be otherwise. In books, very likely, those sort of things
+happen often enough,&mdash;but not in real life, my dear fellow, I assure
+you. When you return, it will be to find her a thriving matron, doing
+the honors of one of the neighboring mansions. Make up your mind to
+<i>that</i>. Foresee your future, before you decide."</p>
+
+<p>Everett smiled, sadly, but trustfully. His brother's arguments neither
+persuaded nor disturbed him. He stood very quiet and thoughtful.
+Visionary-like, he saw pictures of the future, indeed,&mdash;but very
+different from the one just drawn. He was not afraid.</p>
+
+<p>And Captain Gray left him unconvinced and unmoved. It was not probable
+the two brothers would see this matter in the same light. They stood on
+different levels. They must be content to differ.</p>
+
+<p>The next conference on the subject was between Everett and Lady
+Beauchamp; and the mother of Rosa was, it must be admitted, a rather
+formidable person to encounter in such wise. She was a busy, clever,
+worldly woman,&mdash;kind-hearted, too, and with both a strong will and
+strong affections. She was one of those people in whom even an astute
+observer might often be deceived, by failing to give her credit for
+certain good qualities which are commonly coexistent with
+worldliness,&mdash;especially in a woman. There was a spice of something
+better latent amid her shrewdness and hard-headed sagacity; the echo of
+more generous aspirations lingered through all the noise of this earth's
+Babel in her heart. And so, when she heard of Everett's resolve to pay
+his father's debts by parting with the property, her better and higher
+nature warmed to the young man; and though she protested against his
+Quixotism, and frowned, and talked of prudence, and so forth, her busy
+brain was, in fact, all the while setting itself to work for his
+benefit. She was, in a way, fond of the young man. No woman is quite
+insensible to that chivalrous deference which a Visionary like Everett
+always manifests to womanhood, collective and individual. And though she
+certainly held him to be rash, foolish, unfit to deal with the world,
+"poetical," (a capital crime in her eyes,) and dreamy, she yet liked
+him, and was glad to discover a plan whereby the objections to his
+marriage with her daughter, under the present adverse circumstances,
+might be smoothed away.</p>
+
+<p>She was sitting at her big desk, strewn with accounts, in the
+sober-looking library where she always spent her mornings, and she rose
+to receive her prospective son-in-law, with an aspect serious and
+business-like, yet not stern.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear Everett, what is all this that I hear about you? A very,
+very sad affair, of course; but you must come and tell me how you intend
+to act. Yes, yes,&mdash;I've heard something about it; but I don't quite
+understand the state of the case. I want to have a talk with you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And she leaned her comely face upon her plump, white hand, while gravely
+listening to Everett's brief statement of what he had already done, and
+what were his plans for the future.</p>
+
+<p>"You will sell Hazlewood, pay your father's debts, and begin life on
+your own account, by going to Canada and becoming a merchant's clerk!"
+She then recapitulated his plans in a sharp, pitiless tone. "Very well!
+and we have only to bid you good-bye and wish you success. Is it so? For
+it appears to me that my daughter is left entirely out of your
+calculations, and very properly so. You cannot, as a merchant's clerk on
+a hundred a year, marry Rosa Beauchamp, I presume."</p>
+
+<p>"No," Everett said, steadily, and holding her, as it were, with his
+earnest eyes, "I cannot have Rosa for my wife till I am able to give her
+a home worthy of her; but you will not refuse to sanction our engagement
+during the years in which I shall work for that home?"</p>
+
+<p>Lady Beauchamp tapped the table with her fingers in an ominous manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Long engagements are most unsatisfactory, silly, not to say dangerous
+things. They never end well. No man ought to wish so to bind a young
+girl, unless he has a reasonable chance of soon being in a position to
+marry her. Now I ask you, have <i>you</i> such a chance? If you go to Canada,
+it may be years before you return. Just look at the thing in a
+common-sense light, and tell me, can you expect my daughter to wait an
+indefinite time, while you go to seek and make your fortune?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him with an air of bland candor, while thus appealing to
+his "common sense." Everett's aspect remained unchanged, however, in its
+calm steadfastness.</p>
+
+<p>"I would not bind her," he said, "unless she herself felt it would be a
+comfort and a help, in some sort, during the weary years of separation,
+so to be bound. And that she does feel it, you know, Lady Beauchamp."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Sir, you are not talking reasonably," she rejoined,
+impatiently. "A young girl like Rosa, in love for the first time, of
+course wishes to be bound, as you say, to the object of her first love.
+But it would be doing her a cruel injustice to take her at her word.
+Surely you feel that? It is very true, she might not forget you for six
+months, or more, perhaps. But, in the course of time, as she enters on
+life and sees more of the world and of people, it is simply impossible
+that she should remain constant to a dreamy attachment to some one
+thousands of miles away. She would inevitably wish to form other ties;
+and then the engagement that she desires to-day would be the blight and
+burden of her life. No. I say it is a cruel injustice to let young
+people decide for themselves on such a point. Half the misery in the
+world springs from these mistakes. Think over the matter coolly, and you
+will see it as I do."</p>
+
+<p>"It is you who do Rosa injustice," Everett answered, and paused. "Were
+it to be as you wish," he added, "and we to separate utterly, with no
+outwardly acknowledged tie to link us, no letters to pass between us, no
+word or sign from one to the other during all the coming years,&mdash;suppose
+it so,&mdash;you would shadow our lives with much unnecessary misery; but you
+are mistaken, if you think you would really part us. You do not
+understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! You talk like a young man in love. You <i>must</i> be reasonable."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Beauchamp, by this time, had worked herself into the usual warmth
+with which she argued all questions, great and small, and forgot that
+her original intention in speaking to Everett had only been to set
+before him the disadvantages of his plans, in order that her own might
+come to the rescue with still greater brilliancy and effect.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>must</i> be reasonable," she repeated. "You don't suppose I have not
+my child's happiness at heart in all I plan and purpose? Trust me, I
+have had more experience of life than either of you, and it is for me to
+interpose between you and the dangers you would blindly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> rush upon. Some
+day you will both thank me for having done so, hard and cruel as you may
+think me now."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I do not think you either hard or cruel. You are <i>mistaken</i>,
+simply. I believe you desire our happiness. I do not reproach or blame
+you, Lady Beauchamp," Everett said, sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come," she cried, touched by his look and manner to an immediate
+unfolding of her scheme, "let us look at things again. Perhaps we shall
+not find them so hopeless as they look. If I am prudent, Everett, I am
+not mercenary. I only want to see Rosa happy. I don't care whether it is
+on hundreds a year, or thousands. And the fact is, I have not condemned
+your plans without having a more satisfactory one to offer to your
+choice. Listen to me."</p>
+
+<p>And she proceeded, with a cleared brow, and the complacency of one who
+feels she is performing the part of a good genius, setting everything to
+rights, and making everybody comfortable, to unfold the plan <i>she</i> had
+devised, by which Everett's future was to be secured, and his marriage
+with Rosa looked to as something better than a misty uncertainty at the
+end of a vista of years.</p>
+
+<p>Everett must go into the Church. That was, in fact, the profession most
+suited to him, and which most naturally offered itself for his
+acceptance. His education, his tastes, his habits, all suited him for
+such a career. By a happy coincidence, too, it was one in which Lady
+Beauchamp could most importantly assist him through her connections. Her
+eldest son, the young baronet, had preferment in his own gift, which was
+to say, in hers; and not only this, but her sister's husband, the uncle
+of Rosa, was a bishop, and one over whom she, Lady Beauchamp, had some
+influence. Once in orders, Everett's prosperity was assured. The present
+incumbent of Hollingsley was aged; by the time Everett was eligible, he
+might, in all probability, be inducted into that living, and Rosa might
+then become his wife. Five hundred a year, beside Miss Beauchamp's
+dowry, with such shining prospects of preferment to look forward to, was
+not an unwise commencement; for Rosa was no mere fine lady, the proud
+mother said,&mdash;she was sensible and prudent; she would adapt herself to
+circumstances. And though, of course, it was not such an establishment
+as she well might expect for her daughter, still, since the young people
+loved one another, and thought they could be happy under these reduced
+circumstances, she would not be too exacting. And Lady Beauchamp at last
+paused, and looked in Everett's face for some manifestation of his joy.</p>
+
+<p>Well,&mdash;of his gratitude there could be no question. The tears stood in
+his earnest eyes, as he took Lady Beauchamp's hand and thanked
+her,&mdash;thanked her again and again.</p>
+
+<p>"There, there, you foolish boy! I don't want thanks," cried she,
+coloring with pleasure though, as she spoke. "My only wish is to see you
+two children happy. I <i>am</i> fond of you, Everett; I shall like to see you
+my son," she said. "I have tried to smooth the way for you, as far as I
+can, over the many difficulties that obstruct it; and I fancy I have
+succeeded. What do you say to my plan? When can you be ordained?"</p>
+
+<p>Everett sighed, as he released her hand, and looked at her face, now
+flushed with generous, kindly warmth. Well he knew the bitter change
+that would come over that face,&mdash;the passion of disappointment and
+displeasure which would follow his answer to that question.</p>
+
+<p>He could never enter the Church. Sorrowfully, but firmly, he said
+it,&mdash;with that calm, steady voice and look, of which all who knew him
+knew the significance. He could not take orders.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Beauchamp, at first utterly overwhelmed and dumfounded, stood
+staring at him in blank silence. Then she icily uttered a few words. His
+reasons,&mdash;might she ask?</p>
+
+<p>They were many, Everett said. Even if no other hindrance existed, in his
+own mind and opinions, his reverence for so sacred an office would not
+permit him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> to embrace it as a mere matter of worldly advantage to
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Grant me patience, young man! Do you mean to tell me you would decline
+this career because it promises to put an end to your difficulties? Are
+you <i>quite</i> a fool?" the lady burst out, astonishment and anger quite
+startling her from all control.</p>
+
+<p>"Bear with what may at first seem to you only folly," Everett answered
+her, gently. "I don't think your calmer judgment can call it so. Would
+you have me take upon myself obligations that I feel to be most solemn
+and most vital, feeling myself unfitted, nay, unable, rightly to fulfil
+them? Would you have me commit the treachery to God and man of swearing
+that I felt called to that special service, when my heart protested
+against my profession?"</p>
+
+<p>"Romantic nonsense! A mere matter of modest scruples! You underrate
+yourself, Everett. You are the very man for a clergyman, trust me."</p>
+
+<p>But Everett went on to explain, that it was no question of
+under-estimation of himself.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not know, perhaps," he proceeded, while Lady Beauchamp, sorely
+tried, tapped her fingers on the table, and her foot upon the
+floor,&mdash;"you do not know, that, when I was a boy, and until two or three
+years ago, my desire and ambition were to be a minister of the Church of
+England."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Sir,&mdash;what has made you so much better, or so much worse, since
+then, as to alter your opinion of the calling?"</p>
+
+<p>"The reasons which made me abandon the idea three years since, and which
+render it impossible for me to consider it now, have nothing to do with
+my mental and moral worthiness or unworthiness. The fact is simply, I
+cannot become a minister of a Church with many of whose doctrines I
+cannot agree, and to which, indeed, I can no longer say I belong. In
+your sense of the word, I am far from being a Churchman."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say you have become a Dissenter?" cried Lady Beauchamp;
+and, as if arrived at the climax of endurance, she stood transfixed,
+regarding the young man with a species of sublime horror.</p>
+
+<p>"Again, not in your sense of the term," Everett said, smiling; "for I
+have joined no sect, attached myself to no recognized body of
+believers."</p>
+
+<p>"You belong to nothing, then? You believe in nothing, I suppose?" she
+said, with the instinctive logic of her class. "Oh, Everett!" real
+distress for the moment overpowering her indignation, "it is those
+visionary notions of yours that have brought you to this. It was to be
+expected. You poets and dreamers go on refining your ideas, forsooth,
+till even the religion of the ordinary world isn't good enough for you."</p>
+
+<p>Everett waited patiently till this first gust had passed by. Then, with
+that steady, calm lucidity which, strange to say, was characteristic of
+this Visionary's mind and intellect, he explained, so far as he could,
+his views and his reasons. It could not be expected that his listener
+should comprehend or enter into what he said. At first, indeed, she
+appeared to derive some small consolation from the fact that at least
+Everett had not "turned Dissenter." She hated Methodists, she
+declared,&mdash;intending thus to include with sweeping liberality all
+denominations in the ban of her disapproval. She would have deemed it an
+unpardonable crime, had the young man deserted the Church of his fathers
+in order to join the Congregation, some ranting conventicle. But if her
+respectability was shocked at the idea of his becoming a Methodist, her
+better feelings were outraged when she found, as she said, that he
+"belonged to nothing." She viewed with dislike and distrust all forms of
+religion that differed from her own; but she could not believe in the
+possibility of a religion that had no external form at all. She was
+dismayed and perplexed, poor lady! and even paused midway in her
+wrathful remonstrance to the misguided young man, to lament anew over
+his fatal errors. She could not understand, she said, truly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> enough,
+what in the world he meant. His notions were perfectly extraordinary and
+incomprehensible. She was deeply, deeply shocked, and grieved for him,
+and for every one connected with him.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, the very earnestness and sincerity in their own opinions of a
+certain calibre of minds make them incapable of understanding such a
+state of things. That a man should believe differently from all they
+have been taught to believe appears to them as simply preposterous as
+that he should breathe differently. And so it is that only the highest
+order of belief can afford to be tolerant; and, as extremes meet, it
+requires a very perfect Faith to be able to sympathize and bear
+patiently with Doubt.</p>
+
+<p>There was no chance of Lady Beauchamp's "comprehending" Everett in this
+matter. There was something almost pathetic in her mingled anger,
+perplexity, and disappointment. She could only look on him as a
+headstrong young man, suicidally bent on his own ruin,&mdash;turning
+obstinately from every offered aid, and putting the last climax of
+wretchedness to his isolated and fallen position by "turning from the
+faith of his fathers," as she rather imaginatively described his
+secession from Orthodoxy.</p>
+
+<p>And, as may be concluded, the mother of Rosa was inexorable, as regarded
+the engagement between the young people. It must at once be cancelled.
+She could not for one moment suffer the idea of her daughter's remaining
+betrothed to the mere adventurer she considered Everett Gray had now
+become. If, poor as he was, he had thought fit to embrace a profession
+worthy of a gentleman, the case would have been different. But if his
+romantic notions led him to pursue such an out-of-the-way course as he
+had laid out for himself, he must excuse her, if she forbade her child
+from sharing it. Under present circumstances, his alliance could but be
+declined by the Beauchamp family, she said, with her stateliest air. And
+the next minute, as Everett held her hand, and said good-bye, she melted
+again from that frigid dignity, and, looking into the frank, manly, yet
+gentle face of the young man, cried,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Are you <i>quite</i> decided, Everett? Will you take time to consider? Will
+you talk to Rosa about it, first?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear Lady Beauchamp. I know already what she would say. I have
+quite decided. Thank you for all your purposed kindness. Believe that I
+am not ungrateful, even if I seem so."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Everett,&mdash;Everett Gray! I am very sorry for you, and for your
+mother, and for all connected with you. It is a most unhappy business.
+It gives me great pain thus to part with you," said Lady Beauchamp, with
+real feeling.</p>
+
+<p>And so the interview ended, and so ended the engagement.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing else could have been expected, every one said who heard the
+state of the case, and knew what Lady Beauchamp had wished and Everett
+had declined. There were no words to describe how foolishly and weakly
+he had acted. "Everybody" quite gave him up now. With his romantic,
+transcendental notions, what <i>would</i> become of him, when he had his own
+way to make in the world?</p>
+
+<p>But Everett had consolation and help through it all; for Rosa, the woman
+he loved, his mother, and his sister believed in him, and gloried in
+what other people called his want of common sense. Ay, though the
+horrible wrench of parting was suffered by Rosa every minute of every
+day, and the shadow of that dreadful, unnatural separation began to
+blacken her life even before it actually fell upon her,&mdash;through it all,
+she never wavered. When he first told her that he must go, that it was
+the one thing he held it wise and right to do, she shrunk back
+affrighted, trembling at the coming blankness of a life without him. But
+after a while, seeing the misery that came into <i>his</i> face reflected
+from hers, she rose bravely above the terrible woe, and then, with her
+arms round him and her eyes looking steadfastly into his, she said, "I
+love you better than the life you are to me. So I can bear that you
+should go."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And he said, "There can be no real severance between those who love as
+we do. God, in His mercy and tenderness, will help us to feel that
+truth, every hour and every day."</p>
+
+<p>For they believed thus,&mdash;these two young Visionaries,&mdash;and lived upon
+that belief, perhaps, when the time of parting came. And it may be that
+the thought of each was very constantly, very intimately present to the
+other, during the many years that followed. It may be that this species
+of mental atmosphere, so surrounding and commingling with all other
+things more visibly and palpably about them, <i>did</i> cause these dreamers
+to be happier in their love than many externally united ones, whose lot
+appears to us most fair and smooth and blissful. Time and distance,
+leagues of ocean and years of suspense, are not the most terrible things
+that can come between two people who love one another.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>And so Everett Gray, his mother, and his sister, went to Canada. A year
+after, Agnes was married to Charles Barclay, then a thriving merchant in
+Montreal. When the people at home heard of this, they very wisely
+acknowledged "how much good there had been in that young man, in spite
+of his rashness and folly in early days. No fear about such a man's
+getting on in life, when once he gave his mind to it," and so forth.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, our Visionary&mdash;&mdash;But what need is there to trace him, step by
+step, in the new life he doubtless found fully as arduous as he had
+anticipated? That it was a very struggling, difficult, and uncongenial
+life to him can be well understood. These reminiscences of Everett Gray
+relate to a long past time. We can look on his life now as almost
+complete and finished, and regard his past as those in the valley look
+up to the hill that has nothing between it and heaven.</p>
+
+<p>Many years he remained in Canada, working hard. Tidings occasionally
+reached England of his progress. Rosa, perhaps, heard such at rare
+intervals,&mdash;though somewhat distorted, it may be, from their original
+tenor, before they reached her. But it appeared certain that he was
+"getting on." In defiance and utter contradiction of all the sapient
+predictions there anent, it seemed that this dreamy, poetizing Everett
+Gray was absolutely successful in his new vocation of man-of-business.</p>
+
+<p>The news that he had become a partner in the firm he had entered as a
+clerk was communicated in a letter from himself to Lady Beauchamp. In it
+he, for the first time since his departure, spoke of Rosa; but he spoke
+of her as if they had parted but yesterday; and, in asking her mother's
+sanction to their betrothal <i>now</i>, urged, as from them both, their claim
+to have that boon granted at last.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Beauchamp hastily questioned her daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"You must have been corresponding with the young man all this time?" she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>But Rosa's denial was not to be mistaken.</p>
+
+<p>"He has heard of you, then, through some one," the practical lady went
+on; "or, for anything he knows, you may be married, or going to be
+married, instead of waiting for him, as he seems to take it for granted
+you have been all this time."</p>
+
+<p>"He was right, mother," Rosa only said.</p>
+
+<p>"Right, you foolish girl? You haven't half the spirit I had at your age.
+I would have scorned that it should have been said of <i>me</i> that I
+'waited' for any man."</p>
+
+<p>"But if you loved him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if he loved <i>you</i>, he should have taken more care than to leave
+you on such a Quixotic search for independence as his."</p>
+
+<p>"He thought it right to go, and he trusted me; we had faith in one
+another," Rosa said; and she wound her arms round her mother, and looked
+into her face with eyes lustrous with happy tears. For, from that lady's
+tone and manner, despite her harsh words, she knew that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> the opposition
+was withdrawn, and that Everett's petition was granted.</p>
+
+<p>They were married. It is years ago, now, since their wedding-bells rung
+out from the church-tower of Hazlewood, blending with the sweet
+spring-air and sunshine of a joyous May-day. The first few years of
+their married life were spent in Canada. Then they returned to England,
+and Everett Gray put the climax to the astonishment of all who knew him
+by purchasing back a great part of Hazlewood with the fruits of his
+commercial labors in the other country.</p>
+
+<p>At Hazlewood they settled, therefore. And there, when he grew to be an
+old man, Everett Gray lived, at last, the peaceful, happy life most
+natural and most dear to him. No one would venture to call the
+successful merchant a Visionary; and even his brother owns that "the old
+fellow has got more brains, after all, by Jove! than he ever gave him
+credit for." Yet, as the same critic, and others of his calibre, often
+say of him, "He has some remarkably queer notions. There's no making him
+out,&mdash;he is so different from other people."</p>
+
+<p>Which he is. There is no denying this fact, which is equally evident in
+his daily life, his education of his children, his conduct to his
+servants and dependants, his employment of time, his favorite aims in
+life, and in everything he does or says, in brief. And of course there
+are plenty who cavil at his peculiar views, and who cannot at all
+understand his unconventional ways, and his apparent want of all worldly
+wisdom in the general conduct of his affairs. And yet, somehow, these
+affairs prosper. Although he declined a valuable appointment for his
+son, and preferred that he should make his own way in the profession he
+had chosen, bound by no obligation, and unfettered by the trammels of
+any party,&mdash;although he did this, to the astonishment of all who did
+<i>not</i> know him, yet is it not a fact that the young barrister's career
+has been, and is, as brilliant and successful as though he had had a
+dozen influential personages to advance him? And though he permitted his
+daughter to marry, not the rich squire's son, nor the baronet, who each
+sought her hand, but a man comparatively poor and unknown, who loved
+her, and whom she loved, did it not turn out to be one of those
+marriages that we can recognize to have been "made in heaven," and even
+the worldly-wise see to be happy and prosperous?</p>
+
+<p>But our Everett is growing old. His hair is silver-white, and his tall
+figure has learned to droop somewhat as he walks. Under the great
+beech-trees at Hazlewood you may have seen him sitting summer evenings,
+or sauntering in spring and autumn days, sometimes with his
+grandchildren playing about him, but always with <i>one</i> figure near him,
+bent and bowed yet more than his own, with a still sweet and lovely face
+looking placidly forth from between its bands of soft, white hair.</p>
+
+<p>How they have loved, and do love one another, even to this their old
+age! All the best and truest light of that which we call Romance shines
+steadily about them yet. No sight so dear to Everett's eyes as that
+quiet figure,&mdash;no sound so welcome to his ears as her voice. She is all
+to him that she ever was,&mdash;the sweetest, dearest, best portion of that
+which we call his life.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, I speak advisedly, and say he <i>is</i>, they <i>are</i>. It is strange that
+this Visionary, who was wont to be reproached with the unpracticality of
+all he did or purposed, the unreality of whose life was a byword, should
+yet impress himself and his existence so vividly on those about him that
+even now we cannot speak of him as one that is <i>no more</i>. He seems still
+to be of us, though we do not see him, and his place is empty in the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>His wife went first. She died in her sleep, while he was watching her,
+holding her hand fast in his. He laid the last kisses on her eyes, her
+mouth, and those cold hands.</p>
+
+<p>After that, he seemed <i>to wait</i>. They who saw him sitting <i>alone</i> under
+the beech-trees, day by day, found something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> very strangely moving in
+the patient serenity of his look. He never seemed sad or lonely through
+all that time,&mdash;only patiently hopeful, placidly expectant. So the
+autumn twilights often came to him as he stood, his face towards the
+west, looking out from their old favorite spot.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, when his daughter and her husband came out to him, he did
+not linger, as was usual with him, but turned and went forward to meet
+them, with a bright smile, brighter than the sunset glow behind him, on
+his face. He leaned rather heavily on their supporting arms, as they
+went in. At the door, the little ones came running about him, as they
+loved to do. Perhaps the very lustre of his face awed them, or the sight
+of their mother's tears; for a sort of hush came over them, even to the
+youngest, as he kissed and blessed them all.</p>
+
+<p>And then, when they had left the room, he laid his head upon his
+daughter's breast, and uttered a few low words. He had been so happy, he
+said, and he thanked God for all,&mdash;even to this, the end. It had been so
+good to live!&mdash;it was so happy to die! Then he paused awhile, and closed
+his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"In the silence, I can hear your mother's voice," he murmured, and he
+clasped his hands. "O thou most merciful Father, who givest this last,
+great blessing, of the new Home, where she waits for me!&mdash;and God's love
+is over all His worlds!"</p>
+
+<p>He looked up once again, with the same bright, assured smile. That smile
+never faded from the dead face; it was the last look which they who
+loved him bore forever in their memory.</p>
+
+<p>And so passed our Visionary from that which we call Life.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_TRUCE_OF_PISCATAQUA" id="THE_TRUCE_OF_PISCATAQUA"></a>THE TRUCE OF PISCATAQUA.</h2>
+
+<h3>1675.</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Raze these long blocks of brick and stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These huge mill-monsters overgrown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blot out the humbler piles as well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where, moved like living shuttles, dwell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The weaving genii of the bell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tear from the wild Cocheco's track<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dams that hold its torrents back;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let the loud-rejoicing fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Plunge, roaring, down its rocky wall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let the Indian's paddle play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the unbridged Piscataqua!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wide over hill and valley spread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once more the forest, dusk and dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With here and there a clearing cut<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the walled shadows round it shut;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each with its farm-house builded rude,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By English yeoman squared and hewed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the grim, flankered blockhouse, bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With bristling palisades around.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So, haply, shall before thine eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dusty veil of centuries rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The old, strange scenery overlay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tamer pictures of to-day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While, like the actors in a play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pass in their ancient guise along<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The figures of my border song:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What time beside Cocheco's flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The white man and the red man stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With words of peace and brotherhood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When passed the sacred calumet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From lip to lip with fire-draught wet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, puffed in scorn, the peace-pipe's smoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the gray beard of Waldron broke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Squando's voice, in suppliant plea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For mercy, struck the haughty key<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of one who held in any fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His native pride inviolate!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Let your ears be opened wide!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He who speaks has never lied.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waldron of Piscataqua,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear what Squando has to say!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Squando shuts his eyes and sees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far off, Saco's hemlock-trees.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In his wigwam, still as stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sits a woman all alone,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Wampum beads and birchen strands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dropping from her careless hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Listening ever for the fleet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Patter of a dead child's feet!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"When the moon a year ago<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Told the flowers the time to blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that lonely wigwam smiled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Menewee, our little child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ere that moon grew thin and old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was lying still and cold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sent before us, weak and small,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the Master did not call!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"On his little grave I lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Three times went and came the day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thrice above me blazed the noon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thrice upon me wept the moon.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"In the third night-watch I heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far and low, a spirit-bird;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span><span class="i0">Very mournful, very wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sang the totem of my child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Menewee, poor Menewee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Walks a path he cannot see:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let the white man's wigwam light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With its blaze his steps aright.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'All-uncalled, he dares not show<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Empty hands to Manito:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Better gifts he cannot bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than the scalps his slayers wear.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"All the while the totem sang,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lightning blazed and thunder rang;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a black cloud, reaching high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pulled the white moon from the sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I, the medicine-man, whose ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All that spirits hear can hear,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I, whose eyes are wide to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the things that are to be,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Well I knew the dreadful signs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the whispers of the pines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the river roaring loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the mutter of the cloud.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"At the breaking of the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the grave I passed away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flowers bloomed round me, birds sang glad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But my heart was hot and mad.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There is rust on Squando's knife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the warm red springs of life;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the funeral hemlock-trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Many a scalp the totem sees.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Blood for blood! But evermore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Squando's heart is sad and sore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his poor squaw waits at home<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the feet that never come!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Waldron of Cocheco, hear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Squando speaks, who laughs at fear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take the captives he has ta'en;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let the land have peace again!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As the words died on his tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wide apart his warriors swung;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Parted, at the sign he gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Right and left, like Egypt's wave.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, like Israel passing free<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the prophet-charm&egrave;d sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Captive mother, wife, and child<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the dusky terror filed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One alone, a little maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Middleway her steps delayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glancing, with quick, troubled sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round about from red to white.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then his hand the Indian laid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the little maiden's head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lightly from her forehead fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smoothing back her yellow hair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Gift or favor ask I none;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What I have is all my own:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never yet the birds have sung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Squando hath a beggar's tongue.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Yet, for her who waits at home<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the dead who cannot come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let the little Gold-hair be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the place of Menewee!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Mishanock, my little star!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come to Saco's pines afar!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the sad one waits at home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wequashim, my moonlight, come!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What!" quoth Waldron, "leave a child<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christian-born to heathens wild?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As God lives, from Satan's hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will pluck her as a brand!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Hear me, white man!" Squando cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Let the little one decide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wequashim, my moonlight, say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wilt thou go with me, or stay?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Slowly, sadly, half-afraid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Half-regretfully, the maid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Owned the ties of blood and race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Turned from Squando's pleading face.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not a word the Indian spoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But his wampum chain he broke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the beaded wonder hung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On that neck so fair and young.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Silence-shod, as phantoms seem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the marches of a dream,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span><span class="i0">Single-filed, the grim array<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the pine-trees wound away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Doubting, trembling, sore amazed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through her tears the young child gazed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"God preserve her!" Waldron said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Satan hath bewitched the maid!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Years went and came. At close of day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Singing came a child from play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tossing from her loose-locked head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gold in sunshine, brown in shade.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pride was in the mother's look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But her head she gravely shook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with lips that fondly smiled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Feigned to chide her truant child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Unabashed the maid began:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Up and down the brook I ran,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where, beneath the bank so steep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lie the spotted trout asleep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Chip!' went squirrel on the wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">After me I heard him call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the cat-bird on the tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tried his best to mimic me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Where the hemlocks grew so dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I stopped to look and hark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On a log, with feather-hat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the path, an Indian sat.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Then I cried, and ran away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he called and bade me stay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his voice was good and mild<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As my mother's to her child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And he took my wampum chain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looked and looked it o'er again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gave me berries, and, beside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On my neck a plaything tied."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Straight the mother stooped to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What the Indian's gift might be.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the braid of wampum hung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo! a cross of silver swung.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well she knew its graven sign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Squando's bird and totem pine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, a mirage of the brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flowed her childhood back again.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Flashed the roof the sunshine through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into space the walls outgrew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the Indian's wigwam mat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blossom-crowned again she sat.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cool she felt the west wind blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her ear the pines sang low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, like links from out a chain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dropped the years of care and pain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From the outward toil and din,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the griefs that gnaw within,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the freedom of the woods<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Called the birds and winds and floods.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well, O painful minister,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Watch thy flock, but blame not her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If her ear grew sharp to hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All their voices whispering near.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blame her not, as to her soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the desert's glamour stole,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That a tear for childhood's loss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dropped upon the Indian's cross.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When, that night, the Book was read,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she bowed her widowed head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a prayer for each loved name<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rose like incense from a flame,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To the listening ear of Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo! another name was given:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Father! give the Indian rest!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bless him! for his love has blest!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_MAROONS_OF_JAMAICA" id="THE_MAROONS_OF_JAMAICA"></a>THE MAROONS OF JAMAICA.</h2>
+
+
+<p>The Maroons! it was a word of peril once; and terror spread along the
+skirts of the blue mountains of Jamaica, when some fresh foray of those
+unconquered guerrillas swept down upon the outlying plantations,
+startled the Assembly from its order, General Williamson from his
+billiards, and Lord Balcarres from his diplomatic ease,&mdash;endangering,
+according to the official statement, "public credit," "civil rights,"
+and "the prosperity, if not the very existence of the country," until
+they were "persuaded to make peace" at last. They were the Circassians
+of the New World; but they were black, instead of white; and as the
+Circassians refused to be transferred from the Sultan to the Czar, so
+the Maroons refused to be transferred from Spanish dominion to English,
+and thus their revolt began. The difference is, that, while the white
+mountaineers numbered four<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> hundred thousand, and only defied Nicholas,
+the black mountaineers numbered less than two thousand, and defied
+Cromwell; and while the Circassians, after thirty years of revolt, seem
+now at last subdued, the Maroons, on the other hand, who rebelled in
+1655, were never conquered, but only made a compromise of allegiance,
+and exist as a separate race to-day.</p>
+
+<p>When Admirals Penn and Venables landed in Jamaica, in 1655, there was
+not a remnant left of the sixty thousand natives whom the Spaniards had
+found there a century and a half before. Their pitiful tale is told only
+by those caves, still known among the mountains, where thousands of
+human skeletons strew the ground. In their place dwelt two foreign
+races,&mdash;an effeminate, ignorant, indolent white community of fifteen
+hundred, with a black slave population quite as large and infinitely
+more hardy and energetic. The Spaniards were readily subdued by the
+English,&mdash;the negroes remained unsubdued; the slaveholders were banished
+from the island,&mdash;the slaves only banished themselves to the mountains:
+thence the English could not dislodge them, nor the buccaneers, whom the
+English employed. And when Jamaica subsided into a British colony, and
+peace was made with Spain, and the children of Cromwell's Puritan
+soldiers were beginning to grow rich by importing slaves for Roman
+Catholic Spaniards, the Maroons still held their own wild empire in the
+mountains, and, being sturdy heathens every one, practised Obeah rites
+in approved pagan fashion.</p>
+
+<p>The word Maroon is derived, according to one etymology, from the
+Spanish word <i>Marrano</i>, a wild-boar,&mdash;these fugitives being all
+boar-hunters,&mdash;according to another, from <i>Marony</i>, a river separating
+French and Dutch Guiana, where a colony of them dwelt and still dwells;
+and by another still, from <i>Cimarron</i>, a word meaning untamable, and
+used alike for apes and runaway slaves. But whether these
+rebel-marauders were regarded as monkeys or men, they made themselves
+equally formidable. As early as 1663, the Governor and Council of
+Jamaica offered to each Maroon, who should surrender, his freedom and
+twenty acres of land; but not one accepted the terms. During forty
+years, forty-four acts of Assembly were passed in respect to them, and
+at least a quarter of a million pounds sterling were expended in the
+warfare against them. In 1733, the force employed against them consisted
+of two regiments of regular troops and the whole militia of the island,
+and the Assembly said that "the Maroons had within a few years greatly
+increased, notwithstanding all the measures that had been concerted for
+their suppression," "to the great terror of his Majesty's subjects," and
+"to the manifest weakening and preventing the further increase of the
+strength and inhabitants of the island."</p>
+
+<p>The special affair in progress, at the time of these statements, was
+called Cudjoe's War. Cudjoe was a gentleman of extreme brevity and
+blackness, whose full-length portrait can hardly be said to adorn
+Dallas's History; but he was as formidable a guerrilla as Marion. Under
+his leadership, the various bodies of fugitives were consolidated into
+one force and thoroughly organized. Cudjoe, like Schamyl, was religious
+as well as military head of his people; by Obeah influence he
+established a thorough freemasonry among both slaves and insurgents; no
+party could be sent forth by the government but he knew it in time to
+lay an ambush, or descend with fire and sword on the region left
+unprotected. He was thus always supplied with arms and ammunition; and
+as his men were perfect marksmen, never wasted a shot and never risked a
+battle, his forces naturally increased while those of his opponents were
+decimated. His men were never captured, and never took a prisoner; it
+was impossible to tell when they were defeated; in dealing with them, as
+Pelissier said of the Arabs, "peace was not purchased by victory"; and
+the only men who could obtain the slightest advantage against them were
+the imported Mosquito<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> Indians, or the "Black Shot," a company of
+government negroes. For nine full years this particular war continued
+unchecked, General Williamson ruling Jamaica by day and Cudjoe by night.</p>
+
+<p>The rebels had every topographical advantage, for they held possession
+of the "Cockpits." Those highlands are furrowed through and through, as
+by an earthquake, with a series of gaps or ravines, resembling the
+California ca&ntilde;ons, or those similar fissures in various parts of the
+Atlantic States, known to local fame either poetically as ice-glens, or
+symbolically as purgatories. These chasms vary from two hundred yards to
+a mile in length; the rocky walls are fifty or a hundred feet high, and
+often absolutely inaccessible, while the passes at each end admit but
+one man at a time. They are thickly wooded, wherever trees can grow;
+water flows within them; and they often communicate with one another,
+forming a series of traps for an invading force. Tired and thirsty with
+climbing, the weary soldiers toil on, in single file, without seeing or
+hearing an enemy; up the steep and winding path they traverse one
+"cockpit," then enter another. Suddenly a shot is fired from the dense
+and sloping forest on the right, then another and another, each dropping
+its man; the startled troops face hastily in that direction, when a more
+murderous volley is poured from the other side; the heights above flash
+with musketry, while the precipitous path by which they came seems to
+close in fire behind them. By the time the troops have formed in some
+attempt at military order, the woods around them are empty, and their
+agile and noiseless foes have settled themselves into ambush again,
+farther up the defile, ready for a second attack, if needed. But one is
+usually sufficient;&mdash;disordered, exhausted, bearing their wounded with
+them, the soldiers retreat in panic, if permitted to escape at all, and
+carry fresh dismay to the barracks, the plantations, and the Government
+House.</p>
+
+<p>It is not strange, then, that high military authorities, at that period,
+should have pronounced the subjugation of the Maroons a thing more
+difficult than to obtain a victory over any army in Europe. Moreover,
+these people were fighting for their liberty, with which aim no form of
+warfare could be unjustifiable; and the description given by Lafayette
+of the American Revolution was true of this one,&mdash;"the grandest of
+causes, won by contests of sentinels and outposts." The utmost hope of a
+British officer, ordered against the Maroons, was to lay waste a
+provision-ground or cut them off from water. But there was little
+satisfaction in this; the wild pine-leaves and the grapevine-withes
+supplied the rebels with water, and their plantation-grounds were the
+wild pine-apple and the plantain groves, and the forests, where the
+wild-boars harbored and the ringdoves were as easily shot as if they
+were militia-men. Nothing but sheer weariness of fighting seems to have
+brought about a truce at last, and then a treaty, between those high
+contracting parties, Cudjoe and General Williamson.</p>
+
+<p>But how to execute a treaty between these wild Children of the Mist and
+respectable diplomatic Englishmen? To establish any official relations
+without the medium of a preliminary bullet required some ingenuity of
+man&#339;uvring. Cudjoe was willing, but inconveniently cautious; he would
+not come half-way to meet any one; nothing would content him but an
+interview in his own chosen cockpit. So he selected one of the most
+difficult passes, posting in the forests a series of outlying parties,
+to signal with their horns, one by one, the approach of the
+plenipotentiaries, and then to retire on the main body. Through this
+line of perilous signals, therefore, Colonel Guthrie and his handful of
+men bravely advanced; horn after horn they heard sounded, but there was
+no other human noise in the woods, and they had advanced till they saw
+the smoke of the Maroon huts before they caught a glimpse of a human
+form.</p>
+
+<p>A conversation was at last opened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> with the invisible rebels. On their
+promise of safety, Dr. Russell advanced alone to treat with them, then
+several Maroons appeared, and finally Cudjoe himself. The formidable
+chief was not highly military in appearance, being short, fat,
+humpbacked, dressed in a tattered blue coat without skirts or sleeves,
+and an old felt hat without a rim. But if he had blazed with regimental
+scarlet, he could not have been treated with more distinguished
+consideration; indeed, in that case, "the exchange of hats" with which
+Dr. Russell finally volunteered, in Maroon fashion, to ratify
+negotiations, would have been a less severe test of good fellowship.
+This fine stroke of diplomacy had its effect, therefore; the rebel
+captains agreed to a formal interview with Colonel Guthrie and Captain
+Sadler, and a treaty was at last executed with all due solemnity, under
+a large cotton-tree at the entrance of Guthrie's Defile. This treaty
+recognized the military rank of Captain Cudjoe, Captain Accompong, and
+the rest; gave assurance that the Maroons should be "forever hereafter
+in a perfect state of freedom and liberty"; ceded to them fifteen
+hundred acres of land; and stipulated only that they should keep the
+peace, should harbor no fugitive from justice or from slavery, and
+should allow two white commissioners to remain among them, simply to
+represent the British government.</p>
+
+<p>During the following year a separate treaty was made with another large
+body of insurgents, called the Windward Maroons. This was not effected,
+however, until after an unsuccessful military attempt, in which the
+mountaineers gained a signal triumph. By artful devices,&mdash;a few fires
+left burning, with old women to watch them,&mdash;a few provision-grounds
+exposed by clearing away the bushes,&mdash;they lured the troops far up among
+the mountains, and then surprised them by an ambush. The militia all
+fled, and the regulars took refuge under a large cliff in a stream,
+where they remained four hours up to their waists in water, until
+finally they forded the river, under full fire, with terrible loss.
+Three months after this, however, the Maroons consented to an amicable
+interview, exchanging hostages first. The position of the white hostage,
+at least, was not the most agreeable; he complained that he was beset by
+the women and children, with indignant cries of "Buckra, Buckra," while
+the little boys pointed their fingers at him as if stabbing him, and
+that with evident relish. However, Captain Quao, like Captain Cudjoe,
+made a treaty at last, and hats were interchanged instead of hostages.</p>
+
+<p>Independence being thus won and acknowledged, there was a suspension of
+hostilities for some years. Among the wild mountains of Jamaica, the
+Maroons dwelt in a savage freedom. So healthful and beautiful was the
+situation of their chief town, that the English government has erected
+barracks there of late years, as being the most salubrious situation on
+the island. They breathed an air ten degrees cooler than that inhaled by
+the white population below, and they lived on a daintier diet, so that
+the English epicures used to go up among them for good living. The
+mountaineers caught the strange land-crabs, plodding in companies of
+millions their sidelong path from mountain to ocean, and from ocean to
+mountain again. They hunted the wild-boars, and prepared the flesh by
+salting and smoking it in layers of aromatic leaves, the delicious
+"jerked hog" of Buccaneer annals. They reared cattle and poultry,
+cultivated corn and yams, plantains and cocoas, guavas and papaws and
+mameys and avocados and all luxurious West Indian fruits; the very weeds
+of their orchards had tropical luxuriance in their fragrance and in
+their names; and from the doors of their little thatched huts they
+looked across these gardens of delight to the magnificent lowland
+forests, and over those again to the faint line of far-off beach, the
+fainter ocean-horizon, and the illimitable sky.</p>
+
+<p>They had senses like those of our Indians, tracked each other by the
+smell of the smoke of fires in the air, and called<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> to each other by
+horns, using a special note to designate each of their comrades, and
+distinguishing it beyond the range of ordinary hearing. They spoke
+English diluted with Spanish and African words, and practised Obeah
+rites quite undiluted with Christianity. Of course they associated
+largely with the slaves, without any very precise regard to treaty
+stipulations; sometimes brought in fugitives, and sometimes concealed
+them; left their towns and settled on the planters' lands, when they
+preferred them, but were quite orderly and luxuriously happy. During the
+formidable insurrection of the Koromantyn slaves, in 1760, they played a
+dubious part: when left to go on their own way, they did something
+towards suppressing it,&mdash;but when placed under the guns of the troops
+and ordered to fire on those of their own color, they threw themselves
+on the ground without discharging a shot. Nevertheless, they gradually
+came up into rather reputable standing; they grew more and more
+industrious and steady; and after they had joined very heartily in
+resisting D'Estaing's threatened invasion of the island in 1779, it
+became the fashion to speak of "our faithful and affectionate Maroons."</p>
+
+<p>In 1795, their position was as follows:&mdash;Their numbers had not
+materially increased, for many had strayed off and settled on the
+outskirts of plantations,&mdash;nor materially diminished, for many runaway
+slaves had joined them,&mdash;while there were also separate settlements of
+fugitives, who had maintained their freedom for twenty years. The white
+superintendents had lived with the Maroons in perfect harmony, without
+the slightest official authority, but with a great deal of actual
+influence. But there was an "irrepressible conflict" behind all this
+apparent peace, and the slightest occasion might at any moment revive
+all the Old terror. That occasion was close at hand.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Cudjoe and Captain Accompong and the other founders of Maroon
+independence had passed away, and "Old Montagu" reigned in their stead,
+in Trelawney Town. Old Montagu had all the pomp and circumstance of
+Maroon majesty; he wore a laced red coat, and a hat superb with
+gold-lace and plumes; none but captains could sit in his presence; he
+was helped first at meals, and no woman could eat beside him; he
+presided at councils as magnificently as at table, though with less
+appetite;&mdash;and possessed, meanwhile, not an atom of the love or
+reverence of any human being. The real power lay entirely with Major
+James, the white superintendent, who had been brought up among the
+Maroons by his father (and predecessor), and who was the idol of this
+wild race. In an evil hour, the government removed him, and put a
+certain unpopular Captain Craskell in his place; and as there happened
+to be, about the same time, a great excitement concerning a hopeful pair
+of young Maroons who had been seized and publicly whipped, on a charge
+of hog-stealing, their kindred refused to allow the new superintendent
+to remain in the town. A few attempts at negotiation only brought them
+to a higher pitch of wrath, which ended in their despatching the
+following remarkable diplomatic note to the Earl of Balcarres:&mdash;"The
+Maroons wishes nothing else from the country but battle, and they
+desires not to see Mr. Craskell up here at all. So they are waiting
+every moment for the above on Monday. Mr. David Schaw will see you on
+Sunday morning for an answer. They will wait till Monday, nine o'clock,
+and if they don't come up, they will come down themselves." Signed,
+"Colonel Montagu and all the rest."</p>
+
+<p>It turned out, at last, that only two or three of the Maroons were
+concerned in this remarkable defiance; but meanwhile it had its effect.
+Several ambassadors were sent among the insurgents, and were so
+favorably impressed by their reception as to make up a subscription of
+money for their hosts, on departing; only the "gallant Colonel
+Gallimore," a Jamaica Camillus, gave iron instead of gold, by throwing
+some bullets into the contribution-box. And it was probably in
+accordance with his view of the subject, that,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> when the Maroons sent
+ambassadors in return, they were at once imprisoned, most injudiciously
+and unjustly; and when Old Montagu himself and thirty-seven others,
+following, were seized and imprisoned also, it is not strange that the
+Maroons, joined by many slaves, were soon in open insurrection.</p>
+
+<p>Martial law was instantly proclaimed throughout the island. The
+fighting-men among the insurgents were not, perhaps, more than five
+hundred; against whom the government could bring nearly fifteen hundred
+regular troops and several thousand militia-men. Lord Balcarres himself
+took the command, and, eager to crush the affair, promptly marched a
+large force up to Trelawney Town, and was glad to march back again as
+expeditiously as possible. In his very first attack, he was miserably
+defeated, and had to fly for his life, amid a perfect panic of the
+troops, in which some forty or fifty were killed,&mdash;including Colonel
+Sandford, commanding the regulars, and the bullet-loving Colonel
+Gallimore, in command of the militia,&mdash;while not a single Maroon was
+even wounded, so far as could be ascertained.</p>
+
+<p>After this a good deal of bush-fighting took place. The troops gradually
+got possession of several Maroon villages, but not till every hut had
+been burnt by its owner. It was in the height of the rainy season, and,
+between fire and water, the discomfort of the soldiers was enormous.
+Meanwhile the Maroons hovered close around them in the woods, heard all
+their orders, picked off their sentinels, and, penetrating through their
+lines at night, burned houses and destroyed plantations, far below. The
+only man who could cope with their peculiar tactics was Major James, the
+superintendent just removed by government,&mdash;and his services were not
+employed, as he was not trusted. On one occasion, however, he led a
+volunteer party farther into the mountains than any of the assailants
+had yet penetrated, guided by tracks known to himself only, and by the
+smell of the smoke of Maroon fires. After a very exhausting march,
+including a climb of a hundred and fifty feet up the face of a
+precipice, he brought them just within the entrance of Guthrie's Defile.
+"So far," said he, pointing to the entrance, "you may pursue, but no
+farther; no force can enter here; no white man except myself, or some
+soldier of the Maroon establishment, has ever gone beyond this. With the
+greatest difficulty I have penetrated four miles farther, and not ten
+Maroons have gone so far as that. There are two other ways of getting
+into the defile, practicable for the Maroons, but not for any one of
+you. In neither of them can I ascend or descend with my arms, which must
+be handed to me, step by step, as practised by the Maroons themselves.
+One of the ways lies to the eastward, and the other to the westward; and
+they will take care to have both guarded, if they suspect that I am with
+you; which, from the route you have come to-day, they will. They now see
+you, and if you advance fifty paces more, they will convince you of it."
+At this moment a Maroon horn sounded the notes indicating his name, and,
+as he made no answer, a voice was heard, inquiring if he were among
+them. "If he is," said the voice, "let him go back, we do not wish to
+hurt him; but as for the rest of you, come on and try battle, if you
+choose." But the gentlemen did not choose.</p>
+
+<p>In September the House of Assembly met. Things were looking worse and
+worse. For five months a handful of negroes and mulattoes had defied the
+whole force of the island; and they were defending their liberty by
+precisely the same tactics through which their ancestors had won it.
+Half a million pounds sterling had been spent within this time, besides
+the enormous loss incurred by the withdrawal of so many able-bodied men
+from their regular employments. "Cultivation was suspended," says an
+eye-witness; "the courts of law had long been shut up; and the island at
+large seemed more like a garrison under the power of law-martial, than a
+country of agriculture and commerce,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> of civil judicature, industry, and
+prosperity." Hundreds of the militia had died of fatigue, large numbers
+had been shot down, the most daring of the British officers had fallen,
+while the insurgents had been invariably successful, and not one of them
+was known to have been killed. Captain Craskell, the banished
+superintendent, gave it to the Assembly as his opinion, that the whole
+slave population of the island was in sympathy with the Maroons, and
+would soon be beyond control. More alarming still, there were rumors of
+French emissaries behind the scenes; and though these were explained
+away, the vague terror remained. Indeed, the Lieutenant-Governor
+announced in his message that he had satisfactory evidence that the
+French Convention was concerned in the revolt. A French prisoner named
+Murenson had testified that the French agent at Philadelphia (Fauchet)
+had secretly sent a hundred and fifty emissaries to the island, and
+threatened to land fifteen hundred negroes. And though Murenson took it
+all back at last, yet the Assembly was moved to make a new offer of
+three hundred dollars for killing or taking a Trelawney Maroon, and a
+hundred and fifty dollars for killing or taking any fugitive slave who
+had joined them. They also voted five hundred pounds as a gratuity to
+the Accompong tribe of Maroons, who had thus far kept out of the
+insurrection; and various prizes and gratuities were also offered by the
+different parishes, with the same object of self-protection.</p>
+
+<p>The commander-in-chief being among the killed, Colonel Walpole was
+promoted in his stead, and brevetted as General, by way of incentive. He
+found a people in despair, a soldiery thoroughly intimidated, and a
+treasury, not empty, but useless. But the new general had not served
+against the Maroons for nothing, and was not ashamed to go to school to
+his opponents. First, he waited for the dry season; then he directed all
+his efforts towards cutting off his opponents from water; and, most
+effectual move of all, he attacked each successive cockpit by dragging
+up a howitzer, with immense labor, and throwing in shells. Shells were a
+visitation not dreamed of in Maroon philosophy, and their quaint
+compliments to their new opponent remain on record. "Damn dat little
+buckra!" they said; "he cunning more dan dem toder. Dis here da new
+fashion for fight: him fire big ball arter you, and when big ball 'top,
+de damn sunting (something) fire arter you again." With which Parthian
+arrows of rhetoric the mountaineers retreated.</p>
+
+<p>But this did not last long. The Maroons soon learned to keep out of the
+way of the shells, and the island relapsed into terror again. It was
+deliberately resolved at last, by a special council convoked for the
+purpose, "to persuade the rebels to make peace." But as they had not as
+yet shown themselves very accessible to softer influences, it was
+thought best to combine as many arguments as possible, and a certain
+Colonel Quarrell had hit upon a wholly new one. His plan simply was,
+since men, however well disciplined, had proved powerless against
+Maroons, to try a Spanish fashion against them, and use dogs. The
+proposition was met, in some quarters, with the strongest hostility.
+England, it was said, had always denounced the Spaniards as brutal and
+dastardly for hunting down the natives of that very soil with
+hounds,&mdash;and should England now follow the humiliating example? On the
+other side, there were plenty who eagerly quoted all known instances of
+zo&ouml;logical warfare: all Oriental nations, for instance, used elephants
+in war, and no doubt would gladly use lions and tigers, also, but for
+their extreme carnivorousness, and their painful indifference to the
+distinction between friend and foe;&mdash;why not, then, use these dogs,
+comparatively innocent and gentle creatures? At any rate, "something
+must be done"; the final argument always used, when a bad or desperate
+project is to be made palatable. So it was voted at last to send to
+Havana for an invoice of Spanish dogs,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> with their accompanying
+chasseurs, and the efforts at persuading the Maroons were postponed till
+the arrival of these additional persuasives. And when Colonel Quarrell
+finally set sail as commissioner to obtain the new allies, all scruples
+of conscience vanished in the renewal of public courage and the chorus
+of popular gratitude; a thing so desirable must be right; thrice were
+they armed who knew their Quarrell just.</p>
+
+<p>But after the parting notes of gratitude died away in the distance, the
+commissioner began to discover that he was to have a hard time of it. He
+sailed for Havana in a schooner manned with Spanish renegadoes, who
+insisted on fighting everything that came in their way,&mdash;first a Spanish
+schooner, then a French one. He landed at Batabano, struck across the
+mountains towards Havana, stopped at Besucal to call on the wealthy
+Marquesa de San Felipe y San Jorge, grand patroness of dogs and
+chasseurs, and finally was welcomed to Havana by Don Luis de las Casas,
+who overlooked, for this occasion only, an injunction of his court
+against admitting foreigners within his government,&mdash;"the only
+accustomed exception being," as Don Luis courteously assured him, "in
+favor of foreign traders who came with new negroes." To be sure, the
+commissioner had not brought any of these commodities, but then he had
+come to obtain the means of capturing some, and so might pass for an
+irregular practitioner of the privileged profession.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, Don Guillermo Dawes Quarrell (so ran his passport) found no
+difficulty in obtaining permission from the governor to buy as many dogs
+as he desired. When, however, he carelessly hinted at the necessity of
+taking, also, a few men who should have care of the dogs,&mdash;this being,
+after all, the essential part of his expedition,&mdash;Don Luis de las Casas
+put on instantly a double force of courtesy, and assured him of the
+entire impossibility of recruiting a single Spaniard for English
+service. Finally, however, he gave permission and passports for six
+chasseurs. Under cover of this, the commissioner lost no time in
+enlisting forty; he got them safe to Batabano, but at the last moment,
+learning the state of affairs, they refused to embark on such very
+irregular authority. When he had persuaded them, at length, the officer
+of the fort interposed objections. This was not to be borne, so Don
+Guillermo bribed him and silenced him; a dragoon was, however, sent to
+report to the governor; Don Guillermo sent a messenger after him and
+bribed him, too; and thus, at length, after myriad rebuffs, and after
+being obliged to spend the last evening at a puppet-show, in which the
+principal figure was a burlesque on his own personal peculiarities, the
+weary Don Guillermo, with his crew of renegadoes, and his forty
+chasseurs and their one hundred and four muzzled dogs, set sail for
+Jamaica.</p>
+
+<p>These new allies were certainly something formidable, if we may trust
+the pictures and descriptions in Dallas's History. The chasseur was a
+tall, meagre, swarthy Spaniard or mulatto, lightly clad in cotton shirt
+and drawers, with broad straw-hat and moccasins of raw hide; his belt
+sustaining his long, straight, flat sword or <i>machete</i>, like an iron bar
+sharpened at one end; and he wore by the same belt three cotton leashes
+for his three dogs, sometimes held also by chains. The dogs were a
+fierce breed, crossed between hound and mastiff, never unmuzzled but for
+attack, and accompanied by smaller dogs called <i>finders</i>. It is no
+wonder, when these wild and powerful creatures were landed at Montego
+Bay, that terror ran through the town, doors were everywhere closed and
+windows crowded, not a negro dared to stir, and the muzzled dogs,
+infuriated by confinement on shipboard, filled the silent streets with
+their noisy barking and the rattling of their chains.</p>
+
+<p>How much would have come of all this in actual conflict does not appear.
+The Maroons had already been persuaded to make peace upon certain
+conditions and guaranties,&mdash;a decision probably accelerated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> by the
+terrible rumors of the bloodhounds, though they never saw them. It was
+the declared opinion of the Assembly, confirmed by that of General
+Walpole, that "nothing could be clearer than that, if they had been off
+the island, the rebels could not have been induced to surrender."
+Nevertheless a treaty was at last made, without the direct intervention
+of the quadrupeds. Again commissioners went up among the mountains to
+treat with negotiators at first invisible; again were hats and jackets
+interchanged, not without coy reluctance on the part of the well-dressed
+Englishmen; and a solemn agreement was effected. The most essential part
+of the bargain was a guaranty of continued independence, demanded by the
+suspicious Maroons. General Walpole, however, promptly pledged himself
+that no such unfair advantage should be taken of them as had occurred
+with the hostages previously surrendered, who were placed in irons, nor
+should any attempt be made to remove them from the island. It is painful
+to add, that this promise was outrageously violated by the Colonial
+government, to the lasting grief of General Walpole, on the ground that
+the Maroons had violated the treaty by a slight want of punctuality in
+complying with its terms, and by remissness in restoring the fugitive
+slaves who had taken refuge among them. As many of the tribe as
+surrendered, therefore, were at once placed in confinement, and
+ultimately shipped from Port Royal to Halifax, to the number of six
+hundred, on the 6th of June, 1796. For the credit of English honor, we
+rejoice to know that General Walpole not merely protested against this
+utter breach of faith, but indignantly declined the sword of honor which
+the Assembly voted him in its gratitude, and retired from military
+service forever.</p>
+
+<p>The remaining career of this portion of the Maroons is easily told. They
+were first dreaded by the inhabitants of Halifax; then welcomed, when
+seen; and promptly set to work on the citadel, then in process of
+reconstruction, where the "Maroon Bastion" still remains,&mdash;their only
+visible memorial. Two commissioners had charge of them, one being the
+redoubtable Colonel Quarrell, and twenty-five thousand pounds were
+appropriated for their temporary support. Of course they did not
+prosper; pensioned colonists never do, for they are not compelled into
+habits of industry. After their delicious life in the mountains of
+Jamaica, it seemed rather monotonous to dwell upon that barren
+soil,&mdash;for theirs was such that two previous colonies had deserted
+it,&mdash;and in a climate where winter lasts seven months in the year. They
+had a schoolmaster, and he was also a preacher; but they did not seem to
+appreciate that luxury of civilization,&mdash;utterly refusing, on grounds of
+conscience, to forsake polygamy, and, on grounds of personal comfort, to
+listen to the doctrinal discourses of their pastor, who was an ardent
+Sandemanian. They smoked their pipes during service-time, and left Old
+Montagu, who still survived, to lend a vicarious attention to the
+sermon. One discourse he briefly reported as follows, very much to the
+point:&mdash;"Massa parson say no mus tief, no mus meddle wid somebody wife,
+no mus quarrel, mus set down softly." So they sat down very softly, and
+showed an extreme unwillingness to get up again. But, not being
+naturally an idle race, (at least, in Jamaica the objection lay rather
+on the other side,) they soon grew tired of this inaction. Distrustful
+of those about them, suspicious of all attempts to scatter them among
+the community at large, frozen by the climate, and constantly
+petitioning for removal to a milder one, they finally wearied out all
+patience. A long dispute ensued between the authorities of Nova Scotia
+and Jamaica, as to which was properly responsible for their support; and
+thus the heroic race, that for a century and a half had sustained
+themselves in freedom in Jamaica, were reduced to the position of
+troublesome and impracticable paupers, shuttlecocks between two selfish
+parishes. So passed their unfortunate lives, until, in 1800, their
+reduced population was transported<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> to Sierra Leone, at a cost of six
+thousand pounds, since which they disappear from history.</p>
+
+<p>It was judged best not to interfere with those bodies of Maroons which
+had kept aloof from the late outbreak, as the Accompong settlement, and
+others. They continued to preserve a qualified independence, and retain
+it even now. In 1835, two years after the abolition of slavery in
+Jamaica, there were reported sixty families of Maroons as residing at
+Accompong Town, eighty families at Moore Town, one hundred and ten
+families at Charles Town, and twenty families at Scott Hall, making two
+hundred and seventy families in all,&mdash;each station being, as of old,
+under the charge of a superintendent. But there can be little doubt,
+that, under the influences of freedom, they are rapidly intermingling
+with the mass of colored population in Jamaica.</p>
+
+<p>The story of the exiled Maroons attracted attention in high quarters, in
+its time; the wrongs done to them were denounced in Parliament by
+Sheridan and mourned by Wilberforce; while the employment of bloodhounds
+against them was vindicated by Dundas, and the whole conduct of the
+Colonial government defended, through thick and thin, by Bryan Edwards.
+This thorough partisan even had the assurance to tell Mr. Wilberforce,
+in Parliament, that he knew the Maroons, from personal knowledge, to be
+cannibals, and that, if a missionary were sent among them in Nova
+Scotia, they would immediately eat him; a charge so absurd that he did
+not venture to repeat it in his History of the West Indies, though his
+injustice to the Maroons is even there so glaring as to provoke the
+indignation of the more moderate Dallas. But, in spite of Mr. Edwards,
+the public indignation ran quite high, in England, against the
+bloodhounds and their employers, so that the home ministry found it
+necessary to send a severe reproof to the Colonial government. For a few
+years the tales of the Maroons thus emerged from mere colonial annals,
+and found their way into Annual Registers and Parliamentary
+Debates,&mdash;but they have vanished from popular memory now. Their record
+still retains its interest, however, as that of one of the heroic races
+of the world; and all the more, because it is with their kindred that
+this nation has to deal, in solving the tremendous problem of
+incorporating their liberties with our own. We must remember the story
+of the Maroons, because we cannot afford to ignore a single historic
+fact which bears upon a question so momentous.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_PROFESSORS_STORY" id="THE_PROFESSORS_STORY"></a>THE PROFESSOR'S STORY.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+<h3>MR. BERNARD TRIES HIS HAND.</h3>
+
+<p>Whether the Student advertised for a school, or whether he fell in with
+the advertisement of a school-committee, is not certain. At any rate, it
+was not long before he found himself the head of a large district, or,
+as it was called by the inhabitants, "deestric" school, in the
+flourishing inland village of Pequawkett, or, as it is commonly spelt,
+Pigwacket Centre. The natives of this place would be surprised, if they
+should hear that any of the readers of a periodical published in Boston
+were unacquainted with so remarkable a locality. As, however, some
+copies of this periodical may be read at a distance from this
+distinguished metropolis, it may be well to give a few particulars
+respecting the place, taken from the Universal Gazetteer.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Pigwacket</span>, sometimes spelt Pequawkett. A post-village and
+township in &mdash;&mdash; Co., <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>State of &mdash;&mdash;, situated in a fine
+agricultural region, 2 thriving villages, Pigwacket Centre and
+Smithville, 3 churches, several schoolhouses, and many handsome
+private residences. Mink River runs through the town, navigable
+for small boats after heavy rains. Muddy Pond at N. E. section,
+well stocked with horned pouts, eels, and shiners. Products,
+beef, pork, butter, cheese. Manufactures, shoe-pegs,
+clothes-pins, and tin-ware. Pop. 1373."</p></div>
+
+<p>The reader may think there is nothing very remarkable implied in this
+description. If, however, he had read the town-history, by the Rev.
+Jabez Grubb, he would have learned, that, like the celebrated Little
+Pedlington, it was distinguished by many <i>very</i> remarkable advantages.
+Thus:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"The situation of Pigwacket is eminently beautiful, looking
+down the lovely valley of Mink River, a tributary of the
+Musquash. The air is salubrious, and many of the inhabitants
+have attained great age, several having passed the allotted
+period of 'three-score years and ten' before succumbing to any
+of the various 'ills that flesh is heir to.' Widow Comfort
+Leevins died in 1836, &AElig;t. LXXXVII. years. Venus, an African,
+died in 1841, supposed to be C. years old. The people are
+distinguished for intelligence, as has been frequently remarked
+by eminent lyceum-lecturers, who have invariably spoken in the
+highest terms of a Pigwacket audience. There is a public
+library, containing nearly a hundred volumes, free to all
+subscribers. The preached word is well attended, there is a
+flourishing temperance society, and the schools are excellent.
+It is a residence admirably adapted to refined families who
+relish the beauties of Nature and the charms of society. The
+Honorable John Smith, formerly a member of the State Senate,
+was a native of this town."</p></div>
+
+<p>That is the way they all talk. After all, it is probably pretty much
+like other inland New England towns in point of "salubrity,"&mdash;that is,
+gives people their choice of dysentery or fever every autumn, with a
+season-ticket for consumption, good all the year round. And so of the
+other pretences. "Pigwacket audience," forsooth! Was there ever an
+audience anywhere, though there wasn't a pair of eyes in it brighter
+than pickled oysters, that didn't think it was "distinguished for
+intelligence"?&mdash;"The preach&eacute;d word"! That means the Rev. Jabez Grubb's
+sermons. "Temperance society"! "Excellent schools"! Ah, that is just
+what we were talking about.</p>
+
+<p>The truth was, that District No. 1, Pigwacket Centre, had had a good
+deal of trouble of late with its schoolmasters. The committee had done
+their best, but there were a number of well-grown and pretty rough young
+fellows who had got the upperhand of the masters, and meant to keep it.
+Two dynasties had fallen before the uprising of this fierce democracy.
+This was a thing that used to be not very uncommon; but in so
+"intelligent" a community as that of Pigwacket Centre, in an era of
+public libraries and lyceum-lectures, it was portentous and alarming.</p>
+
+<p>The rebellion began under the ferule of Master Weeks, a slender youth
+from a country college, under-fed, thin-blooded, sloping-shouldered,
+knock-kneed, straight-haired, weak-bearded, pale-eyed, wide-pupilled,
+half-colored; a common type enough in in-door races, not rich enough to
+pick and choose in their alliances. Nature kills off a good many of this
+sort in the first teething-time, a few in later childhood, a good many
+again in early adolescence; but every now and then one runs the gauntlet
+of her various diseases, or rather forms of one disease, and grows up,
+as Master Weeks had done.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very foolish thing for him to try to inflict personal
+punishment on such a lusty young fellow as Abner Briggs, Junior, one of
+the "hardest customers" in the way of a rough-and-tumble fight that
+there were anywhere round. No doubt he had been insolent, but it would
+have been better to overlook it. It pains me to report the events which
+took place when the master made his rash attempt to maintain his
+authority. Abner Briggs, Junior, was a great, hulking fellow, who had
+been bred to butchering, but urged by his parents to attend school, in
+order to learn the elegant accomplishments of reading and writing, in
+which he was sadly deficient. He was in the habit of talking and
+laughing pretty loud in school-hours,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> of throwing wads of paper reduced
+to a pulp by a natural and easy process, of occasional insolence and
+general negligence. One of the soft, but unpleasant missiles just
+alluded to, flew by the master's head one morning, and flattened itself
+against the wall, where it adhered in the form of a convex mass in <i>alto
+rilievo</i>. The master looked round and saw the young butcher's arm in an
+attitude which pointed to it unequivocally as the source from which the
+projectile had taken its flight.</p>
+
+<p>Master Weeks turned pale. He must "lick" Abner Briggs, Junior, or
+abdicate. So he determined to lick Abner Briggs, Junior.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, Sir!" he said; "you have insulted me and outraged the
+decency of the schoolroom often enough! Hold out your hand!"</p>
+
+<p>The young fellow grinned and held it out. The master struck at it with
+his black ruler, with a will in the blow and a snapping of the eyes, as
+much as to say that he meant to make him smart this time. The young
+fellow pulled his hand back as the ruler came down, and the master hit
+himself a vicious blow with it on the right knee. There are things no
+man can stand. The master caught the refractory youth by the collar and
+began shaking him, or rather shaking himself against him.</p>
+
+<p>"Le' go o' that are c&#335;at, naow," said the fellow, "or I'll make ye!
+'T 'll take tew on ye t' handle me, I tell ye, 'n' then ye ca&auml;nt dew
+it!"&mdash;and the young pupil returned the master's attention by catching
+hold of <i>his</i> collar.</p>
+
+<p>When it comes to that, the <i>best man</i>, not exactly in the moral sense,
+but rather in the material, and more especially the muscular point of
+view, is very apt to have the best of it, irrespectively of the merits
+of the case. So it happened now. The unfortunate schoolmaster found
+himself taking the measure of the sanded floor, amid the general uproar
+of the school. From that moment his ferule was broken, and the
+school-committee very soon had a vacancy to fill.</p>
+
+<p>Master Pigeon, the successor of Master Weeks, was of better stature, but
+loosely put together, and slender-limbed. A dreadfully nervous kind of
+man he was, walked on tiptoe, started at sudden noises, was distressed
+when he heard a whisper, had a quick, suspicious look, and was always
+saying, "Hush!" and putting his hands to his ears. The boys were not
+long in finding out this nervous weakness, of course. In less than a
+week a regular system of torments was inaugurated, full of the most
+diabolical malice and ingenuity. The exercises of the conspirators
+varied from day to day, but consisted mainly of foot-scraping, solos on
+the slate-pencil, (making it <i>screech</i> on the slate,) falling of heavy
+books, attacks of coughing, banging of desk-lids, boot-creaking, with
+sounds as of drawing a cork from time to time, followed by suppressed
+chuckles.</p>
+
+<p>Master Pigeon grew worse and worse under these inflictions. The rascally
+boys always had an excuse for any one trick they were caught at.
+"Couldn' help coughin', Sir." "Slipped out o' m' han', Sir." "Didn' go
+to, Sir." "Didn' dew 't o' purpose, Sir." And so on,&mdash;always the best of
+reasons for the most outrageous of behavior. The master weighed himself
+at the grocer's on a platform-balance, some ten days after he began
+keeping the school. At the end of a week he weighed himself again. He
+had lost two pounds. At the end of another week he had lost five. He
+made a little calculation, based on these data, from which he learned
+that in a certain number of months, going on at this rate, he should
+come to weigh precisely nothing at all; and as this was a sum in
+subtraction he did not care to work out in practice, Master Pigeon took
+to himself wings and left the school-committee in possession of a letter
+of resignation and a vacant place to fill once more.</p>
+
+<p>This was the school to which Mr. Bernard Langdon found himself appointed
+as master. He accepted the place conditionally, with the understanding
+that he should leave it at the end of a month, if he were tired of it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The advent of Master Langdon to Pigwacket Centre created a much more
+lively sensation than had attended that of either of his predecessors.
+Looks go a good ways all the world over, and though there were several
+good-looking people in the place, and Major Bush was what the natives of
+the town called a "hahnsome mahn," that is, big, fat, and red, yet the
+sight of a really elegant young fellow, with the natural air which grows
+up with carefully-bred young persons, was a novelty. The Brahmin blood
+which came from his grandfather as well as from his mother, a direct
+descendant of the old Flynt family, well known by the famous tutor,
+Henry Flynt, (see Cat. Harv. Anno 1693,) had been enlivened and enriched
+by that of the Wentworths, which had had a good deal of ripe old Madeira
+and other generous elements mingled with it, so that it ran to gout
+sometimes in the old folks, and to high spirit, warm complexion, and
+curly hair in some of the younger ones. The soft curling hair Mr.
+Bernard had inherited,&mdash;something, perhaps, of the high spirit; but that
+we shall have a chance of finding out by-and-by. But the long sermons
+and the frugal board of his Brahmin ancestry, with his own habits of
+study, had told upon his color, which was subdued to something more of
+delicacy than one would care to see in a young fellow with rough work
+before him. This, however, made him look more interesting, or, as the
+young ladies at Major Bush's said, "inter&eacute;stin'."</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Bernard showed himself at meeting, on the first Sunday after
+his arrival, it may be supposed that a good many eyes were turned upon
+the young schoolmaster. There was something heroic in his coming forward
+so readily to take a place which called for a strong hand, and a prompt,
+steady will to guide it. In fact, his position was that of a military
+chieftain on the eve of a battle. Everybody knew everything in Pigwacket
+Centre; and it was an understood thing that the young rebels meant to
+put down the new master, if they could. It was natural that the two
+prettiest girls in the village, called in the local dialect, as nearly
+as our limited alphabet will represent it, Alminy Cutterr, and Arvilly
+Braowne, should feel and express an interest in the good-looking
+stranger, and that, when their flattering comments were repeated in the
+hearing of their indigenous admirers, among whom were some of the older
+"boys" of the school, it should not add to the amiable dispositions of
+the turbulent youth.</p>
+
+<p>Monday came, and the new schoolmaster was in his chair at the upper end
+of the schoolhouse, on the raised platform. The rustics looked at his
+handsome face, thoughtful, peaceful, pleasant, cheerful, but sharply cut
+round the lips and proudly lighted about the eyes. The ringleader of the
+mischief-makers, the young butcher who has before figured in this
+narrative, looked at him stealthily, whenever he got a chance to study
+him unobserved; for the truth was, he felt uncomfortable, whenever he
+found the large, dark eyes fixed on his own little, sharp, deep-set,
+gray ones. But he found means to study him pretty well,&mdash;first his face,
+then his neck and shoulders, the set of his arms, the narrowing at the
+loins, the make of his legs, and the way he moved. In short, he examined
+him as he would have examined a steer, to see what he could do and how
+he would cut up. If he could only have gone to him and felt of his
+muscles, he would have been entirely satisfied. He was not a very wise
+youth, but he did know well enough, that, though big arms and legs are
+very good things, there is something besides size that goes to make a
+man; and he had heard stories of a fighting-man, called "The Spider,"
+from his attenuated proportions, who was yet a terrible hitter in the
+ring, and had whipped many a big-limbed fellow in and out of the roped
+arena.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing could be smoother than the way in which everything went on for
+the first day or two. The new master was so kind and courteous, he
+seemed to take everything in such a natural, easy way, that there was no
+chance to pick a quarrel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> with him. He in the mean time thought it best
+to watch the boys and young men for a day or two with as little show of
+authority as possible. It was easy enough to see that he would have
+occasion for it before long.</p>
+
+<p>The schoolhouse was a grim, old, red, one-story building, perched on a
+bare rock at the top of a hill,&mdash;partly because this was a conspicuous
+site for the temple of learning, and partly because land is cheap where
+there is no chance even for rye or buckwheat, and the very sheep find
+nothing to nibble. About the little porch were carved initials and
+dates, at various heights, from the stature of nine to that of eighteen.
+Inside were old unpainted desks,&mdash;unpainted, but browned with the umber
+of human contact,&mdash;and hacked by innumerable jackknives. It was long
+since the walls had been whitewashed, as might be conjectured by the
+various traces left upon them, wherever idle hands or sleepy heads could
+reach them. A curious appearance was noticeable on various higher parts
+of the wall, namely, a wart-like eruption, as one would be tempted to
+call it, being in reality a crop of the soft missiles before mentioned,
+which, adhering in considerable numbers, and hardening after the usual
+fashion of <i>papier mach&eacute;</i>, formed at last permanent ornaments of the
+edifice.</p>
+
+<p>The young master's quick eye soon noticed that a particular part of the
+wall was most favored with these ornamental appendages. Their position
+pointed sufficiently clearly to the part of the room they came from. In
+fact, there was a nest of young mutineers just there, which must be
+broken up by a <i>coup d'&eacute;tat</i>. This was easily effected by redistributing
+the seats and arranging the scholars according to classes, so that a
+mischievous fellow, charged full of the rebellious imponderable, should
+find himself between two non-conductors, in the shape of small boys of
+studious habits. It was managed quietly enough, in such a plausible sort
+of way that its motive was not thought of. But its effects were soon
+felt; and then began a system of correspondence by signs, and the
+throwing of little scrawls done up in pellets, and announced by
+preliminary <i>a'h'ms!</i> to call the attention of the distant youth
+addressed. Some of these were incendiary documents, devoting the
+schoolmaster to the lower divinities, as "a &mdash;&mdash; stuck-up dandy," as "a
+---- purse-proud aristocrat," as "a &mdash;&mdash; sight too big for his, etc.,"
+and holding him up in a variety of equally forcible phrases to the
+indignation of the youthful community of School District No. 1,
+Pigwacket Centre.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the draughtsman of the school set a caricature in circulation,
+labelled, to prevent mistakes, with the schoolmaster's name. An immense
+bell-crowned hat, and a long, pointed, swallow-tailed coat showed that
+the artist had in his mind the conventional dandy, as shown in prints of
+thirty or forty years ago, rather than any actual human aspect of the
+time. But it was passed round among the boys and made its laugh, helping
+of course to undermine the master's authority, as "Punch" or the
+"Charivari" takes the dignity out of an obnoxious minister. One morning,
+on going to the schoolroom, Master Langdon found an enlarged copy of
+this sketch, with its label, pinned on the door. He took it down, smiled
+a little, put it into his pocket, and entered the schoolroom. An
+insidious silence prevailed, which looked as if some plot were brewing.
+The boys were ripe for mischief, but afraid. They had really no fault to
+find with the master, except that he was dressed like a gentleman, which
+a certain class of fellows always consider a personal insult to
+themselves. But the older ones were evidently plotting, and more than
+once the warning <i>a'h'm!</i> was heard, and a dirty little scrap of paper
+rolled into a wad shot from one seat to another. One of these happened
+to strike the stove-funnel, and lodged on the master's desk. He was cool
+enough not to seem to notice it. He secured it, however, and found an
+opportunity to look at it, without being observed by the boys. It
+required no <i>immediate</i> notice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He who should have enjoyed the privilege of looking upon Mr. Bernard
+Langdon the next morning, when his toilet was about half finished, would
+have had a very pleasant gratuitous exhibition. First he buckled the
+strap of his trousers pretty tightly. Then he took up a pair of heavy
+dumb-bells, and swung them for a few minutes; then two great "Indian
+clubs," with which he enacted all sorts of impossible-looking feats. His
+limbs were not very large, nor his shoulders remarkably broad; but if
+you knew as much of the muscles as all persons who look at statues and
+pictures with a critical eye ought to have learned,&mdash;if you knew the
+<i>trapezius</i>, lying diamond-shaped over the back and shoulders like a
+monk's cowl,&mdash;or the <i>deltoid</i>, which caps the shoulders like an
+epaulette,&mdash;or the <i>triceps</i>, which furnishes the <i>calf</i> of the upper
+arm,&mdash;or the hard-knotted <i>biceps</i>,&mdash;any of the great sculptural
+landmarks, in fact,&mdash;you would have said there was a pretty show of
+them, beneath the white satiny skin of Mr. Bernard Langdon. And if you
+had seen him, when he had laid down the Indian clubs, catch hold of a
+leather strap that hung from the beam of the old-fashioned ceiling, and
+lift and lower himself over and over again by his left hand alone, you
+might have thought it a very simple and easy thing to do, until you
+tried to do it yourself.&mdash;Mr. Bernard looked at himself with the eye of
+an expert. "Pretty well!" he said;&mdash;"not so much fallen off as I
+expected." Then he set up his bolster in a very knowing sort of way, and
+delivered two or three blows straight as rulers and swift as winks.
+"That will do," he said. Then, as if determined to make a certainty of
+his condition, he took a dynamometer from one of the drawers in his old
+veneered bureau. First he squeezed it with his two hands. Then he placed
+it on the floor and lifted, steadily, strongly. The springs creaked and
+cracked; the index swept with a great stride far up into the high
+figures of the scale; it was a good lift. He was satisfied. He sat down
+on the edge of his bed and looked at his cleanly-shaped arms. "If I
+strike one of those boobies, I am afraid I shall spoil him," he said.
+Yet this young man, when weighed with his class at the college, could
+barely turn one hundred and forty-two pounds in the scale,&mdash;not a heavy
+weight, surely; but some of the middle weights, as the present English
+champion, for instance, seem to be of a far finer quality of muscle than
+the bulkier fellows.</p>
+
+<p>The master took his breakfast with a good appetite that morning, but was
+perhaps rather more quiet than usual. After breakfast he went up-stairs
+and put on a light loose frock, instead of his usual dress-coat, which
+was a close-fitting and rather stylish one. On his way to school he met
+Alminy Cutterr, who happened to be walking in the other direction. "Good
+morning, Miss Cutterr," he said; for she and another young lady had been
+introduced to him, on a former occasion, in the usual phrase of polite
+society in presenting ladies to gentlemen,&mdash;"Mr. Langdon, let me make y'
+acquainted with Miss Cutterr;&mdash;let me make y' acquainted with Miss
+Braowne." So he said, "Good morning"; to which she replied, "Good
+mornin', Mr. Langdon. Haow's your ha&auml;lth?" The answer to this question
+ought naturally to have been the end of the talk; but Alminy Cutterr
+lingered and looked as if she had something more on her mind.</p>
+
+<p>A young fellow does not require a great experience to read a simple
+country-girl's face as if it were a signboard. Alminy was a good soul,
+with red cheeks and bright eyes, kind-hearted as she could be, and it
+was out of the question for her to hide her thoughts or feelings like a
+fine lady. Her bright eyes were moist and her red cheeks paler than
+their wont, as she said, with her lips quivering,&mdash;"Oh, Mr. Langdon,
+them boys'll be the death of ye, if ye don't take ca&auml;r!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what's the matter, my dear?" said Mr. Bernard.&mdash;Don't think there
+was anything very odd in that "my dear," at the second interview with a
+village belle;&mdash;some of those woman-tamers call<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> a girl "My dear," after
+five minutes' acquaintance, and it sounds all right <i>as they say it</i>.
+But you had better not try it at a venture.</p>
+
+<p>It sounded all right to Alminy, as Mr. Bernard said it.&mdash;"I'll tell ye
+what's the mahtterr," she said, in a frightened voice. "Ahbner's go'n'
+to car' his dog, 'n' he'll set him on ye 'z sure 'z y' 'r' alive. 'T's
+the same cretur that ha&auml;f &#275;at up Eben Squires's little Jo, a year
+come nex' Fa&auml;stday."</p>
+
+<p>Now this last statement was undoubtedly overcolored; as little Jo
+Squires was running about the village,&mdash;with an ugly scar on his arm, it
+is true, where the beast had caught him with his teeth, on the occasion
+of the child's taking liberties with him, as he had been accustomed to
+do with a good-tempered Newfoundland dog, who seemed to like being
+pulled and hauled round by children. After this the creature was
+commonly muzzled, and, as he was fed on raw meat chiefly, was always
+ready for a fight,&mdash;which he was occasionally indulged in, when anything
+stout enough to match him could be found in any of the neighboring
+villages.</p>
+
+<p>Tiger, or, more briefly, Tige, the property of Abner Briggs, Junior,
+belonged to a species not distinctly named in scientific books, but well
+known to our country-folks under the name "Yallah dog." They do not use
+this expression as they would say <i>black</i> dog or <i>white</i> dog, but with
+almost as definite a meaning as when they speak of a terrier or a
+spaniel. A "yallah dog" is a large canine brute, of a dingy old-flannel
+color, of no particular breed except his own, who hangs round a tavern
+or a butcher's shop, or trots alongside of a team, looking as if he were
+disgusted with the world, and the world with him. Our inland population,
+while they tolerate him, speak of him with contempt. Old &mdash;&mdash;, of
+Meredith Bridge, used to twit the sun for not shining on cloudy days,
+swearing, that, if he hung up his "yallah dog," he would make a better
+show of daylight. A country fellow, abusing a horse of his neighbor's,
+vowed, that, "if he had such a hoss, he'd swap him for a 'yallah
+dog,'&mdash;and then shoot the dog."</p>
+
+<p>Tige was an ill-conditioned brute by nature, and art had not improved
+him by cropping his ears and tail and investing him with a spiked
+collar. He bore on his person, also, various not ornamental scars, marks
+of old battles; for Tige had fight in him, as was said before, and as
+might be guessed by a certain bluntness about the muzzle, with a
+projection of the lower jaw, which looked as if there might be a
+bull-dog stripe among the numerous bar-sinisters of his lineage.</p>
+
+<p>It was hardly fair, however, to leave Alminy Cutterr waiting while this
+piece of natural history was telling.&mdash;As she spoke of little Jo, who
+had been "ha&auml;f &#275;at up" by Tige, she could not contain her sympathies,
+and began to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my dear little soul," said Mr. Bernard, "what are you worried
+about? I used to play with a <i>bear</i> when I was a boy; and the bear used
+to hug me, and I used to kiss him,&mdash;&mdash;so!"</p>
+
+<p>It was too bad of Mr. Bernard, only the second time he had seen Alminy;
+but her kind feelings had touched him, and that seemed the most natural
+way of expressing his gratitude. Alminy looked round to see if anybody
+was near; she saw nobody, so of course it would do no good to "holler."
+She saw nobody; but a stout young fellow, leading a yellow dog, muzzled,
+saw <i>her</i> through a crack in a pick&eacute;d fence, not a great way off the
+road. Many a year he had been "hangin' 'raoun'" Alminy, and never did he
+see any encouraging look, or hear any "Behave, naow!" or "Come, naow,
+a'n't ye 'shamed?" or other forbidding phrase of acquiescence, such as
+village belles understand as well as ever did the nymph who fled to the
+willows in the eclogue we all remember.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder he was furious, when he saw the schoolmaster, who had never
+seen the girl until within a week, touching with his lips those rosy
+cheeks which he had never dared to approach. But that was all; it was a
+sudden impulse; and the master turned away from the young girl,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>
+laughing, and telling her not to fret herself about him,&mdash;he would take
+care of himself.</p>
+
+<p>So Master Langdon walked on toward his schoolhouse, not displeased,
+perhaps, with his little adventure, nor immensely elated by it; for he
+was one of the natural class of the sex-subduers, and had had many a
+smile without asking, which had been denied to the feeble youth who try
+to win favor by pleading their passion in rhyme, and even to the more
+formidable approaches of young officers in volunteer companies,
+considered by many to be quite irresistible to the fair who have once
+beheld them from their windows in the epaulettes and plumes and sashes
+of the "Pigwacket Invincibles," or the "Hackmatack Rangers."</p>
+
+<p>Master Langdon took his seat and began the exercises of his school. The
+smaller boys recited their lessons well enough, but some of the larger
+ones were negligent and surly. He noticed one or two of them looking
+toward the door, as if expecting somebody or something in that
+direction. At half past nine o'clock, Abner Briggs, Junior, who had not
+yet shown himself, made his appearance. He was followed by his "yallah
+dog," without his muzzle, who squatted down very grimly near the door,
+and gave a wolfish look round the room, as if he were considering which
+was the plumpest boy to begin with. The young butcher, meanwhile, went
+to his seat, looking somewhat flushed, except round the lips, which were
+hardly as red as common, and set pretty sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Put out that dog, Abner Briggs!"&mdash;The master spoke as the captain
+speaks to the helmsman, when there are rocks foaming at the lips, right
+under his lee.</p>
+
+<p>Abner Briggs answered as the helmsman answers, when he knows he has a
+mutinous crew round him that mean to run the ship on the reef, and is
+one of the mutineers himself. "Put him aout y'rself, 'f ye a'n't afeard
+on him!"</p>
+
+<p>The master stepped into the aisle. The great cur showed his teeth,&mdash;and
+the devilish instincts of his old wolf-ancestry looked out of his eyes,
+and flashed from his sharp tusks, and yawned in his wide mouth and deep
+red gullet.</p>
+
+<p>The movements of animals are so much quicker than those of human beings
+commonly are, that they avoid blows as easily as one of us steps out of
+the way of an ox-cart. It must be a very stupid dog that lets himself be
+run over by a fast driver in his gig; he can jump out of the wheel's way
+after the tire has already touched him. So, while one is lifting a stick
+to strike or drawing back his foot to kick, the beast makes his spring,
+and the blow or the kick comes too late.</p>
+
+<p>It was not so this time. The master was a fencer, and something of a
+boxer; he had played at single-stick, and was used to watching an
+adversary's eye and coming down on him without any of those premonitory
+symptoms by which unpractised persons show long beforehand what mischief
+they meditate.</p>
+
+<p>"Out with you!" he said, fiercely,&mdash;and explained what he meant by a
+sudden flash of his foot that clashed the yellow dog's white teeth
+together like the springing of a bear-trap. The cur knew he had found
+his master at the first word and glance, as low animals on four legs, or
+a smaller number, always do; and the blow took him so by surprise, that
+it curled him up in an instant, and he went bundling out of the open
+schoolhouse-door with a most pitiable yelp, and his stump of a tail shut
+down as close as his owner ever shut the short, stubbed blade of his
+jacknife.</p>
+
+<p>It was time for the other cur to find who his master was.</p>
+
+<p>"Follow your dog, Abner Briggs!" said Master Langdon.</p>
+
+<p>The stout butcher-youth looked round, but the rebels were all cowed and
+sat still.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go when I'm ready," he said,&mdash;"'n' I guess I won't go afore I'm
+ready."</p>
+
+<p>"You're ready now," said Master Langdon, turning up his cuffs so that
+the little boys noticed the yellow gleam of a pair of gold
+sleeve-buttons, once worn by Colonel Percy Wentworth, famous in the Old
+French War.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Abner Briggs, Junior, did not apparently think he was ready, at any
+rate; for he rose up in his place, and stood with clenched fists,
+defiant, as the master strode towards him. The master knew the fellow
+was really frightened, for all his looks, and that he must have no time
+to rally. So he caught him suddenly by the collar, and, with one great
+pull, had him out over his desk and on the open floor. He gave him a
+sharp fling backwards and stood looking at him.</p>
+
+<p>The rough-and-tumble fighters all <i>clinch</i>, as everybody knows; and
+Abner Briggs, Junior, was one of that kind. He remembered how he had
+floored Master Weeks, and he had just "spunk" enough left in him to try
+to repeat his former successful experiment on the new master. He sprang
+at him, open-handed, to clutch him. So the master had to strike,&mdash;once,
+but very hard, and just in the place to tell. No doubt, the authority
+that doth hedge a schoolmaster added to the effect of the blow; but the
+blow was itself a neat one, and did not require to be repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Now go home," said the master, "and don't let me see you or your dog
+here again." And he turned his cuffs down again over the gold
+sleeve-buttons.</p>
+
+<p>This finished the great Pigwacket Centre School rebellion. What could be
+done with a master who was so pleasant as long as the boys behaved
+decently, and such a terrible fellow when he got "riled," as they called
+it? In a week's time, everything was reduced to order, and the
+school-committee were delighted. The master, however, had received a
+proposition so much more agreeable and advantageous, that he informed
+the committee he should leave at the end of his month, having in his eye
+a sensible and energetic young college-graduate who would be willing and
+fully competent to take his place.</p>
+
+<p>So, at the expiration of the appointed time, Bernard Langdon, late
+master of the School District No. 1, Pigwacket Centre, took his
+departure from that place for another locality, whither we shall follow
+him, carrying with him the regrets of the committee, of most of the
+scholars, and of several young ladies; also two locks of hair, sent
+unbeknown to payrents, one dark and one warmish auburn, inscribed with
+the respective initials of Alminy Cutterr and Arvilly Braowne.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3>
+
+<h3>THE MOTH FLIES INTO THE CANDLE.</h3>
+
+<p>The invitation which Mr. Bernard Langdon had accepted came from the
+Board of Trustees of the "Apollinean Female Institute," a school for the
+education of young ladies, situated in the flourishing town of Rockland.
+This was an establishment on a considerable scale, in which a hundred
+scholars or thereabouts were taught the ordinary English branches,
+several of the modern languages, something of Latin, if desired, with a
+little natural philosophy, metaphysics, and rhetoric, to finish off with
+in the last year, and music at any time when they would pay for it. At
+the close of their career in the Institute, they were submitted to a
+grand public examination, and received diplomas tied in blue ribbons,
+which proclaimed them with a great flourish of capitals to be graduates
+of the Apollinean Female Institute.</p>
+
+<p>Rockland was a town of no inconsiderable pretensions. It was ennobled by
+lying at the foot of a mountain,&mdash;called by the working-folks of the
+place "<i>the</i> maounting,"&mdash;which sufficiently showed that it was the
+principal high land of the district in which it was situated. It lay to
+the south of this, and basked in the sunshine as Italy stretches herself
+before the Alps. To pass from the town of Tamarack on the north of the
+mountain to Rockland on the south was like crossing from Coire to
+Chiavenna.</p>
+
+<p>There is nothing gives glory and grandeur and romance and mystery to a
+place like the impending presence of a high mountain. Our beautiful
+Northampton with its fair meadows and noble stream is lovely enough, but
+owes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> its surpassing attraction to those twin summits which brood over
+it like living presences, looking down into its streets as if they were
+its tutelary divinities, dressing and undressing their green shrines,
+robing themselves in jubilant sunshine or in sorrowing clouds, and doing
+penance in the snowy shroud of winter, as if they had living hearts
+under their rocky ribs and changed their mood like the children of the
+soil at their feet, who grow up under their almost parental smiles and
+frowns. Happy is the child whose first dreams of heaven are blended with
+the evening glories of Mount Holyoke, when the sun is firing its
+treetops, and gilding the white walls that mark its one human dwelling!
+If the other and the wilder of the twain has a scowl of terror in its
+overhanging brows, yet is it a pleasing fear to look upon its savage
+solitudes through the barred nursery-windows in the heart of the sweet,
+companionable village.&mdash;And how the mountains love their children! The
+sea is of a facile virtue, and will run to kiss the first comer in any
+port he visits; but the chaste mountains sit apart, and show their faces
+only in the midst of their own families.</p>
+
+<p>The Mountain that kept watch to the north of Rockland lay waste and
+almost inviolate through much of its domain. The catamount still glared
+from the branches of its old hemlocks on the lesser beasts that strayed
+beneath him. It was not long since a wolf had wandered down, famished in
+the winter's dearth, and left a few bones and some tufts of wool of what
+had been a lamb in the morning. Nay, there were broad-footed tracks in
+the snow only two years previously, which could not be mistaken;&mdash;the
+black bear alone could have set that plantigrade seal, and little
+children must come home early from school and play, for he is an
+indiscriminate feeder when he is hungry, and a little child would not
+come amiss when other game was wanting.</p>
+
+<p>But these occasional visitors may have been mere wanderers, which,
+straying along in the woods by day, and perhaps stalking through the
+streets of still villages by night, had worked their way along down from
+the ragged mountain-spurs of higher latitudes. The one feature of The
+Mountain that shed the brownest horror on its woods was the existence of
+the terrible region known as Rattlesnake Ledge, and still tenanted by
+those damnable reptiles, which distil a fiercer venom under our cold
+northern sky than the cobra himself in the land of tropical spices and
+poisons.</p>
+
+<p>From the earliest settlement of the place, this fact had been, next to
+the Indians, the reigning nightmare of the inhabitants. It was easy
+enough, after a time, to drive away the savages; for "a screeching
+Indian Divell," as our fathers called him, could not crawl into the
+crack of a rock to escape from his pursuers. But the venomous population
+of Rattlesnake Ledge had a Gibraltar for their fortress that might have
+defied the siege-train dragged to the walls of Sebastopol. In its deep
+embrasures and its impregnable casemates they reared their families,
+they met in love or wrath, they twined together in family knots, they
+hissed defiance in hostile clans, they fed, slept, hybernated, and in
+due time died in peace. Many a foray had the town's-people made, and
+many a stuffed skin was shown as a trophy,&mdash;nay, there were families
+where the children's first toy was made from the warning appendage that
+once vibrated to the wrath of one of these "cruel serpents." Sometimes
+one of them, coaxed out by a warm sun, would writhe himself down the
+hillside into the roads, up the walks that led to houses,&mdash;worse than
+this, into the long grass, where the bare-footed mowers would soon pass
+with their swinging scythes,&mdash;more rarely into houses,&mdash;and on one
+memorable occasion, early in the last century, into the meeting-house,
+where he took a position on the pulpit-stairs,&mdash;as is narrated in the
+"Account of Some Remarkable Providences," etc., where it is suggested
+that a strong tendency of the Rev. Didymus Bean, the Minister at that
+time, towards the Arminian<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> Heresy may have had something to do with it,
+and that the Serpent supposed to have been killed on the Pulpit-Stairs
+was a false show of the D&aelig;mon's Contrivance, he having come in to listen
+to a Discourse which was a sweet Savour in his Nostrils, and, of course,
+not being capable of being killed Himself. Others said, however, that,
+though there was good Reason to think it was a D&aelig;mon, yet he did come
+with Intent to bite the Heel of that faithful Servant,&mdash;etc.</p>
+
+<p>One Gilson is said to have died of the bite of a rattlesnake in this
+town early in the present century. After this there was a great
+snake-hunt, in which very many of these venomous beasts were
+killed,&mdash;one in particular, said to have been as big round as a stout
+man's arm, and to have had no less than <i>forty</i> joints to his
+rattle,&mdash;indicating, according to some, that he had lived forty years,
+but, if we might put any faith in the Indian tradition, that he had
+killed forty human beings,&mdash;an idle fancy, clearly. This hunt, however,
+had no permanent effect in keeping down the serpent population.
+Viviparous creatures are a kind of specie-paying lot, but oviparous ones
+only give their notes, as it were, for a future brood,&mdash;an egg being, so
+to speak, a promise to pay a young one by-and-by, if nothing happen. Now
+the domestic habits of the rattlesnake are not studied very closely, for
+obvious reasons; but it is, no doubt, to all intents and purposes
+oviparous. Consequently it has large families, and is not easy to kill
+out.</p>
+
+<p>In the year 184-, a melancholy proof was afforded to the inhabitants of
+Rockland, that the brood which infested The Mountain was not extirpated.
+A very interesting young married woman, detained at home at the time by
+the state of her health, was bitten in the entry of her own house by a
+rattlesnake which had found its way down from The Mountain. Owing to the
+almost instant employment of powerful remedies, the bite did not prove
+immediately fatal; but she died within a few months of the time when she
+was bitten.</p>
+
+<p>All this seemed to throw a lurid kind of shadow over The Mountain. Yet,
+as many years passed without any accident, people grew comparatively
+careless, and it might rather be said to add a fearful kind of interest
+to the romantic hillside, that the banded reptiles, which had been the
+terror of the red men for nobody knows how many thousand years, were
+there still, with the same poison-bags and spring-teeth at the white
+men's service, if they meddled with them.</p>
+
+<p>The other natural features of Rockland were such as many of our pleasant
+country-towns can boast of. A brook came tumbling down the mountain-side
+and skirted the most thickly settled portion of the village. In the
+parts of its course where it ran through the woods, the water looked
+almost as brown as coffee flowing from its urn,&mdash;to say like <i>smoky
+quartz</i> would perhaps give a better idea,&mdash;but in the open plain it
+sparkled over the pebbles white as a queen's diamonds. There were
+huckleberry-pastures on the lower flanks of The Mountain, with plenty of
+the sweet-scented bayberry mingled with the other bushes. In other
+fields grew great store of high-bush blackberries. Along the road-side
+were barberry-bushes, hung all over with bright red coral pendants in
+autumn and far into the winter. Then there were swamps set thick with
+dingy-leaved alders, where the three-leaved arum and the skunk's-cabbage
+grew broad and succulent,&mdash;shelving down into black boggy pools here and
+there, at the edge of which the green frog, stupidest of his tribe, sat
+waiting to be victimized by boy or snapping-turtle long after the shy
+and agile leopard-frog had taken the six-foot spring that plumped him
+into the middle of the pool. And on the neighboring banks the
+maiden-hair spread its flat disk of embroidered fronds on the wire-like
+stem that glistened brown and polished as the darkest tortoise-shell,
+and pale violets, cheated by the cold skies of their hues and perfume,
+sunned themselves like white-cheeked invalids. Over these rose the old
+forest-trees,&mdash;the maple, scarred with the wounds that had drained away
+its sweet life-blood,&mdash;the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> beech, its smooth gray bark mottled so as to
+look like the body of one of those great snakes of old that used to
+frighten armies,&mdash;always the mark of lovers' knives, as in the days of
+Musidora and her swain,&mdash;the yellow birch, rough as the breast of
+Silenus in old marbles,&mdash;the wild cherry, its little bitter fruit lying
+unheeded at its foot,&mdash;and, soaring over all, the huge, coarse-barked,
+splintery-limbed, dark-mantled hemlock, in the depths of whose a&euml;rial
+solitudes the crow brooded on her nest unscared, and the gray squirrel
+lived unharmed till his incisors grew to look like ram's-horns.</p>
+
+<p>Rockland would have been but half a town without its pond; Quinnepeg
+Pond was the name of it, but the young ladies of the Apollinean
+Institute were very anxious that it should be called Crystalline Lake.
+It was here that the young folks used to sail in summer and skate in
+winter; here, too, those queer, old, rum-scented, good-for-nothing,
+lazy, story-telling, half-vagabonds, that sawed a little wood or dug a
+few potatoes now and then under the pretence of working for their
+living, used to go and fish through the ice for pickerel every winter.
+And here those three young people were drowned, a few summers ago, by
+the upsetting of a sail-boat in a sudden flaw of wind. There is not one
+of these smiling ponds that has not devoured more youths and maidens
+than any of those monsters the ancients used to tell such lies about.
+But it was a pretty pond, and never looked more innocent&mdash;so the native
+"bard" of Rockland said in his elegy&mdash;than on the morning when they
+found Sarah Jane and Ellen Maria floating among the lily-pads.</p>
+
+<p>The Apollinean Institute, or Institoot, as it was more commonly called,
+was, in the language of its Prospectus, a "first-class Educational
+Establishment." It employed a considerable corps of instructors to rough
+out and finish the hundred young lady scholars it sheltered beneath its
+roof. First, Mr. and Mrs. Peckham, the Principal and the Matron of the
+school. Silas Peckham was a thorough Yankee, born on a windy part of the
+coast, and reared chiefly on salt-fish. Everybody knows the type of
+Yankee produced by this climate and diet: thin, as if he had been split
+and dried; with an ashen kind of complexion, like the tint of the food
+he is made of; and about as sharp, tough, juiceless, and biting to deal
+with as the other is to the taste. Silas Peckham kept a young ladies'
+school exactly as he would have kept a hundred head of cattle,&mdash;for the
+simple, unadorned purpose of making just as much money in just as few
+years as could be safely done. Of course the great problem was, to feed
+these hundred hungry misses at the cheapest practicable rate, precisely
+as it would be with the cattle. So that Mr. Peckham gave very little
+personal attention to the department of instruction, but was always busy
+with contracts for flour and potatoes, beef and pork, and other
+nutritive staples, the amount of which required for such an
+establishment was enough to frighten a quartermaster. Mrs. Peckham was
+from the West, raised on Indian corn and pork, which give a fuller
+outline and a more humid temperament, but may perhaps be thought to
+render people a little coarse-fibred. Her speciality was to look after
+the feathering, cackling, roosting, rising, and general behavior of
+these hundred chicks. An honest, ignorant woman, she could not have
+passed an examination in the youngest class. So this distinguished
+institution was under the charge of a commissary and a housekeeper, and
+its real business was feeding girls to grain, roots, and meats, under
+cover, and making money by it.</p>
+
+<p>Connected with this, however, was the incidental fact, which the public
+took for the principal one, namely, the business of instruction. Mr.
+Peckham knew well enough that it was just as well to have good
+instructors as bad ones, so far as cost was concerned, and a great deal
+better for the reputation of his feeding-establishment. So he tried to
+get the best he could without paying too much, and, having got them, to
+screw all the work<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> out of them that could possibly be extracted.</p>
+
+<p>There was a master for the English branches, with a young lady
+assistant. There was another young lady who taught French, of the
+<i>ahvahng</i> and <i>pahndahng</i> style, which does not exactly smack of the
+<i>asphalte</i> of the Boulevard <i>trottoirs</i>. There was also a German teacher
+of music, who sometimes helped in French of the <i>ahfaung</i> and
+<i>bauntaung</i> style,&mdash;so that, between the two, the young ladies could
+hardly have been mistaken for Parisians, by a Committee of the French
+Academy. The German teacher also taught a Latin class after his
+fashion,&mdash;<i>benna</i>, a ben, <i>gahboot</i>, a head, and so forth.</p>
+
+<p>The master for the English branches had lately left the school for
+private reasons, which need not be here mentioned,&mdash;but he had gone, at
+any rate, and it was his place which had been offered to Mr. Bernard
+Langdon. The offer came just in season,&mdash;as, for various causes, he was
+willing to leave the place where he had begun his new experience.</p>
+
+<p>It was on a fine morning, that Mr. Bernard, ushered in by Mr. Peckham,
+made his appearance in the great schoolroom of the Apollinean Institute.
+A general rustle ran all round the seats when the handsome young man was
+introduced. The principal carried him to the desk of the young lady
+English assistant, Miss Darley by name, and introduced him to her.</p>
+
+<p>There was not a great deal of study done that day. The young lady
+assistant had to point out to the new master the whole routine in which
+the classes were engaged when their late teacher left, and which had
+gone on as well as it could since. Then Master Langdon had a great many
+questions to ask, some relating to his new duties, and some, perhaps,
+implying a degree of curiosity not very unnatural under the
+circumstances. The truth is, the general effect of the schoolroom, with
+its scores of young girls, all their eyes naturally centring on him with
+fixed or furtive glances, was enough to bewilder and confuse a young man
+like Master Langdon, though he was not destitute of self-possession, as
+we have already seen.</p>
+
+<p>You cannot get together a hundred girls, taking them as they come, from
+the comfortable and affluent classes, probably anywhere, certainly not
+in New England, without seeing a good deal of beauty. In fact, we very
+commonly mean by <i>beauty</i> the way young girls look when there is nothing
+to hinder their looking as Nature meant them to. And the great
+schoolroom of the Apollinean Institute did really make so pretty a show
+on the morning when Master Langdon entered it, that he might be pardoned
+for asking Miss Darley more questions about his scholars than about
+their lessons.</p>
+
+<p>There were girls of all ages: little creatures, some pallid and
+delicate-looking, the offspring of invalid parents,&mdash;much given to
+books, not much to mischief, commonly spoken of as particularly good
+children, and contrasted with another sort, girls of more vigorous
+organization, who were disposed to laughing and play, and required a
+strong hand to manage them;&mdash;then young growing misses of every shade of
+Saxon complexion, and here and there one of more Southern hue: blondes,
+some of them so translucent-looking, that it seemed as if you could see
+the souls in their bodies, like bubbles in glass, if souls were objects
+of sight; brunettes, some with rose-red colors, and some with that
+swarthy hue which often carries with it a heavily-shaded lip, and which
+with pure outlines and outspoken reliefs gives us some of our handsomest
+women,&mdash;the women whom ornaments of pure gold adorn more than any other
+<i>parures</i>; and again, but only here and there, one with dark hair and
+gray or blue eyes, a Celtic type, perhaps, but found in our native stock
+occasionally; rarest of all, a light-haired girl with dark eyes, hazel,
+brown, or of the color of that mountain-brook spoken of in this chapter,
+where it ran through shadowy woodlands. With these were to be seen at
+intervals some of maturer years, full-blown flowers among<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> the opening
+buds, with that conscious look upon their faces which so many women wear
+during the period when they never meet a single man without having his
+monosyllable ready for him,&mdash;tied as they are, poor things! on the rock
+of expectation, each of them an Andromeda waiting for her Perseus.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is that girl in ringlets,&mdash;the fourth in the third row on the
+right?" said Master Langdon.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte Ann Wood," said Miss Darley;&mdash;"writes very pretty poems."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!&mdash;And the pink one, three seats from her? Looks bright; anything in
+her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Emma Dean,&mdash;day-scholar,&mdash;Squire Dean's daughter,&mdash;nice girl,&mdash;second
+medal last year."</p>
+
+<p>The master asked these two questions in a careless kind of way, and did
+not seem to pay any too much attention to the answers.</p>
+
+<p>"And who and what is that," he said,&mdash;"sitting a little apart
+there,&mdash;that strange, wild-looking girl?"</p>
+
+<p>This time he put the real question he wanted answered;&mdash;the other two
+were asked at random, as masks for the third.</p>
+
+<p>The lady-teacher's face changed;&mdash;one would have said she was frightened
+or troubled. She looked at the girl doubtfully, as if she might hear the
+master's question and its answer. But the girl did not look up;&mdash;she was
+winding a gold chain about her wrist, and then uncoiling it, as if in a
+kind of reverie.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Darley drew close to the master and placed her hand so as to hide
+her lips. "Don't look at her as if we were talking about her," she
+whispered softly;&mdash;"that is Elsie Venner."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="MEXICO" id="MEXICO"></a>MEXICO.</h2>
+
+
+<p>A certain immortal fool, who had, like most admitted fools, great
+wisdom, once said, that the number of truces between the Christians and
+Saracens in Palestine made an old man of him; for he had known three of
+them, so that he must be at least one hundred and fifty years old. The
+saying occurs in a romance, to be sure, but one which is not half so
+romantic as the best-accredited decade of Titus Livius, and is quite as
+authentic as most of what Sir Archibald Alison says, when he writes on
+the United States.</p>
+
+<p>What Palestine and the Crusades were to the witty son of Witless, Mexico
+and her politics are to moderns, not even excepting the predestined
+devourers of the Aztec land, who ought to know something of the country
+they purpose bringing within the full light of civilization through the
+aid of slaughter and slavery. There are some myriads of "Americans of
+the North" yet living, and who entertain not the remotest idea of dying,
+who remember Mexico as a Spanish dependency quite as submissive to
+Viceroy Iturrigaray as Cuba is now to Captain-General Serrano; and who
+have seen her both an Empire and a Republic, and the theatre of more
+revolutions than England has known since the days of the Octarchy. The
+mere thought of the changes that have occurred there bewilders the mind;
+and the inhabitants of orderly countries, whether that order be the
+consequence of despotism or of constitutionalism, wonder that society
+should continue to exist in a country where government appears to be
+unknown.</p>
+
+<p>Less than fifty years cover the time between the appearance of Hidalgo
+and that of Miramon; and between the dates of the leaderships of the two
+men, Mexico<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> has had an army of generals, of whom little is now known
+beyond their names. Hidalgo, Morelos, Mina, Bravo, Iturbide, Guerrero,
+Bustamente, Victoria, Pedraza, Gomez Farias, Paredes, and Herrera,&mdash;such
+are the names that were once familiar to our countrymen in connection
+with Mexican affairs. We have now a new race of Mexican
+chiefs,&mdash;Alvarez, Comonfort, Zuloaga, Uraga, Juarez, Vidaurri, Haro y
+Tamariz, Degollado, and Miramon. Some of these last-named chiefs might,
+perhaps, be classed with those first named, from years and services; but
+whatever of political importance they have belongs to the present time;
+and the most important man of them all, Miramon, is said to be very
+young, and was not born until many years after the last vestiges of the
+vice-regal rule had been removed. Santa A&ntilde;a, but for his shifting round
+so often,&mdash;now an absolute ruler, and then an absolute runaway, yet ever
+contriving to get the better of his antagonists, whether they happen to
+be clever Mexicans or dull Americans,&mdash;might be called the isthmus that
+connects the first generation of leaders with that which now misleads
+his country. Santa A&ntilde;a's public life synchronizes with the independence
+of Mexico of foreign rule, and his career can hardly be pronounced at an
+end. It would be of the nature of a newspaper coincidence, were he to
+know his "last of earth" at the very time when, by all indications,
+Mexico stands in greater danger of losing her national life than she has
+known since the day when Barradas was sent to play the part of Cort&eacute;s,
+but proved himself not quite equal to that of Narvaez. Santa A&ntilde;a owed
+much of his power to his victory over the Spaniards in 1830, though
+pestilence did half the work to his hand; and perhaps no better evidence
+of the hatred of the Mexicans for Spanish rule can be adduced, than the
+hold which he has maintained over their minds, in consequence of the
+part he took in overthrowing that rule, and in rendering its return
+impossible.</p>
+
+<p>Provoked by the anarchy which has so long existed in Mexico, American
+writers, and writers of other countries, have sometimes contrasted the
+condition of that nation with the order that prevailed there during the
+Spanish ascendency, and it is not uncommon to hear Americans say that
+the worst thing that ever happened to the Mexicans was the overthrow of
+that ascendency. They forget that the causes of Mexican anarchy were of
+Spanish creation, and that it must have exhibited itself, all the same,
+if Mexico had not achieved her independence. The shock caused by the
+seizure of the Spanish throne by Napoleon I. led to that war against the
+Spaniards in Mexico which prematurely broke out in 1810, and which was
+of the nature of a <i>Jacquerie</i>, but which would have been completely
+successful, had Hidalgo been equal to his position. It had been intended
+that the blow should be struck against the <i>Gachupines</i>,&mdash;European
+Spaniards, or persons of pure Spanish blood,&mdash;who were partisans of
+Spain, whether Spain were ruled by Bourbons or Bonapartes; and it was to
+have been delivered by the Creoles, who remained faithful to the House
+of Bourbon. Circumstances caused the Indian races to commence the war,
+and this was fatal to the original project, as it led to the union of
+both Spaniards and Creoles against the followers of Hidalgo. The army
+with which Calleja overthrew the forces of Hidalgo was an army of
+Creoles. It was composed of the very men who would have been foremost in
+putting down the Spaniards, if the Indians had remained quiet. From that
+time dates the disorder of Mexico, which has ever since continued,
+though at intervals the country has known short periods of comparative
+repose.</p>
+
+<p>In 1811 Morelos was the most conspicuous of the insurgent chiefs, and
+the next year he was successful in several engagements; and it was not
+until the end of 1815 that he fell into the hands of his enemies, by
+whom he was shot, sharing the fate of Hidalgo.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> During the four years
+that he led the people, efforts were made to settle the controversy on
+an equitable basis that would have left the King of Spain master of
+Mexico; but the pride of the Spaniards would not allow them to listen to
+justice. They acted in Mexico as their ancestors had acted in the
+Netherlands. It is the chief characteristic of the Spaniard, that, in
+dealing with foreigners, he always assumes a Roman-like superiority,
+without possessing the Roman's sense and shrewdness. The treatment of
+the Capuans by the Romans, as told by Livy in his narrative of the
+Hannibalian War, might be read as a history of the manner in which the
+Spaniards ever treat "rebels"; and never did they behave more cruelly
+than they behaved toward the Mexicans in the last days of the viceroys.
+This fact is to be borne in mind, when we think of the sanguinary
+character of Mexican contests; for that character originated in the
+action of the Spaniards during their struggles with the Patriots. The
+latter were not faultless, but they often exhibited a generosity and a
+self-denial that promised much for the future of their country, which
+promise would have been realized but for the ferocious tone of the
+warfare of the old governing race. The Spaniards were ultimately beaten,
+but they left behind them an evil that marred the victory of the
+Patriots, and which has done much to prevent it from proving useful to
+those who obtained it at great cost to themselves and their country.</p>
+
+<p>The defeat and death of Morelos proved fatal, for the time, to regular
+opposition on the part of the Patriots, and it was not until the arrival
+of Mina in Mexico that they renewed the war in force. This was in April,
+1817; and Mina was defeated and put to death in seven months after he
+landed. At the beginning of 1818, the viceroy Apodaca announced to the
+home government, "that he would be answerable for the safety of Mexico
+without a single additional soldier being sent out to reinforce the
+armies that were in the field." Had he been a wise man, the event might
+have justified this boast; but as he was neither wise nor honest, and as
+he sought to restore the old state of things in all its impurity, his
+confidence was fatal to the Spanish cause. The Spanish Constitution of
+1812 had been proclaimed in Mexico in the autumn of that year, and its
+existence kept the Liberal cause alive. So long as the Patriots had any
+power in the field, Apodaca, though an enemy of the Constitution, dared
+not seek its destruction; but after the overthrow of Mina, when he
+believed the Patriot party was "crushed out," he plotted against the
+Constitution, and resolved to restore the system that had existed down
+to 1812. Not a vestige of Liberalism was to remain. He selected for his
+chief tool the once famous Agustin de Iturbide, who turned out an edged
+tool, so sharp, indeed, that he not only cut the viceroy's fingers, but
+severed forever the connection between Mexico and Spain. Iturbide had
+eminently distinguished himself in the royal army, and to him it was
+owing that Morelos had been defeated. He was brave, ambitious, and able,
+and he possessed a handsome person and elegant manners. He was appointed
+to head an army in Western Mexico, on condition that he should
+"pronounce" in favor of the restoration of absolute royal authority. He
+accepted the command; but on the 24th of February, 1821, he astonished
+his employer by proclaiming, not the plan upon which they had agreed,
+but what is known as the <i>Plan of Iguala</i>, from the town where the
+proclamation was made. This plan provided that Mexico should be
+independent of Spain, and for the erection of the country into a
+constitutional monarchy, the throne of which should be filled by
+Ferdinand VII., or by one of his brothers,&mdash;or by some person chosen
+from among reigning families, should the Spanish Bourbons decline the
+invitation. The monarch was to be called <i>Emperor</i>, a title made
+fashionable and cheap by Bonaparte's example. Perfect equality was
+established, and all distinction of castes was abolished. Saving that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
+the Catholic religion was declared the national religion, the
+twenty-four articles of this Plan were of a liberal character, and leave
+an impression on the mind highly favorable to their author. Viewing it
+in the light of thirty-nine years, and seeing that republicanism has not
+succeeded in Mexico, even a democrat may regret that the Plan of Iguala
+did not become the constitution of that country.</p>
+
+<p>The simple abolition of Spanish rule would have satisfied the mass of
+the inhabitants, who cared little for political institutions, but who
+knew the evils they suffered from the tyranny of a class that did not
+number above one-eightieth part of the population. For the time, the
+Plan was successful: the clergy, the military, the people, and the old
+partisans of independence all supported it; and O'Donoju, who had
+arrived as successor to Apodaca, recognized Mexican independence. The
+victors entered the capital September 27, 1821, and established a
+provisional Junta, which created a regency, with Iturbide for President.
+On the 24th of February, 1822, a Congress assembled, which contained
+three parties, the representatives of those which existed in the
+country:&mdash;1. The Bourbonists, who desired that the Plan of Iguala should
+be adhered to in all its details; 2. The Iturbideans, who wished for a
+monarchy, with their chief as Emperor; and, 3. The Republicans, who were
+hostile to monarchical institutions as well as to Spanish rule. It is
+possible that the first party might have triumphed, had Spain been under
+the dominion of sagacious men; for the clergy must have preferred it,
+not only because it was that polity under which they were sure to have
+most consideration, but because the whole power of Rome might have been
+brought to bear in its behalf, and that the clergy never would have
+seriously thought of resisting;&mdash;and the influence of the clergy was
+great over the mass of the people. But the Spanish government would not
+ratify the treaty made by O'Donoju, or abandon its claim on Mexico. This
+left but two factions in the Congress, and their quarrel had a sudden
+termination, for the moment, in the elevation of Iturbide to the
+imperial throne, May 18th, 1822. This was the work of a handful of the
+lowest rabble of the capital, the select few of a vagabondage compared
+with whom the inhabitants of the Five Points may be counted grave
+constitutional politicians. The legislature went through the farce of
+approval, and the people acquiesced,&mdash;as they would have done, had he
+been proclaimed Cham. Had Iturbide understood his trade, he might have
+reigned long, perhaps have established a dynasty; but he did what nearly
+every Mexican chief since his time has done, and what, to be just,
+nearly every revolutionary government has sought to do: he endeavored to
+establish a tyranny. He dissolved the Congress, substituting a Junta for
+it, composed of his own adherents. The consequence was revolt in various
+parts of the empire. Santa A&ntilde;a, then Governor of Vera Cruz, "pronounced"
+against the Emperor; and Echavari, who was sent to punish him, played
+the same part toward Iturbide that Iturbide had played toward Apodaca:
+he joined the enemies of the imperial government. As Iturbide had
+triumphed over the viceroy by the aid of men of all parties but that of
+the old Spaniards, so was he overthrown by a coalition of an equally
+various character. He gave up the crown, after having worn it not quite
+ten months, and was allowed to depart, with the promise of an annual
+pension of twenty-five thousand dollars. Seeking to recover the crown in
+1824, he was seized and shot,&mdash;a fate of which he could not complain, as
+he was a man of bloody hand, and, as a royalist leader, had caused
+prisoners to be butchered by the hundred.</p>
+
+<p>The Republicans were now triumphant, but their conduct showed that they
+were not much better qualified to rule than were the Imperialists. They
+made a Federal Constitution,&mdash;that which is commonly known as the
+Constitution of 1824,&mdash;which was principally modelled on that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> of the
+United States. This imitation would have been ridiculous, if it had not
+been mischievous. Between the circumstances of America and those of
+Mexico there was no resemblance whatever, and hence the polity which is
+good for the one could be good for nothing to the other. One fact alone
+ought to have convinced the Mexican Constitutionalists of the absurdity
+of their doings. Their Constitution recognized the Catholic religion as
+the religion of the state, and absolutely forbade the profession of any
+other form of faith! In what part of our Constitution they found
+authority for such a provision as this, no man can say. It has been
+mentioned, reproachfully, that our Constitution does not even recognize
+God; yet on a Constitution modelled upon ours Mexican statesmen could
+graft an Established Church, with a monopoly of religion! Just where
+imitation would have been more creditable to them than originality, they
+became original. It has been said, in their defence, that the Church was
+so powerful that they could not choose but admit its claim. This would
+be a good defence, had they sought to make a Constitution in accordance
+with views admitting the validity of an Ecclesiastical Establishment.
+The charge against them is not, that they sanctioned an Establishment,
+but that they sought to couple with it a liberal republican
+Constitution, and thus to reconcile contradictions,&mdash;an end not to be
+attained anywhere, and least of all in a country like Mexico.</p>
+
+<p>The factions that arose in Mexico after the establishment of the
+Republic were the Federalists and the Centralists, being substantially
+the same as those which yet exist there. The Federalists have been the
+true liberals throughout the disturbances and troubles of a generation,
+and, though not faultless, are better entitled to the name of patriots
+than are the men by whom they have been opposed. They have been the foes
+of the priesthood, and have often sought to lessen its power and destroy
+its influence. If they could have had their will any time during the
+last thirty-five years, the priests would have been reduced to a
+condition of apostolic simplicity, and the Church's vast property been
+put to uses such as the Apostles would have approved. Guadalupe Victoria
+would probably have been as little averse to the confiscation of
+ecclesiastical property as was Thomas Cromwell himself. The fear that a
+firm and stable federal government would interfere with the privileges
+of the Church, and would not cease such interference until the change
+had been made perfect, which implied the Church's political destruction,
+is one of the chief reasons why no such government has ever had an
+existence in Mexico. The Church has favored every party and faction that
+has been opposed to order and liberty. Royalism, centralism, despotism,
+and even foreign conquest has it preferred to any state of things in
+which there should be found that due union of liberty and law without
+which no country can expect to have constitutional freedom. Had it ever
+been possible to establish a strong central government in Mexico, it is
+very probable the Church would have been one of its firmest pillars. The
+character and organization of that institution, its desire to maintain
+possession of its property, and its aversion to liberty of every kind,
+would all have united to make such a government worthy of the Church's
+support, provided it had supported the Church in its turn. The
+ecclesiastical influence is everywhere observable in the history of
+Mexico, from the beginning of the struggle for independence. The clergy
+were supporters of independence, not because they wished for liberty to
+the country, but that they might monopolize the vast power of their
+order. They hated the Spaniards as bitterly as they were hated by any
+other portion of the inhabitants of Mexico. But they never meant that
+republicanism should obtain the ascendency in the country. A powerful
+monarchy, an empire, was what they aimed at; and the government which
+Iturbide established was one that would have received their aid, could
+it have brought any power to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> the political firm the clergy desired to
+see in existence. It may be assumed that the clergy would have preferred
+a Spanish prince as emperor, for they were too sagacious not to know
+that the best part of royalty is that which is under ground. Kings must
+be born to their trade to succeed in it; and a brand-new emperor, like
+Iturbide, unless highly favored by circumstances, or singularly endowed
+with intellectual qualifications, could be of little service to the
+clerical party. He fell, as we have seen; but the clerical party
+remained, and, having continued to flourish, is at this time, it is
+probable, stronger than it was in 1822. It is owing to this party that
+the idea has never been altogether abandoned that Mexico should resume
+monarchical institutions; and every attempt that has been made to favor
+what in this country is known as consolidation has either been initiated
+by it or has received its assistance. That we do not misrepresent the
+so-called clerical party, in attributing to it a desire to see a king in
+Mexico, is clear from the candid admission of one of its members, who
+has written at length, and with much ability, in defence of its opinions
+and actions. "Had it been given to that party which is taxed with being
+absolutist," he says, "to see such a government in Mexico as the
+government of Brazil, (not to take examples out of the American
+continent,) their earnest desires would have been accomplished. It is
+therefore wrongfully that that party is the object of the curses
+lavished upon it." This is plain speaking, indeed,&mdash;the Brazilian
+government being one of the strongest monarchies in the world, and
+deriving its strength from the fact that it seeks the good of its
+subjects. The blindest republican who ever dreamed it was in the power
+of institutions to "cause or cure" the ills of humanity must admit,
+that, if Bourbon rule in Mexico could have produced results similar to
+those which have proceeded from Braganza rule in Brazil, it would have
+been the best fortune that the former country could have known, had Don
+Carlos or Don Francisco de Paula been allowed to wear the imperial crown
+which was set up in 1822. With less ability than Iturbide, either of
+those princes would have made a better monarch than that adventurer. It
+is not so much intellect as influence that makes a sovereign useful, the
+man being of far less consequence than the institution. Even the case of
+Napoleon I. affords no exception to this rule; for his dynasty and his
+empire fell with him, because they lacked the stability which comes from
+prescription alone. Had Marlborough and Eugene penetrated to Paris, as
+did Wellington and Bl&uuml;cher a century later, they never would have
+thought of subverting the Bourbon line; but the Bonaparte line was cut
+off as of course when its chief was defeated. The first king may have
+been a fortunate soldier only, but it requires several generations of
+royalty to give power to a reigning house, as in old times it required
+several descents to give to a man the flavor of genuine nobility. If it
+be objected to this, that it is an admission of the power which is
+claimed for flunkeyism, we can only meet the charge by saying that there
+is much of the flunkey in man, and that whoso shall endeavor to
+construct a government without recognizing a truth which is universal,
+though not great, will find that his structure can better be compared to
+the Syrian flower than to the Syrian cedar. The age of Model Republics
+has passed away even from dreams.</p>
+
+<p>We have called the party in Mexico which represents a certain fixed
+principle the clerical party; but we have done so more for the sake of
+convenience, and from deference to ordinary usage, than because the
+words accurately describe the Mexican reactionists. Conservative party
+would, perhaps, be the better name; and the word <i>conservative</i> would
+not be any more out of place in such a connection, or more perverted
+from its just meaning, than it is in England and the United States. The
+clergy form, as it were, the core of this party, and give to it a shape
+and consistency it could not have without their alliance. Yet, if we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>
+can believe the Mexican already quoted, and who is apparently well
+acquainted with the subject on which he has sought to enlighten the
+English mind, the party that is opposed to the Liberals is quite as much
+in favor of freedom as are the latter, and is utterly hostile to either
+religious or political despotism. After objecting to the course of those
+Mexicans who found a political pattern in the United States, and showing
+the evils that have followed from their awkward imitation, he says,&mdash;"No
+wonder, then, that some men, actuated by the love of their country,
+convinced of the danger to Mexican nationality from such a state of
+things, seeing clearly through all these American intrigues, and
+determined to oppose them by all the means in their power, should have
+formed long ago, and as soon as the first symptoms of anarchy and the
+cause of them became apparent, the centre of a party, which, having
+necessarily to combat the so-called 'Liberal party,' or, in other words,
+the American army, is accused of being a retrograde, absolutist,
+clerical party, bent on nothing but the re&euml;stablishment of the
+Inquisition and the 'worst of the worst times.' Nothing, however, is
+less true. That party contains in its bosom the most enlightened and the
+most respectable part of the community, men who have not as yet to learn
+the advantages and benefits of civil and religious liberty, and who
+would be happy indeed to see liberty established in their country; but
+liberty under the law, rational and wise liberty, liberty compatible
+with order and tranquillity, liberty, in a word, for good purposes,&mdash;not
+that savage, licentious, and tyrannical liberty, the object of which is
+anarchy, so well answering the private ends of its partisans, and, above
+all, the iniquitous views of an ambitious neighbor.... For the present,
+no doubt, their object is limited to obtain the triumph over their
+enemies, who are the enemies of Mexico, and to put down anarchy, as the
+first and most pressing want of the country, no matter under what form
+of government or by what means. In pursuance of such an object, the
+clergy naturally side with them; and hence, for those who are ignorant
+of the bottom of things in Mexican affairs, the denomination given to
+this party of 'Clerical party' supported by military despotism; whereas
+the 'Anarchical party' is favored with the name of 'Liberal
+Constitutional party.' It is, however, easy to see that those two
+parties would be more exactly designated, the one as the <i>Mexican
+Party</i>, the other as the <i>American Party</i>."</p>
+
+<p>If this delineation of the Conservative party be a fair one,&mdash;as
+probably it is, after making allowance for partisan coloring,&mdash;it is
+easy to see, that, while the clergy are with it, they are not of it; and
+also, that it would be involved in a quarrel with the priesthood in a
+week after it should have succeeded in its contest with the Liberals.
+Where, then, would be the restoration of order, of which this Mexican
+writer has so much to say? The clergy of Mexico are too powerful to
+become the tools of any political organization. They use politicians and
+parties,&mdash;are not used by them. The Conservative party, therefore, is
+not the coming party, either for the clergy or for Mexico. It answers
+the clergy's purpose of making it a shield against the Liberals, whose
+palms itch to be at the property of the Church; but it never could
+become their sword; and it is a sword, and a sharp and pointed one,
+firmly held, that the clergy desire, and must have, if their end is to
+be achieved. The defensive is not and cannot be their policy. They must
+rule or perish. Hence the victory of the Conservatives would be the
+signal for the opening of a new warfare, and the clergy would seek to
+found their power solidly on the bodies of the men whom they had used to
+destroy the Liberals. They have pursued one course for thirty-eight
+years, and will not be moved from it by any appeals that shall be made
+to them in the name of order and of law, appeals to which they have been
+utterly insensible when made by Liberals. Indeed, they will not be able
+to see any difference between the two parties, but will hate the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
+Conservatives with most bitterness, because standing more immediately in
+their way. A combat would be inevitable, with the chance that the
+American Eagle would descend upon the combatants and swoop them away.</p>
+
+<p>If anarchy were a reason for the formation of a league in Mexico,
+composed of all the conservative men of the country, it ought to have
+been formed long ago. Anarchy was organized there with the Republic, and
+was made much more permanent than Carnot made victory. Unequivocal
+evidences of its existence became visible before the Constitution was in
+a condition to be violated; and when that instrument was accepted, it
+appeared to have been set up in order that politicians and parties might
+have something definite to disregard. The first President was Guadalupe
+Victoria, an honest Republican, whose name has become somewhat dimmed by
+time. With him was associated Nicolas Bravo, as Vice-President. It was
+while Victoria was President that the masonic parties appeared, known as
+the Scotch masons and the York masons, or <i>Escoceses</i> and <i>Yorkinos</i>,
+which were nothing but clubs of the Centralists and the Federalists. The
+President was of the <i>Yorkinos</i> or Federalists, and the Vice-President
+was of the other lodge. Bravo and his party were for such changes as
+should substitute a constitutional monarchy, with a Spanish prince at
+its head, for the Constitution of 1824. Bravo "pronounced" openly
+against Victoria,&mdash;a proceeding of which the reader can form some idea
+by supposing Mr. Breckinridge heading a rabble force to expel Mr.
+Buchanan from Washington, for the purpose of calling in some member of
+the English royal family to sit on an American throne. Through the aid
+of Guerrero, a man of ability and integrity, and very popular, the
+Liberals triumphed in the field; but Congress elected his competitor,
+Pedraza, President, though the people were mostly for Guerrero. This was
+a most unfortunate circumstance, and to its occurrence much of the evil
+that Mexico has known for thirty years may be directly traced. Instead
+of submitting to the strictly legal choice of President, made by the
+members of Congress, the Federalists set the open example of revolting
+against the action of men who had performed their duties according to
+the requirements of the Constitution. Guerrero was violently made
+President. That the other party contemplated the destruction of the
+Constitution is very probable; but the worst that they, its enemies,
+could have done against it would have been a trifle in comparison with
+the demoralizing consequences of the violation of that instrument by its
+friends. Yet the Presidency of Guerrero will ever have honorable mention
+in history, for one most excellent reason: Slavery was abolished by him
+on the anniversary of Mexican independence, 1829, he deeming it proper
+to signalize that anniversary "by an act of national justice and
+beneficence." Will the time ever come when the Fourth of July shall have
+the same double claim to the reverence of mankind?</p>
+
+<p>Guerrero perished by the sword, as he had risen by it. The
+Vice-President, Bustamente, revolted, and was aided by Santa A&ntilde;a. His
+popularity was too great to allow him to be spared, and when he was
+captured, Guerrero was shot, in 1831. Of the many infamous acts of which
+Santa A&ntilde;a has been guilty, the murder of Guerrero is the worst. Possibly
+it would have ruined him, but for his services against the Spaniards, at
+about the same time. He was now the chief man in Mexico, and became
+President in 1833. The next year he dissolved Congress, and established
+a military government. The Constitution of 1824 was formally abolished
+in 1835, and a Central Constitution was proclaimed the next year, by
+which the States were converted into Departments. Santa A&ntilde;a kept as much
+aloof from these proceedings as he could, and sought to add to his
+popularity by attacking Texas, where he reaped a plentiful crop of
+cypress.</p>
+
+<p>The triumph of the Centralists was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> turning-point in the fortunes of
+Mexico, as it furnished a plausible pretext for American interference in
+her affairs, the end of which is rapidly approaching. The Texan revolt
+had no other justification than that which it derived from the overthrow
+of the Federal Constitution; but that was ample, and, had it not been
+for the introduction of slavery into Texas, the judgment of the
+civilized world would have been entirely in favor of the Texans. In
+1844, when our Presidential election was made to turn upon the question
+of the annexation of Texas to the United States, the grand argument of
+the annexationists was drawn from the circumstance that the Mexicans had
+abrogated the Federal Constitution, thereby releasing the Texans from
+their obligations to Mexico. This was an argument to which Americans,
+and especially democrats, those sworn foes of consolidation, were prone
+to lend a favorable ear; and it is certain that it had much weight in
+promoting the election of Mr. Polk. Had the Texan revolt been one of
+ambition merely, and not justifiable on political grounds apart from the
+Slavery question, the decision might have been different, if, indeed,
+the question had ever been introduced into the politics of this country.
+The sagacious men who managed the affairs of the Democratic party knew
+their business too well to attempt the extension of slave-holding
+territory in the gross and palpable form that is common in these
+shameless days. But Texas, as an injured party that had valiantly
+sustained its constitutional rights, was a very different thing from a
+province that had revolted against Mexico because forbidden by Mexican
+authority to allow the existence of slavery within its borders. There
+was much deception in the business, but there was sufficient truth and
+justice in the argument used to deceive honest men who do not trouble
+themselves to look beyond the surface of things. For more than twenty
+years our political controversies have all been colored by the triumph
+of the Mexican Centralists in 1835-6; and but for that triumph, it is
+altogether likely that our territory would not have been increased, and
+that the Slavery question, instead of absorbing the American mind, would
+have held but a subordinate place in our party debates. It may, perhaps,
+be deemed worthy of especial mention, that the action of the Centralists
+of Mexico, destined to affect us so sensibly, was initiated at the same
+time that the modern phase of the Slavery question was opened in the
+United States. The same year that saw the Federal Constitution of Mexico
+abolished saw our government laboring to destroy freedom of the press
+and the sanctity of the mails, by throwing its influence in favor of the
+bill to prevent the circulation of "incendiary publications," that is,
+publications drawn from the writings of Washington and Jefferson; and
+the same year that witnessed the final effort of Santa A&ntilde;a to "subdue"
+Texas to Centralization beheld General Cushing declaring that slavery
+should not be introduced into the North, thus "agitating" the country,
+and winning for himself that Abolition support without which his
+political career must have been cut short in the morning of its
+existence. Such are the coincidences of history!</p>
+
+<p>From the time of the victory of the Centralists until the commencement
+of the war with the United States, Mexico was the scene of perpetual
+disturbances. Mexia, a rash, but honest man, made an attempt to free his
+country in 1838, but failed, being defeated and executed by Santa A&ntilde;a,
+who came from the retirement to which his Texan failure had consigned
+him, as champion of the government. After some years of apparent
+anarchy, Santa A&ntilde;a became Dictator, and in 1843 a new Constitution, more
+centralizing in its nature than its immediate predecessor, was framed
+under his direction. At the beginning of 1845 he fell, and became an
+exile. His successor was General Herrera, who was desirous to avoid war
+with the United States, on which account he was violently opposed by
+Paredes, with success, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> latter usurping the Presidency. Aided by our
+government, Santa A&ntilde;a returned to Mexico, and infused new vigor into his
+countrymen. On his return, he avowed himself a Federalist, and
+recommended a recurrence to the Constitution of 1824, which was
+proclaimed. Paredes had fallen before a "revolution," and was allowed to
+proceed to Europe. He was a monarchist, and at that time the friends of
+monarchy in Mexico had some hopes of success. It is believed that the
+governments of England and France were desirous of establishing a
+Mexican monarchy, and their intervention in the affairs of Mexico was
+feared by our government. Two things, however, prevented their action,
+if ever they seriously contemplated armed intervention. The first was
+the rapid success of our armies, coupled as it was with the exhibition
+of a military spirit and capacity for which European nations had not
+been prepared by anything in our previous history; and the second was
+the potato-rot, which brought Great Britain to the verge of famine, and
+broke up the Tory party. The ill feeling, too, that was created between
+the English and French governments by the Montpensier marriage, and the
+discontent of the French people, which led to the Revolution of 1848,
+were not without their effect on affairs. Had our government resolved to
+seize all Mexico, it could have done so without encountering European
+resistance in 1848, when there was not a stable Continental government
+of the first class west of the Niemen, and when England was too much
+occupied with home matters, and with the revolutions that were happening
+all around her, to pay any regard to the course of events in the
+Occident. But the Polk administration was not equal to the work that was
+before it; and though members of the Democratic party did think of
+acting, and men of property in Mexico were anxious for annexation,
+nothing was done. The American forces left Mexico, and the old routine
+of weakness and disorder was there resumed. Perhaps it would be better
+to say it was continued; for the war had witnessed no intermission of
+the senseless proceedings of the Mexican politicians. Their contests
+were waged as bitterly as they had been while the country enjoyed
+external peace.</p>
+
+<p>Several persons held the Presidential chair after the resignation of
+Herrera. Organic changes were made. The clergy exhibited the same
+selfishness that had characterized their action for five-and-twenty
+years. An Extraordinary Constituent Congress confirmed the readoption of
+the Constitution of 1824, making such slight changes as were deemed
+necessary. Santa A&ntilde;a again became President. Some of the States formed
+associations for defence, acting independently of the general
+government. After the loss of the capital, Santa A&ntilde;a resigned the
+Presidency, and Pe&ntilde;a y Pe&ntilde;a succeeded him, followed by Anaya; but the
+first soon returned to office. Peace was made, and Santa A&ntilde;a again went
+into exile. Herrera was chosen President, and for more than two years
+devoted himself to the work of reformation, with considerable success,
+though outbreaks and rebellions occurred in many quarters. President
+Arista also showed himself to be a firm and patriotic chief. But in 1852
+a reaction took place, under favor of which Santa A&ntilde;a returned home and
+became President for the fifth time, and Arista was banished. The
+government of Santa A&ntilde;a was absolute in its character, and much
+resembled that which Napoleon III. has established in France,&mdash;with this
+difference, that it wanted that strength which is the chief merit of the
+French imperial system. It encountered opposition of the usual form,
+from time to time, until it was broken down, in August, 1855, when the
+President left both office and the country, and has since resided
+abroad. The new revolution favored Federalism. Alvarez was chosen
+President, but he was too liberal for the Church party, being so
+unreasonable as to require that the property of the Church should be
+taxed. Plots and conspiracies were formed against him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> and it being
+discovered that the climate of the capital did not agree with him, he
+resigned, and was succeeded by General Comonfort. Half a dozen leaders
+"pronounced" against Comonfort, one of them announcing his purpose to
+establish an Empire. Government made head against these attacks, and
+seized property belonging to the Church. Some eminent Church officers
+were banished, for the part they had taken in exciting insurrections. At
+the close of 1857, Comonfort made himself Dictator; but the very men who
+urged him to the step became his enemies, and he was deprived of power.
+Zuloaga, who was one of his advisers and subsequent enemies, succeeded
+him, being chosen President by a Council of Notables. Comonfort's
+measures for the confiscation of Church property were repealed. The
+Constitution of 1857 placed the Presidential power in the hands of the
+Chief Justice, on the resignation of the President, whence the
+prominence of Juarez lately, he being Chief Justice when Comonfort
+resigned. Assembling troops, he encountered Zuloaga, but was defeated.
+The Juarez "government" then left the country, but shortly after
+returned. Insurrections broke out in different places, and confusion
+reigned on all sides. General Robles deposed Zuloaga, and made an honest
+effort to unite the Liberals and Conservatives; but the Junta which he
+assembled elected Miramon President, a new man, who had distinguished
+himself as a leader of the Conservative forces. Miramon reinstated
+Zuloaga, but accepted the Presidency on the latter's abdication, and has
+since been the principal personage in Mexico, and, though he has
+experienced occasional reverses, has far more power than Juarez. At the
+close of the year 1859, the greater part of Mexico was either disposed
+to submit to the Miramon government, or cared little for either Miramon
+or Juarez.</p>
+
+<p>It is impossible to believe that the Juarez government is possessed of
+much strength; and the gentleman who lately represented the United
+States in Mexico (Mr. Forsyth) is of opinion that it is powerless.
+Nevertheless, our government acknowledges that of Juarez, and has made
+itself a party to the contests in Mexico. In his last Annual Message,
+President Buchanan devotes much space to Mexican affairs, drawing a
+deplorable picture thereof, and recommending armed intervention by the
+United States in behalf of the Liberal party. "I recommend to Congress,"
+says the President, "to pass a law authorizing the President, under such
+conditions as they may deem expedient, to employ a sufficient military
+force to enter Mexico for the purpose of obtaining indemnity for the
+past and security for the future." This force, should Congress respond
+favorably to the Presidential recommendation, is to act in concert with
+the Juarez government, and to "restore" it to power. In return for such
+aid, that government is to indemnify the Americans, and to provide that
+no more Americans shall be wronged by Mexican governments. Does the
+President believe this theory of Mexican settlement will be accepted by
+the world? If yes, then is he a man of marvellous faith, considering the
+uncommonly excellent opportunities he has had to learn what the
+political settlements of Mexico really mean. If no, then he has a
+meaning beneath his words, and that meaning is the conquest of Mexico.
+We do not charge duplicity upon President Buchanan, but it is vexatious
+and humiliating to be compelled to choose between such charge and the
+belief of a degree of simplicity in him that would be astonishing in a
+yearling politician, and which is astounding in a man who has held high
+office for well-nigh forty years. Let us suppose that Congress should
+kindly listen to President Buchanan's recommendation,&mdash;that a strong
+fleet and a great army should be sent to the aid of the Juarez
+government, and should establish it in the capital of Mexico, and then
+leave the country and the coasts of "our sister Republic,"&mdash;what would
+follow? Why, exactly what we have seen follow the Peace of 1848. The
+Juarez<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> government could not be stronger or more honest than was that of
+Herrera, or more anxious to effect the rehabilitation of Mexico; yet
+Herrera's government had to encounter rebellions, and outrages were
+common during its existence, and afterward, when men of similar views
+held sway, or what passes for sway in "our sister Republic." So would it
+be again, should we effect a "restoration" of the Liberals. In a week
+after our last regiment should have returned home, there would be
+rebellions for our allies to suppress. If they should succeed in
+maintaining their power, it would be as the consequence of a violation
+of their agreement with us; and where, then, would be the "indemnity"
+for which we are to fight? If they should be overthrown, as probably
+would be their fate, where would be the "security" for which we are to
+pay so highly in blood and gold? It is useless to quote the treaty which
+the Juarez government has just made with our government, as evidence of
+its liberality and good faith. That treaty is of no more value than
+would be one between the United States and the ex-king of Delhi. Nothing
+is more notorious than the liberality of parties that are not in power.
+There is no stipulation to which they will not assent, and violate, if
+their interest should be supposed to lie in the direction of perjury.
+Have we, in the hour of our success, been invariably true to the
+promises made in the hour of our necessities? A study of the treaty we
+made with France in 1778, by the light of after years, would be useful
+to men who think that a treaty made is an accomplished fact. The people
+of the United States have to choose between the conquest of Mexico and
+non-intervention in Mexican affairs. There may be something to be said
+in favor of conquest, though the President's arguments in that
+direction&mdash;for such they are, disguised though they be&mdash;remind us
+strongly of those which were put forth in justification of the partition
+of Poland; but the policy of intervention does not bear criticism for
+one moment. Either it is conquest veiled, or it is a blunder, the chance
+to commit which is to be purchased at an enormous price; and blunders
+are to be had for nothing, and without the expenditure of life and
+money.</p>
+
+<p>We had purposed speaking of the condition of Mexico, the character of
+her population, and the probable effect of her absorption by the United
+States; but the length to which our article has been drawn in the
+statement of preliminary facts&mdash;a statement made necessary by the
+general disregard of Mexican matters by most Americans&mdash;warns us to
+forbear. We may return to the subject, should the action of Congress on
+the President's recommendation lead to the placing of the Mexican
+question on the list of those questions that must be decided by the
+event of the national election of the current year.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="REVIEWS_AND_LITERARY_NOTICES" id="REVIEWS_AND_LITERARY_NOTICES"></a>REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.</h2>
+
+
+<p><i>The Florence Stories.</i> By <span class="smcap">Jacob Abbott.</span> <i>Florence and John.</i> New York:
+Sheldon &amp; Co. 16mo. pp. 252.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ernest Bracebridge, or Schoolboy Days.</i> By <span class="smcap">W. H. G. Kingston</span>. Boston:
+Ticknor &amp; Fields. 16mo. pp. 344.</p>
+
+<p>How should a book for children be written?</p>
+
+<p>Three rules will suffice. It should be written clearly and simply; for
+young minds will spend little time in difficult investigation. It should
+have a good moral. It should be interesting; or it will generally be
+left unread, and thus any other excellence that it may possess will be
+useless. Some writers seem to have a fourth rule,&mdash;that it should be
+instructive; but, really, it is no great matter, if a child should have
+some books without wisdom. Moreover, this maxim is eminently perilous in
+its practical application, and, indeed, is seldom followed but at the
+expense of the other three.</p>
+
+<p>To these three rules all writers of children's books profess to conform;
+yet a good book for children is a rarity; for, simple as the rules are,
+they are very little understood. While all admit that the style should
+be simple and familiar, some appear to think that anything simple to
+them will be equally simple to their child-readers, and write as nearly
+as possible in the style of "The Rambler." Such a book is "The Percy
+Family," whose author is guilty of an additional impropriety in putting
+his ponderous sentences into the mouth of a child not ten years old.
+Another and more numerous class, evidently piquing themselves not a
+little upon avoiding this error, fall into another by fancying it
+necessary to <i>write down</i> to their young readers. They explain
+everything with a tiresome minuteness of detail, although any observer
+of children ought to know that a child's mind does not want everything
+explained. They think that simplicity demands this lengthy discussion of
+every trivial matter. There is such a thing as a conceited simplicity,
+and there is a technical simplicity, that in its barrenness and
+insipidity is worthy only of a simpleton. In Jacob Abbott's "Juveniles"
+especially, by means of this minuteness, a very scanty stock of ideas is
+made to go a great way. Does simplicity require such trash as this?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"The place was known by the name of the Octagon. The reason why
+it was called by this name was, that the principal sitting-room
+in the house was built in the form of an octagon, that is,
+instead of having four sides, as a room usually has, this room
+had eight sides. An octagon is a figure of eight sides.</p>
+
+<p>"A figure of four sides is called a square. A figure of five
+sides is called a pentagon, of six sides a hexagon, of eight
+sides an octagon. There might be a figure of seven sides, but
+it would not be very easily made, and it would not be very
+pretty when it was made, and so it is seldom used or spoken of.
+But octagons and hexagons are very common, for they are easily
+made, and they are very regular and symmetrical in form."</p></div>
+
+<p>The object of all this is, doubtless, to impart valuable information.
+But while such slipshod writing is singularly uninteresting, it may also
+be censured as inaccurate. Mr. Abbott seems to think all polygons
+necessarily regular. Any child can make a heptagon at once,
+notwithstanding Mr. Abbott calls it so difficult. A <i>regular</i> heptagon,
+indeed, is another matter. Then what does he mean by saying octagons and
+hexagons are very regular? A regular octagon is regular, though an
+octagon in general is no more regular than any other figure. But Mr.
+Abbott continues:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"If you wish to see exactly what the form of an octagon is, you
+can make one in this way. First cut out a piece of paper in the
+form of a square. This square will, of course, have four sides
+and four corners. Now, if you cut off the four corners, you
+will have four new sides, for at every place where you cut off
+a corner you will have a new side. These four new sides,
+together with the parts of the old sides that are left, will
+make eight sides, and so you will have an octagon.</p>
+
+<p>"If you wish your octagon to be regular, you must be careful
+how much you cut off at each corner. If you cut off too little,
+the new sides which you make will not be so long as what
+remains of the old ones. If you cut off too much, they will be
+longer. You had better cut off a little at first from each
+corner, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>all around, and then compare the new sides with what
+is left of the old ones. You can then cut off a little more,
+and so on, until you make your octagon nearly regular.</p>
+
+<p>"There are other much more exact modes of making octagons than
+this, but I cannot stop to describe them here."</p></div>
+
+<p>Must we have no more pennyworths of sense to such a monstrous quantity
+of verbiage than Mr. Abbott gives us here? We would defy any man to
+parody that. He could teach the penny-a-liners a trick of the trade
+worth knowing. The great Chrononhotonthologos, crying,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Go call a coach, and let a coach be called,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let the man that calleth be the caller,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when he calleth, let him nothing call<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But 'Coach! coach! coach! Oh, for a coach, ye gods!'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>is comparatively a very Spartan for brevity. This may be a cheap way of
+writing books; but the books are a dear bargain to the buyer.</p>
+
+<p>A book is not necessarily ill adapted to a child because its ideas and
+expressions are over his head. Some books, that were not written for
+children and would shock all Mr. Abbott's most dearly cherished ideas,
+are still excellent reading for them. Walter Scott's poems and novels
+will please an intelligent child. Cooper's Leatherstocking tales will
+not be read by the lad of fourteen more eagerly than by his little
+sister who cannot understand half of them. A child fond of reading can
+have no more delightful book than the "Fa&euml;rie Queene," unless it be the
+"Arabian Nights," which was not written as a "juvenile." There are pages
+by the score in "Robinson Crusoe" that a child cannot understand,&mdash;and
+it is all the better reading for him on that account. A child has a
+comfort in unintelligible words that few men can understand. Homer's
+"Iliad" is good reading, though only a small part may be comprehended.
+(We are not, however, so much in favor of mystery as to recommend the
+original Greek.) Do our children of the year 1860 ever read a book
+called "The Pilgrim's Progress"? Hawthorne's "Wonder-Book" is good for
+children, though better for adults.</p>
+
+<p>Then look at our second rule. What, after all, constitutes a "good
+moral"? We say that no book has a good moral which teaches a child that
+goodness and effeminacy, laziness and virtue, are convertible terms; no
+book is good that is "goody," no book is moral that moralizes. The
+intention may be good, but the teaching is not. Have as much as you will
+of poetical justice, but beware of making your books mere vehicles for
+conveying maxims of propriety. You cannot so deceive a child. You may
+talk <i>at</i> him, while pretending to tell him a story, but he will soon be
+shy of you. He has learned by bitter experience too much of the
+falseness of this world, and has been too often beguiled by sugared
+pills, to be slow in detecting the sugared pills of your
+literature,&mdash;especially, O Jacob Abbott! when the pills have so little,
+so very little, sugar.</p>
+
+<p>Our notion of a good moral is a strong, breezy, open-air moral, one that
+teaches courage, and therefore truth. These are the most important
+things for a child to know, and a book which teaches these alone is
+moral enough. And these can be taught without offending the mind of the
+young reader, however keenly suspicious. But if you wish to teach
+gentleness and kindness as well, let them be shown in your story by some
+noisy boy who can climb trees, or some active, merry, hoydenish girl who
+can run like Atalanta; and don't imply a falsehood by attributing them
+always to the quiet children.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Abbott's books have spoiled our children's books, and have done
+their best to spoil our children, too. There is no fresh, manly life in
+his stories; anything of the kind is sourly frowned down. Rollo, while
+strolling along, picturesquely, perhaps, but stupidly, sees A Noisy Boy,
+and is warned by his insufferable father to keep out of that boy's way.
+That Noisy Boy infallibly turns out vicious. Is that sound doctrine?
+Will that teach a child to admire courage and activity? If he is ever
+able to appreciate the swing and vigor of Macaulay's Lays, it will not
+be because you trained him on such lyrics as</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"In the winter, when 'tis mild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We may run, but not be wild;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in summer, we must walk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And improve our time by talk" (!)<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>but because that Noisy Boy found him out,&mdash;and, quarrelling with him,
+(your boy, marvellous to relate! having provoked the quarrel by some
+mean trick, in spite of his seraphic training,) gave him a black
+eye,&mdash;and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> afterwards, turning out to be the best-hearted Noisy Boy in
+the world, taught him to climb trees and hunt for birds' nests,&mdash;and
+stopped him when he was going to kill the little birds, (for your
+pattern boy&mdash;poor child! how could he help it?&mdash;was as cruel as he was
+timid,)&mdash;and imparted to him the sublime mysteries of base-ball and tag
+and hockey,&mdash;and taught him to swim and row, and to fight bigger boys
+and leave smaller boys in peace, instructions which he was at first
+inclined to reverse,&mdash;and put him in the way to be an honest, fearless
+man, when he was in danger of becoming a white-faced and white-livered
+spooney. And that Noisy Boy himself, perversely declining to verify Mr.
+Abbott's decorous prophecies, has not turned out badly, after all, but
+has Reverend before his name and reverence in his heart, and has his
+theology sound because his lungs are so. No doubt, Tom Jones often turns
+out badly, but Master Blifil always does,&mdash;a fact which Mr. Abbott would
+do well to note and perpend.</p>
+
+<p>What! Because Rollo is virtuous, shall there be no more mud-cakes and
+ale? Marry, but there shall! Don't keep a boy out of his share of free
+movement and free air, and don't keep a girl out. Poor little child! she
+will be dieted soon enough on "stewed prunes." Children need air and
+water,&mdash;milk and water won't do. They are longing for our common mother
+earth, in the dear, familiar form of dirt; and it is no matter how much
+dirt they get on them, if they only have water enough to wash it off.
+The more they are allowed to eat literal dirt now, the less metaphorical
+dirt will they eat a few years hence. The great Free-Soil principle is
+good for their hearts, if not for their clothes; and which is it more
+important to have clean? Just make up your mind to let the clothes go;
+and if you can't afford to have your children soil and tear their laced
+pantalets and plumed hats and open-work stockings, why, take off all
+those devices of the enemy, and substitute stout cloth and stout boots.
+What have they to do with open-work stockings?</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Doff them for shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hang a calf-skin on those recreant limbs."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Believe now, instead of learning by sad experience, that tin trumpets
+and torn clothes do not necessarily signify depravity, and that quiet
+children are not always free from deceit, cruelty, and meanness. The
+quiet, ideal child, of whom Mr. Abbott thinks so highly, generally
+proves, in real life, neither more nor less than a prig. He is more
+likely to die than live; and if he lives, you may wish he had died.</p>
+
+<p>These models not only check a child's spirit, but tend to make him
+dishonest. Ask a child now what he thinks, and, ten to one, he mentally
+refers to some eminent exemplar of all the virtues for instructions,
+and, instead of telling you what he does think, quotes listlessly what
+he ought to think. So that his mincing affectation is not merely
+ungraceful, but is a sign of an inward taint, which may prove fatal to
+the whole character. It is very easy to make a child disingenuous; if he
+be at all timid, the work is already half done to one's hand. Of course,
+all children are not bad who are brought up on such books,&mdash;one
+circumstance or another may counteract their hurtful tendency,&mdash;but the
+tendency is no less evident, nor is it a vindication of any system to
+prove that some are good in its despite.</p>
+
+<p>Again, the popularity of these tame, spiritless books is no conclusive
+evidence of their merit. The poor children are given nothing else to
+read, and, of course, they take what they can get as better than
+nothing. An eager child, fond of reading, will read the shipping
+intelligence in a newspaper, if there be nothing else at hand. Does that
+show that he is properly supplied with reading matter? They will read
+these books; but they would read better books with more pleasure and
+more profit.</p>
+
+<p>For our third rule, let our children's stories have no lack of incident
+and adventure. That will redeem any number of faults. Thus, Marryatt's
+stories, and Mayne Reid's, although in many respects open to censure and
+ridicule, are very popular, and deserve to be. The books first put into
+a child's hands are right enough, for they are vivid. Whether the letter
+A be associated in our infant minds with the impressive moral of "In
+Adam's fall We sinned all," or gave us a foretaste of the Apollo in "A
+was an Archer, and shot at a Frog,"&mdash;in either case, the story is a
+plainly told incident, (carefully observing the unities,) which the
+child's fancy can embellish for itself, and the whole has an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> additional
+charm from the gorgeous coloring of an accompanying picture. The
+vividness is good, and is the only thing that is good. Why, then, should
+this one merit be omitted, as our children grow a little older? A
+lifeless moral will not school a child into propriety. If a twig be
+unreasonably bent, it is very likely to struggle in quite a different
+direction, especially if in so doing it struggle towards the light.
+There is much truth in a blundering version of the old Scriptural maxim,
+"Chain up a child, and away he will go." If you want to do any good by
+your books, make them interesting.</p>
+
+<p>And with reference to all three rules, remember that they are to be
+interpreted by the light of common sense, and you will hardly need the
+following remarks:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>It is alike uncomfortable and useless to a child to be perpetually
+waylaid by a moral. A child reading "The Pilgrim's Progress" will omit
+the occasional explanations of the allegory or resolutely ignore their
+meaning. If you want to keep a poor child on such dry food, don't
+mistake your own reason for doing so. It may be eminently proper, but it
+is very uncomfortable to him. If you want children to enjoy themselves,
+let them run about freely, and don't put them into a ring, in
+picturesque attitudes, and then throw bouquets of flowers at them. But,
+if you will do so, confess it is not for their gratification, but for
+your own.</p>
+
+<p>If you choose to try the dangerous experiment of writing "instructive"
+stories, beware of defeating your own object. You write a story rather
+than a treatise, because information is often more effective when
+indirectly conveyed. Clearly, then, if you convey your information too
+directly, you lose all this advantage.</p>
+
+<p>Perfection is as intolerable in these as in any other stories. We all
+want, especially children, some amiable weaknesses to sympathize with.
+Thus, in "Ernest Bracebridge," an English story of school-life, the hero
+is a dreadfully unpleasant boy who is always successful and always
+right, and we are soon heartily weary of him. Besides, he is a horrible
+boy for mastery of all the arts and sciences, and delivers brief and
+epigrammatic discourses, being about twelve years old. However, the book
+is full of adventure and out-door games, and so far is good.</p>
+
+<p>After all, a child does not need many books. If, however, we are to have
+them, we may as well have good ones. There is no reason why dulness
+should be diverted from its legitimate channels into the writing of
+children's books. Let us disabuse ourselves of the idea that these are
+the easiest books to write. Let us remember that the alphabet is harder
+to teach than the Greek Drama, and no longer think that the proper man
+to write children's books is the man who is able to write nothing else.</p>
+
+
+<p><i>The Simplicity of Christ's Teachings, set forth in Sermons.</i> By <span class="smcap">Charles
+T. Brooks</span>, Pastor of the Unitarian Church, Newport, R. I. Boston:
+Crosby, Nichols, &amp; Co. 1859. 16mo. pp. 342.</p>
+
+<p>The name of the author of this volume has long been known as that of an
+accomplished man of letters. Successive volumes of poetic versions,
+chiefly from the German, had, by their various merit, gained for him a
+high rank among our translators, when four years ago, in 1856, by a
+translation of "Faust," he set himself at the head of living authors in
+this department of literature. It is little to say of his work, that it
+is the best of the numerous English renderings of Goethe's tragedy. It
+is not extravagant to assert that a better translation is scarcely
+possible. It is a work which combines extraordinary fidelity to the form
+of the original with true appreciation of its spirit. It is at once
+literal and free, and displays in its execution the qualities both of
+exact scholarship and of poetic feeling and capacity.</p>
+
+<p>This work, and the others of a similar kind which preceded it, were the
+result of the intervals of leisure occurring in the course of their
+author's professional life as a clergyman. While the wider world has
+known him only through these volumes, a smaller circle has long known
+and loved him as the faithful and able preacher and pastor,&mdash;as one to
+whom the most beautiful description ever written of the character of a
+good parson might be truly applied; for</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A good man he was of religioun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That was a poure Persone of a toun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But riche he was of holy thought and werk;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was also a lerned man, a clerk,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span><span class="i0">That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His parishens devoutly wolde he teche.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And Cristes lore and his apostles' twelve<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He taught, but first he folwed it himselve."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And it is in this character that he now comes before us in the volume
+which is well entitled "The Simplicity of Christ's Teachings."</p>
+
+<p>It is a misfortune that the qualities which distinguish most published
+sermons are not such as to recommend them on the score of literary
+merit. The volumes of religious discourses which are worthy to hold a
+place in literature, when judged by the usual critical standard, are
+very few. A very large proportion of those which are continually
+appearing from the press deserve no remembrance, and fortunately have no
+permanence. They are addressed to a special class of readers,&mdash;a class
+generally neither of highly cultivated taste, nor of acute critical
+perception. Their writers are rarely men of sufficient talent to win for
+themselves recognition out of their own narrow set. What in the slang of
+the day are called "sensation" sermons are no exception to the common
+rule. Their momentary effect, depending upon exaggeration and
+extravagance, is no indication of worth. We should no more think of
+criticizing them in a literary journal, than of criticizing the novels
+of Mr. Cobb or Mr. Reynolds. Some of the causes of the poverty of
+thought and of the negligence of style of average sermons are obvious.
+The very interest and importance of the subjects with which the preacher
+has to deal oftentimes serve to deaden rather than to excite the mind of
+one who takes them up in the formal round of duty. The pretensions of
+the clergy of many sects, pretensions as readily acknowledged as made,
+save them from the necessity of intellectual exertion. The frequent
+recurrence of the necessity of writing, whether they have anything to
+say or not, leads them into substituting words for thoughts, platitudes
+for truths. The natural weariness of long-continued solitary
+professional labor brings mental lassitude and feebleness. The absence
+of the fear of close and watchful criticism prevents them from bestowing
+suitable pains upon their composition. These and other causes combine to
+make the mass of the writing which is delivered from the pulpit poorer
+than any other which passes current in the world,&mdash;perhaps, indeed, not
+poorer in an absolute sense, but poorer when compared with the nature of
+the subjects that it treats. It is by no means, however, to be inferred,
+that, because a sermon is totally without merit as a work of literature,
+it is incapable of producing some good in those who listen to it. On the
+contrary, such is the frame of mind of many who regularly attend church,
+that they are not unlikely to derive good from a performance which, if
+weak, may yet be sincere, and which deals with the highest truths, even
+if it deal with them in an imperfect and unsatisfactory manner. And,
+indeed, as George Herbert says, good may be got from the worst
+preaching; for,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i20">"if all want sense,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God takes the text, and preacheth patience."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Unquestionably, however, there is too much preaching in these days; too
+many sermons are written, and the spirit of Christianity is less
+effective than if the words concerning it were less numerous.</p>
+
+<p>It is a rare satisfaction, therefore, to find such a volume of sermons
+as that of Mr. Brooks, which, though not possessing the highest merit in
+point of style, are the discourses of a thoughtful and cultivated man,
+with a peculiar spiritual refinement, and with a devout intellect, made
+clear by its combination with purity of heart and simplicity of faith.
+The religious questions which are chiefly stirring the minds of men are
+taken up in them and discussed with what may be called an earnest
+moderation, with elevation of feeling and insight of spirit.</p>
+
+
+<p><i>Goethe's Correspondence with a Child.</i> Boston: Ticknor &amp; Fields. 1859.</p>
+
+<p>The immediate cause of the republication of these letters is the recent
+death of Bettina, the child with whom Goethe corresponded. Though this
+fact, and the beauty of the volume, may quicken the sale of the work,
+and draw out fresh encomiums on its excellence, it has long since passed
+the critical crisis and taken its place as one of the most remarkable
+series of letters which the public have ever been invited to peruse.
+Something of the marvellous vanishes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> from them, however, when we find
+that the title, "Correspondence with a Child," is a misnomer; Bettina
+having been, in truth, twenty-two years of age when she first visited
+Goethe. Yet while this important circumstance abates much of the wonder
+with which we once read her thoughts and confessions, they really become
+all the more valuable as studies in human nature when we learn that they
+are the exhalations of a heart in full flower, and one upon which the
+dews of morning should not linger. The poet had reached the age of sixty
+when this tide of tender sentiment, original ideas, and enthusiastic
+admiration began to flow in upon him. Their first interview, as Bettina
+describes it, with singular freedom, in one of the letters to Goethe's
+mother, will be found a useful key, though perhaps not a complete one,
+by which to interpret the glowing passion which gushed from her pen.
+That the poet was pleased with the homage of this sweet, graceful, and
+affectionate girl, and drew her on to the revealing of her whole nature,
+is readily perceived. But when we inquire, To what end? we should
+remember, that, like Parrhasius, Goethe was before all things an artist;
+and furthermore, the correspondence of time will show that from this
+crowning knowledge the "Elective Affinities" sprang. It may be that her
+admiration was for his genius alone; if so, she chose love's language
+for its wealth of expression. Were it so received, it could not but be
+regarded as a peerless offering, for she was certainly a kindred spirit.
+There are many rare thoughts and profound confessions in these letters,
+which would have commanded the praise of Goethe, had they been written
+by a rival; and coming, as they did, from a devotee who declared that
+she drew her inspiration from him alone, they must have filled his soul
+with incense, of which that burned by the priest in the temple of the
+gods is only an emblem. To be brief and compendious on this book, it
+appears to be a heart unveiled. German critics throw some doubts on the
+literal veracity of the book; but it belongs at any rate to the better
+class of the <i>ben trovati</i>, and among its leaves, the dreamer, the
+lover, and the poet will find that ambrosial fruit on which fancy loves
+to feed, but whose blossoms are so generally blasted by the common air
+that only the few favored ones have had their longings for it appeased.
+In imagination, at least, Bettina partook of this banquet, and had the
+genius to wreak on words the emotions which swept through her heart.</p>
+
+
+<p><i>Sir Rohan's Ghost.</i> A Romance. Boston: J. E. Tilton &amp; Company. 1860.
+pp. 352.</p>
+
+<p>It is very plain that we have got a new poet,&mdash;a tremendous
+responsibility both for him who will have to learn how to carry the
+brimming vase of Art from the Pierian spring without squandering a drop,
+and for us critics who are to reconcile ourselves to what is new in him,
+and to hold him strictly to that apprenticeship to the old which is the
+condition of mastery at last.</p>
+
+<p>Criticism in America has reached something like the state of the old
+Continental currency. There is no honest relation between the promises
+we make and the specie basis of meaning they profess to represent. "The
+most extraordinary book of the age" is published every week; "genius"
+springs up like mullein, wherever the soil is thin enough; the yearly
+catch of "weird imagination," "thrilling pathos," "splendid
+description," and "sublime imagery" does not fall short of an ordinary
+mackerel-crop; and "profound originality" is so plenty that one not in
+the secret would be apt to take it for commonplace. Now Tithonus, whom,
+as the oldest inhabitant, we have engaged to oversee the criticism of
+the "Atlantic," has a prodigiously long memory,&mdash;almost as long as one
+of Dickens's descriptive passages,&mdash;he remembers perfectly well all the
+promising young fellows from Orpheus down, and has made a notch on the
+stalk of a devil's-apron for every one who ever came to anything that
+was of more consequence to the world than to himself. His tally has not
+yet mounted to a baker's dozen. Accordingly, when a young enthusiast
+rushes to tell Tithonus that a surprising genius has turned up, that
+venerable and cautious being either puts his hand behind his ear and
+absconds into an extemporary deafness, or says dryly, "American kind, I
+suppose?" This coolness of our wary senior is infectious, and we confess
+ourselves so far disenchanted by it, that, when we go into a library,
+the lettering on the backs of nine-tenths of the volumes contrives<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> to
+shape itself into a laconic <i>Hic jacet</i>.</p>
+
+<p>It is of prime necessity to bring back the currency of criticism to the
+old hard-money basis. We have been gradually losing all sense of the
+true relation between words and things,&mdash;the surest symptom of
+intellectual decline. And this looseness of criticism reacts in the most
+damaging way upon literature by continually debasing the standard, and
+by confounding all distinction between fame and notoriety. Ought it to
+be gratifying to the author of "Popular Sovereignty, a Poem in Twelve
+Cantos," to be called the most remarkable man of the age, when he knows
+that he shares that pre&euml;minence with Mr. Tupper, nay, with half the
+names in the Directory? Indiscriminate eulogy is the subtlest form of
+depreciation, for it makes all praise suspicious.</p>
+
+<p>We look upon artistic genius as the rarest and most wayward apparition
+among mankind. It cannot be predicated upon any of Mr. Buckle's
+averages. Given the census, you may, perhaps, say so many murders, so
+many suicides, so many misdirected letters (and men of letters), but not
+so many geniuses. In this one thing old Mother Nature will be whimsical
+and womanish. This is a gift that John Bull, or Johnny Crapaud, or
+Brother Jonathan does not find in his stocking every Christmas. Crude
+imagination is common enough,&mdash;every hypochondriac has a more than
+Shakspearian allowance of it; fancy is cheap, or nobody would dream;
+eloquence sits ten deep on every platform. But genius in Art is that
+supreme organizing and idealizing faculty which, by combining,
+arranging, modulating, by suppressing the abnormal and perpetuating the
+essential, apes creation,&mdash;which from the shapeless terror or tipsy
+fancy of the benighted ploughman can conjure the sisters of Fores heath
+and the court of Titania,&mdash;which can make language thunder or coo at
+will,&mdash;which, in short, is the ruler of those qualities any one of which
+in excess is sure to overmaster the ordinary mind, and which can
+crystallize helpless vagary into the clearly outlined and imperishable
+forms of Art.</p>
+
+<p>It is not, therefore, from any grudging incapacity to appreciate new
+authors, but from a strong feeling that we are to guard the graves of
+the dead from encroachment, and their fames from vulgarization, that the
+"Atlantic" has been and will be sparing in its use of the word <i>genius</i>.
+One may safely predicate power, nicety of thought and language, a clear
+eye for scenery and character, and grace of poetic conception of a book,
+without being willing to say that it gives proof of genius. For genius
+is the <i>shaping</i> faculty, the power of using material in the best way,
+and may not work itself clear of the besetting temptation of personal
+gifts and of circumstances in a first or even second work. It is
+something capable of education and accomplishment, and the patience with
+which it submits itself to this needful schooling and self-abnegation is
+one of the surest tests of its actual possession. Could even
+Shakspeare's poems and earlier plays come before us for judgment, we
+could only say of them, as of Keats's "Endymion," that they showed
+affluence, but made no sure prophecy of that artistic self-possession
+without which plenty is but confusion and incumbrance.</p>
+
+<p>So much by way of preface, lest we might seem cold to the very
+remarkable merits of "Sir Rohan's Ghost," if we treated it as a book
+worth finding fault with, instead of condemning it to the indifferent
+limbo of general eulogy. It is our deliberate judgment that no first
+volume by any author has ever been published in America showing more
+undoubtful symptoms of genuine poetic power than this. There are
+passages in it where imagination and language combine in the most
+artistic completeness, and the first quatrain of the song which Sir
+Rohan fancies he hears,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&mdash;&mdash;"In a summer twilight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While yet the dew was hoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I went plucking purple pansies<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till my love should come to shore,"&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>seems to us absolutely perfect in its simplicity and suggestiveness. It
+has that wayward and seemingly accidental just-right-ness that is so
+delightful in old ballads. The hesitating cadence of the third line is
+impregnated with the very mood of the singer, and lingers like the
+action it pictures. All those passages in the book, too, where the
+symptoms of Sir Rohan's possession by his diseased memory are handled,
+where we see all outward nature but as wax to the plastic will of
+imagination, are to the utmost well-conceived and carried out. It was
+part of the necessity of the case that the book should be conjectural<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>
+and metaphysical, for it is plain that the author is young and has
+little experience of the actual. Accordingly, with a true instinct, she
+(for the newspapers ascribe the authorship of the book to Miss Prescott)
+calls her story a Romance, thus absolving it from any cumbersome
+allegiance to fact, and lays the scene of it in England, where she can
+have old castles, old traditions, old families, old servants, and all
+the other olds so essential to the young writer, ready to her hand.</p>
+
+<p>We like the book better for being in the main <i>subjective</i> (to use the
+convenient word Mr. Ruskin is so angry with); for a young writer can
+only follow the German plan of conjuring things up "from the depths of
+his inward consciousness." The moment our author quits this sure ground,
+her touch becomes uncertain and her colors inharmonious.
+Character-painting is unessential to a romance, belonging as it does
+properly to the novel of actual life, in which the romantic element is
+equally out of place. Fielding, accordingly, the greatest artist in
+character since Shakspeare, hardly admits sentiment, and never romance,
+into his master-pieces. Hawthorne, again, another great master, feeling
+instinctively the poverty and want of sharp contrast in the externals of
+our New England life, always shades off the edges of the actual, till,
+at some indefinable line, they meet and mingle with the supersensual and
+imaginative.</p>
+
+<p>The author of "Sir Rohan" attempts character in Redruth the butler, and
+in the villain and heroine of her story. We are inclined to think the
+villain the best hit of the three, because he is downright scoundrel
+without a redeeming point, as the Nemesis of the story required him to
+be, and because he is so far a purely ideal character. But there is no
+such thing possible as an ideal butler, at least in the sense our author
+assumes in the cellar-scene. The better poet, the worse butler; and so
+we are made impatient by his more than Redi-isms about wine, full of
+fancy as they are in themselves, because they are an impertinence. For
+the same reason, we forgive the heroine her rhapsodies about the figures
+of the Arthur-romances, but cannot pardon her descents into real life
+and her incursions on what should be the sanctuary of the
+breakfast-table. The author attributes to her a dash of gypsy blood; and
+if her style of humorous conversation be a fair type of that of the race
+in general, we no longer wonder that they are homeless exiles from human
+society. When will men learn the true nature of a pun,&mdash;that it is a
+play upon ideas, and not upon sounds,&mdash;and that a perfect one is as rare
+as a perfect poem?</p>
+
+<p>In the prose "Edda," the dwarfs tell a monstrous fib, when they pretend
+that Kvasir, the inventor of poetry, has been suffocated by his own
+wisdom. Nevertheless, the little fellows showed thereby that they were
+not short of intelligence; for it is almost always in their own overflow
+that young poets are drowned. This superabundance seems to us the chief
+defect in "Sir Rohan's Ghost." The superabundance is all very fine, of
+the costliest kind; but was Clarence any the better for being done to
+death in Malmsey instead of water?</p>
+
+<p>This fault we look on as a fault of promise. There is always a chance
+that luxuriance may be pruned, but none short of a miracle that a
+broomstick may be made to blossom. There is, however, one absolute, and
+not relative fault in the book, which we find it harder to forgive,
+since it is one of instinct rather than of Art. The author seems to us
+prone to confound the <i>terrible</i>, (the only true subject of Art) with
+the <i>horrible</i>. The one rouses moral terror or aversion, the other only
+physical disgust. This is one of the worst effects of the modern French
+school upon literature, the inevitable result of its degrading the
+sensuous into the sensual.</p>
+
+<p>We have found all the fault we could with this volume, because we
+sincerely think that the author of it is destined for great things, and
+that she owes it to the rare gift she has been endowed with to do
+nothing inconsiderately, and by honest self-culture to raise natural
+qualities to conscious and beneficent powers.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="RECENT_AMERICAN_PUBLICATIONS" id="RECENT_AMERICAN_PUBLICATIONS"></a>RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS</h2>
+
+<h3>RECEIVED BY THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.</h3>
+
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+<p>Essays of Elia. By Charles Lamb. A New Edition. Boston. William Veazie.
+8vo. pp. 466. $1.25.</p>
+
+<p>Archaia; or, Studies of the Cosmogony and Natural History of the Hebrew
+Scriptures. By J. W. Dawson, LL. D., F. G. S., Principal of McGill
+College, Author of "Acadian Geology," etc. Montreal. B. Dawson &amp; Son.
+12mo. pp. 406.</p>
+
+<p>Manual of Public Libraries, Institutions, and Societies in the United
+States and British Provinces of North America. By William J. Rhees,
+Chief Clerk of the Smithsonian Institution. Philadelphia. J. B.
+Lippincott &amp; Co. 8vo. pp. xxviii., 687. $3.00.</p>
+
+<p>The Oakland Stories. By George R. Taylor, of Virginia. Volume I. Kenny.
+New York. Sheldon &amp; Co. 16mo. pp. 176. 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p>The Florence Stories. By Jacob Abbott. Florence and John. New York.
+Sheldon &amp; Co. 16mo. pp. 252. 60 cents.</p>
+
+<p>Poems read at the Opening of the Fraternity Lectures, 1858-9. By F. B.
+Sanborn and Rufus Leighton, Jr. Boston. Printed for the Fraternity.
+16mo. pp. 59. 25 cts.</p>
+
+<p>The Law of the Territories. Philadelphia. Printed by C. Sherman and Son.
+16mo. pp. 127. 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p>The Wife's Trials and Triumphs. By the Author of "Grace Hamilton's
+School-Days," etc. New York. Sheldon &amp; Co. 16mo. pp. 347. $1.00.</p>
+
+<p>The Old Battle-Ground. By J. T. Trowbridge, Author of "Father
+Brighthopes," etc. New York. Sheldon &amp; Co. 24mo. pp. 276. 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p>Abridgment of the Debates of Congress, from 1789 to 1856. From Gales and
+Seaton's Annals of Congress; from their Register of Debates; and from
+the Official Reported Debates, by John C. Rives. By the Author of the
+"Thirty Years' View." Volume XII. New York. Appleton &amp; Co. 8vo. pp. 807.
+$2.50.</p>
+
+<p>"Woman's Right to Labor"; or, Low Wages and Hard Work: in Three
+Lectures, delivered in Boston, November, 1859. By Caroline H. Dall.
+Boston. Walker, Wise, &amp; Co. 16mo. pp. xvi., 184. 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p>The Diary of a Samaritan. By a Member of the Howard Association of New
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+
+<p>A Popular History of the United States of America: from the Discovery of
+the American Continent to the Present Time. By Mary Howitt. Illustrated
+with Numerous Engravings. In Two Volumes. New York. Harper &amp; Brothers.
+12mo. pp. xii., 406; xii., 388. $2.00.</p>
+
+<p>Poems. By Henry Timrod. Boston. Ticknor &amp; Fields. 16mo. pp. iv., 130. 50
+cts.</p>
+
+<p>New Miscellanies. By Charles Kingsley. Boston. Ticknor &amp; Fields. 12mo.
+pp. vi., 375. $1.00.</p>
+
+<p>The Two Christmas Celebrations, A. D. 1 and 1855. A Christmas Story for
+1856. By Theodore Parker, Minister of the 28th Congregational Society of
+Boston. Boston. Rufus Leighton, Jr. Small 8vo. pp. 46. 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p>Frank Wildman's Adventures on Land and Water. By Frederick Gerstaecker.
+Translated and revised by Lascelles Wraxall. With Eight Illustrations,
+printed in Oil Colors. Boston. Crosby, Nichols, &amp; Co. 16mo. pp. viii.,
+312. $1.00.</p>
+
+<p>The Boy Tar; or, A Voyage in the Dark. By Captain Mayne Reid. With
+Twelve Illustrations, by Charles Keene. Boston. Ticknor &amp; Fields. 16mo.
+pp. iv., 356. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p>The Crusades and the Crusaders. By John G. Edgar, Author of "Boyhood of
+Great Men," etc. With Eight Illustrations, by Julian Portch. Boston.
+Ticknor &amp; Fields. 16mo. pp. x., 380. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p>The White Hills: their Legends, Landscape, and Poetry. By Thomas Starr
+King. With Sixty Illustrations, engraved by Andrew, from Drawings by
+Wheelock. Boston. Crosby, Nichols, &amp; Co. 8vo. pp. xviii., 403. $5.00.</p>
+
+<p>A Look at Home; or, Life in the Poor-House of New England. By S. H.
+Elliot, Author of "Rolling Ridge." New York. H. Dexter &amp; Co. 12mo. pp.
+490. $1.00.</p>
+
+<p>How Could He Help It? or, The Heart Triumphant. By A. S. Roe, Author of
+"I've been Thinking," etc. New York. Derby &amp; Jackson. 12mo. pp. 443.
+$1.25.</p>
+
+<p>Evenings at the Microscope; or, Researches among the Minuter Organs and
+Forms of Animal Life. By Philip Henry Gosse, F. R. S. With
+Illustrations. New York. Appleton &amp; Co. 12mo. pp. xii., 480. $1.50.</p>
+
+<p>Hester, the Bride of the Islands. A Poem. By Silvester B. Beckett.
+Portland. Bailey &amp; Noyes. 12mo. pp. 336. $1.00.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Great Facts: A Popular History and Description of the most Remarkable
+Inventions during the Present Century. By Frederick C. Bakewell, Author
+of "Philosophical Conversations," etc. Illustrated with Numerous
+Engravings. New York, Appleton &amp; Co. 12mo. pp. xii., 307. $1.00.</p>
+
+<p>Prince Charlie, the Young Chevalier. By Merideth Johnes, Author of "The
+Boy's Book of Modern Travel," etc. With Eight Illustrations, by N. S.
+Morgan. New York. Appleton &amp; Co. 16mo. pp. 331. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p>Edith Vaughan's Victory; or, How to Conquer. By Helen Wall Pierson,
+Author of "Sophie Krantz." New York. Appleton &amp; Co. 16mo. pp. 289. 63
+cts.</p>
+
+<p>A History of the Cemetery of Mount Auburn. By Jacob Bigelow, President
+of the Corporation. Boston. Munroe &amp; Co. 16mo. pp. xvi., 263. $1.00.</p>
+
+<p>Here and There; or, Heaven and Earth Contrasted. New York. Appleton &amp;
+Co. 18mo. pp. 41. 25 cts.</p>
+
+<p>A Report of the Celebration at Norwich, Ct., on the 200th Anniversary of
+the Settlement of the Town, Sept. 7th and 8th, 1859. With an Appendix,
+containing Historical Documents of Local Interest. Norwich. John W.
+Stedman. 8vo. pp. 304. $1.50.</p>
+
+<p>Re-Statements of Christian Doctrine, in Twenty-Five Sermons. By Henry W.
+Bellows, Minister of All-Souls' Church, New York. New York. Appleton &amp;
+Co. 12mo. pp. viii., 434. $1.25.</p>
+
+<p>The Great Harmonia: being a Progressive Revelation of the Eternal
+Principles which inspire Mind and govern Matter. By Andrew Jackson
+Davis. Vol. V. In Three Parts. New York. A. J. Davis &amp; Co. 12mo. pp.
+438. $1.00.</p>
+
+<p>History of the Republic of the United States of America, as traced in
+the Writings of Alexander Hamilton and his Contemporaries. By John C.
+Hamilton. Vol. V. New York. Appleton &amp; Co. 8vo. pp. xii., 603. $2.50.</p>
+
+<p>Life of Lafayette. Written for Children. By E. Cecil. With Six
+Illustrations. Boston. Crosby, Nichols, &amp; Co. 16mo. pp. vi., 218. 75
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+
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+
+<p>Bible Stories in Bible Language. New York. Appleton &amp; Co. Square 16mo.
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+Harvard College. Boston. Crosby, Nichols, &amp; Co. 12mo. pp. viii., 528.
+$1.25.</p>
+
+<p>Ernest Bracebridge; or, Schoolboy Days. By W. H. G. Kingston. Boston.
+Ticknor &amp; Fields. 16mo. pp. iv., 344. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p>Baby Nightcaps. By the Author of "Nightcaps." New York. Appleton &amp; Co.
+18mo. pp. 140. 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p>The New Nightcaps told to Charley. New York. Appleton &amp; Co. 18mo. pp.
+207. 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p>Rainbow's Journey. By Jacob Abbott. New York. Harper &amp; Brothers. 16mo.
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+<p>Seven Years. By Julia Kavanagh, Author of "Adele," "Nathalie," etc.
+Boston. Ticknor &amp; Fields. 8vo. pp. 180. 30 cts.</p>
+
+<p>The Sea-Lions; or, The Lost Sealers. By J. Fenimore Cooper. Illustrated
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+pp. 490. $1.50.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor at the Breakfast-Table; with the Story of Iris. By Oliver
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+
+<p>Misrepresentation. A Novel. By Anna H. Drury, Author of "Friends and
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+
+<p>History of Peter the Great, Emperor of Russia. By Jacob Abbott. With
+Engravings. New York. Harper &amp; Brothers. 16mo. pp. 368. 60 cts.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 5, No.
+28, February, 1860, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 5, No. 28,
+February, 1860, 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 Atlantic Monthly, Volume 5, No. 28, February, 1860
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: December 2, 2006 [EBook #19995]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci 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
+
+ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
+
+A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.
+
+VOL. V.--FEBRUARY, 1860.--NO. XXVIII.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Minor typos have been corrected. Footnotes have been
+moved to the end of the article.
+
+
+
+
+COUNTING AND MEASURING.
+
+
+Though, from the rapid action of the eye and the mind, grouping and
+counting by groups appear to be a single operation, yet, as things can
+be seen in succession only, however rapidly, the counting of things,
+whether ideal or real, is necessarily one by one. This is the first step
+of the art. The second step is grouping. The use of grouping is to
+economize speech in numeration, and writing in notation, by the exercise
+of the memory. The memorizing of groups is, therefore, a part of the
+primary education of every individual. Until this art is attained, to a
+certain extent, it is very convenient to use the fingers as
+representatives of the individuals of which the groups are composed.
+This practice led to the general adoption of a group derived from the
+fingers of the left hand. The adoption of this group was the first
+distinct step toward mental arithmetic. Previous groupings were for
+particular numerations; this for numeration in general; being, in fact,
+the first numeric base,--the quinary. As men advanced in the use of
+numbers, they adopted a group derived from the fingers of both hands;
+thus ten became the base of numeration.
+
+Notation, like numeration, began with ones, advanced to fives, then to
+tens, etc. Roman notation consisted of a series of signs signifying 1,
+5, 10, 50, 100, 500, 1000, etc.,--a series evidently the result of
+counting by the five fingers and the two hands, the numbers signified
+being the products of continued multiplication by five and by two
+alternately. The Romans adhered to their mode, nor is it entirely out of
+use at the present day, being revered for its antiquity, admired for its
+beauty, and practised for its convenience.
+
+The ancient Greek series corresponded to that of the Romans, though
+primarily the signs for 50, 500 and 5000 had no place. Ultimately,
+however, those places were supplied by means of compound signs.
+
+The Greeks abandoned their ancient mode in favor of the alphabetic,
+which, as it signified by a single letter each number of the
+arithmetical series from one to nine separately, and also in union by
+multiplication with the successive powers of the base of numeration, was
+a decided improvement; yet, as it consisted of signs which by their
+number were difficult to remember, and by their resemblance easy to
+mistake, it was far from being perfect.
+
+Doubtless, strenuous efforts were made to remedy these defects, and,
+apparently as the result of those efforts, the Arabic or Indian mode
+appeared; which, signifying the powers of the base by position, reduced
+the number of signs to that of the arithmetical series, beginning with
+nought and ending with a number of the value of the base less one.
+
+The peculiarity of the Arabic mode, therefore, in comparison with the
+Greek, the Roman, or the alphabetic, is place value; the value of a
+combination by either of these being simply equal to the sum of its
+elements. By that, the value of the successive places, counting from
+right to left, being equal to the successive powers of the base,
+beginning with the noughth power, each figure in the combination is
+multiplied in value by the power of the base proper to its place, and
+the value of the whole is equal to the sum of those products.
+
+The Arabic mode is justly esteemed one of the happiest results of human
+intelligence; and though the most complex ever practised, its
+efficiency, as an arithmetical means, has obtained for it the reputation
+of great simplicity,--a reputation that extends even to the present
+base, which, from its intimate and habitual association with the mode,
+is taken to be a part of the mode itself.
+
+With regard to this impression it may be remarked, that the qualities
+proper to a mode bear no resemblance to those proper to a base. The
+qualities of the present mode are well known and well accepted. Those of
+the present base are accepted with the mode, but those proper to a base
+remain to be determined. In attempting to ascertain these, it will be
+necessary to consider the uses of numeration and of notation.
+
+These may be arranged in three divisions,--scientific, mechanical, and
+commercial. The first is limited, being confined to a few; the second is
+general, being common to many; the third is universal, being necessary
+to all. Commercial use, therefore, will govern the present inquiry.
+
+Commerce, being the exchange of property, requires real quantity to be
+determined, and this in such proportions as are most readily obtained
+and most frequently required. This can be done only by the adoption of a
+unit of quantity that is both real and constant, and such multiples and
+divisions of it as are consistent with the nature of things and the
+requirements of use: real, because property, being real, can be measured
+by real measures only; constant, because the determination of quantity
+requires a standard of comparison that is invariable; conveniently
+proportioned, because both time and labor are precious. These rules
+being acted on, the result will be a system of real, constant, and
+convenient weights, measures, and coins. Consequently, the numeration
+and notation best suited to commerce will be those which agree best with
+such a system.
+
+From the earliest periods, special attention has been paid to units of
+quantity, and, in the ignorance of more constant quantities, the
+governors of men have offered their own persons as measures; hence the
+fathom, yard, pace, cubit, foot, span, hand, digit, pound, and pint. It
+is quite probable that the Egyptians first gave to such measures the
+permanent form of government standards, and that copies of them were
+carried by commerce, and otherwise, to surrounding nations. In time,
+these became vitiated, and should have been verified by their originals;
+but for distant nations this was not convenient; moreover, the governors
+of those nations had a variety of reasons for preferring to verify them
+by their own persons. Thus they became doubly vitiated; yet, as they
+were not duly enforced, the people pleased themselves, so that almost
+every market-town and fair had its own weights and measures; and as, in
+the regulation of coins, governments, like the people, pleased
+themselves, so that almost every nation had a peculiar currency, the
+general result was, that with the laws and the practices of the
+governors and the governed, neither of whom pursued a legitimate
+course, confusion reigned supreme. Indeed, a system of weights,
+measures, and coins, with a constant and real standard, and
+corresponding multiples and divisions, though indulged in as a day-dream
+by a few, has never yet been presented to the world in a definite form;
+and as, in the absence of such a system, a corresponding system of
+numeration and notation can be of no real use, the probability is, that
+neither the one nor the other has ever been fully idealized. On the
+contrary, the present base is taken to be a fixed fact, of the order of
+the laws of the Medes and Persians; so much so, that, when the great
+question is asked, one of the leading questions of the age,--How is this
+mass of confusion to be brought into harmony?--the reply is,--It is only
+necessary to adopt one constant and real standard, with decimal
+multiples and divisions, and a corresponding nomenclature, and the work
+is done: a reply that is still persisted in, though the proposition has
+been fairly tried, and clearly proved to be impracticable.
+
+Ever since commerce began, merchants, and governments for them, have,
+from time to time, established multiples and divisions of given
+standards; yet, for some reason, they have seldom chosen the number ten
+as a base. From the long-continued and intimate connection of decimal
+numeration and notation with the quantities commerce requires, may not
+the fact, that it has not been so used more frequently, be considered as
+sufficient evidence that this use is not proper to it? That it is not
+may be shown thus:--A thing may be divided directly into equal parts
+only by first dividing it into two, then dividing each of the parts into
+two, etc., producing 2, 4, 8, 16, etc., equal parts, but ten never. This
+results from the fact, that doubling or folding is the only direct mode
+of dividing real quantities into equal parts, and that balancing is the
+nearest indirect mode,--two facts that go far to prove binary division
+to be proper to weights, measures, and coins. Moreover, use evidently
+requires things to be divided by two more frequently than by any other
+number,--a fact apparently due to a natural agreement between men and
+things. Thus it appears the binary division of things is not only most
+readily obtained, but also most frequently required. Indeed, it is to
+some extent necessary; and though it may be set aside in part, with
+proportionate inconvenience, it can never be set aside entirely, as has
+been proved by experience. That men have set it aside in part, to their
+own loss, is sufficiently evidenced. Witness the heterogeneous mass of
+irregularities already pointed out. Of these our own coins present a
+familiar example. For the reasons above stated, coins, to be practical,
+should represent the powers of two; yet, on examination, it will be
+found, that, of our twelve grades of coins, only one-half are obtained
+by binary division, and these not in a regular series. Do not these six
+grades, irregular as they are, give to our coins their principal
+convenience? Then why do we claim that our coins are decimal? Are not
+their gradations produced by the following multiplications: 1 x 5 x 2 x
+2-1/2 x 2 x 2 x 2-1/2 x 2 x 2 x 2, and 1 x 3 x 100? Are any of these
+decimal? We might have decimal coins by dropping all but cents, dimes,
+dollars, and eagles; but the question is not, What we might have, but,
+What have we? Certainly we have not decimal coins. A purely decimal
+system of coins would be an intolerable nuisance, because it would
+require a greatly increased number of small coins. This may be
+illustrated by means of the ancient Greek notation, using the simple
+signs only, with the exception of the second sign, to make it purely
+decimal. To express $9.99 by such a notation, only three signs can be
+used; consequently nine repetitions of each are required, making a total
+of twenty-seven signs. To pay it in decimal coins, the same number of
+pieces are required. Including the second Greek sign, twenty-three signs
+are required; including the compound signs also, only fifteen. By Roman
+notation, without subtraction, fifteen; with subtraction, nine. By
+alphabetic notation, three signs without repetition. By the Arabic, one
+sign thrice repeated. By Federal coins, nine pieces, one of them being a
+repetition. By dual coins, six pieces without a repetition, a fraction
+remaining.
+
+In the gradation of real weights, measures, and coins, it is important
+to adopt those grades which are most convenient, which require the least
+expense of capital, time, and labor, and which are least likely to be
+mistaken for each other. What, then, is the most convenient gradation?
+The base two gives a series of seven weights that may be used: 1, 2, 4,
+8, 16, 32, 64 lbs. By these any weight from one to one hundred and
+twenty-seven pounds may be weighed. This is, perhaps, the smallest
+number of weights or of coins with which those several quantities of
+pounds or of dollars may be weighed or paid. With the same number of
+weights, representing the arithmetical series from one to seven, only
+from one to twenty-eight pounds may be weighed; and though a more
+extended series may be used, this will only add to their inconvenience;
+moreover, from similarity of size, such weights will be readily
+mistaken. The base ten gives only two weights that may be used. The base
+three gives a series of weights, 1, 3, 9, 27, etc., which has a great
+promise of convenience; but as only four may be used, the fifth being
+too heavy to handle, and as their use requires subtraction as well as
+addition, they have neither the convenience nor the capability of binary
+weights; moreover, the necessity for subtraction renders this series
+peculiarly unfit for coins.
+
+The legitimate inference from the foregoing seems to be, that a
+perfectly practical system of weights, measures, and coins, one not
+practical only, but also agreeable and convenient, because requiring the
+smallest possible number of pieces, and these not readily mistaken for
+each other, and because agreeing with the natural division of things,
+and therefore commercially proper, and avoiding much fractional
+calculation, is that, and that only, the successive grades of which
+represent the successive powers of two.
+
+That much fractional calculation may thus be avoided is evident from the
+fact that the system will be homogeneous. Thus, as binary gradation
+supplies one coin for every binary division of the dollar, down to the
+sixty-fourth part, and farther, if necessary, any of those divisions may
+be paid without a remainder. On the contrary, Federal gradation, though
+in part binary, gives one coin for each of the first two divisions only.
+Of the remaining four divisions, one requires two coins, and another
+three, and not one of them can be paid in full. Thus it appears there
+are four divisions of the dollar that cannot be paid in Federal coins,
+divisions that are constantly in use, and unavoidable, because resulting
+from the natural division of things, and from the popular division of
+the pound, gallon, yard, inch, etc., that has grown out of it. Those
+fractious that cannot be paid, the proper result of a heterogeneous
+system, are a constant source of jealousy, and often produce disputes,
+and sometimes bitter wrangling, between buyer and seller. The injury to
+public morals arising from this cause, like the destructive effect of
+the constant dropping of water, though too slow in its progress to be
+distinctly traced, is not the less certain. The economic value of binary
+gradation is, in the aggregate, immense; yet its moral value is not to
+be overlooked, when a full estimate of its worth is required.
+
+Admitting binary gradation to be proper to weights, measures, and coins,
+it follows that a corresponding base of numeration and notation must be
+provided, as that best suited to commerce. For this purpose, the number
+two immediately presents itself; but binary numeration and notation
+being too prolix for arithmetical practice, it becomes necessary to
+select for a base a power of two that will afford a more comprehensive
+notation: a power of two, because no other number will agree with binary
+gradation. It is scarcely proper to say the third power has been
+selected, for there was no alternative,--the second power being too
+small, and the fourth too large. Happily, the third is admirably suited
+to the purpose, combining, as it does, the comprehensiveness of eight
+with the simplicity of two.
+
+It may be asked, how a number, hitherto almost entirely overlooked as a
+base of numeration, is suddenly found to be so well suited to the
+purpose. The fact is, the present base being accepted as proper for
+numeration, however erroneously, it is assumed to be proper for
+gradation also; and a very flattering assumption it is, promising a
+perfectly homogeneous system of weights, measures, coins, and numbers,
+than which nothing can be more desirable; but, siren-like, it draws the
+mind away from a proper investigation of the subject, and the basic
+qualities of numbers, being unquestioned, remain unknown. When the
+natural order is adopted, and the base of gradation is ascertained by
+its adaptation to things, and the base of numeration by its agreement
+with that of gradation, then, the basic qualities of numbers being
+questioned, two is found to be proper to the first use, and eight to the
+second.
+
+The idea of changing the base of numeration will appear to most persons
+as absurd, and its realization as impossible; yet the probability is, it
+will be done. The question is one of time rather than of fact, and there
+is plenty of time. The diffusion of education will ultimately cause it
+to be demanded. A change of notation is not an impossible thing. The
+Greeks changed theirs, first for the alphabetic, and afterwards, with
+the rest of the civilized world, for the Arabic,--both greater changes
+than that now proposed. A change of numeration is truly a more serious
+matter, yet the difficulty may not be as great as our apprehensions
+paint it. Its inauguration must not be compared with that of French
+gradation, which, though theoretically perfect, is practically absurd.
+
+Decimal numeration grew out of the fact that each person has ten fingers
+and thumbs, without reference to science, art, or commerce. Ultimately
+scientific men discovered that it was not the best for certain purposes,
+consequently that a change might be desirable; but as they were not
+disposed to accommodate themselves to popular practices, which they
+erroneously viewed, not as necessary consequences, but simply as bad
+habits, they suggested a base with reference not so much to commerce as
+to science. The suggestion was never acted on, however; indeed, it would
+have been in vain, as Delambre remarks, for the French commission to
+have made the attempt, not only for the reason he presents, but also
+because it does not agree with natural division, and is therefore not
+suited to commerce; neither is it suited to the average capacity of
+mankind for numbers; for, though some may be able to use duodecimal
+numeration and notation with ease, the great majority find themselves
+equal to decimal only, and some come short even of that, except in its
+simplest use. Theoretically, twelve should be preferred to ten, because
+it agrees with circle measure at least, and ten agrees with nothing;
+besides, it affords a more comprehensive notation, and is divisible by
+6, 4, 3, and 2 without a fraction, qualities that are theoretically
+valuable.
+
+At first sight, the universal use of decimal numeration seems to be an
+argument in its favor. It appears as though Nature had pointed directly
+to it, on account of some peculiar fitness. It is assumed, indeed, that
+this is the case, and habit confirms the assumption; yet, when
+reflection has overcome habit, it will be seen that its adoption was due
+to accident alone,--that it took place before any attention was paid to
+a general system, in short, without reflection,--and that its supposed
+perfection is a mere delusion; for, as a member of such a system, it
+presents disagreements on every hand; as has been said, it has no
+agreement with anything, unless it be allowable to say that it agrees
+with the Arabic mode of notation. This kind of agreement it has, in
+common with every other base. It is this that gives it character. On
+this account alone it is believed by many to be the perfection of
+harmony. They get the base of numeration and the mode of notation so
+mingled together, that they cannot separate them sufficiently to obtain
+a distinct idea of either; and some are not conscious that they are
+distinct, but see in the Arabic mode nothing save decimal notation, and
+attribute to it all those high qualities that belong to the mode only.
+The Arabic mode is an invention of the highest merit, not surpassed by
+any other; but the admiration that belongs to it is thus bestowed upon a
+quite commonplace idea, a misapplication, which, in this as in many
+other cases, arises from the fact, that it is much easier to admire than
+to investigate. This result of carelessness, if isolated, might be
+excused; but all errors are productive, and it should be remembered that
+this one has produced that extraordinary perversion of truth to be found
+in the reply to the question, How is all this confusion to be brought
+into harmony? It has produced it not only in words, but in deed. Was it
+not this reply that led the French commission to extend the use of the
+present base from numeration to gradation also, under the delusive hope
+of producing a perfectly homogeneous system, that would be practical
+also? Was it not under its influence, that, adhering to the base to
+which the world had been so long accustomed, instead of attempting to
+regulate ideal division by real, which might have led to the adoption of
+the true base and a practical system, they committed the one great error
+of endeavoring to reverse true order, by forcing real division into
+conformity with a preconceived ideal? This attempt was made at a time
+supposed by many to be peculiarly suited to the purpose, a time of
+changes. It was a time of changes, truly; but these were the result of
+high excitement, not of quiet thought, such as the subject requires,--a
+time for rushing forward, not for retracing misguided steps.
+Accordingly, a system was produced which from its magnitude and
+importance was truly imposing, and which, to the present day, is highly
+applauded by all those who, under the influence of the error alluded to,
+conceive decimal numeration to be a sacred truth: applauded, not because
+of its adaptation to commerce, but simply because of its beautiful
+proportions, its elegant symmetry, to say nothing of the array of
+learning and power engaged in its production and inauguration: imposing,
+truly, and alike on its authors and admirers; for the qualities they so
+much admire are not peculiar to the decimal base, but to the use of one
+and the same base for numeration, notation, and gradation. But if the
+base ten agrees with nothing, over, on, or under the earth, can it be
+the best for scientific use? can it be at all suited to commercial
+purposes? If true order is the object to be attained, and that for the
+sake of its utility, then agreement between real and ideal division is
+the one thing needful, the one essential change without which all other
+changes are vain, the only change that will yield the greatest good to
+the greatest number,--a change, which, as volition is with the ideal,
+and inertia with the real, can be attained only by adaptation of the
+ideal to the real.
+
+A full investigation of the existing heterogeneous or fragmentary system
+will lead to the discovery that it contains two elements which are at
+variance with natural division and with each other, and that the
+unsuccessful issue of every attempt at regulation hitherto made has been
+the proper result of the mistake of supposing agreement between those
+elements to be a possible thing.
+
+The first element of discord to be considered is the division of things
+by personal proportion, as by fathom, yard, cubit, foot, etc. It is
+obvious at a glance, that these do not agree with binary division, nor
+with decimal, nor yet with each other. It is this element that has
+suggested the duodecimal base, to which some adhere so tenaciously,
+apparently because they have not ascertained the essential quality of a
+base.
+
+The second is the numeration of things by personal parts, as fingers,
+hands, etc.,--suggesting a base of numeration that has no agreement
+with the binary, nor with personal proportion, neither can it have with
+any proper general system. Are there any things in Nature that exist by
+tens, that associate by tens, that separate into tenths? Are there any
+things that are sold by tens, or by tenths? Even the fingers number
+eight, and, had there been any reflection used in the adoption of a base
+of numeration, the thumbs would not have been included. The ease with
+which the simplest arithmetical series may be continued led our fathers
+quietly to the adoption, first, of the quinary, and second, of the
+decimal group; and we have continued its use so quietly, that its
+propriety has rarely been questioned; indeed, most persons are both
+surprised and offended, when they hear it declared to be a purely
+artificial base, proper only to abstract numbers.
+
+The binary base, on the contrary, is natural, real, simple,
+and accords with the tendency of the mind to simplify, to
+individualize. In business, who ever thinks of a half as
+two-fourths, or three-sixths, much less as two-and-a-half-fifths,
+or three-and-a-half-sevenths? For division by two produces a half
+at one operation; but with any other divisor, the reduction is too
+great, and must be followed by multiplication. Think of calling
+a half five-tenths, a quarter twenty-five-hundredths, an eighth
+one-hundred-and-twenty-five-thousandths! Arithmetic is seldom used as a
+plaything. It generally comes into use when the mind is too much
+occupied for sporting. Consequently, the smallest divisor that will
+serve the purpose is always preferred. A calculation is an appendage to
+a mercantile transaction, not a part of the transaction itself; it is,
+indeed, a hindrance, and in large business is performed by a distinct
+person. But even with him, simplicity, because necessary to speed, is
+second in merit only to correctness.
+
+The binary base is not only simple, it is real. Accordingly, it has
+large agreement with the popular divisions of weights, etc. Grocers'
+weights, up to the four-pound piece, and all their measures, are binary;
+so are the divisions of the yard, the inch, etc.
+
+It is not only simple and real, it is natural. On every hand, things may
+be found that are duplex in form, that associate in pairs, that separate
+into halves, that may be divided into two equal parts. Things are
+continually sold in pairs, in halves, and in quantities produced by
+halving.
+
+The binary base, therefore, is here proposed, as the only proper base
+for gradation; and the octonal, as the true commercial base, for
+numeration and notation: two bases which in combination form a
+binoctonal system that is at once simple, comprehensive, and efficient.
+
+
+
+
+MY LAST LOVE.
+
+
+I had counted many more in my girlhood, in the first flush of
+blossoming,--and a few, good men and true, whom I never meet even now
+without an added color; for, at one time or another, I thought I loved
+each of them.
+
+"Why didn't I marry them, then?"
+
+For the same reason that many another woman does not. We are afraid to
+trust our own likings. Too many of them are but sunrise vapors, very
+rosy to begin with, but by mid-day as dingy as any old dead cloud with
+the rain all shed out of it. I never see any of those old swains of
+mine, without feeling profoundly thankful that I don't belong to him. I
+shouldn't want to look over my husband's head in any sense. So they all
+got wives and children, and I lived an old maid,--although I was
+scarcely conscious of the state; for, if my own eyes or other people's
+testimony were to be trusted, I didn't look old, and I'm quite sure I
+didn't feel so. But I came to myself on my thirty-second birthday, an
+old maid most truly, without benefit of clergy. And thereby hangs this
+tale; for on that birthday I first made acquaintance with my last love.
+
+Something like a month before, there had come to Huntsville two
+gentlemen in search of game and quiet quarters for the summer. They soon
+found that a hotel in a country village affords little seclusion; but
+the woods were full of game, the mountain-brooks swarmed with trout too
+fine to be given up, and they decided to take a house of their own.
+After some search, they fixed on an old house, (I've forgotten whose
+"folly" it was called,) full a mile and a half from town, standing upon
+a mossy hill that bounded my fields, square and stiff and
+weather-beaten, and without any protection except a ragged pine-tree
+that thrust its huge limbs beneath the empty windows, as though it were
+running away with a stolen house under its arm. The place was musty,
+rat-eaten, and tenanted by a couple of ghosts, who thought a fever, once
+quite fatal within the walls, no suitable discharge from the property,
+and made themselves perfectly free of the quarters in properly weird
+seasons. But money and labor cleared out all the cobwebs, (for ghosts
+are but spiritual cobwebs, you know,) and the old house soon wore a
+charming air of rustic comfort.
+
+I used to look over sometimes, for it was full in view from my
+chamber-windows, and see the sportsmen going off by sunrise with their
+guns or fishing-rods, or lying, after their late dinner, stretched upon
+the grass in front of the house, smoking and reading. Sometimes a
+fragment of a song would be dropped down from the lazy wings of the
+south wind, sometimes a long laugh filled all the summer air and
+frightened the pinewood into echoes, and, altogether, the new neighbors
+seemed to live an enviable life. They were very civil people, too; for,
+though their nearest path out lay across my fields, and close by the
+doorway, and they often stopped to buy fruit or cream or butter, we were
+never annoyed by an impertinent question or look. Once only I overheard
+a remark not altogether civil, and that was on the evening before my
+birthday. One of them, the elder, said, as he went away from my house
+with a basket of cherries, that he should like to get speech with that
+polyglot old maid, who read, and wrote, and made her own butter-pats.
+The other answered, that the butter was excellent at any rate, and
+perhaps she had a classical cow; and they went down the lane laughingly
+disputing about the matter, not knowing that I was behind the
+currant-bushes.
+
+"Polyglot old maid!" I thought, very indignantly, as I went into the
+house. "I've a mind not to sell them another cake of my butter. But I
+wonder if people call me an old maid. I wonder if I am one."
+
+I thought of it all the evening, and dreamt of it all night, waking the
+next morning with a new realization of the subject. That first sense of
+a lost youth! How sharp and strong it comes! That suddenly opened north
+door of middle life, through which the winter winds rush in, sweeping
+out of the southern windows all the splendors of the earlier time; it is
+like a sea-turn in late summer. It has seemed to be June all along, and
+we thought it was June, until the wind went round to the east, and the
+first red leaf admonished us. By-and-by we close, as well as we may,
+that open door, and look out again from the windows upon blooms,
+beautiful in their way, to which some birds yet sing; but, alas! the
+wind is still from the east, and blows as though, far away, it had lain
+among icebergs.
+
+So I mused all the morning, watering the sentiment with a bit of a
+shower out of my cloud; and when the shadows turned themselves, I went
+out to see how old age would look to me in the fields and woods. It was
+a delicious afternoon, more like a warm dream of hay-making, odorous,
+misty, sleepily musical, than a waking reality, on which the sun shone.
+Tremulous blue clouds lay down all around upon the mountains, and lazy
+white ones lost themselves in the waters; and through the dozing air,
+the faint chirp of robin or cricket, and ding of bells in the woods, and
+mellow cut of scythe, melted into one song, as though the heart-beat of
+the luscious midsummer-time had set itself to tune.
+
+I walked on to loiter through the woods. No dust-brush for brain or
+heart like the boughs of trees! There dwells a truth, and pure, strong
+health within them, an ever-returning youth, promising us a glorious
+leafage in some strange spring-time, and a symmetry and sweetness that
+possess us until our thoughts grow skyward like them, and wave and sing
+in some sunnier strata of soul-air. In the woods I was a girl again, and
+forgot the flow of the hours in their pleasant companionship. I must
+have grown tired and sat down by a thicket of pines to rest, though I
+have forgotten, and perhaps I had fallen asleep; for suddenly I became
+conscious of a sharp report, and a sharper pain in my shoulder, and,
+tearing off my cape, I found the blood was flowing from a wound just
+below the joint. I remember little more, for a sudden faintness came
+over me; but I have an indistinct remembrance of people coming up, of
+voices, of being carried home, and of the consternation there, and long
+delay in obtaining the surgeon. The pain of an operation brought me
+fully to my senses; and when that was over, I was left alone to sleep,
+or to think over my situation at leisure. I'm afraid I had but little of
+a Christian spirit then. All my plans of labor and pleasure spoiled by
+this one piece of carelessness! to call it by the mildest term. All
+those nice little fancies that should have grown into real
+flesh-and-blood articles for my publisher, hung up to dry and shrivel
+without shape or comeliness! The garden, the dairy, the new bit of
+carriage-way through the beeches,--my pet scheme,--the new music, the
+sewing, all laid upon the shelf for an indefinite time, and I with no
+better employment than to watch the wall-paper, and to wonder if it
+wasn't almost dinner- or supper-time, or nearly daylight! To be sure, I
+knew and thought of all the improving reflections of a sick-room; but it
+was much like a mild-spoken person making peace among twenty quarrelsome
+ones. You can see him making mouths, but you don't hear a word he says.
+
+A sick mind breeds fever fast in a sick body, and by night I was in a
+high fever, and for a day or two knew but little of what went on about
+me. One of the first things I heard, when I grew easier, was, that my
+neighbor, the sportsman, was waiting below to hear how I was. It was the
+younger one whose gun had wounded me; and he had shown great solicitude,
+they said, coming several times each day to inquire for me. He brought
+some birds to be cooked for me, too,--and came again to bring some
+lilies he had gone a mile to fetch, he told the girl. Every day he came
+to inquire, or to bring some delicacy, or a few flowers, or a new
+magazine for me, until the report of his visit came to be an expected
+excitement, and varied the dull days wonderfully. Sickness and seclusion
+are a new birth to our senses, oftentimes. Not only do we get a real
+glimpse of ourselves, undecked and unclothed, but the commonest habits
+of life, and the things that have helped to shape them day by day, put
+on a sort of strangeness, and come to shake hands with us again, and
+make us wonder that they should be just exactly what they are. We get at
+the primitive meaning of them, as if we rubbed off the nap of life, and
+looked to see how the threads were woven; and they come and go before us
+with a sort of old newness that affects us much as if we should meet our
+own ghost some time, and wonder if we are really our own or some other
+person's housekeeper.
+
+I went through all this, and came out with a stock of small facts
+beside,--as, that the paper-hanger had patched the hangings in my
+chamber very badly in certain dark spots, (I had got several headaches,
+making it out,)--that the chimney was a little too much on one
+side,--that certain boards in the entry-floor creaked of their own
+accord in the night,--that Neighbor Brown had tucked a few new shingles
+into the roof of his barn, so that it seemed to have broken out with
+them,--and any number of other things equally important. At length I got
+down-stairs, and was allowed to see a few friends. Of course there was
+an inundation of them; and each one expected to hear my story, and to
+tell a companion one, something like mine, only a little more so. It was
+astonishing, the immense number of people that had been hurt with guns.
+No wonder I was sick for a day or two afterward. I was more prudent next
+time, however, and, as the gossips had got all they wanted, I saw only
+my particular friends. Among these my neighbor, the sportsman, insisted
+on being reckoned, and after a little hesitation we were obliged to
+admit him. I say we,--for, on hearing of my injury, my good cousin, Mary
+Mead, had come to nurse and amuse me. She was one of those safe,
+serviceable, amiable people, made of just the stuff for a satellite, and
+she proved invaluable to me. She was immensely taken with Mr. Ames, too,
+(I speak of the younger, for, after the first call of condolence, the
+elder sportsman never came,) and to her I left the task of entertaining
+him, or rather of doing the honors of the house,--for the gentleman
+contrived to entertain himself and us.
+
+Now don't imagine the man a hero, for he was no such thing. He was very
+good-looking,--some might say handsome,--well-bred, well educated, with
+plenty of common information picked up in a promiscuous intercourse with
+town and country people, rather fine tastes, and a great, strong,
+magnanimous, physical nature, modest, but perfectly self-conscious. That
+was his only charm for me. I despise a mere animal; but, other things
+being equal, I admire a man who is big and strong, and aware of his
+advantages; and I think most women, and very refined ones, too, love
+physical beauty and strength much more than they are willing to
+acknowledge. So I had the same admiration for Mr. Ames that I should
+have had for any other finely proportioned thing, and enjoyed him very
+much, sitting quietly in my corner while he chatted with Mary, or told
+me stories of travel or hunting, or read aloud, which he soon fell into
+the way of doing.
+
+We did try, as much as hospitality permitted, to confine his visits to a
+few ceremonious calls; but he persisted in coming almost every day, and
+walked in past the girl with that quiet sort of authority which it is so
+difficult to resist. In the same way he took possession of Mary and me.
+He was sure it must be very dull for both of us; therefore he was going,
+if we would pardon the liberty, to offer his services as reader, while
+my nurse went out for a ride or a walk. Couldn't I sit out under the
+shadow of the beech-trees, as well as in that hot room? He could lift
+the chair and me perfectly well, and arrange all so that I should be
+comfortable. He would like to superintend the cooking of some birds he
+brought one day. He noticed that the girl didn't do them quite as nicely
+as he had learned to do them in the woods. And so in a thousand things
+he quietly made us do as he chose, without seeming to outrage any rule
+of propriety. When I was able to sit in a carriage, he persuaded me to
+drive with him; and I had to lean on his arm, when I first went round
+the place to see how matters went on.
+
+Once I protested against his making himself so necessary to us, and told
+him that I didn't care to furnish the gossips so much food as we were
+doing.
+
+When I turned him out of doors, he would certainly stay away, he said;
+but he thought, that, as long as I was an invalid, I needed some one to
+think and act for me and save me the trouble, and, as no one else seemed
+disposed to take the office, he thought it was rather his duty and
+privilege,--especially, he added, with a slight smile, as he was quite
+sure that it was not very disagreeable to us. As for the gossips, he
+didn't think they would make much out of it, with such an excellent
+duenna as Cousin Mary,--and, indeed, he heard the other day that he was
+paying attention to her.
+
+I thought it all over by myself, when he had gone, and came to the
+conclusion that it was not necessary for me to resign so great a
+pleasure as his society had become, merely for the fear of what a few
+curious people might say. Even Mary, cautious as she was, protested
+against banishing him for such a reason; and, after a little talking
+over of the matter among ourselves, we decided to let Mr. Ames come as
+often as he chose, for the remaining month of his stay.
+
+That month went rapidly enough, for I was well enough to ride and walk
+out, and half the time had Mr. Ames to accompany me. I got to value him
+very much, as I knew him better, and as he grew acquainted with my
+peculiarities; and we were the best friends in the world, without a
+thought of being more. No one would have laughed at that more than we,
+there was such an evident unsuitableness in the idea. At length the time
+came for him to leave Huntsville; his house was closed, except one room
+where he still preferred to remain, and his friend was already gone. He
+came to take tea with us for the last time, and made himself as
+agreeable as ever, although it evidently required some effort to do so.
+Soft-hearted Cousin Mary broke down and went off crying when he bade her
+good-bye, after tea; but I was not of such stuff, and laughingly rallied
+him on the impression he had made.
+
+"Get your bonnet, and walk over to the stile with me, Miss Rachel," he
+said. "It isn't sunset quite yet, and the afternoon is warm. Come! it's
+the last walk we shall take together."
+
+I followed him out, and we went almost silently across the fields to the
+hill that overlooked the strip of meadow between our houses. There was
+the stile over which I had looked to see him spring, many a time.
+
+"Sit down a moment, until the sun is quite down," he said, making room
+for me beside him on the topmost step. "See how splendid that sky is! a
+pavilion for the gods!"
+
+"I should think they were airing all their finery," I answered. "It
+looks more like a counter spread with bright goods than anything else I
+can think of."
+
+"That's a decidedly vulgar comparison, and you're not in a spiritual
+mood at all," he said. "You've snubbed me two or three times to-night,
+when I've tried to be sentimental. What's amiss with you?" and he bent
+his eyes, full of a saucy sort of triumph, upon mine.
+
+"I don't like parting with friends; it sets me all awry," I said, giving
+back his own self-assured look. I was sorry to have him go; but if he
+thought I was going to cry or blush, he was mistaken.
+
+"You'll write to me, Miss Rachel?" he asked.
+
+"No, Mr. Ames,--not at all," I said.
+
+"Not write? Why not?" he asked, in astonishment.
+
+"Because I don't believe in galvanizing dead friendships," I answered.
+
+"Dead friendships, Miss Rachel? I hope ours has much life in it yet," he
+said.
+
+"It's in the last agony, Sir. It will be comfortably dead and buried
+before long, with a neat little epitaph over it,--which is much the best
+way to dispose of them finally, I think."
+
+"You're harder than I thought you were," he said. "Is that the way you
+feel towards all your friends?"
+
+"I love my friends as well as any one," I answered. "But I never hold
+them when they wish to be gone. My life-yarn spins against some other
+yarn, catches the fibres, and twists into the very heart"----
+
+"So far?" he asked, turning his eyes down to mine.
+
+"Yes," I said, coolly,--"for the time being. You don't play at your
+friendships, do you? If so, I pity you. As I was saying, they're like
+one thread. By-and-by one spindle is moved, the strands spin away from
+each other, and become strange yarn. What's the use of sending little
+locks of wool across to keep them acquainted? They're two yarns from
+henceforth. Reach out for some other thread,--there's plenty near,--and
+spin into that. We're made all up of little locks from other people, Mr.
+Ames. Won't it be strange, in that great Hereafter, to hunt up our own
+fibres, and return other people's? It would take about forty-five
+degrees of an eternity to do that."
+
+"I shall never return mine," he said. "I couldn't take myself to pieces
+in such a style. But won't you write at all?"
+
+"To what purpose? You'll be glad of one letter,--possibly of two. Then
+it will be, 'Confound it! here's a missive from that old maid! What a
+bore! Now I suppose I must air my wits in her behalf; but, if you ever
+catch me again,'----_Exit_."
+
+"And you?" he asked, laughing.
+
+"I shall be as weary as you, and find it as difficult to keep warmth in
+the poor dying body. No, Mr. Ames. Let the poor thing die a natural
+death, and we'll wear a bit of crape a little while, and get a new
+friend for the old."
+
+"So you mean to forget me altogether?"
+
+"No, indeed! I shall recollect you as a very pleasant tale that is
+told,--not a friend to hanker after. Isn't that good common sense?"
+
+"It's all head-work,--mere cold calculation," he said; "while I"----He
+stopped and colored.
+
+"Your gods, there, are downright turn-coats," I said, coming down from
+the stile. "Their red mantles are nothing but pearl-colored now, and
+presently they'll be russet-gray. That whippoorwill always brings the
+dew with him, too; so I must go home. Good-night, and good-bye, Mr.
+Ames."
+
+"I scarcely know how to part with you," he said, taking my hand. "It's
+not so easy a thing to do."
+
+"People say, 'Good-bye,' or 'God bless you,' or some such civil phrase,
+usually," I said, with just the least curl of my lip,--for I knew I had
+got the better of him.
+
+He colored again, and then smiled a little sadly.
+
+"Ah! I'm afraid I leave a bigger lock than I take," he exclaimed. "Well,
+then, good friend! good-bye, and God bless you, too! Don't be quite so
+hard as you promise to be."
+
+I missed him very much, indeed; but if any think I cried after him, or
+wrote verses, or soliloquized for his sake, they are much mistaken. I
+had lost friends before, and made it a point to think just as little of
+them as possible, until the sore spot grew strong enough to handle
+without wincing. Besides, my cousin stayed with me, and all my good
+friends in the village had to come out for a call or a visit to see how
+the land lay; so I had occupation enough. Once in a while I used to look
+over to the old house, and wish for one good breezy conversation with
+its master; and when the snow came and lay in one mass upon the old
+roof, clear down to the eaves, like a night-cap pulled down to the eyes
+of a low-browed old woman, I moved my bed against the window that looked
+that way. These forsaken nests are gloomy things enough!
+
+I had no thought of hearing again of him or from him, and was surprised,
+when, in a month, a review came, and before long another, and afterwards
+a box, by express, with a finely kept bouquet, and, in mid-winter, a
+little oil-painting,--a delicious bit of landscape for my _sanctum_, as
+he said in the note that accompanied it. I heard from him in this way
+all winter, although I never sent word or message back again, and tried
+to think I was sorry that he did not forget me, as I had supposed he
+would. Of course I never thought of acknowledging to myself that it was
+possible for me to love him. I was too good a sophist for that; and,
+indeed, I think that between a perfect friendship and a perfect love a
+fainter distinction exists than many people imagine. I have known
+likings to be colored as rosily as love, and seen what called itself
+love as cold as the chilliest liking.
+
+One day, after spring had been some time come, I was returning from a
+walk and saw that Mr. Ames's house was open. I could not see any person
+there; but the door and windows were opened, and a faint smoke crept out
+of the chimney and up among the new spring foliage after the squirrels.
+I had walked some distance, and was tired, and the weather was not
+perfect; but I thought I would go round that way and see what was going
+on. It was one of those charming child-days in early May, laughing and
+crying all in one, the fine mist-drops shining down in the sun's rays,
+like star-dust from some new world in process of rasping up for use. I
+liked such days. The showers were as good for me as for the trees. I
+grew and budded under them, and they filled my soul's soil full of
+singing brooks.
+
+When I reached the lawn before the door, Mr. Ames came out to see
+me,--so glad to meet that he held my hand and drew me in, asking two or
+three times how I was and if I were glad to see him. He had called at
+the house and seen Cousin Mary, on his way over, he said,--for he was
+hungering for a sight of us. He was not looking as well as when he left
+in the autumn,--thinner, paler, and with a more anxious expression when
+he was not speaking; but when I began to talk with him, he brightened
+up, and seemed like his old self. He had two or three workmen already
+tearing down portions of the finishing, and after a few moments asked me
+to go round and see what improvements he was to make. We stopped at last
+at his chamber, a room that looked through the foliage towards my house.
+
+"This is my lounging-place," he said, pointing to the sofa beneath the
+window. "I shall sit here with my cigar and watch you this summer; so be
+circumspect! But are you sure that you are glad to see me?"
+
+"To be sure. Do you take me for a heathen?" I said. "But what are you
+making such a change for? Couldn't the old house content you?"
+
+"It satisfies me well enough; but I expect visitors this summer who are
+quite fastidious, and this old worm-eaten wood-work wouldn't do for
+them. What makes you look so dark? Don't you like the notion of my
+lady-visitors?"
+
+"I didn't know that they were to be ladies until you told me," I said;
+"and it's none of my business whom you entertain, Mr. Ames."
+
+"There wasn't much of a welcome for them in your face, at any rate," he
+answered. "And to tell the truth, I am not much pleased with the
+arrangement myself. But they took a sudden fancy for coming, and no
+amount of persuasion could induce them to change their minds. It's
+hardly a suitable place for ladies; but if they will come, they must
+make the best of it."
+
+"How came you ever to take a fancy to this place? and what makes you
+spend so much money on it?" I asked.
+
+"You don't like to see the money thrown away," he said, laughing. "The
+truth is, that I've got a skeleton, like many another man, and I've been
+trying these two years to get away from it. The first time I stopped to
+rest under this tree, I felt light-hearted. I don't know why, except it
+was some mysterious influence; but I loved the place, and I love it no
+less now, although my skeleton has found a lodging-place here too."
+
+"Of course," I said, "and very appropriately. The house was haunted
+before you came."
+
+"It was haunted for me afterward," he said softly, more to himself than
+to me; "sweet, shadowy visions I should be glad to call up now." And he
+turned away and swallowed a sigh.
+
+I pitied him all the way home, and sat up to pity him, looking through
+the soft May starlight to see the lamp burning steadily at his window
+until after midnight. From that time I seemed to have a trouble,--though
+I could scarcely have named or owned it, it was so indefinite.
+
+He came to see me a few days afterward, and sat quite dull and
+abstracted until I warmed him up with a little lively opposition. I
+vexed him first, and then, when I saw he was interested enough to talk,
+I let him have a chance; and I had never seen him so interesting. He
+showed me a new phase of his character, and I listened, and answered him
+in as few words as possible, that I might lose nothing of the
+revelation. When he got up to go away, I asked him where he had been to
+learn and think so much since the last autumn. He began to be, I thought
+and hoped, what a sterner teaching might have made him before.
+
+He seemed a little embarrassed; said no one else had discovered any
+change in him, and he thought it must be only a reflected light. He had
+observed that I had "a remarkable faculty for drawing people out. What
+was my witchcraft?"
+
+I disclaimed all witchcraft, and told him it was only because I
+quarrelled with people. A little wholesome opposition had warmed him
+into quite a flight of fancy.
+
+"If I could only,"----he began, hurriedly; but took out his watch, said
+it was time for him to go, and went off quite hastily. It was very weak
+in me, but I wished very much to know what he would have said.
+
+The next time, he called a few moments to tell me that his
+lady-visitors, with a friend of theirs, had come, and had expressed a
+wish to make my acquaintance. He promised them that he would call and
+let me know,--though he hoped I would not come, unless I felt inclined.
+He was very absent-minded, and went off the moment I asked him where he
+had left his good spirits. This made me a little cold to him when I
+called on the ladies, for I found them all sitting after tea out at the
+door. It was a miserably constrained affair, though we all tried to be
+civil,--for I could see that both ladies were taking, or trying to take,
+my measure, and it did not set me at ease in the least. But in the mean
+time I had measured them; and as experience has confirmed that first
+impression, I may as well sketch them here. I protest, in the first
+place, against any imputation of prejudice or jealousy. I thought much
+more charitably of them than others did.
+
+Mrs. Winslow was one of those pleasant, well-bred ladies, who can look
+at you until you are obliged to look away, contradict you flatly, and
+say the most grossly impertinent things in the mildest voice and
+choicest words. A woman of the world, without nobility enough to
+appreciate a magnanimous thought or action, and with very narrow,
+shallow views of everything about her, she had still some agreeable
+traits of character,--much shrewd knowledge of the world, as she saw it,
+some taste for Art, and an excellent judgment in relation to all things
+appertaining to polite society. I had really some pleasant intercourse
+with her, although I think she was one of the most insulting persons I
+ever met. I made a point of never letting her get any advantage of me,
+and so we got along very well. Whenever she had a chance, she was sure
+to say something that would mortify or hurt me; and I never failed to
+repay both principal and interest with a voice and face as smooth as
+hers. And here let me say that there is no other way of dealing with
+such people. Self-denial, modesty, magnanimity, they do not and cannot
+understand. Never turn them the other cheek, but give a smart slap back
+again. It will do them good.
+
+The daughter was a very pretty, artificial, silly girl, who might have
+been very amiable in a different position, and was not ill-natured as it
+was. I might have liked her very well, if she had not conceived such a
+wonderful liking for me, and hugged and kissed me as much as she did.
+She cooed, too, and I dislike to hear a woman coo; it is a sure mark of
+inferiority.
+
+We were quite intimate soon, and Miss Lucy fell into the habit of coming
+early in the morning to ride with me, and after dinner to sit and sew,
+and after tea for a walk. She showed me all her heart, apparently,
+though there was not much of it, and vowed that she scarcely knew how
+she should exist without me. I let her play at liking me, just as I
+should have indulged a playful kitten, and tried to say and do something
+that might improve her for Mr. Ames's sake. I saw now what his skeleton
+was. He was to marry the poor child, and shrunk from it as I should have
+shrunk from a shallow husband.
+
+He used to come with her sometimes, and I must confess that he behaved
+admirably. I never saw him in the least rude, or ill-natured, or
+contemptuous towards her, even when she was silliest and tried his
+patience most severely; and I felt my respect for him increasing every
+day. As for Mrs. Winslow, she came sometimes to see me, and was very
+particular to invite me there; but I saw that she watched both me and
+Mr. Ames, and suspected that she had come to Huntsville for that
+purpose. She sought every opportunity, too, of making me seem awkward or
+ignorant before him; and he perceived it, I know, and was mortified and
+annoyed by it, though he left the chastisement entirely to me. Once in a
+while Cousin Mary and I had a real old-fashioned visit from him all
+alone, either when it was very stormy, or when the ladies were visiting
+elsewhere. He always came serious and abstracted, and went away in good
+spirits, and he said that those few hours were the pleasantest he
+passed. Mrs. Winslow looked on them with an evil eye, I knew, and
+suspected a great deal of which we were all innocent; for one day, when
+she had been dining at my house with her daughter, and we were all out
+in the garden together, I overheard her saying,--
+
+"She is just the person to captivate him, and you mustn't bring yourself
+into competition with her, Lucy. She can out-shine you in conversation,
+and I know that she is playing a deep game."
+
+"La, ma!" the girl exclaimed. "An old maid, without the least style! and
+she makes butter too, and actually climbs up in a chair to scrub down
+her closets,--for Edward and I caught her at it one day."
+
+"And did she seem confused?" asked Mrs. Winslow.
+
+"No, indeed! Now I should have died, if he had caught me in such a
+plight; but she shook down her dress as though it were a matter of
+course, and they were soon talking about some German stuff,--I don't
+know what it was,--while I had to amuse myself with the drawings."
+
+"That's the way!" retorted the mother. "You play dummy for them. I wish
+you had a little more spirit, Lucy. You wouldn't play into the hands of
+this designing"----
+
+"Nonsense, mamma! She's a real clever, good-natured old thing, and I
+like her," exclaimed the daughter. "You're so suspicious!"
+
+"You're so foolishly secure!" answered mamma. "A man is never certain
+until after the ceremony; and you don't know Edward Ames, Lucy."
+
+"I know he's got plenty of money, mother, and I know he's real nice and
+handsome," was the reply; and they walked out of hearing.
+
+I wouldn't have listened even to so much as that, if I could have
+avoided it; and as soon as I could, I went into the parlor, and sat down
+to some work, trying to keep down that old trouble, which somehow
+gathered size like a rolling snowball. I might have known what it was,
+if I had not closed my eyes resolutely, and said to myself, "The summer
+will soon be gone, and there will be an end of it all then"; and I
+winced, as I said it, like one who sees a blow coming.
+
+The summer went by imperceptibly; it was autumn, and still all things
+remained outwardly as they had been. We went back and forth continually,
+rode and walked out, sang and read together, and Lucy grew fonder and
+fonder of me. She could scarcely live out of my presence, and confided
+to me all her plans when she and Edward should be married,--how much she
+thought of him, and he of her, all about their courtship, how he
+declared himself and how she accepted him one soft moonlight night in
+far Italy, how agitated and distressed he had been when she had a fever,
+and a thousand other details which swelled that great stone in my heart
+more and more. But I shut my eyes, until one day when I saw them
+together. He was listening, intent, and very pale, to something she told
+him, and, to my surprise, she was pale too, and weeping. Before she
+could finish, she broke into a passionate rush of tears, and would have
+thrown herself at his feet; but he caught her, and she sunk down upon
+his shoulder, and he stooped towards her as he might if he had loved
+her. Then I knew how I loved him.
+
+I had to bear up a little while, for they were in my house, and I must
+bid them good-night, and talk idly, so that they should not suspect the
+wound I had. But I must do something, or go mad; and so I went out to
+the garden-wall, and struck my hand upon it until the blood ran. The
+pain of that balanced the terrible pain within for a few moments, and I
+went in to them calm and smiling. They were sitting on the sofa, he with
+a perplexed, pale face, and she blushing and radiant. They started up
+when they saw my hand bandaged, and she was full of sympathy for my
+hurt. He said but little, though he looked fixedly at my face. I know I
+must have looked strangely. When they were gone, I went into my chamber
+and shut the door, with some such feeling as I should have closed the
+entrance of a tomb behind me forever. I fought myself all that night. My
+heart was hungry and cried out for food, and I would promise it none at
+all. Is there anyone who thinks that youth has monopolized all the
+passion of life, all the rapture, all the wild despair? Let them breast
+the deep, strong current of middle life.
+
+I never could quite recollect how that last month went away. I know that
+I kept myself incessantly occupied, and that I saw them almost daily,
+without departing from the tone of familiar friendship I had worn
+throughout, although my heart was full of jealousy and a fast-growing
+hatred that would not be quelled. Not for a thousand happy loves would I
+have let them see my humiliation. I was even afraid that already he
+might suspect it, for his manner was changed. Sometimes he was distant,
+sometimes sad, and sometimes almost tenderer than a friend.
+
+It got to be October, and I felt that I could not bear such a state of
+things any longer, and questioned within myself whether I had better not
+leave home for a while. If I had been alone, it would have been easy;
+but my cousin Mary was still with me, and I could give no good reason
+for such a step. Before I had settled upon anything, Lucy came to me in
+great distress, with a confession that Mr. Ames was somehow turned
+against her, and that she was almost heart-broken about it. If she lost
+him, she must die; for she had so long looked upon him as her husband,
+and loved him so well, that life would be nothing without him. What
+should she do? Would I advise her?
+
+I didn't know, until long afterward, that it was a consummate piece of
+acting, dictated by the mother, and that she was as heartless as it was
+possible for a young girl to be; and while she lay weeping at my feet, I
+pitied her, and wondered if, perhaps, there might not be some spring of
+generous feeling in her heart, that a happy love would unlock. The next
+morning I went out alone, for a ride, in a direction where I thought I
+could not be disturbed. Up hill and down, over roads, pastures, and
+streams, I tore until the fever within was allayed, and then I stopped
+to rest, and look upon the beauties of the bright October day. All
+overhead and around, the sky and patches of water were of that
+far-looking blue which seems all ready to open upon new and wonderful
+worlds. Big, bright drops of a night-shower lay asleep in the curled-up
+leaves, as though the trees had stretched out a million hands to catch
+them. And such hands! What comparison could match them? Clouds of
+butterflies, such as sleep among the flowers of Paradise,--forgotten
+dreams of children, who sleep and smile,--fancies of fairy laureates,
+strung shining together for some high festival,--anything most rich or
+unreal, might furnish a type for the foliage that was painted upon the
+golden blue of that October day. I could almost have forgotten my
+trouble in the charmed gaze.
+
+"You turn up in strange places, Rachel!" said a voice behind me.
+
+This was what I had dreaded; but I swallowed love and fear in one great
+gulp, and shut my teeth with a resolution of iron. I would not be guilty
+of the meanness of standing in that child's way, if she were but a fool;
+so I answered him gayly.
+
+"'The same to yourself,' as Neighbor Dawkins would say. Why didn't you
+all go to the lake, as you planned last night?"
+
+"For some good reasons. Were you bewitched, that you stood here so
+still?" He looked brightly into my face, as he came up.
+
+"No,--but the trees are. Shouldn't you think that Oberon had held high
+court here over-night?"
+
+"And that they had left their wedding-dresses upon the boughs? Yes, they
+are gay enough! But where have you been these four weeks, that I haven't
+got speech with you?"
+
+"A pretty question, when you've been at my house almost every day! Where
+are your senses, man?"
+
+"I know too well where they are," he said. "But I've wanted a good talk
+with you, face to face,--not with a veil of commonplace people between.
+You're not yourself among them. I like you best when your spirits are a
+little ruffled, and your eye kindles, and your lip curls, as it does
+now,--not when you say, "No, Sir," or "Yes, Ma'am," and smile as though
+it were only skin-deep."
+
+I started my horse.
+
+"Let's be going, Jessie," I said. "It's our duty to feel insulted. He
+accuses your mistress of being deceitful among her friends, and says he
+likes her when she's cross."
+
+He laughed lightly, and walked along by my side.
+
+"How are your ladies? and when will Miss Lucy come to ride out with me?"
+I asked, fearing a look into his eyes.
+
+This brought him down. I knew it would.
+
+He answered that she was well, and walked along with his head down,
+quite like another man. At length he looked up, very pale, and put his
+hand on my bridle.
+
+"I want to put a case to you," he said. "Suppose a man to have made some
+engagement before his mind was mature, and under a strong outside
+pressure of which he was not aware. When he grows to a better knowledge
+of the world and himself, and finds that he has been half cheated, and
+that to keep his word will entail lasting misery and ruin on himself,
+without really benefiting any one else, is he bound to keep it?"
+
+I stopped an instant to press my heart back, and then I answered him.
+
+"A promise is a promise, Mr. Ames. I have thought that a man of honor
+valued his word more than happiness or life."
+
+He flushed a moment, and then looked down again; and we walked on
+slowly, without a word, over the stubbly ground, and through brooklets
+and groves and thickets, towards home. If I could only reach there
+before he spoke again! How could I hold out to do my duty, if I were
+tempted any farther? At last he checked the horse, and, putting his hand
+heavily on mine, looked me full in the face, while his was pale and
+agitated.
+
+"Rachel," he said, huskily, "if a man came to you and said, 'I am bound
+to another; but my heart, my soul, my life are at your feet,' would you
+turn him away?"
+
+I gasped one long breath of fresh air.
+
+"Do I look like a woman who would take a man's love at second hand?" I
+said, haughtily. "Women like me _must_ respect the man they marry, Sir."
+
+He dropped his hand, and turned away his head, with a deep-drawn breath.
+I saw him stoop and lift himself again, as though some weight were laid
+upon his shoulders. I saw the muscles round and ridgy upon his clenched
+hand. "All this for a silly, shallow thing, who knows nothing of the
+heart she loses!" some tempter whispered, and passionate words of love
+rushed up and beat hard against my shut teeth. "Get thee behind me!" I
+muttered, and resolutely started my horse forward. "Not for her,--but
+for myself,--for self-respect! The best love in the world shall not buy
+that!"
+
+He came along beside me, silent, and stepping heavily, and thus we went
+to the leafy lane that came out near my house. There I stopped; for I
+felt that this must end now.
+
+"Mr. Ames, you must leave this place, directly," I said, with as much
+sternness as I could assume. "If you please, I will bid you good-bye,
+now."
+
+"Not see you again, Rachel?" he exclaimed, sharply. "No! not that!
+Forgive me, if I have said too much; but don't send me away!"
+
+He took my hand in both his, and gazed as one might for a sentence of
+life or death.
+
+"Will you let a woman's strength shame you?" I cried, desperately. "I
+thought you were a man of honor, Mr. Ames. I trusted you entirely, but I
+will never trust any one again."
+
+He dropped my hand, and drew himself up.
+
+"You are right, Rachel! you are right," he said, after a moment's
+thought. "No one must trust me, and be disappointed. I have never
+forgotten that before; please God, I never will again. But must I say
+farewell here?"
+
+"It is better," I said.
+
+"Good-bye, then, dear friend!--dear friend!" he whispered. "If you ever
+love any better than yourself, you will know how to forgive me."
+
+I felt his kiss on my hand, and felt, rather than saw, his last look,
+for I dared not raise my eyes to his; and I knew that he had turned
+back, and that I had seen the last of him. For one instant I thought I
+would follow and tell him that he did not suffer alone; but before my
+horse was half turned, I was myself again.
+
+"Fool!" I said. "If you let the dam down, can you push the waters back
+again? Would that man let anything upon earth stand between him and a
+woman that loved him? Let him go so. He'll forget you in six months."
+
+I had to endure a farewell call from Lucy and her mother. Mr. Ames had
+received a sudden summons home, and they were to accompany him a part of
+the way. The elder scrutinized me very closely, but I think she got
+nothing to satisfy her; the younger kissed and shed tears enough for the
+parting of twin sisters. How I hated her! In a couple of days they were
+gone, Mr. Ames calling to see me when he knew me to be out, and leaving
+a civil message only. The house was closed, the faded leaves fell all
+about the doorway, and the grass withered upon the little lawn.
+
+"That play is over, and the curtain dropped," I said to myself, as I
+took one long look towards the old house, and closed the shutters that
+opened that way.
+
+You who have suffered some great loss, and stagger for want of strength
+to walk alone, thank God for work. Nothing like that for bracing up a
+feeble heart! I worked restlessly from morning till night, and often
+encroached on what should have been sleep. Hard work, real sinewy labor,
+was all that would content me; and I found enough of it. To have been a
+proper heroine, I suppose I should have devoted myself to works of
+charity, read sentimental poetry, and folded my hands very meekly and
+prettily; but I did no such thing. I ripped up carpets, and scoured
+paint, and swept down cobwebs, I made sweetmeats and winter clothing, I
+dug up and set out trees, and smoothed the turf in my garden, and
+tramped round my fields with the man behind me, to see if the fences
+needed mending, or if the marshes were properly drained, or the fallow
+land wanted ploughing. It made me better. All the sickliness of my grief
+passed away, and only the deep-lying regret was left like a weight to
+which my heart soon became accustomed. We can manage trouble much better
+than we often do, if we only choose to try resolutely.
+
+I had but one relapse. It was when I got news of their marriage. I
+remember the day with a peculiar distinctness; for it was the first
+snow-storm of the season, and I had been out walking all the afternoon.
+It was one of those soft, leaden-colored, expectant days, of late autumn
+or early winter, when one is sure of snow; and I went out on purpose to
+see it fall among the woods; for it was just upon Christmas, and I
+longed to see the black ground covered. By-and-by a few flakes sauntered
+down, coquetting as to where they would alight; then a few more
+followed, thickening and thickening until the whole upper air was alive
+with them, and the frozen ridges whitened along their backs, and every
+little stiff blade of grass or rush or dead bush held all it could
+carry. It was pleasant to see the quiet wonder go on, until the
+landscape was completely changed,--to walk home _scuffing_ the snow from
+the frozen road on which my feet had ground as I came that way, and see
+the fences full, and the hollows heaped up level, and the birches bent
+down with their hair hidden, and the broad arms of the fir-trees loaded,
+like sombre cotton-pickers going home heavily laden. Then to see the
+brassy streak widen in the west, and the cold moon hang astonished upon
+the dead tops of some distant pine-trees, was to enjoy a most beautiful
+picture, with only the cost of a little fatigue.
+
+When I got home, I found among my letters one from Mr. Ames. He could
+not leave the country without pleading once more for my esteem, he
+wrote. He had not intended to marry until he could think more calmly of
+the past; but Lucy's mother had married again very suddenly into a
+family where her daughter found it not pleasant to follow her. She was
+poor, without very near relatives now, and friends, on both sides, had
+urged the marriage. He had told her the state of his feelings, and
+offered, if she could overlook the want of love, to be everything else
+to her. She should never repent the step, and he prayed me, when I
+thought of him, to think as leniently as possible. Alas! now I must not
+think at all.
+
+How I fought that thought,--how I worked by day, and studied deep into
+the night, filling every hour full to the brim with activity, seems now
+a feverish dream to me. Such dead thoughts will not be buried out of
+sight, but lie cold and stiff, until the falling foliage of seasons of
+labor and experience eddies round them, and moss and herbs venture to
+grow over their decay, and birds come slowly and curiously to sing a
+little there. In time, the mound is beautiful with the richness of the
+growth, but the lord of the manor shudders as he walks that way. For
+him, it is always haunted.
+
+Thus with me. I knew that the sorrow was doing me good, that it had been
+needed long, and I tried to profit by it, as the time came when I could
+think calmly of it all. I thought I had ceased to love him; but the news
+of her death (for she died in two years) taught me better. I heard of
+him from others,--that he had been most tender and indulgent to a
+selfish, heartless woman, who trifled with his best feelings, and almost
+broke his heart before she went. I heard that he had one child, a poor
+little blind baby, for whom the mother had neither love nor care, and
+that he still continued abroad. But from himself I never heard a word.
+No doubt he had forgotten me, as I had always thought he would.
+
+More than two years passed, and spring-time was upon us, when I heard
+that he had returned to the country, and was to be married shortly to a
+wealthy, beautiful widow he had found abroad. At first we heard that he
+was married, and then that he was making great preparations, but would
+not marry until autumn. Even the bride's dress was described, and the
+furniture of the house of which she was to be mistress. I had expected
+some such thing, but it added one more drop of bitterness to the
+yearning I had for him. It was so hard to think him like any other man!
+
+However, now, as before, I covered up the wound with a smiling face, and
+went about my business. I had been making extensive improvements on my
+farm, and kept out all day often, over-seeing the laborers. One night, a
+soft, starlight evening in late May, I came home very tired, and, being
+quite alone, sat down on the portico to watch the stars and think. I had
+not been long there, when a man's step came up the avenue, and some
+person, I could not tell who in the darkness, opened the gate, and came
+slowly up towards me. I rose, and bade him good-evening.
+
+"Is it you, Rachel?" he said, quite faintly. It was his voice. Thank
+Heaven for the darkness! The hand I gave him might tremble, but my face
+should betray nothing. I invited him into the parlor, and rang for
+lights.
+
+"He's come to see about selling the old house," I thought; there was a
+report that he would sell it by auction. When the lights came, he looked
+eagerly at me.
+
+"Am I much changed?" I said, with a half-bitter smile.
+
+"Not so much as I," he answered, sighing and looking down;--he seemed to
+be in deep thought for a moment.
+
+He was much changed. His hair was turning gray; his face was thin, with
+a subdued expression I had never expected to see him wear. He must have
+suffered greatly; and, as I looked, my heart began to melt. That would
+not do; and besides, what was the need of pity, when he had consoled
+himself? I asked some ordinary question about his journey, and led him
+into a conversation on foreign travel.
+
+The evening passed away as it might with two strangers, and he rose to
+go, with a grave face and manner as cold as mine,--for I had been very
+cold. I followed him to the door, and asked how long he stayed at
+Huntsville.
+
+Only a part of the next day, he said; his child could not be left any
+longer; but he wished very much to see me, and so had contrived to get a
+few days.
+
+"Indeed!" I said. "You honor me. Your Huntsville friends scarcely
+expected to be remembered so long."
+
+"They have not done me justice, then," he said, quietly. "I seem to have
+the warmest recollection of any. Good-night, Miss Mead. I shall not be
+likely to see you again."
+
+He gave me his hand, but it was very cold, and I let it slip as coldly
+from mine. He went down the gravel-walk slowly and heavily, and he
+certainly sighed as he closed the gate. Could I give him up thus? "Down
+pride! You have held sway long enough! I must part more kindly, or die!"
+I ran down the gravel-walk and overtook him in the avenue. He stopped as
+I came up, and turned to meet me.
+
+"Forgive me," I said, breathlessly. "I could not part with old friends
+so, after wishing so much for them."
+
+He took both my hands in his. "Have you wished for me, Rachel?" he said,
+tenderly. "I thought you would scarcely have treated a stranger with so
+little kindness."
+
+"I was afraid to be warmer," I said.
+
+"Afraid of what?" he asked.
+
+My mouth was unsealed. "Are you to be married?" I asked.
+
+"I have no such expectation," he answered.
+
+"And are not engaged to any one?"
+
+"To nothing but an old love, dear! Was that why you were afraid to show
+yourself to me?"
+
+"Yes!" I answered, making no resistance to the arm that was put gently
+round me. He was mine now, I knew, as I felt the strong heart beating
+fast against my own.
+
+"Rachel," he whispered, "the only woman I ever did or ever can love,
+will you send me away again?"
+
+
+
+
+A SHETLAND SHAWL.
+
+
+    It was made of the purest and finest wool,
+    As fine as silk, and as soft and cool;
+    It was pearly white, of that cloud-like hue
+    Which has a shadowy tinge of blue;
+    And brought by the good ship, miles and miles,
+    From the distant shores of the Shetland Isles.
+
+    And in it were woven, here and there,
+    The golden threads of a maiden's hair,
+    As the wanton wind with tosses and twirls
+    Blew in and out of her floating curls,
+    While her busy fingers swiftly drew
+    The ivory needle through and through.
+
+    The warm sun flashed on the brilliant dyes
+    Of the purple and golden butterflies,
+    And the drowsy bees, with a changeless tune,
+    Hummed in the perfumed air of June,
+    As the gossamer fabric, fair to view,
+    Under the maiden's fingers grew.
+
+    The shadows of tender thought arise
+    In the tranquil depths of her dreamy eyes,
+    And her blushing cheek bears the first impress
+    Of the spirit's awakening consciousness,
+    Like the rose, when it bursts, in a single hour,
+    From the folded bud to the perfect flower.
+
+    Many a tremulous hope and care,
+    Many a loving wish and prayer,
+    With the blissful dreams of one who stood
+    At the golden gate of womanhood,
+    The little maiden's tireless hands
+    Wove in and out of the shining strands.
+
+    The buds that burst in an April sun
+    Had seen the wonderful shawl begun;
+    It was finished, and folded up with pride,
+    When the vintage purpled the mountain-side;
+    And smiles made light in the violet eyes,
+    At the thought of a lover's pleased surprise.
+
+    The spider hung from the budding thorn
+    His baseless web, when the shawl was worn;
+    And the cobwebs, silvered by the dew,
+    With the morning sunshine breaking through,
+    The maiden's toil might well recall,
+    In the vanished year, on the Shetland Shawl.
+
+    For the rose had died in the autumn showers,
+    That bloomed in the summer's golden hours;
+    And the shining tissue of hopes and dreams,
+    With misty glories and rainbow gleams
+    Woven within and out, was one
+    Like the slender thread by the spider spun.
+
+    As fresh and as pure as the sad young face,
+    The snowy shawl with its clinging grace
+    Seems a fitting veil for a form so fair:
+    But who would think what a tale of care,
+    Of love and grief and faith, might all
+    Be folded up in a Shetland Shawl?
+
+
+
+
+ROBA DI ROMA.
+
+[Continued.]
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+GAMES IN ROME.
+
+Walking, during pleasant weather, almost anywhere in Rome, but
+especially in passing through the enormous arches of the Temple of
+Peace, or along by the Colosseum, or some wayside _osteria_ outside the
+city-walls, the ear of the traveller is often saluted by the loud,
+explosive tones of two voices going off together, at little intervals,
+like a brace of pistol-shots; and turning round to seek the cause of
+these strange sounds, he will see two men, in a very excited state,
+shouting, as they fling out their hands at each other with violent
+gesticulation. Ten to one he will say to himself, if he be a stranger in
+Rome, "How quarrelsome and passionate these Italians are!" If he be an
+Englishman or an American, he will be sure to congratulate himself on
+the superiority of his own countrymen, and wonder why these fellows
+stand there shaking their fists at each other, and screaming, instead of
+fighting it out like men,--and muttering, "A cowardly pack, too!" will
+pass on, perfectly satisfied with his facts and his philosophy. But what
+he has seen was really not a quarrel. It is simply the game of _Mora_,
+as old as the Pyramids, and formerly played among the host of Pharaoh
+and the armies of Caesar as now by the subjects of Pius IX. It is thus
+played.
+
+Two persons place themselves opposite each other, holding their right
+hands closed before them. They then simultaneously and with a sudden
+gesture throw out their hands, some of the fingers being extended, and
+others shut up on the palm,--each calling out in a loud voice, at the
+same moment, the number he guesses the fingers extended by himself and
+his adversary to make. If neither cry out aright, or if both cry out
+aright, nothing is gained or lost; but if only one guess the true
+number, he wins a point. Thus, if one throw out four fingers and the
+other two, he who cries out six makes a point, unless the other cry out
+the same number. The points are generally five, though sometimes they
+are doubled, and as they are made, they are marked by the left hand,
+which, during the whole game, is held stiffly in the air at about the
+shoulders' height, one finger being extended for every point. When the
+_partito_ is won, the winner cries out, "_Fatto!_" or "_Guadagnato!_" or
+"_Vinto!_" or else strikes his hands across each other in sign of
+triumph. This last sign is also used when Double _Mora_ is played, to
+indicate that five points are made.
+
+So universal is this game in Rome, that the very beggars play away their
+earnings at it. It was only yesterday, as I came out of the gallery of
+the Capitol, that I saw two who had stopped screaming for "_baiocchi per
+amor di Dio_," to play pauls against each other at _Mora_. One, a
+cripple, supported himself against a column, and the other, with his
+ragged cloak slung on his shoulder, stood opposite him. They staked a
+paul each time with the utmost _nonchalance_, and played with an
+earnestness and rapidity which showed that they were old hands at it,
+while the coachmen from their boxes cracked their whips, and jeered and
+joked them, and the shabby circle around them cheered them on. I stopped
+to see the result, and found that the cripple won two successive games.
+But his cloaked antagonist bore his losses like a hero, and when all was
+over, he did his best with the strangers issuing from the Capitol to
+line his pockets for a new chance.
+
+Nothing is more simple and apparently easy than _Mora_, yet to play it
+well requires quickness of perception and readiness in the calculation
+of chances. As each player, of course, knows how many fingers he himself
+throws out, the main point is to guess the number of fingers thrown by
+his opponent, and to add the two instantaneously together. A player of
+skill will soon detect the favorite numbers of his antagonist, and it is
+curious to see how remarkably clever some of them are in divining, from
+the movement of the hand, the number to be thrown. The game is always
+played with great vivacity, the hands being flung out with vehemence,
+and the numbers shouted at the full pitch of the voice, so as to be
+heard at a considerable distance. It is from the sudden opening of the
+fingers, while the hands are in the air, that the old Roman phrase,
+_micare digitis_, "to flash with the fingers," is derived.
+
+A bottle of wine is generally the stake; and round the _osterias_, of a
+_festa_-day, when the game is played after the blood has been heated and
+the nerves strained by previous potations, the regular volleyed
+explosions of "_Tre! Cinque! Otto! Tutti!_" are often interrupted by hot
+discussions. But these are generally settled peacefully by the
+bystanders, who act as umpires,--and the excitement goes off in talk.
+The question arises almost invariably upon the number of fingers flashed
+out; for an unscrupulous player has great opportunities of cheating, by
+holding a finger half extended, so as to be able to close or open it
+afterwards according to circumstances; but sometimes the losing party
+will dispute as to the number called out. The thumb is the father of all
+evil at _Mora_, it being often impossible to say whether it was intended
+to be closed or not, and an unskilful player is easily deceived in this
+matter by a clever one. When "_Tutti_" is called, all the fingers, thumb
+and all, must be extended, and then it is an even chance that a
+discussion will take place as to whether the thumb was out. Sometimes,
+when the blood is hot, and one of the parties has been losing, violent
+quarrels will arise, which the umpires cannot decide, and, in very rare
+cases, knives are drawn and blood is spilled. Generally these disputes
+end in nothing, and, often as I have seen this game, I have never been a
+spectator of any quarrel, though discussions numberless I have heard.
+But, beyond vague stories by foreigners, in which I put no confidence,
+the vivacity of the Italians easily leading persons unacquainted with
+their characters to mistake a very peaceable talk for a violent quarrel,
+I know of only one case that ended tragically. There a savage quarrel,
+begun at _Mora_, was with difficulty pacified by the bystanders, and one
+of the parties withdrew to an _osteria_ to drink with his companions.
+But while he was there, the rage which had been smothered, but not
+extinguished, in the breast of his antagonist, blazed out anew. Rushing
+at the other, as he sat by the table of the _osteria_, he attacked him
+fiercely with his knife. The friends of both parties started at once to
+their feet, to interpose and tear them apart; but before they could
+reach them, one of the combatants dropped bleeding and dying on the
+floor, and the other fled like a maniac from the room.
+
+This readiness of the Italians to use the knife, for the settlement of
+every dispute, is generally attributed by foreigners to the
+passionateness of their nature; but I am inclined to believe that it
+also results from their entire distrust of the possibility of legal
+redress in the courts. Where courts are organized as they are in Naples,
+who but a fool would trust to them? Open tribunals, where justice should
+be impartially administered, would soon check private assassinations;
+and were there more honest and efficient police courts, there would be
+far fewer knives drawn. The Englishman invokes the aid of the law,
+knowing that he can count upon prompt justice; take that belief from
+him, he, too, like Harry Gow, would "fight for his own hand." In the
+half-organized society of the less civilized parts of the United States,
+the pistol and bowie-knife are as frequent arbiters of disputes as the
+stiletto is among the Italians. But it would be a gross error to argue
+from this, that the Americans are violent and passionate by nature; for,
+among the same people in the older States, where justice is cheaply and
+strictly administered, the pistol and bowie-knife are almost unknown.
+Despotism and slavery nurse the passions of men; and wherever law is
+loose, or courts are venal, public justice assumes the shape of private
+vengeance. The farther south one goes in Italy, the more frequent is
+violence and the more unrepressed are the passions. Compare Piedmont
+with Naples, and the difference is immense. The dregs of vice and
+violence settle to the south. Rome is worse than Tuscany, and Naples
+worse than Rome,--not so much because of the nature of the people, as of
+the government and the laws.
+
+But to return to _Mora_. As I was walking out beyond the Porta San
+Giovanni the other day, I heard the most ingenious and consolatory
+periphrasis for a defeat that it was ever my good-fortune to hear; and,
+as it shows the peculiar humor of the Romans, it may here have a place.
+Two of a party of _contadini_ had been playing at _Mora_, the stakes
+being, as usual, a bottle of wine, and each, in turn, had lost and won.
+A lively and jocose discussion now arose between the friends on the one
+side and the players on the other,--the former claiming that each of the
+latter was to pay his bottle of wine for the game he lost, (to be drunk,
+of course, by all,) and the latter insisting, that, as one loss offset
+the other, nothing was to be paid by either. As I passed, one of the
+players was speaking. "_Il primo partito_," he said, "_ho guadagnato io;
+e poi, nel secondo_,"--here a pause,--"_ho perso la vittoria_": "The
+first game, I won; the second, I----_lost the victory_." And with this
+happy periphrasis, our friend admitted his defeat. I could not but think
+how much better it would have been for the French, if this ingenious
+mode of adjusting with the English the Battle of Waterloo had ever
+occurred to them. To admit that they were defeated was of course
+impossible; but to acknowledge that they "lost the victory" would by no
+means have been humiliating. This would have soothed their irritable
+national vanity, prevented many heart-burnings, saved long and idle
+arguments and terrible "kicking against the pricks," and rendered a
+friendly alliance possible.
+
+No game has a better pedigree than _Mora_. It was played by the
+Egyptians more than two thousand years before the Christian era. In the
+paintings at Thebes and in the temples of Beni-Hassan, seated figures
+may be seen playing it,--some keeping their reckoning with the left hand
+uplifted,--some striking off the game with both hands, to show that it
+was won,--and, in a word, using the same gestures as the modern Romans.
+From Egypt it was introduced into Greece. The Romans brought it from
+Greece at an early period, and it has existed among them ever since,
+having suffered apparently no alteration. Its ancient Roman name was
+_Micatio_, and to play it was called _micare digitis_,--"to flash the
+fingers,"--the modern name _Mora_ being merely a corruption of the verb
+_micare_. Varro describes it precisely as it is now played; and Cicero,
+in the first book of his treatise "De Divinatione," thus alludes to
+it:--"_Quid enim est sors? Idem propemodum quod_ micare, _quod talos
+jacere, quod tesseras; quibus in rebus temeritas et casus, non ratio et
+consilium valent._" So common was it, that it became the basis of an
+admirable proverb, to denote the honesty of a person:--"_Dignus est
+quicum in tenebris mices_": "So trustworthy, that one may play _Mora_
+with him in the dark." At one period they carried their love of it so
+far, that they used to settle by _micatio_ the sales of merchandise and
+meat in the Forum, until Apronius, prefect of the city, prohibited the
+practice in the following terms, as appears by an old inscription, which
+is particularly interesting as containing an admirable pun: "_Sub exagio
+potius pecora vendere quam digitis concludentibus tradere_": "Sell your
+sheep by the balance, and do not bargain or deceive" (_tradere_ having
+both these meanings) "by opening and shutting your fingers at _Mora_."
+
+One of the various kinds of the old Roman game of _Pila_ still survives
+under the modern name of _Pallone_. It is played between two sides, each
+numbering from five to eight persons. Each of the players is armed with
+a _bracciale_, or gantlet of wood, covering the hand and extending
+nearly up to the elbow, with which a heavy ball is beaten backwards and
+forwards, high into the air, from one side to the other. The object of
+the game is to keep the ball in constant flight, and whoever suffers it
+to fall dead within his bounds loses. It may, however, be struck in its
+rebound, though the best strokes are before it touches the ground. The
+_bracciali_ are hollow tubes of wood, thickly studded outside with
+pointed bosses, projecting an inch and a half, and having inside, across
+the end, a transverse bar, which is grasped by the hand, so as to render
+them manageable to the wearer. The balls, which are of the size of a
+large cricket-ball, are made of leather, and are so heavy, that, when
+well played, they are capable of breaking the arm, unless properly
+received on the _bracciale_. They are inflated with air, which is pumped
+into them with a long syringe, through a small aperture closed by a
+valve inside. The game is played on an oblong figure, marked out on the
+ground, or designated by the wall around the sunken platform on which it
+is played; across the centre is drawn a transverse line, dividing
+equally the two sides. Whenever a ball either falls outside the lateral
+boundary or is not struck over the central line, it counts against the
+party playing it. When it flies over the extreme limits, it is called a
+_volata_, and is reckoned the best stroke that can be made. At the end
+of the lists is a spring-board, on which the principal player stands.
+The best batter is always selected for this post; the others are
+distributed about. Near him stands the _pallonaio_, whose office is to
+keep the balls well inflated with air, and he is busy nearly all the
+time. Facing him, at a short distance, is the _mandarino_, who gives
+ball. As soon as the ball leaves the _mandarino's_ hand, the chief
+batter runs forward to meet it, and strikes it as far and high as he
+can, with the _bracciale_. Four times in succession have I seen a good
+player strike a _volata_, with the loud applause of the spectators. When
+this does not occur, the two sides bat the ball backwards and forwards,
+from one to the other, sometimes fifteen or twenty times before the
+point is won; and as it falls here and there, now flying high in the air
+and caught at once on the _bracciale_ before touching the ground, now
+glancing back from the wall which generally forms one side of the lists,
+the players rush eagerly to hit it, calling loudly to each other, and
+often displaying great agility, skill, and strength. The interest now
+becomes very exciting; the bystanders shout when a good stroke is made,
+and groan and hiss at a miss, until, finally, the ball is struck over
+the lists, or lost within them. The points of the game are fifty,--the
+first two strokes counting fifteen each, and the others ten each. When
+one side makes the fifty before the other has made anything, it is
+called a _marcio_, and counts double. As each point is made, it is
+shouted by the caller, who stands in the middle and keeps the count, and
+proclaims the bets of the spectators.
+
+This game is as national to the Italians as cricket to the English; it
+is not only, as it seems to me, much more interesting than the latter,
+but requires vastly more strength, agility, and dexterity, to play it
+well. The Italians give themselves to it with all the enthusiasm of
+their nature, and many a young fellow injures himself for life by the
+fierceness of his batting. After the excitement and stir of this game,
+which only the young and athletic can play well, cricket seems a very
+dull affair.
+
+The game of _Pallone_ has always been a favorite one in Rome; and near
+the summit of the Quattro Fontane, in the Barberini grounds, there is a
+circus, which used to be specially devoted to public exhibitions during
+the summer afternoons. At these representations, the most renowned
+players were engaged by an _impresario_. The audience was generally
+large, and the entrance-fee was one paul. Wonderful feats were sometimes
+performed here; and on the wall are marked the heights of some
+remarkable _volate_. The players were clothed in a thin, tight dress,
+like _saltimbanchi_. One side wore a blue, and the other a red ribbon,
+on the arm. The contests, generally, were fiercely disputed,--the
+spectators betting heavily, and shouting, as good or bad strokes were
+made. Sometimes a line was extended across the amphitheatre, from wall
+to wall, over which it was necessary to strike the ball, a point being
+lost in case it passed below. But this is a variation from the game as
+ordinarily played, and can be ventured on only when the players are of
+the first force. The games here, however, are now suspended; for the
+French, since their occupation, have not only seized the post-office, to
+convert it into a club-room, and the _piano nobile_ of some of the
+richest palaces, to serve as barracks for their soldiers, but have also
+driven the Romans from their amphitheatre, where _Pallone_ was played,
+to make it into _ateliers de genie_. Still, one may see the game played
+by ordinary players, towards the twilight of any summer day, in the
+Piazza di Termini, or near the Tempio della Pace, or the Colosseo. The
+boys from the studios and shops also play in the streets a sort of
+mongrel game called _Pillotta_, beating a small ball back and forth,
+with a round bat, shaped like a small _tamburello_ and covered with
+parchment. But the real game, played by skilful players, may be seen
+almost every summer night outside the Porta a Pinti, in Florence; and I
+have also seen it admirably played under the fortress-wall at Siena, the
+players being dressed entirely in white, with loose ruffled jackets,
+breeches, long stockings, and shoes of undressed leather, and the
+audience sitting round on the stone benches, or leaning over the lofty
+wall, cheering on the game, while they ate the cherries or _zucca_-seeds
+which were hawked about among them by itinerant peddlers. Here, towards
+twilight, one could lounge away an hour pleasantly under the shadow of
+the fortress, looking now at the game and now at the rolling country
+beyond, where olives and long battalions of vines marched knee-deep
+through the golden grain, until the purple splendors of sunset had
+ceased to transfigure the distant hills, and the crickets chirped louder
+under the deepening gray of the sky.
+
+In the walls of the amphitheatre at Florence is a bust in colored marble
+of one of the most famous players of his day, whose battered face seems
+still to preside over the game, getting now and then a smart blow from
+the _Pallone_ itself, which, in its inflation, is no respecter of
+persons. The honorable inscription beneath the bust, celebrating the
+powers of this champion, who rejoiced in the surname of Earthquake, is
+as follows:--
+
+_"Josephus Barnius, Petiolensis, vir in jactando repercutiendoque folle
+singularis, qui ob robur ingens maximamque artis peritiam, et collusores
+ubique devictos, Terraemotus formidabili cognomento dictus est."_
+
+Another favorite game of ball among the Romans is _Bocce_ or _Boccette_.
+It is played between two sides, consisting of any number of persons,
+each of whom has two large wooden balls of about the size of an average
+American nine-pin ball. Beside these, there is a little ball called the
+_lecco_. This is rolled first by one of the winning party to any
+distance he pleases, and the object is to roll or pitch the _boccette_
+or large balls so as to place them beside the _lecco_. Every ball of one
+side nearer to the _lecco_ than any ball of the other counts one point
+in the game,--the number of points depending on the agreement of the
+parties. The game is played on the ground, and not upon any smooth or
+prepared plane; and as the _lecco_ often runs into hollows, or poises
+itself on some uneven declivity, it is sometimes a matter of no small
+difficulty to play the other balls near to it. The great skill of the
+game consists, however, in displacing the balls of the adverse party so
+as to make the balls of the playing party count, and a clever player
+will often change the whole aspect of affairs by one well-directed
+throw. The balls are thrown alternately,--first by a player on one side,
+and then by a player on the other. As the game advances, the interest
+increases, and there is a constant variety. However good a throw is
+made, it may be ruined by the next. Sometimes the ball is pitched with
+great accuracy, so as to strike a close-counting ball far into the
+distance, while the new ball takes its place. Sometimes the _lecco_
+itself is suddenly transplanted into a new position, which entirely
+reverses all the previous counting. It is the last ball which decides
+the game, and, of course, it is eagerly watched. In the Piazza di
+Termini numerous parties may be seen every bright day in summer or
+spring playing this game under the locust-trees, surrounded by idlers,
+who stand by to approve or condemn, and to give their advice. The French
+soldiers, once free from drill or guard or from practising trumpet-calls
+on the old Agger of Servius Tullius near by, are sure to be rolling
+balls in this fascinating game. Having heated their blood sufficiently
+at it, they adjourn to a little _osteria_ in the Piazza to refresh
+themselves with a glass of _asciutto_ wine, after which they sit on a
+bench outside the door, or stretch themselves under the trees, and take
+a _siesta_, with their handkerchiefs over their eyes, while other
+parties take their turn at the _bocce_. Meanwhile, from the Agger beyond
+are heard the distressing trumpets struggling with false notes and
+wheezing and shrieking in ludicrous discord, while now and then the
+solemn bell of Santa Maria Maggiore tolls from the neighboring hill.
+
+Another favorite game in Rome and Tuscany is _Ruzzola_, so called from
+the circular disk of wood with which it is played. Round this the player
+winds tightly a cord, which, by a sudden cast and backward jerk of the
+hand, he uncoils so as to send the disk whirling along the road. Outside
+the walls, and along all the principal avenues leading to the city,
+parties are constantly to be met playing at this game; and oftentimes
+before the players are visible, the disk is seen bounding round some
+curve, to the great danger of one's legs. He whose disk whirls the
+farthest wins a point. It is an excellent walking game, and it requires
+some knack to play the disk evenly along the road. Often the swiftest
+disks, when not well-directed, bound over the hedges, knock themselves
+down against the walls, or bury themselves in the tangled ditches; and
+when well played, if they chance to hit a stone in the road, they will
+leap like mad into the air, at the risk of serious injury to any
+unfortunate passer. In the country, instead of wooden disks, the
+_contadini_ often use _cacio di pecora_, a kind of hard goat's cheese,
+whose rind will resist the roughest play. What, then, must be the
+digestive powers of those who eat it, may be imagined. Like the peptic
+countryman, they probably do not know they have a stomach, not having
+ever felt it; and certainly they can say with Tony Lumpkin, "It never
+hurts me, and I sleep like a hound after it."
+
+In common with the French, the Romans have a passion for the game of
+Dominos. Every _caffe_ is supplied with a number of boxes, and, in the
+evening especially, it is played by young and old, with a seriousness
+which strikes us Saxons with surprise. We generally have a contempt for
+this game, and look upon it as childish. But I know not why. It is by no
+means easy to play well, and requires a careful memory and quick powers
+of combination and calculation. No _caffe_ in Rome or Marseilles would
+be complete without its little black and white counters; and as it
+interests at once the most mercurial and fidgety of people and the
+laziest and languidest, it must have some hidden charm as yet unrevealed
+to the Anglo-Saxon.
+
+Beside Dominos, Chess (_Scacchi_) is often played in public in the
+_caffes_; and there is one _caffe_ named _Dei Scacchi_, because it is
+frequented by the best chess-players in Rome. Here matches are often
+made, and admirable games are played.
+
+Among the Roman boys the game of _Campana_ is also common. A
+parallelogram is drawn upon the ground and subdivided into four squares,
+which are numbered. At the top and bottom are two small semicircles, or
+_bells_, thus:--
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Each of the players, having deposited his stake in the semicircle (_b_)
+at the farthest end, takes his station at a short distance, and
+endeavors to pitch some object, either a disk or a bit of _terracotta_,
+or more generally a _baiocco_, into one of the compartments. If he lodge
+it in the nearest bell, (_a_,) he pays a new stake into the pool; if
+into the farthest bell, (_b_,) he takes the whole pool; if into either
+of the other compartments, he takes one, two, three, or four of the
+stakes, according to the number of the compartment. If he lodge on a
+line, he is _abbrucciato_, as it is termed, and his play goes for
+nothing. Among the boys, the pool is frequently filled with
+buttons,--among the men, with _baiocchi_; but buttons or _baiocchi_ are
+all the same to the players,--they are the representatives of luck or
+skill.
+
+But the game of games in Rome is the Lottery. This is under the
+direction of the government, which, with a truly ecclesiastic regard for
+its subjects, has organized it into a means of raising revenue. The
+financial objection to this method of taxation is, that its hardest
+pressure is upon the poorest classes; but the moral and political
+objections are still stronger. The habit of gambling engendered by it
+ruins the temper, depraves the morals, and keeps up a constant state of
+excitement at variance with any settled and serious occupation. The
+temptations to laziness which it offers are too great for any people
+luxurious or idle by temperament; and the demon of Luck is set upon the
+altar which should be dedicated to Industry. If one happy chance can
+bring a fortune, who will spend laborious days to gain a competence? The
+common classes in Rome are those who are most corrupted by the lottery;
+and when they can neither earn nor borrow _baiocchi_ to play, they
+strive to obtain them by beggary, cheating, and sometimes theft. The
+fallacious hope that their ticket will some day bring a prize leads them
+from step to step, until, having emptied their purses, they are tempted
+to raise the necessary funds by any unjustifiable means. When you pay
+them their wages or throw them a _buona-mano_, they instantly run to the
+lottery-office to play it. Loss after loss does not discourage them. It
+is always, "The next time they are to win,--there was a slight mistake
+in their calculation before." Some good reason or other is always at
+hand. If by chance one of them do happen to win a large sum, it is ten
+to one that it will cost him his life,--that he will fall into a fit, or
+drop in an apoplexy, on hearing the news. There is a most melancholy
+instance of this in the very next house,--of a Jew made suddenly and
+unexpectedly rich, who instantly became insane in consequence, and is
+now the most wretched and melancholy spectacle that man can ever
+become,--starving in the midst of abundance, and moving like a beast
+about his house. But of all ill luck that can happen to the
+lottery-gambler, the worst is to win a small prize. It is all over with
+him from that time forward; into the great pit of the lottery everything
+that he can lay his hands on is sure to go.
+
+There has been some difference of opinion as to whether the lottery was
+of later Italian invention, or dated back to the Roman Empire,--some
+even contending that it was in existence in Egypt long before that
+period; and several ingenious discussions may be found on this subject
+in the journals and annals of the French _savans_. A strong claim has
+been put forward for the ancient Romans, on the ground that Nero, Titus,
+and Heliogabalus were in the habit of writing on bits of wood and shells
+the names of various articles which they intended to distribute, and
+then casting them to the crowd to be scrambled for.[A] On some of these
+shells and billets were inscribed the names of slaves, precious vases,
+costly dresses, articles of silver and gold, valuable beasts, etc.,
+which became the property of the fortunate persons who secured the
+billets and shells. On others were written absurd and useless articles,
+which turned the laugh against the unfortunate finder. Some, for
+instance, had inscribed upon them ten pieces of gold, and some ten
+cabbages. Some were for one hundred bears, and some for one egg. Some
+for five camels, and some for ten flies. In one sense, these were
+lotteries, and the Emperors deserve all due credit for their invention.
+But the lottery, according to its modern signification, is of Italian
+origin, and had its birth in Upper Italy as early as the fourteenth or
+fifteenth century. Here it was principally practised by the Venetians
+and Genoese, under the name of _Borsa di Ventura_,--the prizes
+consisting originally, not of money, but of merchandise of every
+kind,--precious stones, pictures, gold and silver work, and similar
+articles. The great difference between them and the ancient lotteries of
+Heliogabalus and Nero was, that tickets were bought and prizes drawn.
+The lottery soon came to be played, however, for money, and was
+considered so admirable an invention, that it was early imported into
+France, where Francis I., in 1539, granted letters-patent for the
+establishment of one. In the seventeenth century, this "_infezione_," as
+an old Italian writer calls it, was introduced into Holland and England,
+and at a still later date into Germany. Those who invented it still
+retain it; but those who adopted it have rejected it. After nearly three
+centuries' existence in France, it was abolished on the 31st of
+December, 1835. The last drawing was at Paris on the 27th of the same
+month, when the number of players was so great that it became necessary
+to close the offices before the appointed time, and one Englishman is
+said to have gained a _quaterno_ of the sum of one million two hundred
+thousand francs. When abolished in France, the government was drawing
+from it a net revenue of twenty million francs.
+
+In Italy the lottery was proscribed by Innocent XII., Benedict XIII.,
+and Clement XII. But it was soon revived. It was not without vehement
+opposers then as now, as may be seen by a little work published at Pisa
+in the early part of the last century, entitled, "L'Inganno non
+conosciuto, oppure non voluto conoscere, nell'Estrazione del Lotto."
+Muratori, in 1696, calls it, in his "Annals of Italy," "_Inventione
+dell' amara malizia per succiare il sangue dei malaccorti giuocatori_."
+In a late number of the "Civilta Cattolica," published at Rome by the
+Jesuits, (the motto of which is "_Beatus Populus cujus Dominus Deus
+est_,") there is, on the other hand, an elaborate and most Jesuitical
+article, in which the lottery is defended with amusing skill. What
+Christendom in general has agreed to consider immoral and pernicious in
+its effects on a people seems, on the contrary, to the writer of this
+article, to be highly moral and commendable.
+
+The numbers which can be played are from one to ninety. Of these only
+five are now drawn. Originally the numbers drawn were eight,
+(_otto_,)--and it is said that the Italian name of this game, _lotto_,
+was derived from this circumstance. The player may stake upon one, two,
+three, four, or five numbers,--but no ticket can be taken for more than
+five; and he may stake upon his ticket any sum, from one _baiocco_ up to
+five _scudi_,--but the latter sum only in case he play upon several
+chances on the same ticket. If he play one number, he may either play it
+_al posto assegnato_, according to its place in the drawing, as first,
+second, third, etc.,--or he may play it _senza posto_, without place, in
+which case he wins, if the number come anywhere among the five drawn. In
+the latter case, however, the prize is much less in proportion to the
+sum staked. Thus, for one _baiocco_ staked _al posto assegnato_, a
+_scudo_ may be won; but to gain a _scudo_ on a number _senza posto_,
+seven _baiocchi_ must be played. A sum staked upon two numbers is called
+an _ambo_,--on three, a _terno_,--on four, a _quaterno_,--and on five, a
+_cinquino_; and of course the prizes increase in rapid proportion to the
+numbers played,--the sum gained multiplying very largely on each
+additional number. For instance, if two _baiocchi_ be staked on an
+_ambo_, the prize is one _scudo_; but if the same sum be staked on a
+_terno_, the prize is a hundred _scudi_. When an _ambo_ is played for,
+the same two numbers may be played as single numbers, either _al posto_
+or _senza posto_, and in such case one of the numbers alone may win. So,
+also, a _terno_ may be played so as to include an _ambo_, and a
+_quaterno_ so as to include a _terno_ and _ambo_, and a _cinquino_ so as
+to include all. But whenever more than one chance is played for, the
+price is proportionally increased. For a simple _terno_ the limit of
+price is thirty-five pauls. The ordinary rule is to play for every
+chance within the numbers taken; but the common people rarely attempt
+more than a _terno_. If four numbers are played with all their chances,
+they are reckoned as four _terni_, and paid for accordingly. If five
+numbers are taken, the price is for five _terni_.
+
+Where two numbers are played, there is always an augment to the nominal
+prize of twenty per cent.; where three numbers are played, the augment
+is of eighty per cent.; and from every prize is deducted ten per cent.,
+to be devoted to the hospitals and the poor. The rule creating the
+augments was decreed by Innocent XIII. Such is the rage for the lottery
+in Rome, as well as in all the Italian States, and so great is the
+number of tickets bought within the year, that this tax on the prizes
+brings in a very considerable revenue for eleemosynary purposes.
+
+The lottery is a branch of the department of finance, and is under the
+direction of a Monsignore. The tickets originally issue from one grand
+central office in the Palazzo Madama; but there is scarcely a street in
+Rome without some subsidiary and distributing office, which is easily
+recognized, not only by its great sign of "_Prenditoria di Lotti_" over
+the door, but by scores of boards set round the windows and doorway, on
+which are displayed, in large figures, hundreds of combinations of
+numbers for sale. The tickets sold here are merely purchased on
+speculation for resale, and though it is rare that all are sold, yet, as
+a small advance of price is asked on each ticket beyond what was given
+at the original office, there is enough profit to support these shops.
+The large show of placards would to a stranger indicate a very
+considerable investment; yet, in point of fact, as the tickets rarely
+cost more than a few _baioicchi_, the amount risked is small. No ticket
+is available for a prize, unless it bear the stamp and signature of the
+central office, as well as of the distributing shop, if bought in the
+latter.
+
+Every Saturday, at noon, the lottery is drawn in Rome, in the Piazza
+Madama. Half an hour before the appointed time, the Piazza begins to be
+thronged with ticket-holders, who eagerly watch a large balcony of the
+sombre old Palazzo Madama, (built by the infamous Catharine de' Medici,)
+where the drawing is to take place. This is covered by an awning and
+colored draperies. In front, and fastened to the balustrade, is a glass
+barrel, standing on thin brass legs and turned by a handle. Five or six
+persons are in the balcony, making arrangements for the drawing. These
+are the officials,--one of them being the government officer, and the
+others persons taken at random, to supervise the proceedings. The chief
+official first takes from the table beside him a slip of paper on which
+a number is inscribed. He names it aloud, passes it to the next, who
+verifies it and passes it on, until it has been subjected to the
+examination of all. The last person then proclaims the number in a loud
+voice to the populace below, folds it up, and drops it into the glass
+barrel. This operation is repeated until every number from one to ninety
+is passed, verified by all, proclaimed, folded, and dropped into the
+barrel. The last number is rather sung than called, and with more
+ceremony than all the rest. The crowd shout back from below. The bell
+strikes noon. A blast of trumpets sounds from the balcony, and a boy
+dressed in white robes advances from within, ascends the steps, and
+stands high up before the people, facing the Piazza. The barrel is then
+whirled rapidly round and round, so as to mix in inextricable confusion
+all the tickets. This over, the boy lifts high his right hand, makes the
+sign of the cross on his breast, then, waving his open hand in the air,
+to show that nothing is concealed, plunges it into the barrel, and draws
+out a number. This he hands to the official, who names it, and passes it
+along the line of his companions. There is dead silence below, all
+listening eagerly. Then, in a loud voice, the number is sung out by the
+last official, "_Primo estratto, numero 14_," or whatever the number may
+be. Then sound the trumpets again, and there is a rustle and buzz among
+the crowd. All the five numbers are drawn with like ceremony, and all is
+over. Within a surprisingly short space of time, these numbers are
+exhibited in the long frames which are to be seen over the door of every
+_Prenditoria di Lotti_ in Rome, and there they remain until the next
+drawing takes place. The boy who does the drawing belongs to a college
+of orphans, an admirable institution, at which children who have lost
+both parents and are left helpless are lodged, cared for, and educated,
+and the members of which are employed to perform this office in
+rotation, receiving therefor a few _scudi_.
+
+It will be seen from the manner in which the drawing of the lottery is
+conducted, that no precaution is spared by the government to assure the
+public of the perfect good faith and fairness observed in it. This is,
+in fact, absolutely necessary in order to establish that confidence
+without which its very object would be frustrated. But the Italians are
+a very suspicious and jealous people, and I fear that there is less
+faith in the uprightness of the government than in their own
+watchfulness and the difficulty of deception. There can be little doubt
+that no deceit is practised by the government, so far as the drawing is
+concerned,--for it would be nearly impossible to employ it. Still there
+are not wanting stories of fortunate coincidences which are singular and
+interesting; one case, which I have every reason to believe authentic,
+was related to me by a most trustworthy person, as being within his own
+knowledge. A few years ago, the Monsignore who was at the head of the
+lottery had occasion to diminish his household, and accordingly
+dismissed an old servant who had been long in his palace. Often the old
+man returned and asked for relief, and as often was charitably received.
+But his visits at last became importunate, and the Monsignore
+remonstrated. The answer of the servant was, "I have given my best years
+to the service of your Eminence,--I am too old to labor,--what shall I
+do?" The case was a hard one. His Eminence paused and reflected;--at
+last he said, "Why not buy a ticket in the lottery?" "Ah!" was the
+answer, "I have not even money to supply my daily needs. What you now
+give me is all I have. If I risk it, I may lose it,--and that lost, what
+can I do?" Still the Monsignore said, "Buy a ticket in the lottery."
+"Since your Eminence commands me, I will," said the old man; "but what
+numbers?" "Play on number so and so for the first drawing," was the
+answer, "_e Dio ti benedica_!" The servant did as he was ordered, and,
+to his surprise and joy, the first number drawn was his. He was a rich
+man for life,--and his Eminence lost a troublesome dependant.
+
+A capital story is told by the author of the article in the "Civilta
+Cattolica," which is to the point here, and which, even were it not told
+on such respectable authority, bears its truth on the face of it. As
+very frequently happens, a poor _bottegaio_, or shopkeeper, being
+hard-driven by his creditors, went to his priest, an _uomo apostolico_,
+and prayed him earnestly to give him three numbers to play in the
+lottery.
+
+"But how under heaven," says the innocent priest, "has it ever got into
+your head that I can know the five numbers which are to issue in the
+lottery?"
+
+"_Eh! Padre mio!_ what will it cost you?" was the answer. "Just look at
+me and my wretched family; if we do not pay our rent on Saturday, out we
+go into the street. There is nothing left but the lottery, and you can
+give us the three numbers that will set all right."
+
+"Oh, there you are again! I am ready to do all I can to assist you, but
+this matter of the lottery is impossible; and I must say, that your
+folly, in supposing I can give you the three lucky numbers, does little
+credit to your brains."
+
+"Oh, no! no! do not say so, _Padre mio_! Give me a _terno_. It will be
+like rain in May, or cheese on my maccaroni. On my word of honor, I'll
+keep it secret. _Via!_ You, so good and charitable, cannot refuse me the
+three numbers. Pray, content me this once."
+
+"_Caro mio!_ I will give you a rule for always being content:--Avoid
+Sin, think often on Death, and behave so as to deserve Paradise,--and
+so"----
+
+"_Basta! basta! Padre mio!_ That's enough. Thanks! thanks! God will
+reward you."
+
+And, making a profound reverence, off the _bottegaio_ rushes to his
+house. There he takes down the "Libro del Sogni," calls into
+consultation his wife and children, and, after a long and earnest
+discussion and study, the three numbers corresponding to the terms Sin,
+Death, and Paradise are settled upon, and away goes our friend to play
+them in the lottery. Will you believe it? the three numbers are
+drawn,--and the joy of the poor _bottegaio_ and his family may well be
+imagined. But what you will not imagine is the persecution of the poor
+_uomo apostolico_ which followed. The secret was all over town the next
+day, and he was beset by scores of applicants for numbers. Vainly he
+protested and declared that he knew nothing, and that the man's drawing
+the right numbers was all chance. Every word he spoke turned into
+numbers, and off ran his hearers to play them. He was like the girl in
+the fairy story, who dropped pearls every time she spoke. The worst of
+the imbroglio was, that in an hour the good priest had uttered words
+equivalent to all the ninety numbers in the lottery, and the players
+were all at loggerheads with each other. Nor did this persecution cease
+for weeks, nor until those who had played the numbers corresponding to
+his words found themselves, as the Italians say, with only flies in
+their hands.
+
+The stupidity of many of the common people in regard to these numbers is
+wonderful. When the number drawn is next to the number they have, they
+console themselves with thinking that they were within one of it,--as if
+in such cases a miss were not as bad as a mile. But when the number
+drawn is a multiple of the one they play, it is a sympathetic number,
+and is next door to winning; and if the number come reversed,--as if,
+having played 12, it come out 21,--he laughs with delight. "Eh, don't
+you see, you stupid fellow," said the _speziale_ of a village one day to
+a dunce of a _contadino_, of whose infallible _terno_ not a single
+number had been drawn,--"Don't you see, in substance all your three
+numbers have been drawn? and it's shameful in you to be discontented.
+Here you have played 8--44--26, and instead of these have been drawn
+7--11--62. Well! just observe! Your 8 is just within one point of being
+7; your 44 is in substance 11, for 4 times 11 are 44 exactly; and your
+26 is nothing more or less than precisely 62 reversed;--what would you
+ask more?" And by his own mode of reasoning, the poor _contadino_ sees
+as clearly as possible that he has really won,--only the difficulty is
+that he cannot touch the prize without correcting the little variations.
+_Ma, pazienza!_ he came so near this time, that he will be sure to win
+the next,--and away he goes to hunt out more sympathetic numbers, and to
+rejoice with his friends on coming so near winning.
+
+Dreams of numbers are, of course, very frequent,--and are justly much
+prized. Yet one must know how to use them, and be brave and bold, or the
+opportunity is lost. I myself once dreamt of having gained a _terno_ in
+the lottery, but was fool enough not to play it,--and in consequence
+lost a prize, the very numbers coming up in the next drawing. The next
+time I have such a dream, of course I shall play; but perhaps I shall be
+too late, and only lose. And this recalls to my mind a story, which may
+serve as a warning to the timid and an encouragement to the bold. An
+Englishman, who had lived on bad terms with a very quarrelsome and
+annoying wife, (according to his own account, of course,) had finally
+the luck, I mean the misfortune, to lose her. He had lived long enough
+in Italy, however, to say "_Pazienza_" and buried his sorrows and his
+wife in the same grave. But, after the lapse of some time, his wife
+appeared to him in a dream, and confessed her sins towards him during
+her life, and prayed his forgiveness, and added, that in token of
+reconciliation he must accept three numbers to play in the lottery,
+which would certainly win a great prize. But the husband was obstinate,
+and absolutely refused to follow the advice of a friend to whom he
+recounted the odd dream, and who urged him to play the numbers. "Bah!"
+he answered to this good counsel; "I know her too well;--she never meant
+well to me during her life, and I don't believe she's changed now that
+she's dead. She only means to play me a trick, and make me lose. But I'm
+too old a bird to be taken with her chaff." "Better play them," said his
+friend, and they separated. In the course of a week they met again. "By
+the way," said the friend, "did you see that your three numbers came up
+in the lottery this morning?" "The Devil they did! What a consummate
+fool I was not to play them!" "You didn't play them?" "No!" "Well, I
+did, and won a good round sum with them, too." So the obstinate husband,
+mad at his ill luck, cursed himself for a fool, and had his curses for
+his pains. That very night, however, his wife again appeared to him,
+and, though she reproached him a little for his want of faith in her,
+(no woman could be expected to forego such an opportunity, even though
+she were dead,) yet she forgave him, and added,--"Think no more about it
+now, for here are three more numbers, just as good." The husband, who
+had eaten the bitter food of experience, was determined at all events
+not to let his fortune slip again through his fingers, and played the
+highest possible _terno_ in the lottery, and waited anxiously for the
+next drawing. He could scarcely eat his breakfast for nervousness, that
+morning,--but at last mid-day sounded, and the drawing took place, but
+no one of his numbers came up. "Too late! taken in!" he cried. "Confound
+her! she knew me better than I knew myself. She gave me a prize the
+first time, because she knew I wouldn't play it; and, having so whet my
+passions, she then gave me a blank the second time, because she knew I
+would play it. I might have known better."
+
+From the moment one lottery is drawn, the mind of the people is intent
+on selecting numbers for the next. Nor is this an easy matter,--all
+sorts of superstitions existing as to figures and numbers. Some are
+lucky, some unlucky, in themselves,--some lucky only in certain
+combinations, and some sympathetic with others. The chances, therefore,
+must be carefully calculated, no number or combination being ever played
+without profound consideration, and under advice of skilful friends.
+Almost every event in life has a numerical signification; and such is
+the reverence paid to dreams, that a large book exists of several
+hundred pages, called "Libro dei Sogni," containing, besides various
+cabala and mystical figures and lists of numbers which are
+"sympathetic," with directions for their use, a dictionary of thousands
+of objects with the numbers supposed to be represented by each, as well
+as rules for interpreting into numbers all dreams in which these objects
+appear,--and this book is the constant _vade-mecum_ of a true
+lottery-player. As Boniface lived, ate, and slept on his ale, so do the
+Romans on their numbers. The very children "lisp in numbers, for the
+numbers come," and the fathers run immediately to play them. Accidents,
+executions, deaths, apoplexies, marriages, assassinations, births,
+anomalies of all kinds, become auguries and enigmas of numbers. A
+lottery-gambler will count the stabs on a dead body, the drops of blood
+from a decollated head, the passengers in an overturned coach, the
+wrinkles in the forehead of a new-born child, the gasps of a person
+struck by apoplexy, the day of the month and the hour and the minute of
+his death, the _scudi_ lost by a friend, the forks stolen by a thief,
+anything and everything, to play them in the lottery. If a strange dream
+is dreamed,--as of one being in a desert on a camel, which turns into a
+rat, and runs down into the Maelstroem to hide,--the "Libro dei Sogni" is
+at once consulted, the numbers for desert, rat, camel, and Maelstroem are
+found and combined, and the hopeful player waits in eager expectation of
+a prize. Of course, dream after dream of particular numbers and
+combinations occurs,--for the mind bent to this subject plays freaks in
+the night, and repeats contortedly the thoughts of the day,--and these
+dreams are considered of special value. Sometimes, when a startling
+incident takes place with a special numerical signification, the run
+upon the numbers indicated becomes so great, that the government, which
+is always careful to guard against any losses on its own part, refuses
+to allow more than a certain amount to be played on them, cancels the
+rest, and returns the price of the tickets.
+
+Sometimes, in passing through the streets, one may see a crowd collected
+about a man mounted upon a chair or stool. Fixed to a stand at his side
+or on the back of his chair is a glass bottle, in which are two or three
+hollow manikins of glass, so arranged as to rise and sink by pressure of
+the confined air. The neck of the bottle is cased in a tin box which
+surmounts it and has a movable cover. This personage is a charlatan,
+with an apparatus for divining lucky numbers for the lottery. The "soft
+bastard Latin" runs off his tongue in an uninterrupted stream of talk,
+while he offers on a waiter to the bystanders a number of little folded
+papers containing a _pianeta_, or augury, on which are printed a
+fortune and a _terno_. "Who will buy a _pianeta_," he cries, "with the
+numbers sure to bring him a prize? He shall have his fortune told him
+who buys. Who does not need counsel must surely be wise. Here's Master
+Tommetto, who never tells lies. And here is his brother, still smaller
+in size. And Madama Medea Plutonia to advise. They'll write you a
+fortune and bring you a prize for a single _baiocco_. No creature so
+wise as not to need counsel. A fool I despise, who keeps his _baiocco_
+and loses his prize. Who knows what a fortune he'll get till he tries?
+Time's going, Signori,--who buys? who buys?" And so on by the yard.
+Meantime the crowd about him gape, stare, wonder, and finally put their
+hands to their pockets, out with their _baiocchi_, and buy their papers.
+Each then makes a mark on his paper to verify it, and returns it to the
+charlatan. After several are thus collected, he opens the cover of the
+tin box, deposits them therein with a certain ceremony, and commences an
+exhortatory discourse to the manikins in the bottle,--two of whom,
+Maestro Tommetto and his brother, are made to resemble little black
+imps, while Madama Medea Plutonia is dressed _alla Francese_. "_Fa una
+reverenza, Maestro Tommetto!_" "Make a bow, Master Tommetto!" he now
+begins. The puppet bows. "_Ancora!_" "Again!" Again he bows. "_Lesto,
+Signore, un piccolo giretto!_" "Quick, Sir, a little turn!" And round
+whirls the puppet. "Now, up, up, to make a registry on the ticket! and
+do it conscientiously, Master Tommetto!" And up the imp goes, and
+disappears through the neck of the bottle. Then comes a burst of
+admiration at his cleverness from the charlatan. Then, turning to the
+brother imp, he goes through the same _role_ with him. "And now, Madama
+Medea, make a reverence, and follow your husband! Quick, quick, a little
+_giretto_!" And up she goes. A moment after, down they all come again at
+his call; he lifts the cover of the box; cries, "_Quanto sei caro,
+Tommetto!_" and triumphantly exhibits the papers, each with a little
+freshly written inscription, and distributes them to the purchasers. Now
+and then he takes from his pocket a little bottle containing a mixture
+of the color of wine, and a paper filled with some sort of powder, and,
+exclaiming, "_Ah! tu hai fame e sete. Bisogna che ti dia da bere e
+mangiare_," pours them into the tin cup.
+
+It is astonishing to see how many of these little tickets a clever
+charlatan will sell in an hour, and principally on account of the
+lottery-numbers they contain. The fortunes are all the stereotype thing,
+and almost invariably warn you to be careful lest you should be
+"_tradito_," or promise you that you shall not be "_tradito_"; for the
+idea of betrayal is the corner-stone of every Italian's mind.
+
+In not only permitting, but promoting the lottery, Italy is certainly
+far behind England, France, and America. This system no longer exists
+with us, except in the disguised shape of gift-enterprises, art-unions,
+and that unpleasant institution of mendicant robbery called the raffle,
+and employed specially by those "who have seen better days." But a fair
+parallel to this rage of the Italians for the lottery is to be found in
+the love of betting, which is a national characteristic of the English.
+I do not refer to the bets upon horseflesh at Ascot, Epsom, and
+Goodwood, by which fortunes change owners in an hour and so many men are
+ruined, but rather to the general habit of betting upon any and every
+subject to settle a question, no matter how trivial, for which the
+Englishman is everywhere renowned on the Continent. Betting is with most
+other nations a form of speech, but with Englishmen it is a serious
+fact, and no one will be long in their company without finding an
+opinion backed up by a bet. It would not be very difficult to parallel
+those cases where the Italians disregard the solemnity of death, in
+their eagerness for omens of lottery-numbers, with equally reprehensible
+and apparently heartless cases of betting in England. Let any one who
+doubts this examine the betting-books at White's and Brookes's. In them
+he will find a most startling catalogue of bets,--some so bad as to
+justify the good parson in Walpole's story, who declared that they were
+such an impious set in this respect at White's, that, "if the last trump
+were to sound, they would bet puppet-show against judgment." Let one
+instance suffice. A man, happening to drop down at the door of White's,
+was lifted up and carried in. He was insensible, and the question was,
+whether he were dead or not. Bets were at once given and taken on both
+sides, and, it being proposed to bleed him, those who had taken odds
+that he was dead protested, on the ground that the use of the lancet
+would affect the fairness of the bet.[B] In the matter of play, things
+have now much changed since the time when Mr. Thynne left the club at
+White's in disgust, because he had won only twelve hundred guineas in
+two months. There is also a description of one of Fox's mornings, about
+the year 1783, which Horace Walpole has left us, and the truth of which
+Lord Holland admits, which it would be well for those to read who
+measure out hard justice to the Italians for their love of the lottery.
+Let us be fair. Italy is in these respects behind England in morals and
+practice by nearly a century; but it is as idle to argue
+hard-heartedness in an Italian who counts the drops of blood at a
+beheading as to suppose that the English have no feeling because in the
+bet we have mentioned there was a protest against the use of the lancet,
+or to deny kindliness to a surgeon who lectures on structure and disease
+while he removes a cancer.
+
+Vehement protests against the lottery and all gaming are as often
+uttered in Italy as elsewhere; and among them may be cited this eloquent
+passage from one of the most powerful of her modern writers. Guerrazzi,
+in the thirteenth chapter of "L'Assedio di Firenze," speaking on this
+subject, says, "You would in vain seek anything more fatal to men than
+play. It brings ignorance, poverty, despair, and at last crime....
+Gambling (the wicked gambling of the lottery) forms a precious jewel in
+the crown of princes."
+
+In a recent work, by the same author, called "L'Asino," occurs the
+following indignant and satirical passage, which, for the sake of the
+story, if for no other reason, deserves a place here:--
+
+"In our search for the history of human perfection, shall I speak of
+Naples or Rome? Alas! At the contemplation of such misery, in vain you
+constrain your lips to smile; they pout, and the uncalled tears stream
+over your face. Pity, in these most unhappy countries, blinded with
+weeping and hoarse with vain supplication, when she has no more voice to
+cry out to heaven, flies thither, and, kneeling before the throne of
+God, with outstretched hand, and proffering no word, begs that He will
+look at her.
+
+"Behold, O Lord, and judge whether our sins were remitted, or whether
+the sins of others exceed ours.
+
+"Is not Tuscany the garden of Italy? So say the Tuscans; and the
+Florentines add, that Florence is the Athens of Tuscany. Truly, both
+seem beautiful. Let us search in Tuscany. At Barberino di Mugello, in
+the midst of an olive-grove is a cemetery, where the vines, which have
+taken root in the outer walls and climbed over their summit, fall into
+the inclosed space, as if they wished to garland Death with vine-leaves
+and make it smile; over the gate, strange guardians of the tombs, two
+fig-trees give their shadow and fruit to recompense the piety of the
+passers-by, giving a fig in exchange for a _De Profundis_; while the
+ivy, stretching its wanton arms over the black cross, endeavors to
+clothe the austere sign of the Redemption with the jocund leaves of
+Bacchus, and recalls to your mind the mad Phryne who vainly tempted
+Xenocrates. A beautiful cemetery, by my faith! a cemetery to arouse in
+the body an intense desire to die, if only for the pleasure of being
+buried there. Now observe. Look into my magic-lantern. What figures do
+you see? A priest with a pick; after him a peasant with a spade; and
+behind them a woman with a hatchet: the priest holds a corpse by the
+hair; the peasant, with one blow, strikes off its head; then, all things
+being carefully rearranged, priest, peasant, and woman, after thrusting
+the head into a sack, return as they came. Attention now, for I change
+the picture. What figures are these that now appear? A kitchen; a fire
+that has not its superior, even in the Inferno; and a caldron, where the
+hissing and boiling water sends up its bubbles. Look about and what do
+you see? Enter the priest, the peasant, and the housewife, and in a
+moment empty a sack into the caldron. Lo! a head rolls out, dives into
+the water, and floats to the surface, now showing its nape and now its
+face. The Lord help us! It is an abominable spectacle; this poor head,
+with its ashy, open lips, seems to say, Give me again my Christian
+burial! That is enough. Only take note that in Tuscany, in the beautiful
+middle of the nineteenth century, a sepulchre was violated, and a
+sacrilege committed, to obtain from the boiled head of a corpse good
+numbers to play in the lottery! And, by way of corollary, add this to
+your note, that in Rome, _Caput Mundi_, and in Tuscany, Garden of Italy,
+it is prohibited, under the severest penalties, to play at _Faro_,
+_Zecchinetto_, _Banco-Fallito_, _Rossa e Nera_, and other similar games
+at cards, where each party may lose the whole or half the stakes, while
+the government encourage the play of the Lottery, by which, out of one
+hundred and twenty chances of winning, eighty are reserved for the bank,
+and forty or so allowed to the player. Finally, take note that in Rome,
+_Caput Mundi_, and in Tuscany, Garden of Italy, _Faro_, _Zecchinetto_,
+_Rossa e Nera_ were prohibited, as acknowledged pests of social
+existence and open death to honest customs,--as a set-off for which
+deprivation, the game of the Lottery is still kept on foot."
+
+The following extraordinary story, improbable as it seems, is founded
+upon fact, and was clearly proved, on judicial investigation, a few
+years since. It is well known in Tuscany, and forms the subject of a
+satirical narrative ("Il Sortilegio") by Giusti, a modern Tuscan poet,
+of true fire and genius, who has lashed the vices of his country in
+verses remarkable for point, idiom, and power. According to him, the
+method of divination resorted to in this case was as follows:--The
+sorcerer who invented it ordered his dupes to procure, either at dawn or
+twilight, ninety dry beans, called _ceci_, and upon each of these to
+write one of the ninety numbers drawn in the lottery, with an ink made
+of pitch and lard, which would not be affected by water. They were then
+to sharpen a knife, taking care that he who did so should touch no one
+during the operation; and after a day of fasting, they were to dig up at
+night a body recently dead, and, having cut off the head and removed the
+brain, they were to count the beans thrice, and to shake them thrice,
+and then, on their knees, to put them one by one into the skull. This
+was then to be placed in a caldron of water and set on the fire to boil.
+As soon as the water boiled violently, the head would be rolled about so
+that some of the beans would be ejected, and the first three which were
+thus thrown to the surface would be a sure _terno_ for the lottery. The
+wretched dupes added yet another feature of superstition to insure the
+success of this horrible device. They selected the head of their curate,
+who had recently died,--on the ground that, as he had studied algebra,
+he was a great cabalist, and any numbers from his head would be sure to
+draw a prize.
+
+Some one, I have no doubt, will here be anxious to know the numbers that
+bubbled up to the surface; but I am very sorry to say that I cannot
+gratify their laudable curiosity, for the interference of the police
+prevented the completion of the sorcery. So the curious must be content
+to consult some other cabalist,--
+
+                 "sull'arti segrete
+    Di menar la Fortuna per il naso,
+    Pescando il certo nel gran mar del Caso."
+
+Despite a wide-spread feeling among the higher classes against the
+lottery, it still continues to exist, for it has fastened itself into
+the habits and prejudices of many; and an institution which takes such
+hold of the passions of the people, and has lived so long, dies hard.
+Nor are there ever wanting specious excuses for the continuance of this,
+as of other reprobated systems,--of which the strongest is, that its
+abolition would not only deprive of their present means of subsistence
+numbers of persons employed in its administration, but would cut off
+certain charities dependent upon it, amounting to no less than forty
+thousand _scudi_ annually. Among these may be mentioned the dowry of
+forty _scudi_ which is given out of the profits received by the
+government at the drawing of every lottery to some five or six of the
+poor girls of Rome. The list of those who would profit by this charity
+is open to all, and contains thousands of names. The first number drawn
+in the lottery decides the fortunate persons; and, on the subsequent
+day, each receives a draft for forty _scudi_ on the government, payable
+on the presentation of the certificate of marriage. On the accession of
+the present Pope, an attempt was made to abolish the system; but these
+considerations, among others, had weight enough to prevent any changes.
+
+Though the play is generally small, yet sometimes large fortunes are
+gained. The family of the Marchese del Cinque, for instance, derive
+their title and fortune from the luck of an ancestor who played and won
+the highest prize, a _Cinquino_. With the money thus acquired he
+purchased his marquisate, and took the title _del Cinque_, "of the
+Five," in reference to the lucky five numbers. The Villa Quaranta Cinque
+in Rome derives its name from a similar circumstance. A lucky Monsignore
+played the single number of forty-five, _al posto_, and with his
+winnings built the villa, to which the Romans, always addicted to
+nicknames, gave the name of _Quaranta Cinque_. This love of nicknames,
+or _soprannomi_, as they are called, is, by the way, an odd peculiarity
+of the Italians, and it often occurs that persons are known only
+thereby. Examples of these, among the celebrated names of Italy, are so
+frequent as to form a rule in favor of the surname rather than of the
+real name, and in many cases the former has utterly obliterated the
+latter. Thus, Squint Eye, (_Guercino_,) Dirty Tom, (_Masaccio_,) The
+Little Dyer, (_Tintoretto_,) Great George, (_Giorgione_,) The
+Garland-Maker, (_Ghirlandaio_,) Luke of the Madder, (_Luca della
+Robbia_,) The Little Spaniard, (_Spagnoletto_,) and The Tailor's Son,
+(_Del Sarto_,) would scarcely be known under their real names of
+Barbieri, Tommaso, Guido, Robusti, Barbarelli, Corradi, Ribera, and
+Vannuchi. The list might be very much enlarged, but let it suffice to
+add the following well-known names, all of which are nicknames derived
+from their places of birth: Perugino, Veronese, Aretino, Pisano, Giulio
+Romano, Correggio, Parmegiano.
+
+The other day a curious instance of this occurred to me in taking the
+testimony of a Roman coachman. On being called upon to give the names of
+some of his companions, with whom he had been in daily and intimate
+intercourse for more than two years, he could give only their
+_soprannomi_; their real names he did not know, and had never heard. A
+little, gay, odd genius, whom I took into my service during a
+_villeggiatura_ at Siena, would not answer to his real name, Lorenzo,
+but remonstrated on being so called, and said he was only _Pipetta_,
+(The Little Pipe,) a nickname given to him when a child, from his
+precocity in smoking, and of which he was as tenacious as if it were a
+title of honor. "You prefer, then, to be called Pipetta?" I asked.
+"_Felicissimo! si_," was his answer. Not a foreigner comes to Rome that
+his name does not "suffer a sea-change into something rich and
+strange." Our break-jaw Saxon names are discarded, and a new christening
+takes place. One friend I had who was called _Il Malinconico_,--another,
+_La Barbarossa_,--another, _Il bel Signore_; but generally they are
+called after the number of the house or the name of the street in which
+they live,--_La Signora bella Bionda di Palazzo Albani_,--_Il Signore
+Quattordici Capo le Case_,--_Monsieur_ and _Madama Terzo Piano, Corso_.
+
+But to return from this digression.--At every country festival may be
+seen a peculiar form of the lottery called _Tombola_; and in the notices
+of these _festas_, which are always placarded over the walls of Rome for
+weeks before they take place, the eye will always be attracted first by
+the imposing word _Tombola_, printed in the largest and blackest of
+letters. This is, in fact, the characteristic feature of the _festa_,
+and attracts large numbers of _contadini_. As in the ordinary lottery,
+only ninety numbers are played. Every ticket contains blank spaces for
+fifteen numbers, which are inserted by the purchaser, and registered
+duly at the office or booth where the ticket is bought. The price of
+tickets in any single _Tombola_ is uniform; but in different _Tombolas_
+it varies, of course, according to the amount of the prizes. These are
+generally five, namely,--the _Ambo_, _Terno_, _Quaterno_, _Cinquino_,
+and _Tombola_, though sometimes a second _Tombola_ or _Tomboletta_ is
+added. The drawing takes place in precisely the same manner as in the
+ordinary lottery, but with more ceremony. A large staging, with a
+pavilion, is erected, where the officers who are to superintend the
+drawing stand. In the centre is a glass vase, in which the numbers are
+placed after having been separately verified and proclaimed, and a boy
+gayly dressed draws them. All the ninety numbers are drawn; and as each
+issues, it is called out, and exhibited on a large card. Near by stands
+a large framework, elevated so as to be visible to all, with ninety
+divisions corresponding to the ninety numbers, and on this, also, every
+number is shown as soon as it is drawn. The first person who has upon
+his ticket two drawn numbers gains an _Ambo_, which is the smallest
+prize. Whoever first has three numbers drawn gains a _Terno_; and so on
+with the _Quaterno_ and _Cinquino_. The _Tombola_, which is the great
+prize, is won by whoever first has his whole fifteen numbers drawn. As
+soon as any one finds two of the drawn numbers on his ticket, he cries,
+"_Ambo_," at the top of his lungs. A flag is then raised on the
+pavilion, the band plays, and the game is suspended, while the claimant
+at once makes his way to the judges on the platform to present his
+ticket for examination. No sooner does the cry of "_Ambo_," "_Terno_,"
+"_Quaterno_," take place, than there is a great rustle all around.
+Everybody looks out for the fortunate person, who is immediately to be
+seen running through the parting crowd, which opens before him, cheering
+him as he goes, if his appearance be poor and needy, and greeting him
+with sarcasms, if he be apparently well to do in the world. Sometimes
+there are two or three claimants for the same prize, in which case it is
+divided among them. The _Ambo_ is soon taken, and there is little room
+for a mistake; but when it comes to the _Quaterno_ or _Cinquino_,
+mistakes are very common, and the claimant is almost always saluted with
+chaff and jests. After his ticket has been examined, if he have won, a
+placard is exhibited with _Ambo_, _Terno_, _Quaterno_ on it, as the case
+may be. But if he have committed an error, down goes the flag, and, amid
+a burst of laughter, jeering, whistling, screaming, and catcalls, the
+disappointed claimant sneaks back and hides himself in the excited
+crowd. At a really good _Tombola_, where the prizes are high, there is
+no end of fun and gayety among the people. They stand with their tickets
+in their hands, congratulating each other ironically, as they fail to
+find the numbers on them, paying all sorts of absurd compliments to each
+other and the drawer, offering to sell out their chances at enormous
+prices when they are behindhand, and letting off all sorts of squibs
+and jests, not so excellent in themselves as provocative of laughter. If
+the wit be little, the fun is great,--and, in the excitement of
+expectation, a great deal of real Italian humor is often ventilated.
+Sometimes, at the country fairs, the fun is rather slow, particularly
+where the prizes are small; but on exciting occasions, there is a
+constant small fire of jests, which is very amusing.
+
+These _Tombole_ are sometimes got up with great pomp. That, for
+instance, which sometimes takes place in the Villa Borghese is one of
+the most striking spectacles which can be seen in Rome. At one end of
+the great open-air amphitheatre is erected a large pavilion, flanked on
+either side with covered _logge_ or _palchi_, festooned with yellow and
+white,--the Papal colors,--adorned with flags, and closed round with
+rich old arrases all pictured over with Scripture stories. Beneath the
+central pavilion is a band. Midway down the amphitheatre, on either
+side, are two more _logge_, similarly draped, where two more bands are
+stationed,--and still another at the opposite end, for the same purpose.
+The _logge_ which flank the pavilion are sold by ticket, and filled with
+the richer classes. Three great stagings show the numbers as they are
+drawn. The pit of the amphitheatre is densely packed with a motley
+crowd. Under the ilexes and noble stone-pines that show their dark-green
+foliage against the sky, the helmets and swords of cavalry glitter as
+they move to and fro. All around on the green slopes are the
+people,--soldiers, _contadini_, priests, mingled together,--and
+thousands of gay dresses and ribbons and parasols enliven the mass. The
+four bands play successively as the multitude gathers. They have already
+arrived in tens of thousands, but the game has not yet begun, and
+thousands are still flocking to see it. All the gay equipages are on the
+outskirts, and through the trees and up the avenues stream the crowds on
+foot. As we stand in the centre of the amphitheatre and look up, we get
+a faint idea of the old Roman gatherings when Rome emptied itself to
+join in the games at the Colosseum. Row upon row they stand, a mass of
+gay and swarming life. The sunlight flashes over them, and blazes on the
+rich colors. The tall pines and dark ilexes shadow them here and there;
+over them is the soft blue dome of the Italian sky. They are gathered
+round the _villetta_,--they throng the roof and balconies,--they crowd
+the stone steps,--they pack the green oval of the amphitheatre's pit.
+The ring of cymbals, the clarion of trumpets, and the clash of brazen
+music vibrate in the air. All the world is abroad to see, from the
+infant in arms to the oldest inhabitant. _Monsignori_ in purple
+stockings and tricornered hats, _contadini_ in gay reds and crimsons,
+cardinals in scarlet. Princes, shopkeepers, beggars, foreigners, all
+mingle together; while the screams of the vendors of cigars,
+pumpkin-seeds, cakes, and lemonade are everywhere heard over the
+suppressed roar of the crowd. As you walk along the outskirts of the
+mass, you may see Monte Gennaro's dark peak looking over the Campagna,
+and all the Sabine hills trembling in a purple haze,--or, strolling down
+through the green avenues, you may watch the silver columns of fountains
+as they crumble in foam and plash in their mossy basins,--or gather
+masses of the sweet Parma violet and other beautiful wild-flowers.
+
+The only other games among the modern Romans, which deserve particular
+notice from their peculiarity, are those of Cards. In an Italian pack
+there are only forty cards,--the eight, nine, and ten of the French and
+English cards having no existence. The suits also have different signs
+and names, and, instead of hearts, spades, clubs, and diamonds, they are
+called _coppe_, _spade_, _bastoni_, and _denari_,--all being of the same
+color, and differing entirely in form from our cards. The _coppe_ are
+cups or vases; the _spade_ are swords; the _bastoni_ are veritable clubs
+or bludgeons; and the _denari_ are coins. The games are still more
+different from ours than the cards, and they are legion in number. There
+are _Briscola_, _Tresette_, _Calabresella_, _Banco-Fallito_, _Rossa e
+Nera_, _Scaraccoccia_, _Scopa_, _Spizzica_, _Faraone_, _Zecchinetto_,
+_Mercante in Fiera_, _La Bazzica_, _Ruba-Monte_, _Uomo-Nero_, _La
+Paura_, and I know not how many others,--but they are recorded and
+explained in no book, and are only to be picked up orally. Wherever you
+go, on _festa_-day, you will find persons playing cards. At the common
+_osterias_, before the doors or on the soiled tables within, on the
+ruins of the Caesars' palaces and in the Temple of Peace, on the stone
+tables in the _vigna_, on the walls along the public roads, on the
+uncarved blocks of marble in front of the sculptors' studios, in the
+antechambers or gateways of palaces,--everywhere, cards are played.
+Every _contadino_ has a pack in his pocket, with the flavor of the soil
+upon it. The playing is ordinarily for very low sums, often for nothing
+at all. But there are some games which are purely games of luck, and
+dangerous. Some of these, as _Rossa e Nera_, _Banco-Fallito_, and
+_Zecchinetto_, though prohibited by the government, are none the less
+favorite games in Rome, particularly among those who play for money.
+_Zecchinetto_ may be played by any number of persons, after the
+following manner:--The dealer, who plays against the whole table, deals
+to each player one card. The next card is then turned up as a trump.
+Each player then makes his bet on the card dealt to him, and places his
+money on it. The dealer then deals to the table the other cards in
+order, and any of the players may bet on them as they are thrown down.
+If a card of the number of that bet on issue before a card corresponding
+to the number of the trump, the dealer wins the stake on that card; but
+whenever a card corresponding to the trump issues, the player wins on
+every card on which he has bet. When the banker or dealer loses at once,
+the bank "_fa toppa_," and the deal passes, but not otherwise. Nothing
+can be more simple than this game, and it is just as dangerous as it is
+simple, and as exciting as it is dangerous. A late Roman _principessa_
+is said to have been passionately fond of it, and to have lost
+enormously by it. The story runs, that, while passing the evening at a
+friend's house, after losing ten thousand _scudi_ at one sitting, she
+staked her horses and carriage, which were at the door waiting to take
+her home, and lost them also. She then wrote a note to the prince, her
+husband, saying that she had lost her carriage and horses at
+_Zecchinetto_, and wished others to be sent for her. To which he
+answered, that she might return on foot,--which she was obliged to do.
+
+This will serve at least as a specimen of the games of chance played by
+the Romans at cards. Of the more innocent games, _Briscola_, _Tresette_,
+and _Scaraccoccia_ are the favorites among the common people. And the
+first of these may not be uninteresting, as being, perhaps, the most
+popular of all. It is played by either two or four persons. The _Fante_
+(or Knave) counts as two; the _Carallo_ (equal to our Queen) as three;
+the _Re_ (King) as four; the Three-spot as ten; and the Ace as eleven.
+Three cards are dealt to each person, and after the deal the next card
+is turned as trump, or _Briscola_. Each plays, and, after one card all
+round is played, its place is supplied by a new deal of one card to
+each. Every card of the trump-suit takes any card of the other suits.
+Each player takes as many counting-cards as he can, and, at the end of
+the game, he who counts the most wins,--the account being made according
+to the value of the cards, as stated above.
+
+[To be continued.]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] See Dessault, _Traite de la Passion du Jeu_.
+
+[B] Even while I am writing these notes, I find almost the same incident
+recorded as a "modern instance," in a recent work by Lieutenant-Colonel
+Addison, entitled _Traits and Stories of Anglo-Indian Life_; but,
+despite the authority of Colonel Addison, I cannot but suspect that he
+has simply changed the _venue_, and that his story is but a
+_rifacimento_ of the actual case alluded to above.
+
+
+
+
+THE AMBER GODS.
+
+[Concluded.]
+
+
+Papa made Mr. Dudley stay and dine, and of course we were almost bored
+to death, when in came Rose again, stealing behind Lu's chair and
+showering her in the twilight with a rain of May-flowers.
+
+"Now you'll have to gather them again," he said.
+
+"Oh, how exquisite! how delicious! how I thank you!" she exclaimed,
+without disturbing one, however.
+
+"You won't touch them again? Then I must," he added.
+
+"No! no! Mr. Rose!" I cried. "I'll pick them up and take toll."
+
+"Don't touch them!" said Lu, "they're so sweet!"
+
+"Yes," he murmured lower, "they're like you. I always said so, you
+remember."
+
+"Oh, yes! and every May-day but the last you have brought them to me."
+
+"Have you the trailing-arbutus there?" asked Mr. Dudley.
+
+"No," returned Rose.
+
+"I thought I detected strawberries," submitted the other,--"a pleasant
+odor which recalls childhood to memory."
+
+For some noses all sweet scents are lumped in one big strawberry;
+clovers, or hyacinths, or every laden air indifferently, they still
+sniff strawberries. Commonplace things!
+
+"It's a sign of high birth to track strawberry-beds where no fruit is,
+Mr. Dudley," said I.
+
+"Very true, Miss Willoughby. I was born pretty high up in the Green
+Mountains."
+
+"And so keep your memory green?"
+
+"Strawberries in June," said Rose, good-naturedly. "But fruit out of
+season is trouble out of reason, the Dream-Book says. It's May now, and
+these are its blossoms."
+
+"Everybody makes such a fuss about ground-laurel!" said I. "I don't see
+why, I'm sure. They're never perfect. The leaf is hideous,--a stupid
+duenna! You get great green leaves, and the flowers all white; you get
+deep, rosy flowers, and the leaves are all brown and bitten. They're
+neither one thing nor another. They're just like heliotropes,--no bloom
+at all, only scent. I've torn up myriads, to the ten stamens in their
+feathered case, to find where that smell comes from,--that is perfectly
+delicious,--and I never could. They are a cheat."
+
+"Have you finished your tirade?" asked Rose, indifferently.
+
+"I don't believe you mean so," murmured Lu. "They have a color of their
+own, almost human, infantine; and when you mass them, the tone is more
+soft and mellow than a flute. Everybody loves May-flowers."
+
+"Just about. I despise flutes. I like bassoons."
+
+"They are prophets of apple-blossoms."
+
+"Which brings them at once into the culinary."
+
+"They are not very showy," said Mr. Dudley; "but when we remember the
+Fathers"----
+
+"There's nothing like them," said Rose, gently, as he knelt by Lu,
+slowly putting them into order; "nothing but pure, clear things; they're
+the fruit of snowflakes, the firstlings of the year. When one thinks how
+sweetly they come from their warm coverts and look into this cold,
+breezy sky so unshrinkingly, and from what a soil they gather such a
+wealth of simple beauty, one feels ashamed."
+
+"Climax worthy of the useless things!" said I.
+
+"The moment in which first we are thoroughly ashamed, Miss Willoughby,
+is the sovereign one of our life. Useless things? They are worth king
+and bishop. Every year, weariness and depression melt away when atop of
+the seasons' crucible boil these little bubbles. Isn't everybody better
+for lavishing love? And no one merely likes these; whoever cares at all
+loves entirely. We always take and give resemblances or sympathies from
+any close connection, and so these are in their way a type of their
+lovers. What virtue is in them to distil the shadow of the great pines,
+that wave layer after layer with a grave rhythm over them,
+into this delicate tint, I wonder. They have so decided an
+individuality,--different there from hot-house belles;--fashion strips
+us of our characteristics"----
+
+"You needn't turn to me for illustration of exotics," said I.
+
+He threw me a cluster, half-hidden in its green towers, and went on,
+laying one by one and bringing out little effects.
+
+"The sweetest modesty clings to them, which Alphonse Karr denies to the
+violet, so that they are almost out of place in a drawing-room; one
+ought to give them there the shelter of their large, kind leaves."
+
+"Hemlock's the only wear," said Louise.
+
+"Or last year's scarlet blackberry triads. Vines together," he
+suggested.
+
+"But sometimes they forget their nun-like habit," she added, "put on a
+frolicsome mood, and clamber out and flush all the deep ruts of the
+carriage-road in Follymill woods, you remember."
+
+"Penance next year," said I.
+
+"No, no; you are not to bring your old world into my new," objected
+Rose. "Perhaps they ran out so to greet the winter-worn mariners of
+Plymouth, and have been pursued by the love of their descendants ever
+since, they getting charier. Just remember how they grow. Why, you'd
+never suspect a flower there, till, happening to turn up a leaf, you're
+in the midst of harvest. You may tramp acres in vain, and within a
+stone's throw they've been awaiting you. There's something very
+charming, too, about them in this,--that when the buds are set, and at
+last a single blossom starts the trail, you plucking at one end of the
+vine, your heart's delight may touch the other a hundred miles away.
+Spring's telegraph. So they bind our coast with this network of flower
+and root."
+
+"By no means," I asserted. "They grow in spots."
+
+"Pshaw! I won't believe it. They're everywhere just the same, only
+underground preparing their little witnesses, whom they send out where
+most needed. You don't suppose they find much joy in the fellowship of
+brown pine pins and sad, gray mosses, do you? Some folks say they don't
+grow away from the shore; but I've found them, I'm sorry to say, up in
+New Hampshire."
+
+"Why sorry?" asked Lu.
+
+"Oh, I like it best that they need our sea. They're eminently choice for
+this hour, too, when you scarcely gather their tint,--that tint, as if
+moonlight should wish to become a flower,--but their fragrance is an
+atmosphere all about you. How genuinely spicy it is! It's the very
+quintessence of those regions all whose sweetness exudes in
+sun-saturated balsams,--the very breath of pine woods and salt sea
+winds. How could it live away from the sea?"
+
+"Why, Sir," said Mr. Dudley, "you speak as if it were a creature!"
+
+"A hard, woody stem, a green, robust leaf, a delicate, odorous flower,
+Mr. Dudley, what is it all but an expression of New England character?"
+
+"Doxology!" said I.
+
+"Now, Miss Louise, as you have made me atone for my freedom, the task
+being done, let me present them in form."
+
+"I'm sure she needn't praise them," said I.
+
+She didn't.
+
+"I declared people make a great fuss over them," I continued. "And you
+prove it. You put me in mind of a sound, to be heard where one gets
+them,--a strange sound, like low, distant thunder, and it's nothing but
+the drum of a little partridge! a great song out of nothing.--Bless me!
+what's that?"
+
+"Oh, the fireworks!" said Lu. And we all thronged to the windows.
+
+"It's very good of your uncle to have them," said Rose. "What a crowd
+from the town! Think of the pyrotechnics among comets and aerolites some
+fellows may have! It's quite right, too, to make our festivals with
+light; it's the highest and last of all things; we never can carry our
+imaginations beyond light"----
+
+"Our imaginations ought to carry us," said Lu.
+
+"Come," I said, "you can play what pranks you please with the little
+May; but light is my province, my absorption; let it alone."
+
+It grew quite dark, interrupted now and then by the glare of rockets;
+but at last a stream of central fire went out in a slow rain of
+countless violets, reflected with pale blue flashes in the river below,
+and then the gloom was unbroken. I saw them, in that long, dim gleam,
+standing together at a window. Louise, her figure almost swaying as if
+to some inaudible music, but her face turned to him with such a steady
+quiet. Ah, me! what a tremulous joy, what passion, and what search, lit
+those eyes! But you know that passion means suffering, and, tracing it
+in the original through its roots, you come to pathos, and still
+farther, to lamentation, I've heard. But he was not looking down at her,
+only out and away, paler than ever in the blue light, sad and resolved.
+I ordered candles.
+
+"Sing to me, Louise," said Rose, at length. "It is two years since I
+heard you."
+
+"Sing 'What's a' the steer, kimmer,'" I said. But instead, she gave the
+little ballad, 'And bring my love again, for he lies among the moors.'
+
+Rose went and leaned over the pianoforte while she sang, bending and
+commanding her eyes. He seemed to wish to put himself where he was
+before he ever left her, to awaken everything lovely in her, to bring
+her before him as utterly developed as she might be,--not only to afford
+her, but to force upon her every chance to master him. He seemed to wish
+to love, I thought.
+
+"Thank you," he said, as she ceased. "Did you choose it purposely,
+Louise?"
+
+Lu sang very nicely, and, though I dare say she would rather not then,
+when Mr. Dudley asked for the "Vale of Avoca" and the "Margin of
+Zuerich's Fair Waters," she gave them just as kindly. Altogether, quite a
+damp programme. Then papa came in, bright and blithe, whirled me round
+in a _pas de deux_, and we all very gay and hilarious slipped into the
+second of May.
+
+Dear me! how time goes! I must hurry.--After that, _I_ didn't see so
+much of Rose; but he met Lu everywhere, came in when I was out, and, if
+I returned, he went, perfectly regardless of my existence, it seemed.
+They rode, too, all round the country; and she sat to him, though he
+never filled out the sketch. For weeks he was devoted; but I fancied,
+when I saw them, that there lingered in his manner the same thing as on
+the first evening while she sang to him. Lu was so gay and sweet and
+happy that I hardly knew her; she was always very gentle, but such a
+decided body,--that's the Willoughby, her mother. Yet during these weeks
+Rose had not spoken, not formally; delicate and friendly kindness was
+all Lu could have found, had she sought. One night, I remember, he came
+in and wanted us to go out and row with him on the river. Lu wouldn't go
+without me.
+
+"Will you come?" said he, coolly, as if I were merely necessary as a
+thwart or thole-pin might have been, turning and letting his eyes fall
+on me an instant, then snatching them off with a sparkle and flush, and
+such a lordly carelessness of manner otherwise.
+
+"Certainly not," I replied.
+
+So they remained, and Lu began to open a bundle of Border Ballads, which
+he had brought her. The very first one was "Whistle an' I'll come to
+you, my lad." I laughed. She glanced up quickly, then held it in her
+hands a moment, repeated the name, and asked if he liked it.
+
+"Oh, yes," he said. "There couldn't be a Scotch song without that rhythm
+better than melody, which, after all, is Beethoven's secret."
+
+"Perhaps," said Louise. "But I shall not sing this."
+
+"Oh, do!" he said, turning with surprise. "You don't know what an
+aerial, whistling little thing it is!"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why, Louise! There is nobody could sing it but you."
+
+"Of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what
+color it please God," quoted I, and in came Mr. Dudley, as he usually
+did when not wanted; though I've no reason to find fault with him,
+notwithstanding his blank treatment of me. He never took any notice,
+because he was in love with Lu. Rose never took any notice of me,
+either. But with a difference!
+
+Lu was singularly condescending to Mr. Dudley that evening; and Rose,
+sitting aside, looked so very much disturbed--whether pleasantly or
+otherwise didn't occur to me--that I couldn't help enjoying his
+discomfiture, and watching him through it.
+
+Now, though I told you I wasn't nervous, I never should know I had this
+luxurious calm, if there were nothing to measure it by; and once in a
+great while a perfect whirlpool seizes me,--my blood is all in
+turmoil,--I bubble with silent laughter, or cry with all my heart. I had
+been in such a strange state a good while, and now, as I surveyed Rose,
+it gradually grew fiercer, till I actually sprang to my feet, and
+exclaimed, "There! it is insupportable! I've been in the magnetic storm
+long enough! it is time something took it from me!" and ran out-doors.
+
+Rose sauntered after, by-and-by, as if unwillingly drawn by a loadstone,
+and found the heavens wrapped in a rosy flame of Northern Lights. He
+looked as though he belonged to them, so pale and elf-like was his face
+then, like one bewitched.
+
+"Papa's fireworks fade before mine," I said. "Now we can live in the
+woods, as Lu has been wishing; for a dry southerly wind follows this,
+with a blue smoke filming all the distant fields. Won't it be
+delicious?"
+
+"Or rain," he replied; "I think it will rain to-morrow,--warm, full
+rains"; and he seemed as if such a chance would dissolve him entirely.
+
+As for me, those shifting, silent sheets of splendor abstracted all that
+was alien, and left me in my normal state.
+
+"There they come!" I said, as Lu and Mr. Dudley, and some others who had
+entered in my absence,--gnats dancing in the beam,--stepped down toward
+us. "How charming for us all to sit out here!"
+
+"How annoying, you mean," he replied, simply for contradiction.
+
+"It hasn't been warm enough before," I added.
+
+"And Louise may take cold now," he said, as if wishing to exhibit his
+care for her. "Whom is she speaking with? Blarsaye? And who comes
+after?"
+
+"Parti. A delightful person,--been abroad, too. You and he can have a
+crack about Louvres and Vaticans now, and leave Lu and Mr. Dudley to
+me."
+
+Rose suddenly inspected me and then Parti, as if he preferred the crack
+to be with cudgels; but in a second the little blaze vanished, and he
+only stripped a weigelia branch of every blossom.
+
+I wonder what made Lu behave so that night; she scarcely spoke to Rose,
+appeared entirely unconcerned while he hovered round her like an
+officious sprite, was all grace to the others and sweetness to Mr.
+Dudley. And Rose, oblivious of snubs, paraded his devotion, seemed
+determined to show his love for Lu,--as if any one cared a straw,--and
+took the pains to be positively rude to me. He was possessed of an odd
+restlessness; a little defiance bristled his movements, an air of
+contrariness; and whenever he became quiet, he seemed again like one
+enchanted and folded up in a dream, to break whose spell he was about to
+abandon efforts. He told me life had destroyed my enchantment; I wonder
+what will destroy his. Lu refused to sit in the garden-chair he
+offered,--just suffered the wreath of pink bells he gave her to hang in
+her hand, and by-and-by fall,--and when the north grew ruddier and swept
+the zenith with lances of light, and when it faded, and a dim cloud
+hazed all the stars, preserved the same equanimity, kept on the _evil_
+tenor of her way, and bade every one an impartial farewell at
+separating. She is preciously well-bred.
+
+We hadn't remained in the garden all that time, though,--but, strolling
+through the gate and over the field, had reached a small grove that
+fringes the gully worn by Wild Fall and crossed by the railway. As we
+emerged from that, talking gayly, and our voices almost drowned by the
+dash of the little waterfall and the echo from the opposite rock, I
+sprang across the curving track, thinking them behind, and at the same
+instant a thunderous roar burst all about, a torrent of hot air whizzed
+and eddied over me, I fell dizzied and stunned, and the night
+express-train shot by like a burning arrow. Of course I was dreadfully
+hurt by my fall and fright,--I feel the shock now,--but they all stood
+on the little mound, from which I had sprung, like so many
+petrifactions: Rose, just as he had caught Louise back on firmer ground,
+when she was about to follow me, his arm wound swiftly round her waist,
+yet his head thrust forward eagerly, his pale face and glowing eyes
+bent, not on her, but me. Still he never stirred, and poor Mr. Dudley
+first came to my assistance. We all drew breath at our escape, and, a
+little slowly, on my account, turned homeward.
+
+"You are not bruised, Miss Willoughby?" asked Blarsaye, wakened.
+
+"Dear Yone!" Lu said, leaving Mr. Dudley's arm, "you're so very pale!
+It's not pain, is it?"
+
+"I am not conscious of any. Why should I be injured, any more than you?"
+
+"Do you know," said Rose, _sotto voce_, turning and bending merely his
+head to me, "I thought I heard you scream, and that you were dead."
+
+"And what then?"
+
+"Nothing, but that you were lying dead and torn, and I should see you,"
+he said,--and said as if he liked to say it, experiencing a kind of
+savage delight at his ability to say it.
+
+"A pity to have disappointed you!" I answered.
+
+"I saw it coming before you leaped," he added, as a malignant finality,
+and drawing nearer. "You were both on the brink. I called, but probably
+neither you nor Lu heard me. So I snatched her back."
+
+Now I had been next him then.
+
+"Jove's balance," I said, taking Parti's arm.
+
+He turned instantly to Lu, and kept by her during the remainder of the
+walk, Mr. Dudley being at the other side. I was puzzled a little by Lu,
+as I have been a good many times since; I thought she liked Rose so
+much. Papa met us in the field, and there the affair must be detailed to
+him, and then he would have us celebrate our safety in Champagne.
+
+"Good-bye, Louise," said Rose, beside her at the gate, and offering his
+hand, somewhat later. "I'm going away to-morrow, if it's fine."
+
+"Going?" with involuntary surprise.
+
+"To camp out in Maine."
+
+"Oh! I hope you will enjoy it."
+
+"Would you stay long, Louise?"
+
+"If the sketching-grounds are good."
+
+"When I come back, you'll sing my songs? Shake hands."
+
+She just laid a cold touch on his.
+
+"Louise, are you offended with me?"
+
+She looked up with so much simplicity. "Offended, Rose, with you?"
+
+"Not offended, but frozen," I could have said. Lu is like that little
+sensitive-plant, shrinking into herself with stiff unconsciousness at a
+certain touch. But I don't think he noticed the sad tone in her voice,
+as she said good-night; I didn't, till, the others being gone, I saw her
+turn after his disappearing figure, with a look that would have been
+despairing, but for its supplication.
+
+The only thing Lu ever said to me about this was,--
+
+"Don't you think Rose a little altered, Yone, since he came home?"
+
+"Altered?"
+
+"I have noticed it ever since you showed him your beads, that day."
+
+"Oh! it's the amber," I said. "They are amulets, and have bound him in a
+thrall. You must wear them, and dissolve the charm. He's in a dream."
+
+"What is it to be in a dream?" she asked.
+
+"To lose thought of past or future."
+
+She repeated my words,--"Yes, he's in a dream," she said, musingly.
+
+
+II.
+
+Rose didn't come near us for a fortnight; but he had not camped at all,
+as he said. It was the first stone thrown into Lu's life, and I never
+saw any one keep the ripples under so; but her suspicions were aroused.
+Finally he came in again, all as before, and I thought things might have
+been different, if in that fortnight Mr. Dudley had not been so
+assiduous; and now, to the latter's happiness, there were several ragged
+children and infirm old women in whom, Lu having taken them in charge,
+he chose to be especially interested. Lu always was housekeeper, both
+because it had fallen to her while mamma and I were away, and because
+she had an administrative faculty equal to General Jackson's; and Rose,
+who had frequently gone about with her, inspecting jellies and cordials
+and adding up her accounts, now unexpectedly found Mr. Dudley so near
+his former place that he disdained to resume it himself;--not entirely,
+because the man of course couldn't be as familiar as an old playmate;
+but just enough to put Rose aside. He never would compete with any one;
+and Lu did not know how to repulse the other.
+
+If the amulets had ravished Rose from himself, they did it at a
+distance, for I had not worn them since that day.--You needn't look.
+Thales imagined amber had a spirit; and Pliny says it is a counter-charm
+for sorceries. There are a great many mysterious things in the world.
+Aren't there any hidden relations between us and certain substances?
+Will you tell me something impossible?--But he came and went about
+Louise, and she sung his songs, and all was going finely again, when we
+gave our midsummer party.
+
+Everybody was there, of course, and we had enrapturing music. Louise
+wore--no matter--something of twilight purple, and begged for the amber,
+since it was too much for my toilette,--a double India muslin, whose
+snowy sheen scintillated with festoons of gorgeous green beetles' wings
+flaming like fiery emeralds.--A family dress, my dear, and worn by my
+aunt before me,--only that individual must have been frightened out of
+her wits by it. A cruel, savage dress, very like, but ineffably
+gorgeous.--So I wore her aquamarina, though the other would have been
+better; and when I sailed in, with all the airy folds in a hoar-frost
+mistiness fluttering round me and the glitter of Lu's jewels,--
+
+"Why!" said Rose, "you look like the moon in a halo."
+
+But Lu disliked a hostess out-dressing her guests.
+
+It was dull enough till quite late, and then I stepped out with Mr.
+Parti, and walked up and down a garden-path. Others were outside as
+well, and the last time I passed a little arbor I caught a yellow gleam
+of amber. Lu, of course. Who was with her? A gentleman, bending low to
+catch her words, holding her hand in an irresistible pressure. Not Rose,
+for he was flitting in beyond. Mr. Dudley. And I saw then that Lu's
+kindness was too great to allow her to repel him angrily; her gentle
+conscience let her wound no one. Had Rose seen the pantomime? Without
+doubt. He had been seeking her, and he found her, he thought, in Mr.
+Dudley's arms. After a while we went in, and, finding all smooth
+enough, I slipped through the balcony-window and hung over the
+balustrade, glad to be alone a moment. The wind, blowing in, carried the
+gay sounds away from me, even the music came richly muffled through the
+heavy curtains, and I wished to breathe balm and calm. The moon, round
+and full, was just rising, making the gloom below more sweet. A full
+moon is poison to some; they shut it out at every crevice, and do not
+suffer a ray to cross them; it has a chemical or magnetic effect; it
+sickens them. But I am never more free and royal than when the subtile
+celerity of its magic combinations, whatever they are, is at work. Never
+had I known the mere joy of being so intimately as to-night. The river
+slept soft and mystic below the woods, the sky was full of light, the
+air ripe with summer. Out of the yellow honeysuckles that climbed
+around, clouds of delicious fragrance stole and swathed me; long wafts
+of faint harmony gently thrilled me. Dewy and dark and uncertain was all
+beyond. I, possessed with a joyousness so deep through its contented
+languor as to counterfeit serenity, forgot all my wealth of nature, my
+pomp of beauty, abandoned myself to the hour.
+
+A strain of melancholy dance-music pierced the air and fell. I half
+turned my head, and my eyes met Rose. He had been there before me,
+perhaps. His face, white and shining in the light, shining with a
+strange sweet smile of relief, of satisfaction, of delight, his lips
+quivering with unspoken words, his eyes dusky with depth after depth of
+passion. How long did my eyes swim on his? I cannot tell. He never
+stirred; still leaned there against the pillar, still looked down on me
+like a marble god. The sudden tears dazzled my gaze, fell down my hot
+cheek, and still I knelt fascinated by that smile. In that moment I felt
+that he was more beautiful than the night, than the music, than I. Then
+I knew that all this time, all summer, all past summers, all my life
+long, I had loved him.
+
+Some one was waiting to make his adieux; I heard my father seeking me; I
+parted the curtains, and went in. One after one those tedious people
+left, the lights grew dim, and still he stayed without. I ran to the
+window, and, lifting the curtain, bent forward, crying,--
+
+"Mr. Rose! do you spend the night on the balcony?"
+
+Then he moved, stepped down, murmured something to my father, bowed
+loftily to Louise, passed me without a sign, and went out. In a moment,
+Lu's voice, a quick, sharp exclamation, touched him; he turned, came
+back. She, wondering at him, had stood toying with the amber, and at
+last crushing the miracle of the whole, a bell-wort wrought most
+delicately with all the dusty pollen grained upon its anthers, crushing
+it between her fingers, breaking the thread, and scattering the beads
+upon the carpet. He stooped with her to gather them again, he took from
+her hand and restored to her afterward the shattered fragments of the
+bell-wort, he helped her disentangle the aromatic string from her
+falling braids,--for I kept apart,--he breathed the penetrating incense
+of each separate amulet, and I saw that from that hour, when every atom
+of his sensation was tense and vibrating, she would be associated with
+the loathed amber in his undefined consciousness, would be surrounded
+with an atmosphere of its perfume, that Lu was truly sealed from him in
+it, sealed into herself. Then again, saying no word, he went out.
+
+Louise stood like one lost,--took aimlessly a few steps,--retraced
+them,--approached a table,--touched something,--left it.
+
+"I am so sorry about your beads!" she said, apologetically, when she
+looked up and saw me astonished, putting the broken pieces into my hand.
+
+"Goodness! Is that what you are fluttering about so for?"
+
+"They can't be mended," she continued, "but I will thread them again."
+
+"I don't care about them, I'm sick of amber," I answered, consolingly.
+"You may have them, if you will."
+
+"No. I must pay too great a price for them," she replied.
+
+"Nonsense! when they break again, I'll pay you back," I said, without in
+the least knowing what she meant. "I didn't know you were too proud for
+a 'thank you!'"
+
+She came up and put both her arms round my neck, laid her cheek beside
+mine a minute, kissed me, and went up-stairs. Lu always rather
+worshipped me.
+
+Dressing my hair that night, Carmine, my maid, begged for the remnants
+of the bell-wort to "make a scent-bag with, Miss."
+
+Next day, no Rose; it rained. But at night he came and took possession
+of the room, with a strange, airy gayety never seen in him before. It
+was so chilly, that I had heaped the wood-boughs, used in the
+yesterday's decorations, on the hearth, and lighted a fragrant crackling
+flame that danced up wildly at my touch,--for I have the faculty of
+fire. I sat at one side, Lu at the other, papa was holding a skein of
+silk for her to wind, the amber beads were twinkling in the
+firelight,--and when she slipped them slowly on the thread, bead after
+bead, warmed through and through by the real blaze, they crowded the
+room afresh with their pungent spiciness. Papa had called Rose to take
+his place at the other end of the silk, and had gone out; and when Lu
+finished, she fastened the ends, cut the thread, Rose likening her to
+Atropos, and put them back into her basket. Still playing with the
+scissors, following down the lines of her hand, a little snap was heard.
+
+"Oh!" said Louise, "I have broken my ring!"
+
+"Can't it be repaired?" I asked.
+
+"No," she returned briefly, but pleasantly, and threw the pieces into
+the fire.
+
+"The hand must not be ringless," said Rose; and slipping off the ring of
+hers that he wore, he dropped it upon the amber, then got up and threw
+an armful of fresh boughs upon the blaze.
+
+So that was all done. Then Rose was gayer than before. He is one of
+those people to whom you must allow moods,--when their sun shines,
+dance, and when their vapors rise, sit in the shadow. Every variation of
+the atmosphere affects him, though by no means uniformly; and so
+sensitive is he, that, when connected with you by any intimate
+_rapport_, even if but momentary, he almost divines your thoughts. He is
+full of perpetual surprises. I am sure he was a nightingale before he
+was Rose. An iridescence like sea-foam sparkled in him that evening, he
+laughed as lightly as the little tinkling mass-bells at every moment,
+and seemed to diffuse a rosy glow wherever he went in the room. Yet
+gayety was not his peculiar specialty, and at length he sat before the
+fire, and, taking Lu's scissors, commenced cutting bits of paper in
+profiles. Somehow they all looked strangely like and unlike Mr. Dudley.
+I pointed one out to Lu, and, if he had needed confirmation, her
+changing color gave it. He only glanced at her askance, and then broke
+into the merriest description of his life in Rome, of which he declared
+he had not spoken to us yet, talking fast and laughing as gleefully as a
+child, and illustrating people and localities with scissors and paper as
+he went on, a couple of careless snips putting a whole scene before us.
+
+The floor was well-strewn with such chips,--fountains, statues, baths,
+and all the persons of his little drama,--when papa came in. He held an
+open letter, and, sitting down, read it over again. Rose fell into
+silence, clipping the scissors daintily in and out the white sheet
+through twinkling intricacies. As the design dropped out, I caught
+it,--a long wreath of honeysuckle-blossoms. Lu was humming a little
+tune. Rose joined, and hummed the last bars, then bade us good-night.
+
+"Yone," said papa, "your Aunt Willoughby is very ill,--will not recover.
+She is my elder brother's widow; you are her heir. You must go and stay
+with her."
+
+Now it was very likely that just at this time I was going away to nurse
+Aunt Willoughby! Moreover, illness is my very antipodes,--its nearness
+is invasion,--we are utterly antipathetic,--it disgusts and repels me.
+What sympathy can there be between my florid health, my rank, redundant
+life, and any wasting disease of death? What more hostile than focal
+concentration and obscure decomposition? You see, we cannot breathe the
+same atmosphere. I banish the thought of such a thing from my feeling,
+from my memory. So I said,--
+
+"It's impossible. I'm not going an inch to Aunt Willoughby's. Why, papa,
+it's more than a hundred miles, and in this weather!"
+
+"Oh, the wind has changed."
+
+"Then it will be too warm for such a journey."
+
+"A new idea, Yone! Too warm for the mountains?"
+
+"Yes, papa. I'm not going a step."
+
+"Why, Yone, you astonish me! Your sick aunt!"
+
+"That's the very thing. If she were well, I might,--perhaps. Sick! What
+can I do for her? I never go into a sick-room. I hate it. I don't know
+how to do a thing there. Don't say another word, papa. I can't go."
+
+"It is out of the question to let it pass so, my dear. Here you are
+nursing all the invalids in town, yet"----
+
+"Indeed, I'm not, papa. I don't know and don't care whether they're dead
+or alive."
+
+"Well, then, it's Lu."
+
+"Oh, yes, she's hospital-agent for half the country."
+
+"Then it is time that you also got a little experience."
+
+"Don't, papa! I don't want it. I never saw anybody die, and I never mean
+to."
+
+"Can't I do as well, uncle?" asked Lu.
+
+"You, darling? Yes; but it isn't your duty."
+
+"I thought, perhaps," she said, "you would rather Yone went."
+
+"So I would."
+
+"Dear papa, don't vex me! Ask anything else!"
+
+"It is so unpleasant to Yone," Lu murmured, "that maybe I had better go.
+And if you've no objection, Sir, I'll take the early train to-morrow."
+
+Wasn't she an angel?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lu was away a month. Rose came in, expressing his surprise. I said,
+"Othello's occupation's gone?"
+
+"And left him room for pleasure now," he retorted.
+
+"Which means seclusion from the world, in the society of lakes and
+chromes."
+
+"Miss Willoughby," said he, turning and looking directly past me, "may I
+paint you?"
+
+"Me? Oh, you can't."
+
+"No; but may I try?"
+
+"I cannot go to you."
+
+"I will come to you."
+
+"Do you suppose it will be like?"
+
+"Not at all, of course. It is to be, then?"
+
+"Oh, I've no more right than any other piece of Nature to refuse an
+artist a study in color."
+
+He faced about, half pouting, as if he would go out, then returned and
+fixed the time.
+
+So he painted. He generally put me into a broad beam that slanted from
+the top of the veiled window, and day after day he worked. Ah, what
+glorious days they were! how gay! how full of life! I almost feared to
+let him image me on canvas, do you know? I had a fancy it would lay my
+soul so bare to his inspection. What secrets might be searched, what
+depths fathomed, at such times, if men knew! I feared lest he should see
+me as I am, in those great masses of warm light lying before him, as I
+feared he saw when he said amber harmonized with me,--all being things
+not polarized, not organized, without centre, so to speak. But it
+escaped him, and he wrought on. Did he succeed? Bless you! he might as
+well have painted the sun; and who could do that? No; but shades and
+combinations that he had hardly touched or known, before, he had to
+lavish now; he learned more than some years might have taught him; he,
+who worshipped beauty, saw how thoroughly I possessed it; he has told
+me that through me he learned the sacredness of color. "Since he loves
+beauty so, why does he not love me?" I asked myself; and perhaps the
+feverish hope and suspense only lit up that beauty and fed it with fresh
+fires. Ah, the July days! Did you ever wander over barren, parched
+stubble-fields, and suddenly front a knot of red Turk's-cap lilies,
+flaring as if they had drawn all the heat and brilliance from the land
+into their tissues? Such were they. And if I were to grow old and gray,
+they would light down all my life, and I could be willing to lead a
+dull, grave age, looking back and remembering them, warming myself
+forever in their constant youth. If I had nothing to hope, they would
+become my whole existence. Think, then, what it will be to have all days
+like those!
+
+He never satisfied himself, as he might have done, had he known me
+better,--and he never _shall_ know me!--and used to look at me for the
+secret of his failure, till I laughed; then the look grew wistful, grew
+enamored. By-and-by we left the pictures. We went into the woods, warm,
+dry woods; we stayed there from morning till night. In the burning
+noons, we hung suspended between two heavens, in our boat on glassy
+forest-pools, where now and then a shoal of white lilies rose and
+crowded out the under-sky. Sunsets burst like bubbles over us. When the
+hidden thrushes were breaking one's heart with music, and the sweet fern
+sent up a tropical fragrance beneath our crushing steps, we came home to
+rooms full of guests and my father's genial warmth. What a month it was!
+
+One day papa went up into New Hampshire; Aunt Willoughby was dead; and
+one day Lu came home.
+
+She was very pale and thin. Her eyes were hollow and purple.
+
+"There is some mistake, Lu," I said. "It is you who are dead, instead of
+Aunt Willoughby."
+
+"Do I look so wretchedly?" she asked, glancing at the mirror.
+
+"Dreadfully! Is it all watching and grief?"
+
+"Watching and grief," said Lu.
+
+How melancholy her smile was! She would have crazed me in a little
+while, if I had minded her.
+
+"Did you care so much for fretful, crabbed Aunt Willoughby?"
+
+"She was very kind to me," Lu replied.
+
+There was an odd air with her that day. She didn't go at once and get
+off her travelling-dress, but trifled about in a kind of expectancy, a
+little fever going and coming in her cheeks, and turning at any noise.
+
+Will you believe it?--though I know Lu had refused him,--who met her at
+the half-way junction, saw about her luggage, and drove home with her,
+but Mr. Dudley, and was with us, a half-hour afterward, when Rose came
+in? Lu didn't turn at his step, but the little fever in her face
+prevented his seeing her as I had done. He shook hands with her and
+asked after her health, and shook hands with Mr. Dudley, (who hadn't
+been near us during her absence,) and seemed to wish she should feel
+that he recognized without pain a connection between herself and that
+personage. But when he came back to me, I was perplexed again at that
+bewitched look in his face,--as if Lu's presence made him feel that he
+was in a dream, I the enchantress of that dream. It did not last long,
+though. And soon she saw Mr. Dudley out, and went up-stairs.
+
+When Lu came down to tea, she had my beads in her hand again.
+
+"I went into your room and got them, dear Yone," she said, "because I
+have found something to replace the broken bell-wort"; and she showed us
+a little amber bee, black and golden. "Not so lovely as the bell-wort,"
+she resumed, "and I must pierce it for the thread; but it will fill the
+number. Was I not fortunate to find it?"
+
+But when at a flame she heated a long, slender needle to pierce it, the
+little winged wonder shivered between her fingers, and under the hot
+steel filled the room with the honeyed smell of its dusted substance.
+
+"Never mind," said I again. "It's a shame, though,--it was so much
+prettier than the bell-wort! We might have known it was too brittle.
+It's just as well, Lu."
+
+The room smelt like a chancel at vespers. Rose sauntered to the window,
+and so down the garden, and then home.
+
+"Yes. It cannot be helped," she said, with a smile. "But I really
+counted upon seeing it on the string. I'm not lucky at amber. You know
+little Asian said it would bring bane to the bearer."
+
+"Dear! dear! I had quite forgotten!" I exclaimed. "Oh, Lu, keep it, or
+give it away, or something! I don't want it any longer."
+
+"You're very vehement," she said, laughing now. "I am not afraid of your
+gods. Shall I wear them?"
+
+So the rest of the summer Lu twined them round her throat,--amulets of
+sorcery, orbs of separation; but one night she brought them back to me.
+That was last night. There they lie.
+
+The next day, in the high golden noon, Rose came. I was on the lounge in
+the alcove parlor, my hair half streaming out of Lu's net; but he didn't
+mind. The light was toned and mellow, the air soft and cool. He came and
+sat on the opposite side, so that he faced the wall table with its dish
+of white, stiflingly sweet lilies, while I looked down the drawing-room.
+He had brought a book, and by-and-by opened at the part commencing, "Do
+not die, Phene." He read it through,--all that perfect, perfect scene.
+From the moment when he said,
+
+                        "I overlean
+    This length of hair and lustrous front,--they turn
+    Like an entire flower upward,"--
+
+his voice low, sustained, clear,--till he reached the line,
+
+    "Look at the woman here with the new soul,"--
+
+till he turned the leaf and murmured,
+
+    "Shall to produce form out of unshaped stuff
+    Be art,--and, further, to evoke a soul
+    From form be nothing? This new soul is mine!"--
+
+till then, he never glanced up. Now, with a proud grace, he raised his
+head,--not to look at me, but across me, at the lilies, to satiate
+himself with their odorous snowiness. When he again pronounced words,
+his voice was husky and vibrant; but what music dwelt in it and seemed
+to prolong rather than break the silver silence, as he echoed,
+
+    "Some unsuspected isle in the far seas"!
+
+How many read to descend to a prosaic life! how few to meet one as rich
+and full beside them! The tone grew ever lower; he looked up slowly,
+fastening his glance on mine.
+
+    "And you are ever by me while I gaze,--
+    Are in my arms, as now,--as now,--as now!"
+
+he said. He swayed forward with those wild questioning eyes,--his breath
+blew over my cheek; I was drawn,--I bent; the full passion of his soul
+broke to being, wrapped me with a blinding light, a glowing kiss on
+lingering lips, a clasp strong and tender as heaven. All my hair fell
+down like a shining cloud and veiled us, the great rolling folds in wave
+after wave of crisp splendor. I drew back from that long, silent kiss, I
+gathered up each gold thread of the straying tresses, blushing, defiant.
+He also, he drew back. But I knew all then. I had no need to wait
+longer; I had achieved. Rose loved me. Rose had loved me from that first
+day.--You scarcely hear what I say, I talk so low and fast? Well, no
+matter, dear, you wouldn't care.--For a moment that gaze continued, then
+the lids fell, the face grew utterly white. He rose, flung the book,
+crushed and torn, upon the floor, went out, speaking no word to me, nor
+greeting Louise in the next room. Could he have seen her? No. I, only,
+had that. For, as I drew from his arm, a meteoric crimson, shooting
+across the pale face bent over work there, flashed upon me, and then a
+few great tears, like sudden thunder-drops, falling slowly and wetting
+the heavy fingers. The long mirror opposite her reflected the interior
+of the alcove parlor. No,--he could not have seen, he must have felt
+her.
+
+I wonder whether I should have cared, if I had never met him any
+more,--happy in this new consciousness. But in the afternoon he
+returned, bright and eager.
+
+"Are you so very busy, dear Yone," he said, without noticing Lu, "that
+you cannot drive with me to-day?"
+
+Busy! In five minutes I whirled down the avenue beside him. I had not
+been Yone to him before. How quiet we were! he driving on, bent forward,
+seeing out and away; I leaning back, my eyes closed, and, whenever a
+remembrance of that instant at noon thrilled me, a stinging blush
+staining my cheek. I, who had believed myself incapable of love, till
+that night on the balcony, felt its floods welling from my spirit,--who
+had believed myself so completely cold, was warm to my heart's core.
+Again that breath fanned me, those lips touched mine, lightly, quickly.
+
+"Yone, my Yone!" he said. "Is it true? No dream within dream? Do you
+love me?"
+
+Wistful, longing, tender eyes.
+
+"Do I love you? I would die for you!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ah, me! If the July days were such, how perfect were the August and
+September nights! their young moon's lingering twilight, their full
+broad bays of silver, their interlunar season! The winds were warm about
+us, the whole earth seemed the wealthier for our love. We almost lived
+upon the river, he and I alone,--floating seaward, swimming slowly up
+with late tides, reaching home drenched with dew, parting in passionate
+silence. Once he said to me,--
+
+"Is it because it is so much larger, more strange and beautiful, than
+any other love could be, that I feel guilty, Yone,--feel as if I sinned
+in loving you so, my great white flower?"
+
+I ought to tell you how splendid papa was, never seemed to consider that
+Rose had only his art, said I had enough from Aunt Willoughby for both,
+we should live up there among the mountains, and set off at once to make
+arrangements. Lu has a wonderful tact, too,--seeing at once where her
+path lay. She is always so well oriented! How full of peace and bliss
+these two months have been! Last night Lu came in here. She brought back
+my amber gods, saying she had not intended to keep them, and yet
+loitering.
+
+"Yone," she said at last, "I want you to tell me if you love him."
+
+Now, as if that were any affair of hers! I looked what I thought.
+
+"Don't be angry," she pleaded. "You and I have been sisters, have we
+not? and always shall be. I love you very much, dear,--more than you may
+believe; I only want to know if you will make him happy."
+
+"That's according," said I, with a yawn.
+
+She still stood before me. Her eyes said, "I have a right,--I have a
+right to know."
+
+"You want me to say how much I love Vaughan Rose?" I asked, finally.
+"Well, listen, Lu,--so much, that, when he forgets me,--and he will, Lu,
+one day,--I shall die."
+
+"Prevent his forgetting you, Yone!" she returned. "Make your soul white
+and clear, like his."
+
+"No! no!" I answered. "He loves me as I am. I will never change."
+
+Then somehow tears began to come. I didn't want to cry; I had to crowd
+them back behind my fingers and shut lids.
+
+"Oh, Lu!" I said, "I cannot think what it would be to live, and he not a
+part of me! not for either of us to be in the world without the other!"
+
+Then Lu's tears fell with mine, as she drew her fingers over my hair.
+She said she was happy, too; and to-day has been down and gathered every
+one, so that, when you see her, her white array will be wreathed with
+purple hearts-ease. But I didn't tell Lu quite the truth, you must
+know. I don't think I should die, except to my former self, if Rose
+ceased to love me. I should change. Oh, I should hate him! Hate is as
+intense as love.
+
+Bless me! What time can it be? There are papa and Rose walking in the
+garden. I turned out my maid to find chance for all this talk; I must
+ring for her. There, there's my hair! silken coil after coil, full of
+broken lights, rippling below the knees, fine and fragrant. Who could
+have such hair but I? I am the last of the Willoughbys, a decayed race,
+and from such strong decay what blossom less gorgeous should spring?
+
+October now. All the world swings at the top of its beauty; and those
+hills where we shall live, what robes of color fold them! Tawny filemot
+gilding the valleys, each seam and rut a scroll or arabesque, and all
+the year pouring out her heart's blood to flush the maples, the great
+impurpled granites warm with the sunshine they have drunk all summer! So
+I am to be married to-day, at noon. I like it best so; it is my hour.
+There is my veil, that regal Venice point. Fling it round you. No, you
+would look like a ghost in one,--Lu like a corpse. Dear me! That's the
+second time I've rung for Carmine. I dare say the hussy is trying on my
+gown. You think it strange I don't delay? Why, child, why tempt
+Providence? Once mine, always mine. He might wake up. No, no, I couldn't
+have meant that! It is not possible that I have merely led him into a
+region of richer dyes, lapped him in this vision of color, kindled his
+heart to such a flame, that it may light him towards further effort. Can
+you believe that he will slip from me and return to one in better
+harmony with him? Is any one? Will he ever find himself with that love
+lost, this love exhausted, only his art left him? Never! _I_ am his
+crown. See me! how singularly, gloriously beautiful! For him only! all
+for him! I love him! I cannot, I will not lose him! I defy all! My
+heart's proud pulse assures me! I defy Fate! Hush! One,--two,--twelve
+o'clock. Carmine!
+
+
+III.
+
+_Astra castra, numen lumen._
+
+The click of her needles and the soft singing of the night-lamp are the
+only sounds breaking the stillness, the awful stillness, of this room.
+How the wind blows without! it must be whirling white gusty drifts
+through the split hills. If I were as free! Whistling round the gray
+gable, tearing the bleak boughs, crying faint, hoarse moans down the
+chimneys! A wild, sad gale! There is a lull, a long breathless lull,
+before it soughs up again. Oh, it is like a pain! Pain! Why do I think
+the word? Must I suffer any more? Am I crazed with opiates? or am I
+dying? They are in that drawer,--laudanum, morphine, hyoscyamus, and all
+the drowsy sirups,--little drops, but soaring like a fog, and wrapping
+the whole world in a dull ache, with no salient sting to catch a groan
+on. They are so small, they might be lost in this long, dark room; why
+not the pain too, the point of pain, I? A long, dark room; I at one end,
+she at the other; the curtains drawn away from me that I may breathe.
+Ah, I have been stifled so long! They look down on me, all those old
+dead and gone faces, those portraits on the wall,--look all from their
+frames at me, the last term of the race, the vanishing summit of their
+design. A fierce weapon thrust into the world for evil has that race
+been,--from the great gray Willoughby, threatening with his iron eyes
+there, to me, the sharp apex of its suffering. A fierce, glittering
+blade! Why I alone singled for this curse? Rank blossom, rank decay,
+they answer, but falsely. I lie here, through no fault of mine, blasted
+by disease, the dread with no relief. A hundred ancestors look from my
+walls, and see in me the centre of their lives, of all their little
+splendor, of their sins and follies; what slept in them wakes in me. Oh,
+let me sleep too!
+
+How long could I live and lose nothing? I saw my face in the hand-glass
+this morning,--more lovely than health fashioned it;--transparent skin,
+bounding blood, with its fire burning behind the eye, on cheek, on
+lip,--a beauty that every pang has aggravated, heightened, sharpened, to
+a superb intensity, flushing, rapid, unearthly,--a brilliancy to be
+dreamed of. Like a great autumn-leaf I fall, for I am dying,--dying!
+Yes, death finds me more beautiful than life made me; but have I lost
+nothing? Great Heaven, I have lost all!
+
+A fancy comes to me, that to-day was my birthday. I have forgotten to
+mark time; but if it was, I am thirty-two years old. I remember
+birthdays of a child,--loving, cordial days. No one remembers to-day.
+Why should they? But I ache for a little love. Thirty-two,--that is
+young to die! I am too fair, too rich, for death!--not his fit spoil! Is
+there no one to save me? no help? can I not escape? Ah, what a vain
+eagerness! what an idle hope! Fall back again, heart! Escape? I do not
+desire to. Come, come, kind rest! I am tired.
+
+That cap-string has loosened now, and all this golden cataract of hair
+has rushed out over the piled pillows. It oppresses and terrifies me. If
+I could speak, it seems to me that I would ask Louise to come and bind
+it up. Won't she turn and see?
+
+Have I been asleep? What is this in my hands? The amber gods? Oh, yes! I
+asked to see them again; I like their smell, I think. It is ten years I
+have had them. They enchant; but the charm will not last; nothing will.
+I rubbed a little yellow smoke out of them,--a cloud that hung between
+him and the world, so that he saw only me,--at least----What am I
+dreaming of? All manner of illusions haunt me. Who said anything about
+ten years? I have been married ten years. Happy, then, ten years? Oh,
+no! One day he woke.--How close the room is! I want some air. Why don't
+they do something----
+
+Once, in the pride of a fool, I fear having made some confidence, some
+recital of my joy to ears that never had any. Did I say I would not lose
+him? Did I say I could live just on the memory of that summer? I lash
+myself that I must remember it! that I ever loved him! When he stirred,
+when the mist left him, when he found a mere passion had blinded him,
+when he spread his easel, when he abandoned love,--was I wretched? I,
+too, abandoned love!--more,--I hated! All who hate are wretched. But he
+was bound to me! Yes, he might move restlessly,--it only clanked his
+chains. Did he wound me? I was cruel. He never spoke. He became
+artist,--ceased to be man,--was more indifferent than the cloud. He
+could paint me then,--and, revealed and bare, all our histories written
+in me, he hung me up beside my ancestors. There I hang. Come from thy
+frame, thou substance, and let this troubled phantom go! Come! for he
+gave my life to thee. In thee he shut and sealed it all, and left me as
+the empty husk. Did she come then? No! I sent for her. I meant to teach
+him that he was yet a man,--to open before him a gulf of anguish; but
+_I_ slipped down it. Then I dogged them; they never spoke alone; I
+intercepted the eye's language; I withered their wintry smiles to
+frowns; I stifled their sighs; I checked their breath, their motion.
+Idle words passed our lips; we three lived in a real world of silence,
+agonized mutes. She went. Summer by summer my father brought her to us.
+Always memory was kindled afresh, always sorrow kept smouldering. Once
+she came; I lay here; she has not left me since. He,--he also comes; he
+has soothed pain with that loveless eye, carried me in untender arms,
+watched calmly beside my delirious nights. He who loved beauty has
+learned disgust. Why should I care? I, from the slave of bald form,
+enlarged him to the master of gorgeous color; his blaze is my ashes. He
+studies me. I owe him nothing.
+
+Is it near morning? Have I dozed again? Night is long. The great
+hall-clock is striking,--throb after throb on the darkness. I remember,
+when I was a child, watching its lengthened pendulum swing as if time
+were its own, and it measured the thread slowly, loath to
+part,--remember streaking its great ebony case with a little finger,
+misting it with a warm breath. Throb after throb,--is it going to peal
+forever? Stop, solemn clangor! hearts, stop! Midnight.
+
+The nurses have gone down; she sits there alone. Her bent side-face is
+full of pity. Now and then her head turns; the great brown eyes lift
+heavily, and lie on me,--heavily, as if the sight of me pained her. Ah,
+in me perishes her youth! death enters her world! Besides, she loves me.
+I do not want her love,--I would fling it off; but I am faint,--I am
+impotent,--I am so cold! Not that she lives, and I die,--not that she
+has peace, and I tumult,--not for her voice's music,--not for her eye's
+lustre,--not for any charm of her womanly presence,--neither for her
+clear, fair soul,--nor that, when the storm and winter pass, and I am
+stiff and frozen, she smiles in the sun, and leads new life,--not for
+all this I hate her; but because my going gives her what I
+lost,--because, I stepped aside, the light falls on her,--because from
+my despair springs her happiness. Poor fool! let her be happy, if she
+can! Her mother was a Willoughby! And what is a flower that blows on a
+grave?
+
+Why do I remember so distinctly one night alone of all my life,--one
+night, when we dance in the low room of a seaside cottage,--dance to
+Lu's singing? He leads me to her, when the dance is through, brushing
+with his head the festooned nets that swing from the rafters,--and in at
+the open casement is blown a butterfly, a dead butterfly, from off the
+sea. She holds it compassionately till I pin it on my dress,--the wings,
+twin magnificences, freckled and barred and dusty with gold, fluttering
+at my breath. Some one speaks with me; she strays to the window, he
+follows, and they are silent. He looks far away over the gray loneliness
+stretching beyond. At length he murmurs: "A brief madness makes my long
+misery. Louise, if the earth were dazzled aside from her constant
+pole-star to worship some bewildering comet, would she be more forlorn
+than I?"
+
+"Dear Rose! your art remains," I hear her say.
+
+He bends lower, that his breath may scorch her brow. "Was I wrong? Am I
+right?" he whispers, hurriedly. "You loved me once; you love me now,
+Louise, if I were free?"
+
+"But you are not free."
+
+She does not recoil, yet her very atmosphere repels him, while looking
+up with those woful eyes blanching her cheek by their gathering
+darkness. "And, Rose,"----she sighs, then ceases abruptly, while a
+quiver of sudden scorn writhes spurningly down eyelid and nostril and
+pains the whole face.
+
+He erects himself, then reaches his hand for the rose in her belt,
+glances at me,--the dead thing in my bosom rising and falling with my
+turbulent heart,--holds the rose to his lips, leaves her. How keen are
+my ears! how flushed my cheek! how eager and fierce my eyes! He
+approaches; I snatch the rose and tear its petals in an angry shower,
+and then a dim east-wind pours in and scatters my dream like flakes of
+foam. All dreams go; youth and hope desert me; the dark claims me. O
+room, surrender me! O sickness and sorrow, loose your weary hold!
+
+It maddens me to know that the sun will shine again, the tender grass
+grow green, the veery sing, the crocus come. She will walk in the light
+and re-gather youth, and I moulder, a forgotten heap. Oh, why not all
+things crash to ruin with me?
+
+Pain, pain, pain! Where is my father? Why is he away, when they know I
+die? He used to hold me once; he ought to hear me when I call. He would
+rest me, and stroke the grief aside,--he is so strong. Where is he?
+
+These amulets stumbling round again? Amber, amber gods, you did mischief
+in your day! If I clutched you hard, as Lu did once, all your spells
+would be broken.--It is colder than it was. I think I will go to sleep.
+
+What was that? How loud and resonant! It stuns me. It is too sonorous.
+Does sound flash? Ah! the hour. Another? How long the silver toll swims
+on the silent air! It is one o'clock,--a passing bell, a knell. If I
+were at home by the river, the tide would be turning down, down, and out
+to the broad, broad sea. Is it worth while to have lived?
+
+Have I spoken? She looks at me, rises, and touches that bell-rope that
+always brings him. How softly he opens the door! Waiting, perhaps. Well.
+Ten years have not altered him much. The face is brighter,
+finer,--shines with the eternal youth of genius. They pause a moment; I
+suppose they are coming to me; but their eyes are on each other.
+
+Why must the long, silent look with which he met her the day I got my
+amber strike back on me now so vindictively? I remember three looks:
+that, and this, and one other,--one fervid noon, a look that drank my
+soul, that culminated my existence. Oh, I remember! I lost it a little
+while ago. I have it now. You are coming? Can't you hear me? See! these
+costly _liqueurs_, these precious perfumes beside me here, if I can
+reach them, I will drench the coverlet in them; it shall be white and
+sweet as a little child's. I wish they were the great rich lilies of
+that day; it is too late for the baby May-flowers. You do not like
+amber? There the thread breaks again! the little cruel gods go tumbling
+down the floor! Come, lay my head on your breast! kiss my life off my
+lips! I am your Yone! I forgot a little while,--but I love you, Rose!
+Rose!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Why! I thought arms held me. How clear the space is! The wind from
+out-doors, rising again, must have rushed in. There is the quarter
+striking. How free I am! No one here? No swarm of souls about me? Oh,
+those two faces looked from a great mist, a moment since; I scarcely see
+them now. Drop, mask! I will not pick you up! Out, out into the gale!
+back to my elements!
+
+So I passed out of the room, down the staircase. The servants below did
+not see me, but the hounds crouched and whined. I paused before the
+great ebony clock; again the fountain broke, and it chimed the
+half-hour; it was half-past one; another quarter, and the next time its
+ponderous silver hammers woke the house it would be two. Half-past one?
+Why, then, did not the hands move? Why cling fixed on a point five
+minutes before the first quarter struck? To and fro, soundless and
+purposeless, swung the long pendulum. And, ah! what was this thing I had
+become? I had done with time. Not for me the hands moved on their
+recurrent circle any more.
+
+I must have died at ten minutes past one.
+
+
+
+
+THE POET'S FRIENDS.
+
+
+    The Robin sings in the elm;
+      The cattle stand beneath,
+    Sedate and grave, with great brown eyes,
+      And fragrant meadow-breath.
+
+    They listen to the flattered bird,
+      The wise-looking, stupid things!
+    And they never understand a word
+      Of all the Robin sings.
+
+
+
+
+THE MEMORIAL OF A. B., OR MATILDA MUFFIN.
+
+
+THE MEMORIAL OF A. B.
+
+_Humbly Showeth_:--
+
+Ladies and gentlemen,--enlightened public,--kind audience,--dear
+readers,--or whatever else you may be styled,--whose eyes, from remote
+regions of east, west, or next door, solace themselves between the brown
+covers of this magazine, making of themselves flowers to its lunar
+brilliancy,--I wish to state, with all humility and self-disgust, that I
+am what is popularly called a literary woman.
+
+In the present state of society, I should feel less shame in declaring
+myself the elect lady of Dunderhed Van Nudel, Esquire, that wealthy
+Dutch gentleman, aged seventy, whom we all know. It is true, that, as I
+am young and gay and intelligent, while he is old and stupid and very
+low Dutch indeed, such an announcement would be equivalent to saying
+that I was bought by Mr. Van Nudel for half a million of dollars; but
+then that is customary, and you would all congratulate me.
+
+Also, I should stand a better chance of finding favor in your eyes, if I
+declared myself to be an indigent tailoress; for no woman should use her
+head who can use her hands,--a maxim older than Confucius.
+
+Or even if I were a school-ma'am! (blessed be the man who has brought
+them into fashion and the long path!) In that case, you might say, "Poor
+thing! isn't she interesting? quite like _the_ school-mistress!"--And I
+am not averse to pity, since it is love's poor cousin, nor to belonging
+to a class mentioned in Boston literary society. I really am not!
+
+But the plain truth is, I earn my living by writing. Sewing does not
+pay. I have no "faculty" at school-keeping; for I invariably spoil all
+the good children, and pet all the pretty ones,--a process not
+conducive, as I am told, to the development of manners or morals;--so I
+write: just as Mr. Jones makes shoes, Mr. Peters harangues the jury, Mr.
+Smith sells calico, or Mr. Robinson rolls pills.
+
+For, strange as it may seem, when it is so easy to read, it is hard work
+to write,--_bona fide_, undeniable hard work. Suppose my head cracks and
+rings and reels with a great ache that stupefies me? In comes Biddy with
+a letter.
+
+     "The editor of the 'Monthly Signpost' would be much obliged to
+     Miss Matilda Muffin for a tale of four pages, to make up the
+     June number, before the end of next week.
+
+                    "Very respectfully, etc., etc."
+
+Miss Muffin's head looks her in the face, (metaphorically,) and says,
+"You can't!"--but her last year's bonnet creaks and rustles from the
+bandbox, finally lifts the lid and peeps out. Gracious! the ghost in
+Hamlet was not more of an "airy nothing" than that ragged, faded,
+dilapidated old structure of crape and blonde. The bonnet retires to the
+sound of slow music; the head slinks back and holds its tongue; Miss
+Muffin sits down at her table; scratch, scratch, scratch, goes the old
+pen, and the ideas catch up with it, it is so shaky; and the words go
+tumbling over it, till the _t_s go out without any hats on, and the
+eyes--no, the _i_s (_is_ that the way to pluralize them?)--get no dots
+at all; and every now and then the head says, softly, "Oh, dear!" Miss
+Muffin goes to something called by novel-writers "repose," toward one
+o'clock that night, and the next night, and the next; she obliges the
+"Monthly Signpost" with a comic story at a low price, and buys herself a
+decent little bonnet for Sundays, replenishing her wardrobe generally by
+the same process; and the head considers it work, I assure you.
+
+But this is not the special grievance to which I direct this Memorial. I
+like to work; it suits me much better to obtain my money by steady,
+honest effort than it would to depend on anybody else for one round
+cent. If I had a thousand dollars unexpectedly left me by some unknown
+benefactor, I don't think it would be worth five cents on the dollar,
+compared with what I earn; there is a healthy, trustworthy pleasure in
+that, never yet attained by gifted or inherited specie. Neither is it
+the publicity of the occupation that I here object to. I knew that,
+before I began to write; and many an hour have I cried over the thought
+of being known, and talked about, and commented on,--having my dear
+name, that my mother called me by, printed on the cover of a magazine,
+seeing it in newspapers, hearing it in whispers, when Miss Brown says to
+Miss Black under her breath,--"That girl in the straw bonnet is Matilda
+Muffin, who writes for the 'Snapdragon' and the 'Signpost.'"
+
+I knew all this, as I say. I dreaded and hated it. I hate it now. But I
+had to work, and this was the only way open to me; so I tried to be
+brave, and to do what I ought, and let the rest go. I cannot say I am
+very brave yet, or that I don't feel all this; but I do not memorialize
+against it, because it is necessary to be borne, and I must bear it.
+When I go to the dentist's to have a tooth out, I sit down, and hold the
+chair tight, and open my mouth as wide as it will open, but I always
+say, "Oh! don't, doctor! I can't! I can't possibly!" till the iron
+what-d'you-call-it enters my soul and stops my tongue.
+
+Yes, when I began to write, I knew I should some day see my name in
+print. I knew people would wonder who and what I was, and how I
+looked;--I had done it myself. I knew that I should be delivered over to
+be the prey of tongues and the spoil of eyes. I was aware, I think, I am
+aware now, of every possible "disagreeable" that can befall the state. I
+am accustomed to hear people say, if I venture a modest opinion about a
+dinner, "Dear me! as if a literary woman knew anything about
+cooking!"--I endure that meekly, sustained by the inner consciousness
+that I _can_ cook much better than any artist in that line I ever yet
+encountered. Likewise I am used to hear people say, "I suppose you don't
+waste your valuable time in sewing?" when a look at my left forefinger
+would insure me a fraternal grip from any member of the Seamstress's
+Friends Society anywhere. I do not either scold or cry when accidentally
+some visitor discovers me fitting my dress or making my bonnet, and
+looks at me with a "fearful joy," as if I were on a tight-rope. I even
+smile when people lay my ugly shawl or _passe_ bonnet, that I bought
+because they were cheap, and wear for the same reason, at the door of
+the "eccentricities of genius." And I am case-hardened to the
+instantaneous scattering and dodging of young men that ensue the moment
+I enter a little party, because "gentlemen are so afraid of literary
+women." I don't think gentlemen are; I know two or three who never
+conceal a revolver in the breast of their coat when they talk to me, and
+who sometimes even offer to go home with me from a tea-party all alone,
+and after dark too. It is true, one or two of these are "literary"
+themselves; the others I knew before I was dyed blue; which may account
+for it. Also I am impervious to anonymous letters, exhorting me to all
+kinds of mental and moral improvement, or indulging in idle
+impertinences about my private affairs, the result of a knowledge about
+me and the aforesaid affairs drawn solely from my "Pieces in Prose and
+Verse."
+
+Then as to the matter of the romantic stories that are afloat concerning
+me, I am rather amused than otherwise by them. I have a sentimental
+name, by the religious and customary ordinance of baptism, legally my
+own; and at first, being rather loath to enter the great alliterative
+ranks of female writers by my lawful title of Matilda Muffin, I signed
+my writings "A. B."
+
+Two reprobatory poems addressed to those initials came to me through
+the medium of the "Snapdragon," immediately after my having printed in
+that spicy paper a pensive little poem called "The Rooster's Cry": one,
+in Spenserian measure, rebuking me for alluding lightly to serious
+subjects,--a thing I never do, I am sure, and I can't imagine what "J.
+H. P." meant; and another, in hexameter, calling upon me to "arouse,"
+and "smile," and "struggle on," and, in short, to stop crying and behave
+myself,--only it was said in figures. I'm much obliged to "Quintius" for
+the advice; but I should like to explain, that I am subject to the
+toothache, and when it is bad I cannot possibly write comic poetry. I
+must be miserable, but it's only toothache, thank you!
+
+Then I have heard several times, in the strictest confidence, the whole
+history of "A. B., who writes for the 'Snapdragon.'" Somebody told me
+she was a lady living on the North River, very wealthy, very haughty,
+and very unhappy in her domestic relations. Another said she was a young
+widow in Alabama, whose mother was extremely tyrannical, and opposed her
+second marriage. A third person declared to me that A. B. was a
+physician in the navy,--a highly educated man, but reduced in
+circumstances. I think that was a great compliment,--to be actually
+taken for a man! I felt it to be "the proudest moment of my life," as
+ship-captains say, when they return thanks for the silver teapot richly
+chased with nautical emblems, presented by the passengers saved from the
+wreck, as a token of gratitude for the hencoops thrown overboard by the
+manly commander. However, I called myself a woman in the very next
+contribution, for fear of the united wrath of the stronger sex, should I
+ever be discovered to have so imposed upon the public; although I know
+several old women who remain undiscovered to this day, simply because
+they avail themselves of a masculine signature.
+
+There were other romances, too tedious to mention, depicting me
+sometimes as a lovely blonde, writing graceful tales beneath a bower of
+roses in the warm light of June; sometimes as a respectable old maid,
+rather sharp, fierce, and snuffy; sometimes as a tall, delicate,
+aristocratic, poetic looking creature, with liquid dark eyes and heavy
+tresses of raven hair; sometimes as a languishing, heart-broken woman in
+the prime of life, with auburn curls and a slow consumption.
+
+Perhaps it may be as well to silence all conjecture at once, by stating
+that I am a woman of----no, I won't say how old, because everybody will
+date me from this time forward, and I shall not always be willing to
+tell how old I am! I am not very young now, it is true; I am more than
+sixteen and less than forty; so when our clergyman requested all between
+those ages to remain after service for the purpose of forming a week-day
+Bible-class, I sat still, and so did everybody else except Mrs. Van
+Doren, whose great-grandchild was christened in the morning;--our church
+is a new one.
+
+However, this is digressing. I am not very tall, nor very short; I am
+rather odd-looking, but decidedly plain. I have brown hair and eyes, a
+pale light complexion, a commonplace figure, pretty good taste in dress,
+and a quick sense of the ludicrous, that makes me laugh a great deal,
+and have a good time generally.
+
+I live at home, in the town of Blank, in a quiet by-street. My parents
+are both living, and we keep one Irish girl. I go to church on Sundays,
+and follow my trade week-days.
+
+I write everything I do write in my own room, which is not so pleasant
+as a bower of roses in some respects, but is preferable in regard to
+earwigs and caterpillars, which are troublesome in bowers. I have a
+small pine table to write on, as much elderly furniture as supplies me
+places for sleep and my books, a small stove in winter, (which is
+another advantage over bowers,) and my "flowing draperies" are blue
+chintz, which I bought at a bargain; some quaint old engravings of
+Bartolozzi's in black and gilt frames; a few books, among which are
+prominently set forth a volume of "The Doctor,"--Nicolo de' Lapi, in
+delightful bindings of white parchment,--Thomas a Kempis,--a Bible, of
+English type and paper,--and Emerson's Poems, bound in Russia leather.
+Not that I have no other books,--grammars, and novels, and cook-books,
+in gorgeous array,--but these are within reach from my pillow, when I
+want to read myself asleep; and a plaster cast of Minerva's owl mounts
+guard above them, curious fowl that it is.
+
+The neighbors think I am a pretty nice girl, and my papa secretly exults
+over me as a genius, but he don't say much about it. And there, dear
+public, you have Matilda Muffin as she is, which I hope will quash the
+romances, amusing though they be.
+
+But when, after much editorial correspondence, and persevering whispers
+of kind friends who had been told the facts in confidence, A. B. became
+only the pretext of a mystery, and I signed myself by my full name, the
+question naturally arose,--"Who _is_ Matilda Muffin?"
+
+Now, for the first time in my life, do I experience the benefits of a
+sentimental name, which has rather troubled me before, as belonging to a
+quite unsentimental and commonplace person, and thereby raising
+expectations, through hearsay, which actual vision dispelled with
+painful suddenness. But now I find its advantage, for nobody believes it
+is my own, but confidently expects that Ann Tubbs or Susan Bucket will
+appear from a long suppression, like a Jack-in-a-box, and startle the
+public as she throws back the cover.
+
+Indeed, I am told that not long since a circle of literary
+experimentalists, discussing a recent number of a certain magazine, and
+displaying great knowledge of _noms-de-plume_, ran aground all at once
+upon "Who is Matilda Muffin?"--even as, in the innocent faith of
+childhood, I pondered ten minutes upon "Who was the father of Zebedee's
+children?" and at last "gave up." But these professional gentlemen,
+nowise daunted by the practical difficulties of the subject, held on,
+till at last one, wiser in his generation than the rest, confidently
+announced that he knew Matilda Muffin's real name, but was not at
+liberty to disclose it. Should this little confidence ever reach the
+eyes of those friends, I wish to indorse that statement in every
+particular; that gentleman does know my name; and know all men, by these
+presents, I give him full leave to disclose it,--or rather, to save him
+the trouble, I disclose it myself. My name, my own, that would have been
+printed in the marriage-list of the "Snapdragon" before now, if it had
+not appeared in the list of contributors, and which will appear in its
+list of deaths some day to come,--my name, that is called to breakfast,
+marked on my pocket-handkerchiefs, written in my books, and done in
+yellow paint on my trunk, _is_--Matilda Muffin. "Only that, and nothing
+more!" And "A. B.," which I adopted once as a species of veil to the
+aforesaid alliterative title, did not mean, as was supposed, "A Beauty,"
+or "Any Body," or "Another Barrett," or "Anti Bedott," or "After
+Breakfast," but only "A. B.," the first two letters of the alphabet.
+Peace to their ashes!--let them rest!
+
+But, dear me! I forgot the Memorial! As I have said, all these
+enumerated troubles do not much move me, nor yet the world-old cry of
+all literary women's being, in virtue of their calling, unfeminine. I
+don't think anybody who knows me can say that about me; in fact, I am
+generally regarded by my male cousins as a "little goose," and a
+"foolish child," and "a perfectly absurd little thing,"--epithets that
+forbid the supposition of their object being strong-minded or having
+Women's Rights;--and as for people who don't know me, I care very little
+what they think. If I want them to like me, I can generally make
+them,--having a knack that way.
+
+But there is one thing against which I do solemnly protest and uplift
+my voice, as a piece of ridiculous injustice and supererogation,--and
+that is, that every new poem or fresh story I write and print should be
+supposed and declared to be part and parcel of my autobiography. Good
+gracious! Goethe himself, "many-sided" as the old stone Colossus might
+have been, would have retreated in dismay from such a host of characters
+as I have appeared in, according to the announcement of admiring
+friends.
+
+My dear creatures, do just look at the common sense of the thing! Can I
+have been, by any dexterity known to man, of mind or body, such a
+various creature, such a polycorporate animal, as you make me to be?
+Because I write the anguish and suffering of an elderly widow with a
+drunken husband, am I therefore meek and of middle age, the slave of a
+rum-jug? I have heard of myself successively as figuring in the
+character of a strong-minded, self-denying Yankee girl,--a
+broken-hearted Georgia beauty,--a fairy princess,--a consumptive
+school-mistress,--a young woman dying of the perfidy of her lover,--a
+mysterious widow; and I daily expect to hear that a caterpillar which
+figured as hero in one of my tales was an allegory of myself, and that a
+cat mentioned in "The New Tobias" is a travesty of my heart-experience.
+
+Now this is rather more than "human natur" can stand. It is true that in
+my day and generation I have suffered as everybody does, more or less.
+It is likewise true that I have suffered from the same causes that other
+people do. I am happy to state that in the allotments of this life
+authoresses are not looked upon as "literary," but simply as women, and
+have the same general dispensations with the just and the unjust;
+therefore, in attempting to excite other people's sympathies, I have
+certainly touched and told many stories that were not strange to my own
+consciousness; I do not know very well how I could do otherwise. And in
+trying to draw the common joys and sorrows of life, I certainly have
+availed myself of experience as well as observation; but I should seem
+to myself singularly wanting in many traits which I believe I possess,
+were I to obtrude the details of my own personal and private affairs
+upon the public. And I offer to those who have so interpreted me a
+declaration which I trust may relieve them from all responsibility of
+this kind in future; I hereby declare, asseverate, affirm, and whatever
+else means to swear, that I never have offered and never intend to offer
+any history whatever of my personal experience, social, literary, or
+emotional, to the readers of any magazine, newspaper, novel, or
+correspondence whatever. Nor is there any one human being who has ever
+heard or ever will hear the whole of that experience,--no, not even
+Dunderhed Van Nudel, Esquire, should he buy me to-morrow!
+
+Also, I wish to relieve the minds of many friendly readers, who, hearing
+and believing these reports, bestow upon me a vast amount of sympathy
+that is worthy of a better fate. My dear friends, as I said before, it
+is principally toothache; poetry is next best to clove-oil, and less
+injurious to the enamel. I beg of you not to suppose that every poet who
+howls audibly in the anguish of his soul is really afflicted in the said
+soul; but one must have respect for the dignity of High Art. Answer me
+now with frankness, what should you think of a poem that ran in this
+style?--
+
+    "The sunset's gorgeous wonder
+      Flashes and fades away;
+    But my back-tooth aches like thunder,
+      And I cannot now be gay!"
+
+Now just see how affecting it is, when you "change the venue," as
+lawyers say:--
+
+    "The sunset's gorgeous wonder
+      Flashes and fades away;
+    But I hear the muttering thunder,
+      And my sad heart dies like the day."
+
+I leave it to any candid mind, what would be the result to literature,
+if such a course were pursued?
+
+Besides, look at the facts in the case. You read the most tearful
+strains of the most melancholy poet you know; if you took them
+_verbatim_, you would expect him to be found by the printer's-boy, sent
+for copy, "by starlight on the north side of a tombstone," as Dr.
+Bellamy said, enjoying a northeaster without any umbrella, and soaking
+the ground with tears, unwittingly antiseptic, in fact, as Mr. Mantalini
+expressed himself, "a damp, moist, unpleasant body." But where, I ask,
+does that imp find the aforesaid poet, when he goes to get the seventh
+stanza of the "Lonely Heart"? Why, in the gentlemen's parlor of a
+first-class hotel, his feet tilted up in the window, his apparel
+perfectly dry and shiny with various ornamental articles appended, his
+eyes half open over a daily paper, his parted lips clinging to a cigar,
+his whole aspect well-to-do and comfortable. And aren't you glad of it?
+I am; there is so much real misery in the world, that don't know how to
+write for the papers, and has to have its toothache all by itself, when
+a simple application of bread and milk or bread and meat would cure it,
+that I am glad to have the apparent sum of human misery diminished, even
+at the expense of being a traitor in the camp.
+
+And still further, for your sakes, dear tender-hearted friends, who may
+suppose that I am wearing this mask of joy for the sake of deluding you
+into a grim and respectful sympathy,--you, who will pity me whether or
+no,--I confess that I have some material sorrows for which I will gladly
+accept your tears. My best bonnet is very unbecoming. I even heard it
+said the other day, striking horror to my soul, that it looked literary!
+And I'm afraid it does! Moreover, my only silk dress that is presentable
+begins to show awful symptoms of decline and fall; and though you may
+suppose literature to be a lucrative business, between ourselves it is
+not so at all, (very likely the "Atlantic" gentlemen will omit that
+sentence, for fear of a libel-suit from the trade,--but it's all the
+same a fact, unless you write for the "Dodger,")--and, I'm likely to
+mend and patch and court-plaster the holes in that old black silk,
+another year at least: but this is my solitary real anguish at present.
+
+I do assure all and sundry my reporters, my sympathizers, and my
+readers, that all that I have stated in this present Memorial is
+unvarnished fact, whatever they may say, read, or feel to the
+contrary,--and that, although I am a literary woman, and labor under all
+the liabilities and disabilities contingent thereto, I am yet sound in
+mind and body, (except for the toothache,) and a very amusing person to
+know, with no quarrel against life in general or anybody in particular.
+Indeed, I find one advantage in the very credulous and inquisitive
+gossip against which I memorialize; for I think I may expect fact to be
+believed, when fiction is swallowed whole; and I feel sure of seeing,
+directly on the publication of this document, a notice in the
+"Snapdragon," the "Badger," or the "Coon," (whichever paper gets that
+number of the magazine first,) running in this wise:--
+
+     "MATILDA MUFFIN.--We welcome in the last number of the
+     'Atlantic Monthly' a brief and spirited autobiography of this
+     lady, whose birth, parentage, and home have so long been wrapt
+     in mystery. The hand of genius has rent asunder the veil of
+     reserve, and we welcome the fair writer to her proper position
+     in the Blank City Directory, and post-office list of boxes."
+
+After which, I shall resign myself tranquilly to my fate as a unit, and
+glide down the stream of life under whatever skies shine or scowl above,
+always and forever nobody but
+
+              MATILDA MUFFIN.
+    BLANK, _67 Smith Street_.
+
+
+
+
+SOME ACCOUNT OF A VISIONARY.
+
+
+"Dear old Visionary!" It was the epithet usually applied to Everett Gray
+by his friends and neighbors. It expresses very well the estimation in
+which he was held by nineteen-twentieths of his world. People couldn't
+help feeling affection for him, considerably leavened by a half-pitying,
+half-wondering appreciation of his character. He was so good, so kind,
+so gifted, too. Pity he was so dreamy and romantic, _et cetera, et
+cetera_.
+
+Now, from his youth up, nay, from very childhood, Everett had borne the
+character thus implied. A verdict was early pronounced on him by an
+eminent phrenologist who happened to be visiting the family. "A
+beautiful mind, a comprehensive intellect, but marvellously
+unpractical,--singularly unfitted to cope with the difficulties of
+every-day life." And Everett's mother, hanging on the words of the man
+of science, breathless and tearful, murmured to herself, while stroking
+her unconscious little son's bright curls,--"I always feared he was too
+good for this wicked world."
+
+The child began to justify the professor's _dictum_ with his very first
+entry into active life. He entertained ideas for improving the social
+condition of rabbits, some time before he could conveniently raise
+himself to a level with the hutch in which three of them, jointly
+belonging to himself and his brother, abode. His theory was consummate;
+in practice, however, it proved imperfect,--and great wrath on the part
+of Richard Gray, and much confusion and disappointment to Everett, were
+the result.
+
+Richard, two years younger than Everett by the calendar, was at least
+three older than he in size, appearance, habits, and self-assertion. He
+was what is understood by "a regular boy": a fine, manly little fellow,
+practical, unsensitive, hard-headed, and overflowing with life and
+vigor. He had little patience with his brother's quiet ways; and his
+unsuccessful attempts at working out theories met with no sympathy at
+his hands.
+
+After the affair of the rabbits, his experiments, however certain of
+success he deemed them, were always made on or with regard to his own
+belongings. The little plot of garden-ground which he held in absolute
+possession was continually being dug up and refashioned, in his eager
+efforts to convert it successively into a vineyard, a Portuguese
+_quinta_, (to effect which he diligently planted orange-pips and manured
+the earth with the peel,) or, favorite scheme of all, a
+wheat-field,--dimensions, eighteen feet by twelve,--the harvest of which
+was to provide all the poor children of the village with bread, in those
+hard seasons when their pinched faces and shrill, complaining cries
+appealed so mightily to little Everett's heart.
+
+Nevertheless, and in spite of all his care and watching, it is to be
+feared that very few of the big loaves which found their way from the
+hall to the village, that winter, were composed of the produce of his
+corn-field. More experienced farmers than this youthful agriculturist
+might not have been surprised at the failure of his crop. He was.
+Indeed, it was a valiant characteristic of him, throughout his life,
+that he never grew accustomed to failure, however serenely he took it,
+when it came. He grieved and perplexed himself about it, silently, but
+not hopelessly. New ideas dawned on his mind, fresh designs of relief
+were soon entertained, and essayed to be put in practice. These were
+many, and of various degrees of feasibility,--ranging from the
+rigorously pursued plan of setting aside a portion of his daily bread
+and butter in a bag, and of his milk in a can, and bestowing the little
+store on the nearest eligible object, up to the often pondered one of
+obtaining possession of the large barn in the cow-field, furnishing the
+same, and establishing therein all the numerous houseless wanderers who
+used to come and ask for aid at the hands of Everett's worthy and
+magisterial father.
+
+That father's judicial functions caused his eldest son considerable
+trouble and bewilderment of mind. He asked searching questions
+sometimes, when, of an evening, perched on Mr. Gray's knee, and looking
+with his wondering, steadfast eyes into the face of that erewhile stern
+and impassible magistrate. The large justice-room, where the prisoners
+were examined, had an awful fascination to him; and so had the little
+"strong-room," in which sometimes they were locked up before being
+conveyed away to the county jail. Often, he wandered restlessly near it,
+looking at the door with strange, mournful eyes; and if by chance the
+culprit passed out before him, under the guardianship of the terrible,
+red-faced constable,--Everett's earliest and latest conception of the
+Devil,--how wistfully he would gaze at him, and what a world of thought
+and puzzled speculation would float through his childish mind!
+
+Once, he had a somewhat serious adventure connected with that dreadful
+strong-room.
+
+There had been a man brought up before Mr. Gray, charged with
+poultry-stealing; and he had been remanded for further examination.
+Meanwhile, he was placed in the strong-room, under lock-and-key,--Roger
+Manby, as usual, standing sentinel in the passage. Now Roger's red face
+betokened a lively appreciation of the sublunary and substantial
+attractions of beef and beer; and it seems probable that the servants'
+dinner, going on below-stairs, was too great a temptation for even that
+inflexible constable to resist. Howbeit, when the prisoner should have
+been produced before the waiting bench, he was nowhere to be found. He
+had vanished, as by magic, from the strong-room, without bolt being
+wrenched, or lock forced, or bar broken. The door was unfastened, and
+the prisoner gone. Great was the consternation, profound the
+mystification of all parties. Roger was severely reprimanded, and
+officers were sent off in various directions to recapture the offender.
+
+Mr. Gray seldom alluded to his public affairs when among his children;
+but that evening he broke through the rule. At dessert, with little
+Everett, as usual, beside him, he mentioned the mysterious incident of
+the morning to some friends who were dining with him, adding his own
+conjectures as to the cause of the strange disappearance.
+
+"It is certain he was _let out_. He could not have released himself.
+Circumstances are suspicious against Manby, too; and he will probably
+lose his office. Like Caesar's wife, a constable should be beyond
+suspicion, and he must be dismissed, if"----
+
+"Oh, papa!"--and Everett's orange fell to the floor, and Everett's face
+was lifted to his father's, all-aglow with eager, painful feeling.
+
+"You don't like old Roger," said Mr. Gray, patting his cheek. "Well, it
+is likely you won't be troubled by him any more."
+
+"Oh, papa! oh, papa! Roger is an ugly, cross man. But he didn't,--he
+didn't"----
+
+"Didn't what, my boy?"
+
+"Let the man out. He was in the kitchen all the time. I heard him
+laughing."
+
+"_You_ heard him? How?"
+
+"I--I--oh, papa!"
+
+The curly head sunk on the inquisitor's shoulder.
+
+"Go on, Everett. What do you mean? Tell me the whole truth. You are not
+afraid to do that?"
+
+"No, papa."
+
+He looked up, with steady eyes, but cheeks on which the color flickered
+most agitatedly.
+
+"I only wanted to look at the man; and the men had left a ladder against
+the wall by the little grated window; and I climbed up, and looked in.
+And, oh! he had such a miserable face, papa! And I couldn't help
+speaking to him."
+
+"Well, go on."
+
+The tone was not so peremptory as the words; and the child, too ignorant
+to be really frightened at what he had done, went on with his
+confession, quite heedless of the numerous eyes fixed upon him with
+various expressions of tenderness, amusement, and dismay. And very soon
+all came out. Everett had deliberately and intentionally done the deed.
+He had been unable to withstand the misery and entreaties of the man,
+and he had slipped down the ladder, run round to the unguarded strong
+door, and with much toil forced back the great bolt, unfastened the
+chain, and set the prisoner free.
+
+"And do you know, Everett, what it is you have done?--how wrong you have
+been?"
+
+"I was afraid it was a little wrong,"--he hesitated; "but,"--and his
+courage seemed to rise again at the recollection,--"it would have been
+so dreadful for the poor man to go to prison! He said he should be quite
+ruined,--quite ruined, papa; and his wife and the little children would
+starve. You are not _very_ angry, are you? Oh, papa!"
+
+For Everett could hardly believe the stern gaze with which the
+magistrate forced himself to regard his little son; and sternly uttered
+were the few words that followed, by which he endeavored to make clear
+to the childish comprehension the gravity of the fault he had committed.
+Everett was utterly subdued. The tone of displeasure smote on his heart
+and crushed it for the time. Only once he brightened up, as with a
+sudden hope of complete justification, when Mr. Gray adverted to the
+crime of the man, which had made it right and necessary that he should
+be punished.
+
+"But, papa," eagerly broke in the boy, "he hadn't stolen the things. He
+told me so. He wasn't a thief."
+
+"One case was proved beyond doubt."
+
+"Indeed, indeed, papa, you must be mistaken," cried Everett, with
+tearful vehemence; "he couldn't have done it; I know he couldn't. He
+said, _upon his word_, he hadn't."
+
+It was impossible to persuade him that such an asseveration could be
+false. And when the little offender had left the room, various remarks
+and interjections were indulged in,--all breathing the same spirit.
+
+"What a jolly little muff Everett is!" was his brother Dick's
+contingent.
+
+"Innocent little fellow!" said one.
+
+"Happy little visionary!" sighed another.
+
+And Everett grew in years and stature, and still unconsciously
+maintained the same character. It is true that he was a quiet, sensitive
+boy, with an almost feminine affectionateness and tenderness of
+heart,--and that keen, exquisite appreciation both of the joyful and the
+painful, which is a feminine characteristic, too. Yet he was far enough
+from being effeminate. He was thoughtful, naturally, yet he could be
+active and take pleasure in action. He was always ready to work, and
+feared neither hardship nor fatigue. When the great flood came and
+caused such terror and distress in the village, no one, not even Dick,
+home from Sandhurst for the midsummer holidays, was more energetic or
+worked harder or more effectually than Everett. And the boys (his
+brother's chums at Hazlewood) never forgot the day when Everett found
+them ill-treating a little dog; how he rescued it from them,
+single-handed, and knocked down young Brooke, who attacked him both with
+insults and blows. Dick, not ill-pleased, was looking on. He never
+called his brother a "sop" from that day, but praised him and patronized
+him considerably for a good while after, and began, as he said, "to have
+hopes of him."
+
+But the two brothers never had much in common, and were, indeed, little
+thrown together. Everett was educated at home; he was not strong, and
+was naturally his mother's darling, and she persuaded his father and
+herself that a public school would be harmful to him. So he studied the
+classics with the clergyman of the parish, and the lighter details of
+learning with his sister. Between that sister and himself there was a
+strong attachment, though she, too, was of widely differing temperament
+and disposition. Agnes was two years older than he,--and overflowing
+with saucy life, energy, and activity. She liked to run wild about the
+woods near their house, or to gallop over the country on her pony,--to
+go scrambling in the hedges for blackberries, or among the copses for
+nuts. The still contentment that Everett found in reading,--his
+thoughtful enjoyment of landscape, or sunset, or flower,--all this might
+have been incomprehensible to her, only that she loved her dreamy
+brother so well. Love lends faith, and faith makes many things clear;
+and Agnes learned to understand, and would wait patiently beside him on
+such occasions, only tapping her feet, or swinging her bonnet by its
+strings, as a relief for the superabundant vitality thus held in check.
+And she was Everett's _confidante_ in all his schemes, wishes, and
+anticipations. To her he would unfold the various plans he was
+continually cogitating. Agnes would listen, sympathizingly sometimes,
+but reverently always. _She_ never called or thought him a Visionary. If
+his plans for the regeneration of the world were Utopian and
+impracticable, it was the world that was in fault, not he. To her he was
+the dearest of brothers, who would one day be acknowledged the greatest
+of men.
+
+And thus Everett grew to early manhood, till the time arrived when he
+was to leave home for Cambridge. It was his first advent in the world.
+Hitherto, his world had been one of books and thought. He imagined
+college to be a place wherein a studious life, such as he loved, would
+be most natural, most easy to be pursued. He should find a
+brother-enthusiast in every student; he should meet with sympathy and
+help in all his dearest aspirations, on every side. Perhaps it is
+needless to say that this young Visionary was disappointed, and that his
+collegiate career was, in fact, the beginning of that crusade, active
+and passive, which it appeared to be his destiny to wage against what is
+generally termed Real Life.
+
+He was considerably laughed at, of course, by the majority of those
+about him. Some few choice spirits tried to get up a lofty contempt of
+his quiet ways and simple earnestness,--but they failed,--it not being
+in human nature, even the most scampish, to entertain scorn for that
+which is innately true and noble. So, finally, the worst that befell him
+was ridicule,--which, even when he was aware of it, hurt him little.
+Often, indeed, he would receive their jests and artful civilities with
+implicit good faith; acknowledging apparent attentions with a gentle,
+kindly courtesy, indescribably mystifying to those excellent young men
+who expended so much needless pains on the easy work of "selling Old
+Gray."
+
+However, from out the very ranks of the enemy, before he left college at
+the end of his first term, he had one intimate. It would, perhaps, be
+difficult to understand how two-thirds of the friendships in the world
+have their birth and maintain their existence. The connection between
+Everett and Charles Barclay appeared to be of this enigmatical order.
+One would have said the two could possess no single taste or sentiment
+in common. Charles was a handsome, athletic fellow, warm-hearted,
+impassioned, generous, and thoughtless to cruelty. He had splendid
+gifts, but no application,--plenty of power, but no perseverance.
+Supposed to be one of the most brilliant men of his years, he had just
+been "plucked," to the dismay of his college and the immense wrath of
+his friends. Everybody knew that Barclay was an orphan, left with a very
+slender patrimony, who had gained a scholarship at the grammar-school.
+He was of no family,--he was poor, and had his own way to make in life.
+It was doubly necessary to _him_ that he should succeed in his
+collegiate career. It was probably while under the temporary shadow of
+the disgrace and disappointment of defeat, that the young man suddenly
+turned to Everett Gray, fastened upon him with an affection most
+enthusiastic, a devotion that everybody found unaccountable. He had
+energy enough for what he willed to do. He willed to have Everett's
+friendship, and he would not be denied. The incongruous pair became
+friends. Whereupon, the rollicking comrades, who had gladly welcomed
+Barclay into their set, for his fun and his wit and his convivial
+qualities, turned sharp round, and marvelled at young Gray, who came of
+a high family, for choosing as his intimate a fellow of no birth, no
+position. Not but that it was just like the Old Visionary to do it; he'd
+no idea of life,--not he; and so forth.
+
+During the next term, the friendship grew and strengthened. Everett's
+influence was working for good, and Barclay was in earnest addressing
+himself to study. He accompanied Everett to his home at the long
+vacation. And it ought to have surprised nobody who was acquainted with
+the _rationale_ of such affairs, that the principal event of that golden
+holiday-summer was the falling in love with each other of Everett's
+sister and Everett's friend. Agnes was the only daughter and special
+pride of a rich and well-born man. Barclay was of plebeian birth, with
+nothing in the world to depend on but his own talents, which he had
+abused, and the before-named patrimony, which was already nearly
+exhausted. It will at once be seen that there could hardly be a more
+felicitous conjunction of circumstances to make everybody miserable by
+one easy, natural step; and the step was duly taken. Of course, the
+young people fell in love immediately,--Everett, the Dreamer, looking on
+with a sort of reverent interest that was almost awe; for the very
+thought of love thrilled him with a sense of new and strange
+life,--unknown, unguessed of, as heaven itself, but as certain, and
+hardly less beautiful. So he watched the gradual progress of these two,
+who were passing through that which was so untrodden a mystery to him.
+If he ever thought about their love in a more definite way, it was--oh,
+the Visionary!--to congratulate himself and everybody concerned. He saw
+nothing but what was most happy and desirable in it all. He knew no one
+so worthy of Agnes as Barclay, whom, in spite of all his faults, he
+believed to be one of the noblest and greatest of men; and he felt sure
+that all that was wanting to complete and solidify his character was
+just this love for a good, high-souled woman, which would arouse him to
+energy and action, sustain and encourage him through all difficulties,
+and make life at once more precious and more sacred.
+
+Unfortunately, other members of the family, who were rational beings,
+and looked on life in a practical and sensible manner, were very
+differently affected by the discovery of this attachment. In brief,
+there ensued upon the _eclaircissement_ much storm on one side, much
+grief on the other, and keen pain to all,--to none more than to Everett.
+Our Visionary's heart swelled hotly with alternate indignation and
+tenderness, as he knew his friend was forbidden the house, heard his
+father's wrathful comments upon him, and saw his bright sister Agnes
+broken down by all the heaviness of a first despair. You may imagine his
+passionate denunciation of the spirit of worldliness, which would, for
+its own mean ends, separate those whom the divine sacrament of Love had
+joined together. No less easily may be pictured the angry, yet
+half-compassionate reception of his vehemence, the contemptuous wave of
+the hand with which the stern old banker deprecated discussion with one
+so ignorant of the world, so utterly incapable of forming a judgment on
+such a question, as his son. His mother sat by, during these scenes,
+trembling and grieved. It was not in her meek nature to take part
+_against_ either husband or son. She strove to soothe, to soften each in
+turn,--with but little effect, it may be added. For all he was so gentle
+and so loving, Everett was not to be persuaded or influenced in this
+matter. He took up his friend's cause and withstood all antagonism,
+resisted all entreaties to turn him from his fealty thereto.
+
+Ay, and he bore up against what was harder yet to encounter than all
+these. Charles Barclay's was one of those natures which, being
+miserable, are apt to become desperate. To such men, affliction seems to
+be torture, but no discipline. But our humanity perceives from a level,
+and therefore a short-sighted point of view. We may well be thankful
+that the Great Ruler sees above and around and on all sides the
+creatures to be governed, the events to be disposed.
+
+Charles Barclay went to London. One or two brief and most miserable
+letters Everett received from him,--then _all_ a blank silence.
+Everett's repeated appeals were unanswered, unnoticed. It might have
+been as if Death had come between and separated these lovers and
+friends, except that by indirect means they learned that he was alive
+and still in London. At length came more definite tidings, and the
+brother and sister knew that this Charles Barclay, whom they loved so
+well, had plunged into a reckless life, as into a whirlpool of
+destruction,--that he was among those associates, of high rank socially,
+of nearly the lowest morally, whom he had formerly known at college.
+Here was triumph for the prudent father,--desolation to the loving
+woman,--and to Everett, what? Pain, keen pain, and bitter anxiety,--but
+no quailing of the heart. He had too much faith in his friend for that.
+
+He went after him to London,--he penetrated to him, and would not be
+denied. He braved his assumed anger and forced violence; he had the
+courage of twenty lions, this Visionary, in battling with the devils
+that had entered into the spirit of his friend. The struggle was fierce
+and lengthened. Love conquered at last, as it always does, could we so
+believe. And during the time of utter depression into which the
+mercurial nature then relapsed, Everett cheered and sustained him,--till
+the young man's soul seemed melted within him, and the surrender to the
+good influence was as absolute as the resistance had been passionate.
+
+"What have I done, what am I," he would oftentimes say, "that I should
+be saved and sustained and _loved_ by you, Everett?" For, truly, he
+looked on him as no less than an angel, whom God had sent to succor him.
+It was one of those problems the mystery of which is most sacred and
+most sweet. In proportion as the erring man needed it, Everett's love
+grew and deepened and widened, and his influence strengthened with it
+almost unconsciously to himself. He was too humble to recognize all that
+he was to his friend.
+
+Meanwhile, imagine the turmoil at home, in respect of Everett's absence,
+and the errand which detained him. No disguise was sought. The son wrote
+to his mother frankly, stating where he was, and under what
+circumstances. He received a missive from his father of furious
+remonstrance; he replied by one so firm, yet so loving withal, that old
+Mr. Gray could not choose but change his tone to one of angry
+compassion. "The boy believes he's doing right. Heaven send him a little
+sense!" was all he could say.
+
+But there came a yet more overwhelming evidence of Everett's utter
+destitution of that commodity. A mercantile appointment was offered to
+Charles Barclay in one of the colonies, and Everett advanced the large
+sum necessary to enable his friend to accept it. To do this, he
+sacrificed the whole of what he possessed independently of his father,
+namely, a legacy left to him by his uncle, over which he had full
+control. It must be years before he could be repaid, of course,--it
+might be never! But, rash as was the act, he could not be hindered from
+doing it. His father raged and stormed, and again subsided into gloomy
+resignation. Henceforth he would wonder at nothing, for his son was mad,
+unfit to take part in the world. "A mere visionary, and no man," the
+hapless parent said, whenever he alluded to him.
+
+When Everett returned, Charles Barclay was on his way to Canada,
+vigorously intent on the new life before him. Agnes drew strength and
+comfort from the steadfast look of her brother's eyes, as he whispered
+to her, "Don't fear. Trust God, and be patient." The blight fell away
+from her, after that. If she was never a light-hearted girl again, she
+became something even sweeter and nobler. They never talked together
+about him, for the father had forbidden it; and, indeed, they needed
+not. Openly, and before them all, Everett would say when he heard from
+his friend. And so the months passed on.
+
+Then came the era in our Visionary's life,--an era, indeed, to such as
+he!--the first love. First love,--and last,--to him it was nothing less
+than fateful. It was his nature to be steadfast and thorough. He could
+no more have _transferred_ the love that rose straightly and purely from
+the very innermost fire of his soul than he could have changed the soul
+itself. Not many natures are thus created with the inevitable necessity
+to be constant. Few among women, fewer yet among men, love as Everett
+Gray loved Rosa Beauchamp.
+
+When they became aware of this love, at his home, there ensued much
+marvelling. Mr. Gray cordially congratulated himself, with wonder and
+pleasure, to think that actually his mad boy should have chosen so
+reasonably. Captain Gray, home on leave, observed that Old Everett
+wasn't such a flat as he seemed, by Jove! to select the daughter of an
+ancient house, and a wealthy house, like the Beauchamps of Hollingsley.
+The alliance was in every way honorable and advantageous. The family was
+one of the most influential in the county; and a lady's being at the
+head of it--for Sir Ralph Beauchamp had died many years before, when his
+eldest son was but a child, and Lady Beauchamp had been sole regent over
+the property ever since--made it all the pleasanter. Everett, if he
+chose, might be virtual master of Beauchamp; for the young baronet was
+but a weak, good-natured boy, whom any one might lead. Everett had
+displayed first-rate generalship. "These simple-seeming fellows are
+often deeper than most people," argued the soldier, wise in his
+knowledge of the world; "you may trust them to take care of themselves,
+when it comes to the point. Everett's a shrewd fellow."
+
+The father rubbed his hands, and was delighted to take this view of the
+case. He should make something of his son and heir in time. Often as he
+had regretted that Richard was not the elder, on whom it would rest to
+keep up the distinction and honor of the family, he began to see an
+admirable fitness in things as they were. Everett was, after all, better
+suited for the career that lay before him, in which he trusted he would
+not need that knowledge of mankind and judgment on worldly matters that
+were indispensable to those who had to carve their own way in life. "It
+is better as it is," thought the father, unconscious that he was echoing
+such an unsubstantial philosophy as a poet's.
+
+And so the first days of Everett's love were as cloudless and divinely
+radiant as a summer dawn. But events were gathering, like storm-clouds,
+about the house of Gray. Disaster, most unforeseen, was impending over
+this family. For Mr. Gray, though, as we have said, a practical and
+matter-of-fact man, and having neither sympathy nor patience with
+"visionary schemes or ideas," had yet, as practical men will do,
+indulged in divers speculations during his life, in one of which he had
+at last been induced to embark to the utmost extent. Of course, it
+seemed safe and reasonable enough, even to the banker's shrewd eyes;
+but, nevertheless, it proved as delusive and destructive as any that
+ever led a less worldly man astray. The fair-seeming bubble burst, and
+the rich man of one day found himself on the morrow virtually reduced to
+beggary. All he had had it in his power to risk was gone, and
+liabilities remained to the extent of twice as much. The crash came, the
+bank stopped payment, and the unhappy man was stricken to the dust. He
+never lifted up his head again. The shrewd man of the world utterly
+succumbed beneath this blow of fate; it killed him. Old Mr. Gray died of
+that supposed disease, a broken heart,--leaving a legacy of ruin, or
+the alternative of disgrace, to his heir.
+
+The reins of government thus fell into Everett's hands. "The poor Grays!
+it's all over with them!" said the pitying world. And, indeed, the way
+in which the young man proceeded to arrange his father's affairs savored
+no less of the Visionary than had every action of his life theretofore.
+Captain Gray, who hastened home from his gay quarters in Dublin, on the
+disastrous news reaching him, found his brother already deeply engaged
+with lawyers, bills, and deeds.
+
+"You know, Richard, there is but one thing to be done," he said, in his
+usual simple, earnest way; "we must cut off the entail, and sell the
+property to pay my father's debts. It is a hard thing to do,--to part
+with the old place; but it would be worse, bitterer pain and crueler
+shame, to hold it, with the money that, whatever the worldly code of
+morality may say, is not _ours_. There must be no widows and orphans
+reduced to poverty through us. Thank God, there will be enough produced
+by the sale of the estate to clear off every liability,--to the last
+shilling. You feel with me in this matter?" he went on, confidently
+appealing to his brother; yet with a certain inflection of anxiety in
+his voice. It would have wounded Everett cruelly, had he been
+misunderstood or rebuffed in this. "You have your commission, and Uncle
+Everett's legacy, and the reversion of my mother's fortune, which will
+not be touched. This act of justice, therefore, can injure no one."
+
+"Except yourself,--yourself, old fellow," said Richard, moved, in spite
+of his light nature. He grasped his brother's hand. "It's a noble thing
+to do; but have you considered how it will affect your future? You, with
+neither fortune nor profession,--how do you propose to live? And your
+marriage,--the Beauchamps will never consent to Rosa becoming the wife
+of a--a"----
+
+"Not a beggar, Richard," Everett said, smiling, "if that was the word
+you hesitated about; no, I shall be no beggar. I have plans for my own
+future;--you shall know of them. Our marriage will, of course, be
+delayed. I must work, to win a home and position for my wife." He
+paused,--looked up bravely,--"It is no harder fate than falls to most
+men. And for Rosa,--true love, true woman as she is, she helps me, she
+encourages me in all I do and purpose."
+
+Captain Gray shrugged his shoulders. "Two mad young people!" he thought
+to himself. "They never think of consequences, and it's of no use
+warning them, I suppose."
+
+No. It would have been useless to "warn" or advise Everett against doing
+this thing, which he held to be simply his duty. And it was the
+characteristic of our Visionary, that, when he saw a Duty so placed
+before him, he knew no other course than straightly to pursue it,
+looking neither to the right hand nor to the left, unprevented by
+obstacles, and fearless of consequences.
+
+So in this case. His brother advised a temporizing course,--to mortgage
+the estate, for instance, and pay a moiety of the debts. It was surely
+all that could be expected from a man who had not actually incurred
+them. And then he might still be the nominal owner of Hazlewood,--he
+might still marry Rosa.
+
+"While, if you do as you propose," argued the Captain, "(and you know,
+of course, old fellow, I fully appreciate your noble and honorable
+feeling in the matter,) you ruin your own hopes; and I can't see that a
+fellow is called upon to do _that_, as a point of filial duty. What are
+you to do? that's the thing. It isn't as though you had anything to fall
+back upon, by Jove! It's a case of beggaring yourself"----
+
+"Instead of beggaring other people," Everett said. "No, Richard,--I
+cannot see either the justice or the wisdom of what you propose. I will
+not cast the burden on other shoulders. As my father's representative, I
+must abide the penalty of his mistake,--and I only. I cannot rest while
+our name is as the catchword of ruin and misery to thousands around us,
+less able to bear both, perhaps, than I, who am young and strong,--able
+to work both with head and hands."
+
+"But think of Rosa!" said his brother. "How do you get over _that_?
+Isn't her happiness worth some consideration?"
+
+"It has been my thought, night and day, ever since," Everett said, in a
+low voice. "It has come between me and what I felt to be the Right, more
+than once. You don't know what that thought has been, or you would not
+challenge it against me now."
+
+"Well, well,--I only want you to look on all sides of what you are about
+to do, and to count the cost beforehand."
+
+Everett smiled quietly. As if "the cost" were not already counted, felt,
+and suffered in that deep heart of his! But he said nothing.
+
+"In the next place, what do you propose to do?" pursued his brother.
+"Will you enter a profession? Can't say you're much adapted for a
+lawyer; and perhaps you're too tender-hearted for a doctor, either. But
+I remember, as a boy, you always said you should like to be a clergyman.
+And, by Jove! when one comes to think of it, you've a good deal of the
+cut of the village priest about you. What do you say to that?"
+
+"Nothing. I have other plans." And Everett proceeded briefly to tell him
+these. He had heard from Charles Barclay, now high in the confidence of
+one of the leading mercantile firms of Montreal; and through him, he had
+obtained the offer of an appointment in the same house.
+
+Richard Gray listened to all this, with ill-concealed amusement
+twitching the corners of his mouth. He thought the idea of his brother's
+turning man-of-business one of the "richest" he had ever heard.
+
+"With your hard head and shrewd notions, I should say you were likely to
+make a sensation in the mercantile world," he observed. "It's a hopeful
+scheme, altogether. Oh, hang it!" proceeding from sarcasm to
+remonstrance, "that'll never do, Everett! You'll be getting into some
+precious scrape or other. You're not the fellow for a merchant's office,
+trust me. Now something in the way of a government appointment is much
+more like it. A pleasant, poetical sort of sinecure,--there are lots of
+them to be had. You just trundle down for an hour or two every day,
+write letters, or poems, or whatever you like, with the official
+stationery, and receive your salary quarterly. You _can't_ do any
+mischief in a place like that. Now that's the sort of thing for you,--if
+one could get hold of some of those fellows in power. Why!" brightening
+with the sudden dash of an idea, "there are the Beauchamps themselves!
+They've a legion of influential relatives. Couldn't they get you into a
+snug berth? Oh, the Devil!"--for Everett's look was not to be
+mistaken,--"if you bring your high-flown ideas of dignity and
+independence into this plain, practical question of subsistence, it's
+all up with you. Do you mean to tell me that you seriously think of this
+Canada scheme?"
+
+Everett assented.
+
+"Have you informed Lady Beauchamp of your intention of becoming a
+merchant's clerk? I should like to see her face when you tell her; she's
+such a shrewd old soul; and when a woman _does_ take to the sharp and
+worldly style of thing, it's the very deuse! Expect no indulgence in
+that quarter."
+
+"I don't ask it. Rosa, of course, cannot become my wife till I am able
+to give her a worthy home. Her mother will not wish to cancel our
+engagement in the mean time."
+
+"The deuse she won't! Trust her!" the consolatory brother rejoined.
+"Why, it will be her first natural step. The idea of her daughter
+betrothed to a merchant's clerk is preposterous on the face of it. You
+yourself must see _that_."
+
+"No, I don't," Everett said, smiling.
+
+"Oh, I suppose you intend to make a large fortune in a twelvemonth, and
+then return and marry?"
+
+"No,--but in ten years,--less than that, God helping me,--if I live, I
+will return and marry Rosa."
+
+"You don't say so? And poor little Rosa is to wait patiently for you all
+that time! By Jove! a modest expectation of yours! It's a likely notion
+that Miss Beauchamp will remain unmarried for ten years, because you
+choose to go to Canada."
+
+"She will never marry, if she does not marry me," Everett said, with
+simple gravity. "It is not alone the outward sacrament of marriage that
+sanctifies a union. The diviner and more vital consecration that binds
+us together, it is too late, now, to seek to undo."
+
+"Oh, hang it! It's of no use talking poetry to _me_. I don't understand
+that sort of thing," Captain Gray frankly said. "I'll tell you
+what,--it'll never do to take those transcendental ideas with you into
+the world. All very well to poetize and maunder about in quiet
+Hazlewood; but, by Jove! you'll find it won't do in practical life. Take
+my word for it, if you go to Canada, long before the ten years are out,
+Rosa Beauchamp will be wooed and won over again. 'Tisn't in nature that
+it should be otherwise. In books, very likely, those sort of things
+happen often enough,--but not in real life, my dear fellow, I assure
+you. When you return, it will be to find her a thriving matron, doing
+the honors of one of the neighboring mansions. Make up your mind to
+_that_. Foresee your future, before you decide."
+
+Everett smiled, sadly, but trustfully. His brother's arguments neither
+persuaded nor disturbed him. He stood very quiet and thoughtful.
+Visionary-like, he saw pictures of the future, indeed,--but very
+different from the one just drawn. He was not afraid.
+
+And Captain Gray left him unconvinced and unmoved. It was not probable
+the two brothers would see this matter in the same light. They stood on
+different levels. They must be content to differ.
+
+The next conference on the subject was between Everett and Lady
+Beauchamp; and the mother of Rosa was, it must be admitted, a rather
+formidable person to encounter in such wise. She was a busy, clever,
+worldly woman,--kind-hearted, too, and with both a strong will and
+strong affections. She was one of those people in whom even an astute
+observer might often be deceived, by failing to give her credit for
+certain good qualities which are commonly coexistent with
+worldliness,--especially in a woman. There was a spice of something
+better latent amid her shrewdness and hard-headed sagacity; the echo of
+more generous aspirations lingered through all the noise of this earth's
+Babel in her heart. And so, when she heard of Everett's resolve to pay
+his father's debts by parting with the property, her better and higher
+nature warmed to the young man; and though she protested against his
+Quixotism, and frowned, and talked of prudence, and so forth, her busy
+brain was, in fact, all the while setting itself to work for his
+benefit. She was, in a way, fond of the young man. No woman is quite
+insensible to that chivalrous deference which a Visionary like Everett
+always manifests to womanhood, collective and individual. And though she
+certainly held him to be rash, foolish, unfit to deal with the world,
+"poetical," (a capital crime in her eyes,) and dreamy, she yet liked
+him, and was glad to discover a plan whereby the objections to his
+marriage with her daughter, under the present adverse circumstances,
+might be smoothed away.
+
+She was sitting at her big desk, strewn with accounts, in the
+sober-looking library where she always spent her mornings, and she rose
+to receive her prospective son-in-law, with an aspect serious and
+business-like, yet not stern.
+
+"Well, my dear Everett, what is all this that I hear about you? A very,
+very sad affair, of course; but you must come and tell me how you intend
+to act. Yes, yes,--I've heard something about it; but I don't quite
+understand the state of the case. I want to have a talk with you."
+
+And she leaned her comely face upon her plump, white hand, while gravely
+listening to Everett's brief statement of what he had already done, and
+what were his plans for the future.
+
+"You will sell Hazlewood, pay your father's debts, and begin life on
+your own account, by going to Canada and becoming a merchant's clerk!"
+She then recapitulated his plans in a sharp, pitiless tone. "Very well!
+and we have only to bid you good-bye and wish you success. Is it so? For
+it appears to me that my daughter is left entirely out of your
+calculations, and very properly so. You cannot, as a merchant's clerk on
+a hundred a year, marry Rosa Beauchamp, I presume."
+
+"No," Everett said, steadily, and holding her, as it were, with his
+earnest eyes, "I cannot have Rosa for my wife till I am able to give her
+a home worthy of her; but you will not refuse to sanction our engagement
+during the years in which I shall work for that home?"
+
+Lady Beauchamp tapped the table with her fingers in an ominous manner.
+
+"Long engagements are most unsatisfactory, silly, not to say dangerous
+things. They never end well. No man ought to wish so to bind a young
+girl, unless he has a reasonable chance of soon being in a position to
+marry her. Now I ask you, have _you_ such a chance? If you go to Canada,
+it may be years before you return. Just look at the thing in a
+common-sense light, and tell me, can you expect my daughter to wait an
+indefinite time, while you go to seek and make your fortune?"
+
+She looked at him with an air of bland candor, while thus appealing to
+his "common sense." Everett's aspect remained unchanged, however, in its
+calm steadfastness.
+
+"I would not bind her," he said, "unless she herself felt it would be a
+comfort and a help, in some sort, during the weary years of separation,
+so to be bound. And that she does feel it, you know, Lady Beauchamp."
+
+"My dear Sir, you are not talking reasonably," she rejoined,
+impatiently. "A young girl like Rosa, in love for the first time, of
+course wishes to be bound, as you say, to the object of her first love.
+But it would be doing her a cruel injustice to take her at her word.
+Surely you feel that? It is very true, she might not forget you for six
+months, or more, perhaps. But, in the course of time, as she enters on
+life and sees more of the world and of people, it is simply impossible
+that she should remain constant to a dreamy attachment to some one
+thousands of miles away. She would inevitably wish to form other ties;
+and then the engagement that she desires to-day would be the blight and
+burden of her life. No. I say it is a cruel injustice to let young
+people decide for themselves on such a point. Half the misery in the
+world springs from these mistakes. Think over the matter coolly, and you
+will see it as I do."
+
+"It is you who do Rosa injustice," Everett answered, and paused. "Were
+it to be as you wish," he added, "and we to separate utterly, with no
+outwardly acknowledged tie to link us, no letters to pass between us, no
+word or sign from one to the other during all the coming years,--suppose
+it so,--you would shadow our lives with much unnecessary misery; but you
+are mistaken, if you think you would really part us. You do not
+understand."
+
+"Nonsense! You talk like a young man in love. You _must_ be reasonable."
+
+Lady Beauchamp, by this time, had worked herself into the usual warmth
+with which she argued all questions, great and small, and forgot that
+her original intention in speaking to Everett had only been to set
+before him the disadvantages of his plans, in order that her own might
+come to the rescue with still greater brilliancy and effect.
+
+"You _must_ be reasonable," she repeated. "You don't suppose I have not
+my child's happiness at heart in all I plan and purpose? Trust me, I
+have had more experience of life than either of you, and it is for me to
+interpose between you and the dangers you would blindly rush upon. Some
+day you will both thank me for having done so, hard and cruel as you may
+think me now."
+
+"No, I do not think you either hard or cruel. You are _mistaken_,
+simply. I believe you desire our happiness. I do not reproach or blame
+you, Lady Beauchamp," Everett said, sadly.
+
+"Come, come," she cried, touched by his look and manner to an immediate
+unfolding of her scheme, "let us look at things again. Perhaps we shall
+not find them so hopeless as they look. If I am prudent, Everett, I am
+not mercenary. I only want to see Rosa happy. I don't care whether it is
+on hundreds a year, or thousands. And the fact is, I have not condemned
+your plans without having a more satisfactory one to offer to your
+choice. Listen to me."
+
+And she proceeded, with a cleared brow, and the complacency of one who
+feels she is performing the part of a good genius, setting everything to
+rights, and making everybody comfortable, to unfold the plan _she_ had
+devised, by which Everett's future was to be secured, and his marriage
+with Rosa looked to as something better than a misty uncertainty at the
+end of a vista of years.
+
+Everett must go into the Church. That was, in fact, the profession most
+suited to him, and which most naturally offered itself for his
+acceptance. His education, his tastes, his habits, all suited him for
+such a career. By a happy coincidence, too, it was one in which Lady
+Beauchamp could most importantly assist him through her connections. Her
+eldest son, the young baronet, had preferment in his own gift, which was
+to say, in hers; and not only this, but her sister's husband, the uncle
+of Rosa, was a bishop, and one over whom she, Lady Beauchamp, had some
+influence. Once in orders, Everett's prosperity was assured. The present
+incumbent of Hollingsley was aged; by the time Everett was eligible, he
+might, in all probability, be inducted into that living, and Rosa might
+then become his wife. Five hundred a year, beside Miss Beauchamp's
+dowry, with such shining prospects of preferment to look forward to, was
+not an unwise commencement; for Rosa was no mere fine lady, the proud
+mother said,--she was sensible and prudent; she would adapt herself to
+circumstances. And though, of course, it was not such an establishment
+as she well might expect for her daughter, still, since the young people
+loved one another, and thought they could be happy under these reduced
+circumstances, she would not be too exacting. And Lady Beauchamp at last
+paused, and looked in Everett's face for some manifestation of his joy.
+
+Well,--of his gratitude there could be no question. The tears stood in
+his earnest eyes, as he took Lady Beauchamp's hand and thanked
+her,--thanked her again and again.
+
+"There, there, you foolish boy! I don't want thanks," cried she,
+coloring with pleasure though, as she spoke. "My only wish is to see you
+two children happy. I _am_ fond of you, Everett; I shall like to see you
+my son," she said. "I have tried to smooth the way for you, as far as I
+can, over the many difficulties that obstruct it; and I fancy I have
+succeeded. What do you say to my plan? When can you be ordained?"
+
+Everett sighed, as he released her hand, and looked at her face, now
+flushed with generous, kindly warmth. Well he knew the bitter change
+that would come over that face,--the passion of disappointment and
+displeasure which would follow his answer to that question.
+
+He could never enter the Church. Sorrowfully, but firmly, he said
+it,--with that calm, steady voice and look, of which all who knew him
+knew the significance. He could not take orders.
+
+Lady Beauchamp, at first utterly overwhelmed and dumfounded, stood
+staring at him in blank silence. Then she icily uttered a few words. His
+reasons,--might she ask?
+
+They were many, Everett said. Even if no other hindrance existed, in his
+own mind and opinions, his reverence for so sacred an office would not
+permit him to embrace it as a mere matter of worldly advantage to
+himself.
+
+"Grant me patience, young man! Do you mean to tell me you would decline
+this career because it promises to put an end to your difficulties? Are
+you _quite_ a fool?" the lady burst out, astonishment and anger quite
+startling her from all control.
+
+"Bear with what may at first seem to you only folly," Everett answered
+her, gently. "I don't think your calmer judgment can call it so. Would
+you have me take upon myself obligations that I feel to be most solemn
+and most vital, feeling myself unfitted, nay, unable, rightly to fulfil
+them? Would you have me commit the treachery to God and man of swearing
+that I felt called to that special service, when my heart protested
+against my profession?"
+
+"Romantic nonsense! A mere matter of modest scruples! You underrate
+yourself, Everett. You are the very man for a clergyman, trust me."
+
+But Everett went on to explain, that it was no question of
+under-estimation of himself.
+
+"You do not know, perhaps," he proceeded, while Lady Beauchamp, sorely
+tried, tapped her fingers on the table, and her foot upon the
+floor,--"you do not know, that, when I was a boy, and until two or three
+years ago, my desire and ambition were to be a minister of the Church of
+England."
+
+"Well, Sir,--what has made you so much better, or so much worse, since
+then, as to alter your opinion of the calling?"
+
+"The reasons which made me abandon the idea three years since, and which
+render it impossible for me to consider it now, have nothing to do with
+my mental and moral worthiness or unworthiness. The fact is simply, I
+cannot become a minister of a Church with many of whose doctrines I
+cannot agree, and to which, indeed, I can no longer say I belong. In
+your sense of the word, I am far from being a Churchman."
+
+"Do you mean to say you have become a Dissenter?" cried Lady Beauchamp;
+and, as if arrived at the climax of endurance, she stood transfixed,
+regarding the young man with a species of sublime horror.
+
+"Again, not in your sense of the term," Everett said, smiling; "for I
+have joined no sect, attached myself to no recognized body of
+believers."
+
+"You belong to nothing, then? You believe in nothing, I suppose?" she
+said, with the instinctive logic of her class. "Oh, Everett!" real
+distress for the moment overpowering her indignation, "it is those
+visionary notions of yours that have brought you to this. It was to be
+expected. You poets and dreamers go on refining your ideas, forsooth,
+till even the religion of the ordinary world isn't good enough for you."
+
+Everett waited patiently till this first gust had passed by. Then, with
+that steady, calm lucidity which, strange to say, was characteristic of
+this Visionary's mind and intellect, he explained, so far as he could,
+his views and his reasons. It could not be expected that his listener
+should comprehend or enter into what he said. At first, indeed, she
+appeared to derive some small consolation from the fact that at least
+Everett had not "turned Dissenter." She hated Methodists, she
+declared,--intending thus to include with sweeping liberality all
+denominations in the ban of her disapproval. She would have deemed it an
+unpardonable crime, had the young man deserted the Church of his fathers
+in order to join the Congregation, some ranting conventicle. But if her
+respectability was shocked at the idea of his becoming a Methodist, her
+better feelings were outraged when she found, as she said, that he
+"belonged to nothing." She viewed with dislike and distrust all forms of
+religion that differed from her own; but she could not believe in the
+possibility of a religion that had no external form at all. She was
+dismayed and perplexed, poor lady! and even paused midway in her
+wrathful remonstrance to the misguided young man, to lament anew over
+his fatal errors. She could not understand, she said, truly enough,
+what in the world he meant. His notions were perfectly extraordinary and
+incomprehensible. She was deeply, deeply shocked, and grieved for him,
+and for every one connected with him.
+
+In fact, the very earnestness and sincerity in their own opinions of a
+certain calibre of minds make them incapable of understanding such a
+state of things. That a man should believe differently from all they
+have been taught to believe appears to them as simply preposterous as
+that he should breathe differently. And so it is that only the highest
+order of belief can afford to be tolerant; and, as extremes meet, it
+requires a very perfect Faith to be able to sympathize and bear
+patiently with Doubt.
+
+There was no chance of Lady Beauchamp's "comprehending" Everett in this
+matter. There was something almost pathetic in her mingled anger,
+perplexity, and disappointment. She could only look on him as a
+headstrong young man, suicidally bent on his own ruin,--turning
+obstinately from every offered aid, and putting the last climax of
+wretchedness to his isolated and fallen position by "turning from the
+faith of his fathers," as she rather imaginatively described his
+secession from Orthodoxy.
+
+And, as may be concluded, the mother of Rosa was inexorable, as regarded
+the engagement between the young people. It must at once be cancelled.
+She could not for one moment suffer the idea of her daughter's remaining
+betrothed to the mere adventurer she considered Everett Gray had now
+become. If, poor as he was, he had thought fit to embrace a profession
+worthy of a gentleman, the case would have been different. But if his
+romantic notions led him to pursue such an out-of-the-way course as he
+had laid out for himself, he must excuse her, if she forbade her child
+from sharing it. Under present circumstances, his alliance could but be
+declined by the Beauchamp family, she said, with her stateliest air. And
+the next minute, as Everett held her hand, and said good-bye, she melted
+again from that frigid dignity, and, looking into the frank, manly, yet
+gentle face of the young man, cried,--
+
+"Are you _quite_ decided, Everett? Will you take time to consider? Will
+you talk to Rosa about it, first?"
+
+"No, dear Lady Beauchamp. I know already what she would say. I have
+quite decided. Thank you for all your purposed kindness. Believe that I
+am not ungrateful, even if I seem so."
+
+"Oh, Everett,--Everett Gray! I am very sorry for you, and for your
+mother, and for all connected with you. It is a most unhappy business.
+It gives me great pain thus to part with you," said Lady Beauchamp, with
+real feeling.
+
+And so the interview ended, and so ended the engagement.
+
+Nothing else could have been expected, every one said who heard the
+state of the case, and knew what Lady Beauchamp had wished and Everett
+had declined. There were no words to describe how foolishly and weakly
+he had acted. "Everybody" quite gave him up now. With his romantic,
+transcendental notions, what _would_ become of him, when he had his own
+way to make in the world?
+
+But Everett had consolation and help through it all; for Rosa, the woman
+he loved, his mother, and his sister believed in him, and gloried in
+what other people called his want of common sense. Ay, though the
+horrible wrench of parting was suffered by Rosa every minute of every
+day, and the shadow of that dreadful, unnatural separation began to
+blacken her life even before it actually fell upon her,--through it all,
+she never wavered. When he first told her that he must go, that it was
+the one thing he held it wise and right to do, she shrunk back
+affrighted, trembling at the coming blankness of a life without him. But
+after a while, seeing the misery that came into _his_ face reflected
+from hers, she rose bravely above the terrible woe, and then, with her
+arms round him and her eyes looking steadfastly into his, she said, "I
+love you better than the life you are to me. So I can bear that you
+should go."
+
+And he said, "There can be no real severance between those who love as
+we do. God, in His mercy and tenderness, will help us to feel that
+truth, every hour and every day."
+
+For they believed thus,--these two young Visionaries,--and lived upon
+that belief, perhaps, when the time of parting came. And it may be that
+the thought of each was very constantly, very intimately present to the
+other, during the many years that followed. It may be that this species
+of mental atmosphere, so surrounding and commingling with all other
+things more visibly and palpably about them, _did_ cause these dreamers
+to be happier in their love than many externally united ones, whose lot
+appears to us most fair and smooth and blissful. Time and distance,
+leagues of ocean and years of suspense, are not the most terrible things
+that can come between two people who love one another.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And so Everett Gray, his mother, and his sister, went to Canada. A year
+after, Agnes was married to Charles Barclay, then a thriving merchant in
+Montreal. When the people at home heard of this, they very wisely
+acknowledged "how much good there had been in that young man, in spite
+of his rashness and folly in early days. No fear about such a man's
+getting on in life, when once he gave his mind to it," and so forth.
+
+Meanwhile, our Visionary----But what need is there to trace him, step by
+step, in the new life he doubtless found fully as arduous as he had
+anticipated? That it was a very struggling, difficult, and uncongenial
+life to him can be well understood. These reminiscences of Everett Gray
+relate to a long past time. We can look on his life now as almost
+complete and finished, and regard his past as those in the valley look
+up to the hill that has nothing between it and heaven.
+
+Many years he remained in Canada, working hard. Tidings occasionally
+reached England of his progress. Rosa, perhaps, heard such at rare
+intervals,--though somewhat distorted, it may be, from their original
+tenor, before they reached her. But it appeared certain that he was
+"getting on." In defiance and utter contradiction of all the sapient
+predictions there anent, it seemed that this dreamy, poetizing Everett
+Gray was absolutely successful in his new vocation of man-of-business.
+
+The news that he had become a partner in the firm he had entered as a
+clerk was communicated in a letter from himself to Lady Beauchamp. In it
+he, for the first time since his departure, spoke of Rosa; but he spoke
+of her as if they had parted but yesterday; and, in asking her mother's
+sanction to their betrothal _now_, urged, as from them both, their claim
+to have that boon granted at last.
+
+Lady Beauchamp hastily questioned her daughter.
+
+"You must have been corresponding with the young man all this time?" she
+said.
+
+But Rosa's denial was not to be mistaken.
+
+"He has heard of you, then, through some one," the practical lady went
+on; "or, for anything he knows, you may be married, or going to be
+married, instead of waiting for him, as he seems to take it for granted
+you have been all this time."
+
+"He was right, mother," Rosa only said.
+
+"Right, you foolish girl? You haven't half the spirit I had at your age.
+I would have scorned that it should have been said of _me_ that I
+'waited' for any man."
+
+"But if you loved him?"
+
+"Well, if he loved _you_, he should have taken more care than to leave
+you on such a Quixotic search for independence as his."
+
+"He thought it right to go, and he trusted me; we had faith in one
+another," Rosa said; and she wound her arms round her mother, and looked
+into her face with eyes lustrous with happy tears. For, from that lady's
+tone and manner, despite her harsh words, she knew that the opposition
+was withdrawn, and that Everett's petition was granted.
+
+They were married. It is years ago, now, since their wedding-bells rung
+out from the church-tower of Hazlewood, blending with the sweet
+spring-air and sunshine of a joyous May-day. The first few years of
+their married life were spent in Canada. Then they returned to England,
+and Everett Gray put the climax to the astonishment of all who knew him
+by purchasing back a great part of Hazlewood with the fruits of his
+commercial labors in the other country.
+
+At Hazlewood they settled, therefore. And there, when he grew to be an
+old man, Everett Gray lived, at last, the peaceful, happy life most
+natural and most dear to him. No one would venture to call the
+successful merchant a Visionary; and even his brother owns that "the old
+fellow has got more brains, after all, by Jove! than he ever gave him
+credit for." Yet, as the same critic, and others of his calibre, often
+say of him, "He has some remarkably queer notions. There's no making him
+out,--he is so different from other people."
+
+Which he is. There is no denying this fact, which is equally evident in
+his daily life, his education of his children, his conduct to his
+servants and dependants, his employment of time, his favorite aims in
+life, and in everything he does or says, in brief. And of course there
+are plenty who cavil at his peculiar views, and who cannot at all
+understand his unconventional ways, and his apparent want of all worldly
+wisdom in the general conduct of his affairs. And yet, somehow, these
+affairs prosper. Although he declined a valuable appointment for his
+son, and preferred that he should make his own way in the profession he
+had chosen, bound by no obligation, and unfettered by the trammels of
+any party,--although he did this, to the astonishment of all who did
+_not_ know him, yet is it not a fact that the young barrister's career
+has been, and is, as brilliant and successful as though he had had a
+dozen influential personages to advance him? And though he permitted his
+daughter to marry, not the rich squire's son, nor the baronet, who each
+sought her hand, but a man comparatively poor and unknown, who loved
+her, and whom she loved, did it not turn out to be one of those
+marriages that we can recognize to have been "made in heaven," and even
+the worldly-wise see to be happy and prosperous?
+
+But our Everett is growing old. His hair is silver-white, and his tall
+figure has learned to droop somewhat as he walks. Under the great
+beech-trees at Hazlewood you may have seen him sitting summer evenings,
+or sauntering in spring and autumn days, sometimes with his
+grandchildren playing about him, but always with _one_ figure near him,
+bent and bowed yet more than his own, with a still sweet and lovely face
+looking placidly forth from between its bands of soft, white hair.
+
+How they have loved, and do love one another, even to this their old
+age! All the best and truest light of that which we call Romance shines
+steadily about them yet. No sight so dear to Everett's eyes as that
+quiet figure,--no sound so welcome to his ears as her voice. She is all
+to him that she ever was,--the sweetest, dearest, best portion of that
+which we call his life.
+
+Yes, I speak advisedly, and say he _is_, they _are_. It is strange that
+this Visionary, who was wont to be reproached with the unpracticality of
+all he did or purposed, the unreality of whose life was a byword, should
+yet impress himself and his existence so vividly on those about him that
+even now we cannot speak of him as one that is _no more_. He seems still
+to be of us, though we do not see him, and his place is empty in the
+world.
+
+His wife went first. She died in her sleep, while he was watching her,
+holding her hand fast in his. He laid the last kisses on her eyes, her
+mouth, and those cold hands.
+
+After that, he seemed _to wait_. They who saw him sitting _alone_ under
+the beech-trees, day by day, found something very strangely moving in
+the patient serenity of his look. He never seemed sad or lonely through
+all that time,--only patiently hopeful, placidly expectant. So the
+autumn twilights often came to him as he stood, his face towards the
+west, looking out from their old favorite spot.
+
+One evening, when his daughter and her husband came out to him, he did
+not linger, as was usual with him, but turned and went forward to meet
+them, with a bright smile, brighter than the sunset glow behind him, on
+his face. He leaned rather heavily on their supporting arms, as they
+went in. At the door, the little ones came running about him, as they
+loved to do. Perhaps the very lustre of his face awed them, or the sight
+of their mother's tears; for a sort of hush came over them, even to the
+youngest, as he kissed and blessed them all.
+
+And then, when they had left the room, he laid his head upon his
+daughter's breast, and uttered a few low words. He had been so happy, he
+said, and he thanked God for all,--even to this, the end. It had been so
+good to live!--it was so happy to die! Then he paused awhile, and closed
+his eyes.
+
+"In the silence, I can hear your mother's voice," he murmured, and he
+clasped his hands. "O thou most merciful Father, who givest this last,
+great blessing, of the new Home, where she waits for me!--and God's love
+is over all His worlds!"
+
+He looked up once again, with the same bright, assured smile. That smile
+never faded from the dead face; it was the last look which they who
+loved him bore forever in their memory.
+
+And so passed our Visionary from that which we call Life.
+
+
+
+
+THE TRUCE OF PISCATAQUA.
+
+1675.
+
+
+    Raze these long blocks of brick and stone,
+    These huge mill-monsters overgrown;
+    Blot out the humbler piles as well,
+    Where, moved like living shuttles, dwell
+    The weaving genii of the bell;
+    Tear from the wild Cocheco's track
+    The dams that hold its torrents back;
+    And let the loud-rejoicing fall
+    Plunge, roaring, down its rocky wall;
+    And let the Indian's paddle play
+    On the unbridged Piscataqua!
+    Wide over hill and valley spread
+    Once more the forest, dusk and dread,
+    With here and there a clearing cut
+    From the walled shadows round it shut;
+    Each with its farm-house builded rude,
+    By English yeoman squared and hewed,
+    And the grim, flankered blockhouse, bound
+    With bristling palisades around.
+
+    So, haply, shall before thine eyes
+    The dusty veil of centuries rise,
+    The old, strange scenery overlay
+    The tamer pictures of to-day,
+    While, like the actors in a play,
+    Pass in their ancient guise along
+    The figures of my border song:
+    What time beside Cocheco's flood
+    The white man and the red man stood,
+    With words of peace and brotherhood;
+    When passed the sacred calumet
+    From lip to lip with fire-draught wet,
+    And, puffed in scorn, the peace-pipe's smoke
+    Through the gray beard of Waldron broke,
+    And Squando's voice, in suppliant plea
+    For mercy, struck the haughty key
+    Of one who held in any fate
+    His native pride inviolate!
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Let your ears be opened wide!
+    He who speaks has never lied.
+    Waldron of Piscataqua,
+    Hear what Squando has to say!
+
+    "Squando shuts his eyes and sees,
+    Far off, Saco's hemlock-trees.
+    In his wigwam, still as stone,
+    Sits a woman all alone,
+
+    "Wampum beads and birchen strands
+    Dropping from her careless hands,
+    Listening ever for the fleet
+    Patter of a dead child's feet!
+
+    "When the moon a year ago
+    Told the flowers the time to blow,
+    In that lonely wigwam smiled
+    Menewee, our little child.
+
+    "Ere that moon grew thin and old,
+    He was lying still and cold;
+    Sent before us, weak and small,
+    When the Master did not call!
+
+    "On his little grave I lay;
+    Three times went and came the day;
+    Thrice above me blazed the noon,
+    Thrice upon me wept the moon.
+
+    "In the third night-watch I heard,
+    Far and low, a spirit-bird;
+    Very mournful, very wild,
+    Sang the totem of my child.
+
+    "'Menewee, poor Menewee,
+    Walks a path he cannot see:
+    Let the white man's wigwam light
+    With its blaze his steps aright.
+
+    "'All-uncalled, he dares not show
+    Empty hands to Manito:
+    Better gifts he cannot bear
+    Than the scalps his slayers wear.'
+
+    "All the while the totem sang,
+    Lightning blazed and thunder rang;
+    And a black cloud, reaching high,
+    Pulled the white moon from the sky.
+
+    "I, the medicine-man, whose ear
+    All that spirits hear can hear,--
+    I, whose eyes are wide to see
+    All the things that are to be,--
+
+    "Well I knew the dreadful signs
+    In the whispers of the pines,
+    In the river roaring loud,
+    In the mutter of the cloud.
+
+    "At the breaking of the day,
+    From the grave I passed away;
+    Flowers bloomed round me, birds sang glad,
+    But my heart was hot and mad.
+
+    "There is rust on Squando's knife
+    From the warm red springs of life;
+    On the funeral hemlock-trees
+    Many a scalp the totem sees.
+
+    "Blood for blood! But evermore
+    Squando's heart is sad and sore;
+    And his poor squaw waits at home
+    For the feet that never come!
+
+    "Waldron of Cocheco, hear!
+    Squando speaks, who laughs at fear:
+    Take the captives he has ta'en;
+    Let the land have peace again!"
+
+    As the words died on his tongue,
+    Wide apart his warriors swung;
+    Parted, at the sign he gave,
+    Right and left, like Egypt's wave.
+
+    And, like Israel passing free
+    Through the prophet-charmed sea,
+    Captive mother, wife, and child
+    Through the dusky terror filed.
+
+    One alone, a little maid,
+    Middleway her steps delayed,
+    Glancing, with quick, troubled sight,
+    Round about from red to white.
+
+    Then his hand the Indian laid
+    On the little maiden's head,
+    Lightly from her forehead fair
+    Smoothing back her yellow hair.
+
+    "Gift or favor ask I none;
+    What I have is all my own:
+    Never yet the birds have sung,
+    'Squando hath a beggar's tongue.'
+
+    "Yet, for her who waits at home
+    For the dead who cannot come,
+    Let the little Gold-hair be
+    In the place of Menewee!
+
+    "Mishanock, my little star!
+    Come to Saco's pines afar!
+    Where the sad one waits at home,
+    Wequashim, my moonlight, come!"
+
+    "What!" quoth Waldron, "leave a child
+    Christian-born to heathens wild?
+    As God lives, from Satan's hand
+    I will pluck her as a brand!"
+
+    "Hear me, white man!" Squando cried,
+    "Let the little one decide.
+    Wequashim, my moonlight, say,
+    Wilt thou go with me, or stay?"
+
+    Slowly, sadly, half-afraid,
+    Half-regretfully, the maid
+    Owned the ties of blood and race,
+    Turned from Squando's pleading face.
+
+    Not a word the Indian spoke,
+    But his wampum chain he broke,
+    And the beaded wonder hung
+    On that neck so fair and young.
+
+    Silence-shod, as phantoms seem
+    In the marches of a dream,
+    Single-filed, the grim array
+    Through the pine-trees wound away.
+
+    Doubting, trembling, sore amazed,
+    Through her tears the young child gazed.
+    "God preserve her!" Waldron said;
+    "Satan hath bewitched the maid!"
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Years went and came. At close of day
+    Singing came a child from play,
+    Tossing from her loose-locked head
+    Gold in sunshine, brown in shade.
+
+    Pride was in the mother's look,
+    But her head she gravely shook,
+    And with lips that fondly smiled
+    Feigned to chide her truant child.
+
+    Unabashed the maid began:
+    "Up and down the brook I ran,
+    Where, beneath the bank so steep,
+    Lie the spotted trout asleep.
+
+    "'Chip!' went squirrel on the wall,
+    After me I heard him call,
+    And the cat-bird on the tree
+    Tried his best to mimic me.
+
+    "Where the hemlocks grew so dark,
+    That I stopped to look and hark,
+    On a log, with feather-hat,
+    By the path, an Indian sat.
+
+    "Then I cried, and ran away;
+    But he called and bade me stay;
+    And his voice was good and mild
+    As my mother's to her child.
+
+    "And he took my wampum chain,
+    Looked and looked it o'er again;
+    Gave me berries, and, beside,
+    On my neck a plaything tied."
+
+    Straight the mother stooped to see
+    What the Indian's gift might be.
+    On the braid of wampum hung,
+    Lo! a cross of silver swung.
+
+    Well she knew its graven sign,
+    Squando's bird and totem pine;
+    And, a mirage of the brain,
+    Flowed her childhood back again.
+
+    Flashed the roof the sunshine through,
+    Into space the walls outgrew,
+    On the Indian's wigwam mat
+    Blossom-crowned again she sat.
+
+    Cool she felt the west wind blow,
+    In her ear the pines sang low,
+    And, like links from out a chain,
+    Dropped the years of care and pain.
+
+    From the outward toil and din,
+    From the griefs that gnaw within,
+    To the freedom of the woods
+    Called the birds and winds and floods.
+
+    Well, O painful minister,
+    Watch thy flock, but blame not her,
+    If her ear grew sharp to hear
+    All their voices whispering near.
+
+    Blame her not, as to her soul
+    All the desert's glamour stole,
+    That a tear for childhood's loss
+    Dropped upon the Indian's cross.
+
+    When, that night, the Book was read,
+    And she bowed her widowed head,
+    And a prayer for each loved name
+    Rose like incense from a flame,
+
+    To the listening ear of Heaven,
+    Lo! another name was given:
+    "Father! give the Indian rest!
+    Bless him! for his love has blest!"
+
+
+
+
+THE MAROONS OF JAMAICA.
+
+
+The Maroons! it was a word of peril once; and terror spread along the
+skirts of the blue mountains of Jamaica, when some fresh foray of those
+unconquered guerrillas swept down upon the outlying plantations,
+startled the Assembly from its order, General Williamson from his
+billiards, and Lord Balcarres from his diplomatic ease,--endangering,
+according to the official statement, "public credit," "civil rights,"
+and "the prosperity, if not the very existence of the country," until
+they were "persuaded to make peace" at last. They were the Circassians
+of the New World; but they were black, instead of white; and as the
+Circassians refused to be transferred from the Sultan to the Czar, so
+the Maroons refused to be transferred from Spanish dominion to English,
+and thus their revolt began. The difference is, that, while the white
+mountaineers numbered four hundred thousand, and only defied Nicholas,
+the black mountaineers numbered less than two thousand, and defied
+Cromwell; and while the Circassians, after thirty years of revolt, seem
+now at last subdued, the Maroons, on the other hand, who rebelled in
+1655, were never conquered, but only made a compromise of allegiance,
+and exist as a separate race to-day.
+
+When Admirals Penn and Venables landed in Jamaica, in 1655, there was
+not a remnant left of the sixty thousand natives whom the Spaniards had
+found there a century and a half before. Their pitiful tale is told only
+by those caves, still known among the mountains, where thousands of
+human skeletons strew the ground. In their place dwelt two foreign
+races,--an effeminate, ignorant, indolent white community of fifteen
+hundred, with a black slave population quite as large and infinitely
+more hardy and energetic. The Spaniards were readily subdued by the
+English,--the negroes remained unsubdued; the slaveholders were banished
+from the island,--the slaves only banished themselves to the mountains:
+thence the English could not dislodge them, nor the buccaneers, whom the
+English employed. And when Jamaica subsided into a British colony, and
+peace was made with Spain, and the children of Cromwell's Puritan
+soldiers were beginning to grow rich by importing slaves for Roman
+Catholic Spaniards, the Maroons still held their own wild empire in the
+mountains, and, being sturdy heathens every one, practised Obeah rites
+in approved pagan fashion.
+
+The word Maroon is derived, according to one etymology, from the
+Spanish word _Marrano_, a wild-boar,--these fugitives being all
+boar-hunters,--according to another, from _Marony_, a river separating
+French and Dutch Guiana, where a colony of them dwelt and still dwells;
+and by another still, from _Cimarron_, a word meaning untamable, and
+used alike for apes and runaway slaves. But whether these
+rebel-marauders were regarded as monkeys or men, they made themselves
+equally formidable. As early as 1663, the Governor and Council of
+Jamaica offered to each Maroon, who should surrender, his freedom and
+twenty acres of land; but not one accepted the terms. During forty
+years, forty-four acts of Assembly were passed in respect to them, and
+at least a quarter of a million pounds sterling were expended in the
+warfare against them. In 1733, the force employed against them consisted
+of two regiments of regular troops and the whole militia of the island,
+and the Assembly said that "the Maroons had within a few years greatly
+increased, notwithstanding all the measures that had been concerted for
+their suppression," "to the great terror of his Majesty's subjects," and
+"to the manifest weakening and preventing the further increase of the
+strength and inhabitants of the island."
+
+The special affair in progress, at the time of these statements, was
+called Cudjoe's War. Cudjoe was a gentleman of extreme brevity and
+blackness, whose full-length portrait can hardly be said to adorn
+Dallas's History; but he was as formidable a guerrilla as Marion. Under
+his leadership, the various bodies of fugitives were consolidated into
+one force and thoroughly organized. Cudjoe, like Schamyl, was religious
+as well as military head of his people; by Obeah influence he
+established a thorough freemasonry among both slaves and insurgents; no
+party could be sent forth by the government but he knew it in time to
+lay an ambush, or descend with fire and sword on the region left
+unprotected. He was thus always supplied with arms and ammunition; and
+as his men were perfect marksmen, never wasted a shot and never risked a
+battle, his forces naturally increased while those of his opponents were
+decimated. His men were never captured, and never took a prisoner; it
+was impossible to tell when they were defeated; in dealing with them, as
+Pelissier said of the Arabs, "peace was not purchased by victory"; and
+the only men who could obtain the slightest advantage against them were
+the imported Mosquito Indians, or the "Black Shot," a company of
+government negroes. For nine full years this particular war continued
+unchecked, General Williamson ruling Jamaica by day and Cudjoe by night.
+
+The rebels had every topographical advantage, for they held possession
+of the "Cockpits." Those highlands are furrowed through and through, as
+by an earthquake, with a series of gaps or ravines, resembling the
+California canons, or those similar fissures in various parts of the
+Atlantic States, known to local fame either poetically as ice-glens, or
+symbolically as purgatories. These chasms vary from two hundred yards to
+a mile in length; the rocky walls are fifty or a hundred feet high, and
+often absolutely inaccessible, while the passes at each end admit but
+one man at a time. They are thickly wooded, wherever trees can grow;
+water flows within them; and they often communicate with one another,
+forming a series of traps for an invading force. Tired and thirsty with
+climbing, the weary soldiers toil on, in single file, without seeing or
+hearing an enemy; up the steep and winding path they traverse one
+"cockpit," then enter another. Suddenly a shot is fired from the dense
+and sloping forest on the right, then another and another, each dropping
+its man; the startled troops face hastily in that direction, when a more
+murderous volley is poured from the other side; the heights above flash
+with musketry, while the precipitous path by which they came seems to
+close in fire behind them. By the time the troops have formed in some
+attempt at military order, the woods around them are empty, and their
+agile and noiseless foes have settled themselves into ambush again,
+farther up the defile, ready for a second attack, if needed. But one is
+usually sufficient;--disordered, exhausted, bearing their wounded with
+them, the soldiers retreat in panic, if permitted to escape at all, and
+carry fresh dismay to the barracks, the plantations, and the Government
+House.
+
+It is not strange, then, that high military authorities, at that period,
+should have pronounced the subjugation of the Maroons a thing more
+difficult than to obtain a victory over any army in Europe. Moreover,
+these people were fighting for their liberty, with which aim no form of
+warfare could be unjustifiable; and the description given by Lafayette
+of the American Revolution was true of this one,--"the grandest of
+causes, won by contests of sentinels and outposts." The utmost hope of a
+British officer, ordered against the Maroons, was to lay waste a
+provision-ground or cut them off from water. But there was little
+satisfaction in this; the wild pine-leaves and the grapevine-withes
+supplied the rebels with water, and their plantation-grounds were the
+wild pine-apple and the plantain groves, and the forests, where the
+wild-boars harbored and the ringdoves were as easily shot as if they
+were militia-men. Nothing but sheer weariness of fighting seems to have
+brought about a truce at last, and then a treaty, between those high
+contracting parties, Cudjoe and General Williamson.
+
+But how to execute a treaty between these wild Children of the Mist and
+respectable diplomatic Englishmen? To establish any official relations
+without the medium of a preliminary bullet required some ingenuity of
+manoeuvring. Cudjoe was willing, but inconveniently cautious; he would
+not come half-way to meet any one; nothing would content him but an
+interview in his own chosen cockpit. So he selected one of the most
+difficult passes, posting in the forests a series of outlying parties,
+to signal with their horns, one by one, the approach of the
+plenipotentiaries, and then to retire on the main body. Through this
+line of perilous signals, therefore, Colonel Guthrie and his handful of
+men bravely advanced; horn after horn they heard sounded, but there was
+no other human noise in the woods, and they had advanced till they saw
+the smoke of the Maroon huts before they caught a glimpse of a human
+form.
+
+A conversation was at last opened with the invisible rebels. On their
+promise of safety, Dr. Russell advanced alone to treat with them, then
+several Maroons appeared, and finally Cudjoe himself. The formidable
+chief was not highly military in appearance, being short, fat,
+humpbacked, dressed in a tattered blue coat without skirts or sleeves,
+and an old felt hat without a rim. But if he had blazed with regimental
+scarlet, he could not have been treated with more distinguished
+consideration; indeed, in that case, "the exchange of hats" with which
+Dr. Russell finally volunteered, in Maroon fashion, to ratify
+negotiations, would have been a less severe test of good fellowship.
+This fine stroke of diplomacy had its effect, therefore; the rebel
+captains agreed to a formal interview with Colonel Guthrie and Captain
+Sadler, and a treaty was at last executed with all due solemnity, under
+a large cotton-tree at the entrance of Guthrie's Defile. This treaty
+recognized the military rank of Captain Cudjoe, Captain Accompong, and
+the rest; gave assurance that the Maroons should be "forever hereafter
+in a perfect state of freedom and liberty"; ceded to them fifteen
+hundred acres of land; and stipulated only that they should keep the
+peace, should harbor no fugitive from justice or from slavery, and
+should allow two white commissioners to remain among them, simply to
+represent the British government.
+
+During the following year a separate treaty was made with another large
+body of insurgents, called the Windward Maroons. This was not effected,
+however, until after an unsuccessful military attempt, in which the
+mountaineers gained a signal triumph. By artful devices,--a few fires
+left burning, with old women to watch them,--a few provision-grounds
+exposed by clearing away the bushes,--they lured the troops far up among
+the mountains, and then surprised them by an ambush. The militia all
+fled, and the regulars took refuge under a large cliff in a stream,
+where they remained four hours up to their waists in water, until
+finally they forded the river, under full fire, with terrible loss.
+Three months after this, however, the Maroons consented to an amicable
+interview, exchanging hostages first. The position of the white hostage,
+at least, was not the most agreeable; he complained that he was beset by
+the women and children, with indignant cries of "Buckra, Buckra," while
+the little boys pointed their fingers at him as if stabbing him, and
+that with evident relish. However, Captain Quao, like Captain Cudjoe,
+made a treaty at last, and hats were interchanged instead of hostages.
+
+Independence being thus won and acknowledged, there was a suspension of
+hostilities for some years. Among the wild mountains of Jamaica, the
+Maroons dwelt in a savage freedom. So healthful and beautiful was the
+situation of their chief town, that the English government has erected
+barracks there of late years, as being the most salubrious situation on
+the island. They breathed an air ten degrees cooler than that inhaled by
+the white population below, and they lived on a daintier diet, so that
+the English epicures used to go up among them for good living. The
+mountaineers caught the strange land-crabs, plodding in companies of
+millions their sidelong path from mountain to ocean, and from ocean to
+mountain again. They hunted the wild-boars, and prepared the flesh by
+salting and smoking it in layers of aromatic leaves, the delicious
+"jerked hog" of Buccaneer annals. They reared cattle and poultry,
+cultivated corn and yams, plantains and cocoas, guavas and papaws and
+mameys and avocados and all luxurious West Indian fruits; the very weeds
+of their orchards had tropical luxuriance in their fragrance and in
+their names; and from the doors of their little thatched huts they
+looked across these gardens of delight to the magnificent lowland
+forests, and over those again to the faint line of far-off beach, the
+fainter ocean-horizon, and the illimitable sky.
+
+They had senses like those of our Indians, tracked each other by the
+smell of the smoke of fires in the air, and called to each other by
+horns, using a special note to designate each of their comrades, and
+distinguishing it beyond the range of ordinary hearing. They spoke
+English diluted with Spanish and African words, and practised Obeah
+rites quite undiluted with Christianity. Of course they associated
+largely with the slaves, without any very precise regard to treaty
+stipulations; sometimes brought in fugitives, and sometimes concealed
+them; left their towns and settled on the planters' lands, when they
+preferred them, but were quite orderly and luxuriously happy. During the
+formidable insurrection of the Koromantyn slaves, in 1760, they played a
+dubious part: when left to go on their own way, they did something
+towards suppressing it,--but when placed under the guns of the troops
+and ordered to fire on those of their own color, they threw themselves
+on the ground without discharging a shot. Nevertheless, they gradually
+came up into rather reputable standing; they grew more and more
+industrious and steady; and after they had joined very heartily in
+resisting D'Estaing's threatened invasion of the island in 1779, it
+became the fashion to speak of "our faithful and affectionate Maroons."
+
+In 1795, their position was as follows:--Their numbers had not
+materially increased, for many had strayed off and settled on the
+outskirts of plantations,--nor materially diminished, for many runaway
+slaves had joined them,--while there were also separate settlements of
+fugitives, who had maintained their freedom for twenty years. The white
+superintendents had lived with the Maroons in perfect harmony, without
+the slightest official authority, but with a great deal of actual
+influence. But there was an "irrepressible conflict" behind all this
+apparent peace, and the slightest occasion might at any moment revive
+all the Old terror. That occasion was close at hand.
+
+Captain Cudjoe and Captain Accompong and the other founders of Maroon
+independence had passed away, and "Old Montagu" reigned in their stead,
+in Trelawney Town. Old Montagu had all the pomp and circumstance of
+Maroon majesty; he wore a laced red coat, and a hat superb with
+gold-lace and plumes; none but captains could sit in his presence; he
+was helped first at meals, and no woman could eat beside him; he
+presided at councils as magnificently as at table, though with less
+appetite;--and possessed, meanwhile, not an atom of the love or
+reverence of any human being. The real power lay entirely with Major
+James, the white superintendent, who had been brought up among the
+Maroons by his father (and predecessor), and who was the idol of this
+wild race. In an evil hour, the government removed him, and put a
+certain unpopular Captain Craskell in his place; and as there happened
+to be, about the same time, a great excitement concerning a hopeful pair
+of young Maroons who had been seized and publicly whipped, on a charge
+of hog-stealing, their kindred refused to allow the new superintendent
+to remain in the town. A few attempts at negotiation only brought them
+to a higher pitch of wrath, which ended in their despatching the
+following remarkable diplomatic note to the Earl of Balcarres:--"The
+Maroons wishes nothing else from the country but battle, and they
+desires not to see Mr. Craskell up here at all. So they are waiting
+every moment for the above on Monday. Mr. David Schaw will see you on
+Sunday morning for an answer. They will wait till Monday, nine o'clock,
+and if they don't come up, they will come down themselves." Signed,
+"Colonel Montagu and all the rest."
+
+It turned out, at last, that only two or three of the Maroons were
+concerned in this remarkable defiance; but meanwhile it had its effect.
+Several ambassadors were sent among the insurgents, and were so
+favorably impressed by their reception as to make up a subscription of
+money for their hosts, on departing; only the "gallant Colonel
+Gallimore," a Jamaica Camillus, gave iron instead of gold, by throwing
+some bullets into the contribution-box. And it was probably in
+accordance with his view of the subject, that, when the Maroons sent
+ambassadors in return, they were at once imprisoned, most injudiciously
+and unjustly; and when Old Montagu himself and thirty-seven others,
+following, were seized and imprisoned also, it is not strange that the
+Maroons, joined by many slaves, were soon in open insurrection.
+
+Martial law was instantly proclaimed throughout the island. The
+fighting-men among the insurgents were not, perhaps, more than five
+hundred; against whom the government could bring nearly fifteen hundred
+regular troops and several thousand militia-men. Lord Balcarres himself
+took the command, and, eager to crush the affair, promptly marched a
+large force up to Trelawney Town, and was glad to march back again as
+expeditiously as possible. In his very first attack, he was miserably
+defeated, and had to fly for his life, amid a perfect panic of the
+troops, in which some forty or fifty were killed,--including Colonel
+Sandford, commanding the regulars, and the bullet-loving Colonel
+Gallimore, in command of the militia,--while not a single Maroon was
+even wounded, so far as could be ascertained.
+
+After this a good deal of bush-fighting took place. The troops gradually
+got possession of several Maroon villages, but not till every hut had
+been burnt by its owner. It was in the height of the rainy season, and,
+between fire and water, the discomfort of the soldiers was enormous.
+Meanwhile the Maroons hovered close around them in the woods, heard all
+their orders, picked off their sentinels, and, penetrating through their
+lines at night, burned houses and destroyed plantations, far below. The
+only man who could cope with their peculiar tactics was Major James, the
+superintendent just removed by government,--and his services were not
+employed, as he was not trusted. On one occasion, however, he led a
+volunteer party farther into the mountains than any of the assailants
+had yet penetrated, guided by tracks known to himself only, and by the
+smell of the smoke of Maroon fires. After a very exhausting march,
+including a climb of a hundred and fifty feet up the face of a
+precipice, he brought them just within the entrance of Guthrie's Defile.
+"So far," said he, pointing to the entrance, "you may pursue, but no
+farther; no force can enter here; no white man except myself, or some
+soldier of the Maroon establishment, has ever gone beyond this. With the
+greatest difficulty I have penetrated four miles farther, and not ten
+Maroons have gone so far as that. There are two other ways of getting
+into the defile, practicable for the Maroons, but not for any one of
+you. In neither of them can I ascend or descend with my arms, which must
+be handed to me, step by step, as practised by the Maroons themselves.
+One of the ways lies to the eastward, and the other to the westward; and
+they will take care to have both guarded, if they suspect that I am with
+you; which, from the route you have come to-day, they will. They now see
+you, and if you advance fifty paces more, they will convince you of it."
+At this moment a Maroon horn sounded the notes indicating his name, and,
+as he made no answer, a voice was heard, inquiring if he were among
+them. "If he is," said the voice, "let him go back, we do not wish to
+hurt him; but as for the rest of you, come on and try battle, if you
+choose." But the gentlemen did not choose.
+
+In September the House of Assembly met. Things were looking worse and
+worse. For five months a handful of negroes and mulattoes had defied the
+whole force of the island; and they were defending their liberty by
+precisely the same tactics through which their ancestors had won it.
+Half a million pounds sterling had been spent within this time, besides
+the enormous loss incurred by the withdrawal of so many able-bodied men
+from their regular employments. "Cultivation was suspended," says an
+eye-witness; "the courts of law had long been shut up; and the island at
+large seemed more like a garrison under the power of law-martial, than a
+country of agriculture and commerce, of civil judicature, industry, and
+prosperity." Hundreds of the militia had died of fatigue, large numbers
+had been shot down, the most daring of the British officers had fallen,
+while the insurgents had been invariably successful, and not one of them
+was known to have been killed. Captain Craskell, the banished
+superintendent, gave it to the Assembly as his opinion, that the whole
+slave population of the island was in sympathy with the Maroons, and
+would soon be beyond control. More alarming still, there were rumors of
+French emissaries behind the scenes; and though these were explained
+away, the vague terror remained. Indeed, the Lieutenant-Governor
+announced in his message that he had satisfactory evidence that the
+French Convention was concerned in the revolt. A French prisoner named
+Murenson had testified that the French agent at Philadelphia (Fauchet)
+had secretly sent a hundred and fifty emissaries to the island, and
+threatened to land fifteen hundred negroes. And though Murenson took it
+all back at last, yet the Assembly was moved to make a new offer of
+three hundred dollars for killing or taking a Trelawney Maroon, and a
+hundred and fifty dollars for killing or taking any fugitive slave who
+had joined them. They also voted five hundred pounds as a gratuity to
+the Accompong tribe of Maroons, who had thus far kept out of the
+insurrection; and various prizes and gratuities were also offered by the
+different parishes, with the same object of self-protection.
+
+The commander-in-chief being among the killed, Colonel Walpole was
+promoted in his stead, and brevetted as General, by way of incentive. He
+found a people in despair, a soldiery thoroughly intimidated, and a
+treasury, not empty, but useless. But the new general had not served
+against the Maroons for nothing, and was not ashamed to go to school to
+his opponents. First, he waited for the dry season; then he directed all
+his efforts towards cutting off his opponents from water; and, most
+effectual move of all, he attacked each successive cockpit by dragging
+up a howitzer, with immense labor, and throwing in shells. Shells were a
+visitation not dreamed of in Maroon philosophy, and their quaint
+compliments to their new opponent remain on record. "Damn dat little
+buckra!" they said; "he cunning more dan dem toder. Dis here da new
+fashion for fight: him fire big ball arter you, and when big ball 'top,
+de damn sunting (something) fire arter you again." With which Parthian
+arrows of rhetoric the mountaineers retreated.
+
+But this did not last long. The Maroons soon learned to keep out of the
+way of the shells, and the island relapsed into terror again. It was
+deliberately resolved at last, by a special council convoked for the
+purpose, "to persuade the rebels to make peace." But as they had not as
+yet shown themselves very accessible to softer influences, it was
+thought best to combine as many arguments as possible, and a certain
+Colonel Quarrell had hit upon a wholly new one. His plan simply was,
+since men, however well disciplined, had proved powerless against
+Maroons, to try a Spanish fashion against them, and use dogs. The
+proposition was met, in some quarters, with the strongest hostility.
+England, it was said, had always denounced the Spaniards as brutal and
+dastardly for hunting down the natives of that very soil with
+hounds,--and should England now follow the humiliating example? On the
+other side, there were plenty who eagerly quoted all known instances of
+zooelogical warfare: all Oriental nations, for instance, used elephants
+in war, and no doubt would gladly use lions and tigers, also, but for
+their extreme carnivorousness, and their painful indifference to the
+distinction between friend and foe;--why not, then, use these dogs,
+comparatively innocent and gentle creatures? At any rate, "something
+must be done"; the final argument always used, when a bad or desperate
+project is to be made palatable. So it was voted at last to send to
+Havana for an invoice of Spanish dogs, with their accompanying
+chasseurs, and the efforts at persuading the Maroons were postponed till
+the arrival of these additional persuasives. And when Colonel Quarrell
+finally set sail as commissioner to obtain the new allies, all scruples
+of conscience vanished in the renewal of public courage and the chorus
+of popular gratitude; a thing so desirable must be right; thrice were
+they armed who knew their Quarrell just.
+
+But after the parting notes of gratitude died away in the distance, the
+commissioner began to discover that he was to have a hard time of it. He
+sailed for Havana in a schooner manned with Spanish renegadoes, who
+insisted on fighting everything that came in their way,--first a Spanish
+schooner, then a French one. He landed at Batabano, struck across the
+mountains towards Havana, stopped at Besucal to call on the wealthy
+Marquesa de San Felipe y San Jorge, grand patroness of dogs and
+chasseurs, and finally was welcomed to Havana by Don Luis de las Casas,
+who overlooked, for this occasion only, an injunction of his court
+against admitting foreigners within his government,--"the only
+accustomed exception being," as Don Luis courteously assured him, "in
+favor of foreign traders who came with new negroes." To be sure, the
+commissioner had not brought any of these commodities, but then he had
+come to obtain the means of capturing some, and so might pass for an
+irregular practitioner of the privileged profession.
+
+Accordingly, Don Guillermo Dawes Quarrell (so ran his passport) found no
+difficulty in obtaining permission from the governor to buy as many dogs
+as he desired. When, however, he carelessly hinted at the necessity of
+taking, also, a few men who should have care of the dogs,--this being,
+after all, the essential part of his expedition,--Don Luis de las Casas
+put on instantly a double force of courtesy, and assured him of the
+entire impossibility of recruiting a single Spaniard for English
+service. Finally, however, he gave permission and passports for six
+chasseurs. Under cover of this, the commissioner lost no time in
+enlisting forty; he got them safe to Batabano, but at the last moment,
+learning the state of affairs, they refused to embark on such very
+irregular authority. When he had persuaded them, at length, the officer
+of the fort interposed objections. This was not to be borne, so Don
+Guillermo bribed him and silenced him; a dragoon was, however, sent to
+report to the governor; Don Guillermo sent a messenger after him and
+bribed him, too; and thus, at length, after myriad rebuffs, and after
+being obliged to spend the last evening at a puppet-show, in which the
+principal figure was a burlesque on his own personal peculiarities, the
+weary Don Guillermo, with his crew of renegadoes, and his forty
+chasseurs and their one hundred and four muzzled dogs, set sail for
+Jamaica.
+
+These new allies were certainly something formidable, if we may trust
+the pictures and descriptions in Dallas's History. The chasseur was a
+tall, meagre, swarthy Spaniard or mulatto, lightly clad in cotton shirt
+and drawers, with broad straw-hat and moccasins of raw hide; his belt
+sustaining his long, straight, flat sword or _machete_, like an iron bar
+sharpened at one end; and he wore by the same belt three cotton leashes
+for his three dogs, sometimes held also by chains. The dogs were a
+fierce breed, crossed between hound and mastiff, never unmuzzled but for
+attack, and accompanied by smaller dogs called _finders_. It is no
+wonder, when these wild and powerful creatures were landed at Montego
+Bay, that terror ran through the town, doors were everywhere closed and
+windows crowded, not a negro dared to stir, and the muzzled dogs,
+infuriated by confinement on shipboard, filled the silent streets with
+their noisy barking and the rattling of their chains.
+
+How much would have come of all this in actual conflict does not appear.
+The Maroons had already been persuaded to make peace upon certain
+conditions and guaranties,--a decision probably accelerated by the
+terrible rumors of the bloodhounds, though they never saw them. It was
+the declared opinion of the Assembly, confirmed by that of General
+Walpole, that "nothing could be clearer than that, if they had been off
+the island, the rebels could not have been induced to surrender."
+Nevertheless a treaty was at last made, without the direct intervention
+of the quadrupeds. Again commissioners went up among the mountains to
+treat with negotiators at first invisible; again were hats and jackets
+interchanged, not without coy reluctance on the part of the well-dressed
+Englishmen; and a solemn agreement was effected. The most essential part
+of the bargain was a guaranty of continued independence, demanded by the
+suspicious Maroons. General Walpole, however, promptly pledged himself
+that no such unfair advantage should be taken of them as had occurred
+with the hostages previously surrendered, who were placed in irons, nor
+should any attempt be made to remove them from the island. It is painful
+to add, that this promise was outrageously violated by the Colonial
+government, to the lasting grief of General Walpole, on the ground that
+the Maroons had violated the treaty by a slight want of punctuality in
+complying with its terms, and by remissness in restoring the fugitive
+slaves who had taken refuge among them. As many of the tribe as
+surrendered, therefore, were at once placed in confinement, and
+ultimately shipped from Port Royal to Halifax, to the number of six
+hundred, on the 6th of June, 1796. For the credit of English honor, we
+rejoice to know that General Walpole not merely protested against this
+utter breach of faith, but indignantly declined the sword of honor which
+the Assembly voted him in its gratitude, and retired from military
+service forever.
+
+The remaining career of this portion of the Maroons is easily told. They
+were first dreaded by the inhabitants of Halifax; then welcomed, when
+seen; and promptly set to work on the citadel, then in process of
+reconstruction, where the "Maroon Bastion" still remains,--their only
+visible memorial. Two commissioners had charge of them, one being the
+redoubtable Colonel Quarrell, and twenty-five thousand pounds were
+appropriated for their temporary support. Of course they did not
+prosper; pensioned colonists never do, for they are not compelled into
+habits of industry. After their delicious life in the mountains of
+Jamaica, it seemed rather monotonous to dwell upon that barren
+soil,--for theirs was such that two previous colonies had deserted
+it,--and in a climate where winter lasts seven months in the year. They
+had a schoolmaster, and he was also a preacher; but they did not seem to
+appreciate that luxury of civilization,--utterly refusing, on grounds of
+conscience, to forsake polygamy, and, on grounds of personal comfort, to
+listen to the doctrinal discourses of their pastor, who was an ardent
+Sandemanian. They smoked their pipes during service-time, and left Old
+Montagu, who still survived, to lend a vicarious attention to the
+sermon. One discourse he briefly reported as follows, very much to the
+point:--"Massa parson say no mus tief, no mus meddle wid somebody wife,
+no mus quarrel, mus set down softly." So they sat down very softly, and
+showed an extreme unwillingness to get up again. But, not being
+naturally an idle race, (at least, in Jamaica the objection lay rather
+on the other side,) they soon grew tired of this inaction. Distrustful
+of those about them, suspicious of all attempts to scatter them among
+the community at large, frozen by the climate, and constantly
+petitioning for removal to a milder one, they finally wearied out all
+patience. A long dispute ensued between the authorities of Nova Scotia
+and Jamaica, as to which was properly responsible for their support; and
+thus the heroic race, that for a century and a half had sustained
+themselves in freedom in Jamaica, were reduced to the position of
+troublesome and impracticable paupers, shuttlecocks between two selfish
+parishes. So passed their unfortunate lives, until, in 1800, their
+reduced population was transported to Sierra Leone, at a cost of six
+thousand pounds, since which they disappear from history.
+
+It was judged best not to interfere with those bodies of Maroons which
+had kept aloof from the late outbreak, as the Accompong settlement, and
+others. They continued to preserve a qualified independence, and retain
+it even now. In 1835, two years after the abolition of slavery in
+Jamaica, there were reported sixty families of Maroons as residing at
+Accompong Town, eighty families at Moore Town, one hundred and ten
+families at Charles Town, and twenty families at Scott Hall, making two
+hundred and seventy families in all,--each station being, as of old,
+under the charge of a superintendent. But there can be little doubt,
+that, under the influences of freedom, they are rapidly intermingling
+with the mass of colored population in Jamaica.
+
+The story of the exiled Maroons attracted attention in high quarters, in
+its time; the wrongs done to them were denounced in Parliament by
+Sheridan and mourned by Wilberforce; while the employment of bloodhounds
+against them was vindicated by Dundas, and the whole conduct of the
+Colonial government defended, through thick and thin, by Bryan Edwards.
+This thorough partisan even had the assurance to tell Mr. Wilberforce,
+in Parliament, that he knew the Maroons, from personal knowledge, to be
+cannibals, and that, if a missionary were sent among them in Nova
+Scotia, they would immediately eat him; a charge so absurd that he did
+not venture to repeat it in his History of the West Indies, though his
+injustice to the Maroons is even there so glaring as to provoke the
+indignation of the more moderate Dallas. But, in spite of Mr. Edwards,
+the public indignation ran quite high, in England, against the
+bloodhounds and their employers, so that the home ministry found it
+necessary to send a severe reproof to the Colonial government. For a few
+years the tales of the Maroons thus emerged from mere colonial annals,
+and found their way into Annual Registers and Parliamentary
+Debates,--but they have vanished from popular memory now. Their record
+still retains its interest, however, as that of one of the heroic races
+of the world; and all the more, because it is with their kindred that
+this nation has to deal, in solving the tremendous problem of
+incorporating their liberties with our own. We must remember the story
+of the Maroons, because we cannot afford to ignore a single historic
+fact which bears upon a question so momentous.
+
+
+
+
+THE PROFESSOR'S STORY.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+MR. BERNARD TRIES HIS HAND.
+
+Whether the Student advertised for a school, or whether he fell in with
+the advertisement of a school-committee, is not certain. At any rate, it
+was not long before he found himself the head of a large district, or,
+as it was called by the inhabitants, "deestric" school, in the
+flourishing inland village of Pequawkett, or, as it is commonly spelt,
+Pigwacket Centre. The natives of this place would be surprised, if they
+should hear that any of the readers of a periodical published in Boston
+were unacquainted with so remarkable a locality. As, however, some
+copies of this periodical may be read at a distance from this
+distinguished metropolis, it may be well to give a few particulars
+respecting the place, taken from the Universal Gazetteer.
+
+     "PIGWACKET, sometimes spelt Pequawkett. A post-village and
+     township in ---- Co., State of ----, situated in a fine
+     agricultural region, 2 thriving villages, Pigwacket Centre and
+     Smithville, 3 churches, several schoolhouses, and many handsome
+     private residences. Mink River runs through the town, navigable
+     for small boats after heavy rains. Muddy Pond at N. E. section,
+     well stocked with horned pouts, eels, and shiners. Products,
+     beef, pork, butter, cheese. Manufactures, shoe-pegs,
+     clothes-pins, and tin-ware. Pop. 1373."
+
+The reader may think there is nothing very remarkable implied in this
+description. If, however, he had read the town-history, by the Rev.
+Jabez Grubb, he would have learned, that, like the celebrated Little
+Pedlington, it was distinguished by many _very_ remarkable advantages.
+Thus:--
+
+     "The situation of Pigwacket is eminently beautiful, looking
+     down the lovely valley of Mink River, a tributary of the
+     Musquash. The air is salubrious, and many of the inhabitants
+     have attained great age, several having passed the allotted
+     period of 'three-score years and ten' before succumbing to any
+     of the various 'ills that flesh is heir to.' Widow Comfort
+     Leevins died in 1836, AEt. LXXXVII. years. Venus, an African,
+     died in 1841, supposed to be C. years old. The people are
+     distinguished for intelligence, as has been frequently remarked
+     by eminent lyceum-lecturers, who have invariably spoken in the
+     highest terms of a Pigwacket audience. There is a public
+     library, containing nearly a hundred volumes, free to all
+     subscribers. The preached word is well attended, there is a
+     flourishing temperance society, and the schools are excellent.
+     It is a residence admirably adapted to refined families who
+     relish the beauties of Nature and the charms of society. The
+     Honorable John Smith, formerly a member of the State Senate,
+     was a native of this town."
+
+That is the way they all talk. After all, it is probably pretty much
+like other inland New England towns in point of "salubrity,"--that is,
+gives people their choice of dysentery or fever every autumn, with a
+season-ticket for consumption, good all the year round. And so of the
+other pretences. "Pigwacket audience," forsooth! Was there ever an
+audience anywhere, though there wasn't a pair of eyes in it brighter
+than pickled oysters, that didn't think it was "distinguished for
+intelligence"?--"The preached word"! That means the Rev. Jabez Grubb's
+sermons. "Temperance society"! "Excellent schools"! Ah, that is just
+what we were talking about.
+
+The truth was, that District No. 1, Pigwacket Centre, had had a good
+deal of trouble of late with its schoolmasters. The committee had done
+their best, but there were a number of well-grown and pretty rough young
+fellows who had got the upperhand of the masters, and meant to keep it.
+Two dynasties had fallen before the uprising of this fierce democracy.
+This was a thing that used to be not very uncommon; but in so
+"intelligent" a community as that of Pigwacket Centre, in an era of
+public libraries and lyceum-lectures, it was portentous and alarming.
+
+The rebellion began under the ferule of Master Weeks, a slender youth
+from a country college, under-fed, thin-blooded, sloping-shouldered,
+knock-kneed, straight-haired, weak-bearded, pale-eyed, wide-pupilled,
+half-colored; a common type enough in in-door races, not rich enough to
+pick and choose in their alliances. Nature kills off a good many of this
+sort in the first teething-time, a few in later childhood, a good many
+again in early adolescence; but every now and then one runs the gauntlet
+of her various diseases, or rather forms of one disease, and grows up,
+as Master Weeks had done.
+
+It was a very foolish thing for him to try to inflict personal
+punishment on such a lusty young fellow as Abner Briggs, Junior, one of
+the "hardest customers" in the way of a rough-and-tumble fight that
+there were anywhere round. No doubt he had been insolent, but it would
+have been better to overlook it. It pains me to report the events which
+took place when the master made his rash attempt to maintain his
+authority. Abner Briggs, Junior, was a great, hulking fellow, who had
+been bred to butchering, but urged by his parents to attend school, in
+order to learn the elegant accomplishments of reading and writing, in
+which he was sadly deficient. He was in the habit of talking and
+laughing pretty loud in school-hours, of throwing wads of paper reduced
+to a pulp by a natural and easy process, of occasional insolence and
+general negligence. One of the soft, but unpleasant missiles just
+alluded to, flew by the master's head one morning, and flattened itself
+against the wall, where it adhered in the form of a convex mass in _alto
+rilievo_. The master looked round and saw the young butcher's arm in an
+attitude which pointed to it unequivocally as the source from which the
+projectile had taken its flight.
+
+Master Weeks turned pale. He must "lick" Abner Briggs, Junior, or
+abdicate. So he determined to lick Abner Briggs, Junior.
+
+"Come here, Sir!" he said; "you have insulted me and outraged the
+decency of the schoolroom often enough! Hold out your hand!"
+
+The young fellow grinned and held it out. The master struck at it with
+his black ruler, with a will in the blow and a snapping of the eyes, as
+much as to say that he meant to make him smart this time. The young
+fellow pulled his hand back as the ruler came down, and the master hit
+himself a vicious blow with it on the right knee. There are things no
+man can stand. The master caught the refractory youth by the collar and
+began shaking him, or rather shaking himself against him.
+
+"Le' go o' that are coat, naow," said the fellow, "or I'll make ye!
+'T 'll take tew on ye t' handle me, I tell ye, 'n' then ye caaent dew
+it!"--and the young pupil returned the master's attention by catching
+hold of _his_ collar.
+
+When it comes to that, the _best man_, not exactly in the moral sense,
+but rather in the material, and more especially the muscular point of
+view, is very apt to have the best of it, irrespectively of the merits
+of the case. So it happened now. The unfortunate schoolmaster found
+himself taking the measure of the sanded floor, amid the general uproar
+of the school. From that moment his ferule was broken, and the
+school-committee very soon had a vacancy to fill.
+
+Master Pigeon, the successor of Master Weeks, was of better stature, but
+loosely put together, and slender-limbed. A dreadfully nervous kind of
+man he was, walked on tiptoe, started at sudden noises, was distressed
+when he heard a whisper, had a quick, suspicious look, and was always
+saying, "Hush!" and putting his hands to his ears. The boys were not
+long in finding out this nervous weakness, of course. In less than a
+week a regular system of torments was inaugurated, full of the most
+diabolical malice and ingenuity. The exercises of the conspirators
+varied from day to day, but consisted mainly of foot-scraping, solos on
+the slate-pencil, (making it _screech_ on the slate,) falling of heavy
+books, attacks of coughing, banging of desk-lids, boot-creaking, with
+sounds as of drawing a cork from time to time, followed by suppressed
+chuckles.
+
+Master Pigeon grew worse and worse under these inflictions. The rascally
+boys always had an excuse for any one trick they were caught at.
+"Couldn' help coughin', Sir." "Slipped out o' m' han', Sir." "Didn' go
+to, Sir." "Didn' dew 't o' purpose, Sir." And so on,--always the best of
+reasons for the most outrageous of behavior. The master weighed himself
+at the grocer's on a platform-balance, some ten days after he began
+keeping the school. At the end of a week he weighed himself again. He
+had lost two pounds. At the end of another week he had lost five. He
+made a little calculation, based on these data, from which he learned
+that in a certain number of months, going on at this rate, he should
+come to weigh precisely nothing at all; and as this was a sum in
+subtraction he did not care to work out in practice, Master Pigeon took
+to himself wings and left the school-committee in possession of a letter
+of resignation and a vacant place to fill once more.
+
+This was the school to which Mr. Bernard Langdon found himself appointed
+as master. He accepted the place conditionally, with the understanding
+that he should leave it at the end of a month, if he were tired of it.
+
+The advent of Master Langdon to Pigwacket Centre created a much more
+lively sensation than had attended that of either of his predecessors.
+Looks go a good ways all the world over, and though there were several
+good-looking people in the place, and Major Bush was what the natives of
+the town called a "hahnsome mahn," that is, big, fat, and red, yet the
+sight of a really elegant young fellow, with the natural air which grows
+up with carefully-bred young persons, was a novelty. The Brahmin blood
+which came from his grandfather as well as from his mother, a direct
+descendant of the old Flynt family, well known by the famous tutor,
+Henry Flynt, (see Cat. Harv. Anno 1693,) had been enlivened and enriched
+by that of the Wentworths, which had had a good deal of ripe old Madeira
+and other generous elements mingled with it, so that it ran to gout
+sometimes in the old folks, and to high spirit, warm complexion, and
+curly hair in some of the younger ones. The soft curling hair Mr.
+Bernard had inherited,--something, perhaps, of the high spirit; but that
+we shall have a chance of finding out by-and-by. But the long sermons
+and the frugal board of his Brahmin ancestry, with his own habits of
+study, had told upon his color, which was subdued to something more of
+delicacy than one would care to see in a young fellow with rough work
+before him. This, however, made him look more interesting, or, as the
+young ladies at Major Bush's said, "interestin'."
+
+When Mr. Bernard showed himself at meeting, on the first Sunday after
+his arrival, it may be supposed that a good many eyes were turned upon
+the young schoolmaster. There was something heroic in his coming forward
+so readily to take a place which called for a strong hand, and a prompt,
+steady will to guide it. In fact, his position was that of a military
+chieftain on the eve of a battle. Everybody knew everything in Pigwacket
+Centre; and it was an understood thing that the young rebels meant to
+put down the new master, if they could. It was natural that the two
+prettiest girls in the village, called in the local dialect, as nearly
+as our limited alphabet will represent it, Alminy Cutterr, and Arvilly
+Braowne, should feel and express an interest in the good-looking
+stranger, and that, when their flattering comments were repeated in the
+hearing of their indigenous admirers, among whom were some of the older
+"boys" of the school, it should not add to the amiable dispositions of
+the turbulent youth.
+
+Monday came, and the new schoolmaster was in his chair at the upper end
+of the schoolhouse, on the raised platform. The rustics looked at his
+handsome face, thoughtful, peaceful, pleasant, cheerful, but sharply cut
+round the lips and proudly lighted about the eyes. The ringleader of the
+mischief-makers, the young butcher who has before figured in this
+narrative, looked at him stealthily, whenever he got a chance to study
+him unobserved; for the truth was, he felt uncomfortable, whenever he
+found the large, dark eyes fixed on his own little, sharp, deep-set,
+gray ones. But he found means to study him pretty well,--first his face,
+then his neck and shoulders, the set of his arms, the narrowing at the
+loins, the make of his legs, and the way he moved. In short, he examined
+him as he would have examined a steer, to see what he could do and how
+he would cut up. If he could only have gone to him and felt of his
+muscles, he would have been entirely satisfied. He was not a very wise
+youth, but he did know well enough, that, though big arms and legs are
+very good things, there is something besides size that goes to make a
+man; and he had heard stories of a fighting-man, called "The Spider,"
+from his attenuated proportions, who was yet a terrible hitter in the
+ring, and had whipped many a big-limbed fellow in and out of the roped
+arena.
+
+Nothing could be smoother than the way in which everything went on for
+the first day or two. The new master was so kind and courteous, he
+seemed to take everything in such a natural, easy way, that there was no
+chance to pick a quarrel with him. He in the mean time thought it best
+to watch the boys and young men for a day or two with as little show of
+authority as possible. It was easy enough to see that he would have
+occasion for it before long.
+
+The schoolhouse was a grim, old, red, one-story building, perched on a
+bare rock at the top of a hill,--partly because this was a conspicuous
+site for the temple of learning, and partly because land is cheap where
+there is no chance even for rye or buckwheat, and the very sheep find
+nothing to nibble. About the little porch were carved initials and
+dates, at various heights, from the stature of nine to that of eighteen.
+Inside were old unpainted desks,--unpainted, but browned with the umber
+of human contact,--and hacked by innumerable jackknives. It was long
+since the walls had been whitewashed, as might be conjectured by the
+various traces left upon them, wherever idle hands or sleepy heads could
+reach them. A curious appearance was noticeable on various higher parts
+of the wall, namely, a wart-like eruption, as one would be tempted to
+call it, being in reality a crop of the soft missiles before mentioned,
+which, adhering in considerable numbers, and hardening after the usual
+fashion of _papier mache_, formed at last permanent ornaments of the
+edifice.
+
+The young master's quick eye soon noticed that a particular part of the
+wall was most favored with these ornamental appendages. Their position
+pointed sufficiently clearly to the part of the room they came from. In
+fact, there was a nest of young mutineers just there, which must be
+broken up by a _coup d'etat_. This was easily effected by redistributing
+the seats and arranging the scholars according to classes, so that a
+mischievous fellow, charged full of the rebellious imponderable, should
+find himself between two non-conductors, in the shape of small boys of
+studious habits. It was managed quietly enough, in such a plausible sort
+of way that its motive was not thought of. But its effects were soon
+felt; and then began a system of correspondence by signs, and the
+throwing of little scrawls done up in pellets, and announced by
+preliminary _a'h'ms!_ to call the attention of the distant youth
+addressed. Some of these were incendiary documents, devoting the
+schoolmaster to the lower divinities, as "a ---- stuck-up dandy," as "a
+---- purse-proud aristocrat," as "a ---- sight too big for his, etc.,"
+and holding him up in a variety of equally forcible phrases to the
+indignation of the youthful community of School District No. 1,
+Pigwacket Centre.
+
+Presently the draughtsman of the school set a caricature in circulation,
+labelled, to prevent mistakes, with the schoolmaster's name. An immense
+bell-crowned hat, and a long, pointed, swallow-tailed coat showed that
+the artist had in his mind the conventional dandy, as shown in prints of
+thirty or forty years ago, rather than any actual human aspect of the
+time. But it was passed round among the boys and made its laugh, helping
+of course to undermine the master's authority, as "Punch" or the
+"Charivari" takes the dignity out of an obnoxious minister. One morning,
+on going to the schoolroom, Master Langdon found an enlarged copy of
+this sketch, with its label, pinned on the door. He took it down, smiled
+a little, put it into his pocket, and entered the schoolroom. An
+insidious silence prevailed, which looked as if some plot were brewing.
+The boys were ripe for mischief, but afraid. They had really no fault to
+find with the master, except that he was dressed like a gentleman, which
+a certain class of fellows always consider a personal insult to
+themselves. But the older ones were evidently plotting, and more than
+once the warning _a'h'm!_ was heard, and a dirty little scrap of paper
+rolled into a wad shot from one seat to another. One of these happened
+to strike the stove-funnel, and lodged on the master's desk. He was cool
+enough not to seem to notice it. He secured it, however, and found an
+opportunity to look at it, without being observed by the boys. It
+required no _immediate_ notice.
+
+He who should have enjoyed the privilege of looking upon Mr. Bernard
+Langdon the next morning, when his toilet was about half finished, would
+have had a very pleasant gratuitous exhibition. First he buckled the
+strap of his trousers pretty tightly. Then he took up a pair of heavy
+dumb-bells, and swung them for a few minutes; then two great "Indian
+clubs," with which he enacted all sorts of impossible-looking feats. His
+limbs were not very large, nor his shoulders remarkably broad; but if
+you knew as much of the muscles as all persons who look at statues and
+pictures with a critical eye ought to have learned,--if you knew the
+_trapezius_, lying diamond-shaped over the back and shoulders like a
+monk's cowl,--or the _deltoid_, which caps the shoulders like an
+epaulette,--or the _triceps_, which furnishes the _calf_ of the upper
+arm,--or the hard-knotted _biceps_,--any of the great sculptural
+landmarks, in fact,--you would have said there was a pretty show of
+them, beneath the white satiny skin of Mr. Bernard Langdon. And if you
+had seen him, when he had laid down the Indian clubs, catch hold of a
+leather strap that hung from the beam of the old-fashioned ceiling, and
+lift and lower himself over and over again by his left hand alone, you
+might have thought it a very simple and easy thing to do, until you
+tried to do it yourself.--Mr. Bernard looked at himself with the eye of
+an expert. "Pretty well!" he said;--"not so much fallen off as I
+expected." Then he set up his bolster in a very knowing sort of way, and
+delivered two or three blows straight as rulers and swift as winks.
+"That will do," he said. Then, as if determined to make a certainty of
+his condition, he took a dynamometer from one of the drawers in his old
+veneered bureau. First he squeezed it with his two hands. Then he placed
+it on the floor and lifted, steadily, strongly. The springs creaked and
+cracked; the index swept with a great stride far up into the high
+figures of the scale; it was a good lift. He was satisfied. He sat down
+on the edge of his bed and looked at his cleanly-shaped arms. "If I
+strike one of those boobies, I am afraid I shall spoil him," he said.
+Yet this young man, when weighed with his class at the college, could
+barely turn one hundred and forty-two pounds in the scale,--not a heavy
+weight, surely; but some of the middle weights, as the present English
+champion, for instance, seem to be of a far finer quality of muscle than
+the bulkier fellows.
+
+The master took his breakfast with a good appetite that morning, but was
+perhaps rather more quiet than usual. After breakfast he went up-stairs
+and put on a light loose frock, instead of his usual dress-coat, which
+was a close-fitting and rather stylish one. On his way to school he met
+Alminy Cutterr, who happened to be walking in the other direction. "Good
+morning, Miss Cutterr," he said; for she and another young lady had been
+introduced to him, on a former occasion, in the usual phrase of polite
+society in presenting ladies to gentlemen,--"Mr. Langdon, let me make y'
+acquainted with Miss Cutterr;--let me make y' acquainted with Miss
+Braowne." So he said, "Good morning"; to which she replied, "Good
+mornin', Mr. Langdon. Haow's your haaelth?" The answer to this question
+ought naturally to have been the end of the talk; but Alminy Cutterr
+lingered and looked as if she had something more on her mind.
+
+A young fellow does not require a great experience to read a simple
+country-girl's face as if it were a signboard. Alminy was a good soul,
+with red cheeks and bright eyes, kind-hearted as she could be, and it
+was out of the question for her to hide her thoughts or feelings like a
+fine lady. Her bright eyes were moist and her red cheeks paler than
+their wont, as she said, with her lips quivering,--"Oh, Mr. Langdon,
+them boys'll be the death of ye, if ye don't take caaer!"
+
+"Why, what's the matter, my dear?" said Mr. Bernard.--Don't think there
+was anything very odd in that "my dear," at the second interview with a
+village belle;--some of those woman-tamers call a girl "My dear," after
+five minutes' acquaintance, and it sounds all right _as they say it_.
+But you had better not try it at a venture.
+
+It sounded all right to Alminy, as Mr. Bernard said it.--"I'll tell ye
+what's the mahtterr," she said, in a frightened voice. "Ahbner's go'n'
+to car' his dog, 'n' he'll set him on ye 'z sure 'z y' 'r' alive. 'T's
+the same cretur that haaef eat up Eben Squires's little Jo, a year
+come nex' Faaestday."
+
+Now this last statement was undoubtedly overcolored; as little Jo
+Squires was running about the village,--with an ugly scar on his arm, it
+is true, where the beast had caught him with his teeth, on the occasion
+of the child's taking liberties with him, as he had been accustomed to
+do with a good-tempered Newfoundland dog, who seemed to like being
+pulled and hauled round by children. After this the creature was
+commonly muzzled, and, as he was fed on raw meat chiefly, was always
+ready for a fight,--which he was occasionally indulged in, when anything
+stout enough to match him could be found in any of the neighboring
+villages.
+
+Tiger, or, more briefly, Tige, the property of Abner Briggs, Junior,
+belonged to a species not distinctly named in scientific books, but well
+known to our country-folks under the name "Yallah dog." They do not use
+this expression as they would say _black_ dog or _white_ dog, but with
+almost as definite a meaning as when they speak of a terrier or a
+spaniel. A "yallah dog" is a large canine brute, of a dingy old-flannel
+color, of no particular breed except his own, who hangs round a tavern
+or a butcher's shop, or trots alongside of a team, looking as if he were
+disgusted with the world, and the world with him. Our inland population,
+while they tolerate him, speak of him with contempt. Old ----, of
+Meredith Bridge, used to twit the sun for not shining on cloudy days,
+swearing, that, if he hung up his "yallah dog," he would make a better
+show of daylight. A country fellow, abusing a horse of his neighbor's,
+vowed, that, "if he had such a hoss, he'd swap him for a 'yallah
+dog,'--and then shoot the dog."
+
+Tige was an ill-conditioned brute by nature, and art had not improved
+him by cropping his ears and tail and investing him with a spiked
+collar. He bore on his person, also, various not ornamental scars, marks
+of old battles; for Tige had fight in him, as was said before, and as
+might be guessed by a certain bluntness about the muzzle, with a
+projection of the lower jaw, which looked as if there might be a
+bull-dog stripe among the numerous bar-sinisters of his lineage.
+
+It was hardly fair, however, to leave Alminy Cutterr waiting while this
+piece of natural history was telling.--As she spoke of little Jo, who
+had been "haaef eat up" by Tige, she could not contain her sympathies,
+and began to cry.
+
+"Why, my dear little soul," said Mr. Bernard, "what are you worried
+about? I used to play with a _bear_ when I was a boy; and the bear used
+to hug me, and I used to kiss him,----so!"
+
+It was too bad of Mr. Bernard, only the second time he had seen Alminy;
+but her kind feelings had touched him, and that seemed the most natural
+way of expressing his gratitude. Alminy looked round to see if anybody
+was near; she saw nobody, so of course it would do no good to "holler."
+She saw nobody; but a stout young fellow, leading a yellow dog, muzzled,
+saw _her_ through a crack in a picked fence, not a great way off the
+road. Many a year he had been "hangin' 'raoun'" Alminy, and never did he
+see any encouraging look, or hear any "Behave, naow!" or "Come, naow,
+a'n't ye 'shamed?" or other forbidding phrase of acquiescence, such as
+village belles understand as well as ever did the nymph who fled to the
+willows in the eclogue we all remember.
+
+No wonder he was furious, when he saw the schoolmaster, who had never
+seen the girl until within a week, touching with his lips those rosy
+cheeks which he had never dared to approach. But that was all; it was a
+sudden impulse; and the master turned away from the young girl,
+laughing, and telling her not to fret herself about him,--he would take
+care of himself.
+
+So Master Langdon walked on toward his schoolhouse, not displeased,
+perhaps, with his little adventure, nor immensely elated by it; for he
+was one of the natural class of the sex-subduers, and had had many a
+smile without asking, which had been denied to the feeble youth who try
+to win favor by pleading their passion in rhyme, and even to the more
+formidable approaches of young officers in volunteer companies,
+considered by many to be quite irresistible to the fair who have once
+beheld them from their windows in the epaulettes and plumes and sashes
+of the "Pigwacket Invincibles," or the "Hackmatack Rangers."
+
+Master Langdon took his seat and began the exercises of his school. The
+smaller boys recited their lessons well enough, but some of the larger
+ones were negligent and surly. He noticed one or two of them looking
+toward the door, as if expecting somebody or something in that
+direction. At half past nine o'clock, Abner Briggs, Junior, who had not
+yet shown himself, made his appearance. He was followed by his "yallah
+dog," without his muzzle, who squatted down very grimly near the door,
+and gave a wolfish look round the room, as if he were considering which
+was the plumpest boy to begin with. The young butcher, meanwhile, went
+to his seat, looking somewhat flushed, except round the lips, which were
+hardly as red as common, and set pretty sharply.
+
+"Put out that dog, Abner Briggs!"--The master spoke as the captain
+speaks to the helmsman, when there are rocks foaming at the lips, right
+under his lee.
+
+Abner Briggs answered as the helmsman answers, when he knows he has a
+mutinous crew round him that mean to run the ship on the reef, and is
+one of the mutineers himself. "Put him aout y'rself, 'f ye a'n't afeard
+on him!"
+
+The master stepped into the aisle. The great cur showed his teeth,--and
+the devilish instincts of his old wolf-ancestry looked out of his eyes,
+and flashed from his sharp tusks, and yawned in his wide mouth and deep
+red gullet.
+
+The movements of animals are so much quicker than those of human beings
+commonly are, that they avoid blows as easily as one of us steps out of
+the way of an ox-cart. It must be a very stupid dog that lets himself be
+run over by a fast driver in his gig; he can jump out of the wheel's way
+after the tire has already touched him. So, while one is lifting a stick
+to strike or drawing back his foot to kick, the beast makes his spring,
+and the blow or the kick comes too late.
+
+It was not so this time. The master was a fencer, and something of a
+boxer; he had played at single-stick, and was used to watching an
+adversary's eye and coming down on him without any of those premonitory
+symptoms by which unpractised persons show long beforehand what mischief
+they meditate.
+
+"Out with you!" he said, fiercely,--and explained what he meant by a
+sudden flash of his foot that clashed the yellow dog's white teeth
+together like the springing of a bear-trap. The cur knew he had found
+his master at the first word and glance, as low animals on four legs, or
+a smaller number, always do; and the blow took him so by surprise, that
+it curled him up in an instant, and he went bundling out of the open
+schoolhouse-door with a most pitiable yelp, and his stump of a tail shut
+down as close as his owner ever shut the short, stubbed blade of his
+jacknife.
+
+It was time for the other cur to find who his master was.
+
+"Follow your dog, Abner Briggs!" said Master Langdon.
+
+The stout butcher-youth looked round, but the rebels were all cowed and
+sat still.
+
+"I'll go when I'm ready," he said,--"'n' I guess I won't go afore I'm
+ready."
+
+"You're ready now," said Master Langdon, turning up his cuffs so that
+the little boys noticed the yellow gleam of a pair of gold
+sleeve-buttons, once worn by Colonel Percy Wentworth, famous in the Old
+French War.
+
+Abner Briggs, Junior, did not apparently think he was ready, at any
+rate; for he rose up in his place, and stood with clenched fists,
+defiant, as the master strode towards him. The master knew the fellow
+was really frightened, for all his looks, and that he must have no time
+to rally. So he caught him suddenly by the collar, and, with one great
+pull, had him out over his desk and on the open floor. He gave him a
+sharp fling backwards and stood looking at him.
+
+The rough-and-tumble fighters all _clinch_, as everybody knows; and
+Abner Briggs, Junior, was one of that kind. He remembered how he had
+floored Master Weeks, and he had just "spunk" enough left in him to try
+to repeat his former successful experiment on the new master. He sprang
+at him, open-handed, to clutch him. So the master had to strike,--once,
+but very hard, and just in the place to tell. No doubt, the authority
+that doth hedge a schoolmaster added to the effect of the blow; but the
+blow was itself a neat one, and did not require to be repeated.
+
+"Now go home," said the master, "and don't let me see you or your dog
+here again." And he turned his cuffs down again over the gold
+sleeve-buttons.
+
+This finished the great Pigwacket Centre School rebellion. What could be
+done with a master who was so pleasant as long as the boys behaved
+decently, and such a terrible fellow when he got "riled," as they called
+it? In a week's time, everything was reduced to order, and the
+school-committee were delighted. The master, however, had received a
+proposition so much more agreeable and advantageous, that he informed
+the committee he should leave at the end of his month, having in his eye
+a sensible and energetic young college-graduate who would be willing and
+fully competent to take his place.
+
+So, at the expiration of the appointed time, Bernard Langdon, late
+master of the School District No. 1, Pigwacket Centre, took his
+departure from that place for another locality, whither we shall follow
+him, carrying with him the regrets of the committee, of most of the
+scholars, and of several young ladies; also two locks of hair, sent
+unbeknown to payrents, one dark and one warmish auburn, inscribed with
+the respective initials of Alminy Cutterr and Arvilly Braowne.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE MOTH FLIES INTO THE CANDLE.
+
+The invitation which Mr. Bernard Langdon had accepted came from the
+Board of Trustees of the "Apollinean Female Institute," a school for the
+education of young ladies, situated in the flourishing town of Rockland.
+This was an establishment on a considerable scale, in which a hundred
+scholars or thereabouts were taught the ordinary English branches,
+several of the modern languages, something of Latin, if desired, with a
+little natural philosophy, metaphysics, and rhetoric, to finish off with
+in the last year, and music at any time when they would pay for it. At
+the close of their career in the Institute, they were submitted to a
+grand public examination, and received diplomas tied in blue ribbons,
+which proclaimed them with a great flourish of capitals to be graduates
+of the Apollinean Female Institute.
+
+Rockland was a town of no inconsiderable pretensions. It was ennobled by
+lying at the foot of a mountain,--called by the working-folks of the
+place "_the_ maounting,"--which sufficiently showed that it was the
+principal high land of the district in which it was situated. It lay to
+the south of this, and basked in the sunshine as Italy stretches herself
+before the Alps. To pass from the town of Tamarack on the north of the
+mountain to Rockland on the south was like crossing from Coire to
+Chiavenna.
+
+There is nothing gives glory and grandeur and romance and mystery to a
+place like the impending presence of a high mountain. Our beautiful
+Northampton with its fair meadows and noble stream is lovely enough, but
+owes its surpassing attraction to those twin summits which brood over
+it like living presences, looking down into its streets as if they were
+its tutelary divinities, dressing and undressing their green shrines,
+robing themselves in jubilant sunshine or in sorrowing clouds, and doing
+penance in the snowy shroud of winter, as if they had living hearts
+under their rocky ribs and changed their mood like the children of the
+soil at their feet, who grow up under their almost parental smiles and
+frowns. Happy is the child whose first dreams of heaven are blended with
+the evening glories of Mount Holyoke, when the sun is firing its
+treetops, and gilding the white walls that mark its one human dwelling!
+If the other and the wilder of the twain has a scowl of terror in its
+overhanging brows, yet is it a pleasing fear to look upon its savage
+solitudes through the barred nursery-windows in the heart of the sweet,
+companionable village.--And how the mountains love their children! The
+sea is of a facile virtue, and will run to kiss the first comer in any
+port he visits; but the chaste mountains sit apart, and show their faces
+only in the midst of their own families.
+
+The Mountain that kept watch to the north of Rockland lay waste and
+almost inviolate through much of its domain. The catamount still glared
+from the branches of its old hemlocks on the lesser beasts that strayed
+beneath him. It was not long since a wolf had wandered down, famished in
+the winter's dearth, and left a few bones and some tufts of wool of what
+had been a lamb in the morning. Nay, there were broad-footed tracks in
+the snow only two years previously, which could not be mistaken;--the
+black bear alone could have set that plantigrade seal, and little
+children must come home early from school and play, for he is an
+indiscriminate feeder when he is hungry, and a little child would not
+come amiss when other game was wanting.
+
+But these occasional visitors may have been mere wanderers, which,
+straying along in the woods by day, and perhaps stalking through the
+streets of still villages by night, had worked their way along down from
+the ragged mountain-spurs of higher latitudes. The one feature of The
+Mountain that shed the brownest horror on its woods was the existence of
+the terrible region known as Rattlesnake Ledge, and still tenanted by
+those damnable reptiles, which distil a fiercer venom under our cold
+northern sky than the cobra himself in the land of tropical spices and
+poisons.
+
+From the earliest settlement of the place, this fact had been, next to
+the Indians, the reigning nightmare of the inhabitants. It was easy
+enough, after a time, to drive away the savages; for "a screeching
+Indian Divell," as our fathers called him, could not crawl into the
+crack of a rock to escape from his pursuers. But the venomous population
+of Rattlesnake Ledge had a Gibraltar for their fortress that might have
+defied the siege-train dragged to the walls of Sebastopol. In its deep
+embrasures and its impregnable casemates they reared their families,
+they met in love or wrath, they twined together in family knots, they
+hissed defiance in hostile clans, they fed, slept, hybernated, and in
+due time died in peace. Many a foray had the town's-people made, and
+many a stuffed skin was shown as a trophy,--nay, there were families
+where the children's first toy was made from the warning appendage that
+once vibrated to the wrath of one of these "cruel serpents." Sometimes
+one of them, coaxed out by a warm sun, would writhe himself down the
+hillside into the roads, up the walks that led to houses,--worse than
+this, into the long grass, where the bare-footed mowers would soon pass
+with their swinging scythes,--more rarely into houses,--and on one
+memorable occasion, early in the last century, into the meeting-house,
+where he took a position on the pulpit-stairs,--as is narrated in the
+"Account of Some Remarkable Providences," etc., where it is suggested
+that a strong tendency of the Rev. Didymus Bean, the Minister at that
+time, towards the Arminian Heresy may have had something to do with it,
+and that the Serpent supposed to have been killed on the Pulpit-Stairs
+was a false show of the Daemon's Contrivance, he having come in to listen
+to a Discourse which was a sweet Savour in his Nostrils, and, of course,
+not being capable of being killed Himself. Others said, however, that,
+though there was good Reason to think it was a Daemon, yet he did come
+with Intent to bite the Heel of that faithful Servant,--etc.
+
+One Gilson is said to have died of the bite of a rattlesnake in this
+town early in the present century. After this there was a great
+snake-hunt, in which very many of these venomous beasts were
+killed,--one in particular, said to have been as big round as a stout
+man's arm, and to have had no less than _forty_ joints to his
+rattle,--indicating, according to some, that he had lived forty years,
+but, if we might put any faith in the Indian tradition, that he had
+killed forty human beings,--an idle fancy, clearly. This hunt, however,
+had no permanent effect in keeping down the serpent population.
+Viviparous creatures are a kind of specie-paying lot, but oviparous ones
+only give their notes, as it were, for a future brood,--an egg being, so
+to speak, a promise to pay a young one by-and-by, if nothing happen. Now
+the domestic habits of the rattlesnake are not studied very closely, for
+obvious reasons; but it is, no doubt, to all intents and purposes
+oviparous. Consequently it has large families, and is not easy to kill
+out.
+
+In the year 184-, a melancholy proof was afforded to the inhabitants of
+Rockland, that the brood which infested The Mountain was not extirpated.
+A very interesting young married woman, detained at home at the time by
+the state of her health, was bitten in the entry of her own house by a
+rattlesnake which had found its way down from The Mountain. Owing to the
+almost instant employment of powerful remedies, the bite did not prove
+immediately fatal; but she died within a few months of the time when she
+was bitten.
+
+All this seemed to throw a lurid kind of shadow over The Mountain. Yet,
+as many years passed without any accident, people grew comparatively
+careless, and it might rather be said to add a fearful kind of interest
+to the romantic hillside, that the banded reptiles, which had been the
+terror of the red men for nobody knows how many thousand years, were
+there still, with the same poison-bags and spring-teeth at the white
+men's service, if they meddled with them.
+
+The other natural features of Rockland were such as many of our pleasant
+country-towns can boast of. A brook came tumbling down the mountain-side
+and skirted the most thickly settled portion of the village. In the
+parts of its course where it ran through the woods, the water looked
+almost as brown as coffee flowing from its urn,--to say like _smoky
+quartz_ would perhaps give a better idea,--but in the open plain it
+sparkled over the pebbles white as a queen's diamonds. There were
+huckleberry-pastures on the lower flanks of The Mountain, with plenty of
+the sweet-scented bayberry mingled with the other bushes. In other
+fields grew great store of high-bush blackberries. Along the road-side
+were barberry-bushes, hung all over with bright red coral pendants in
+autumn and far into the winter. Then there were swamps set thick with
+dingy-leaved alders, where the three-leaved arum and the skunk's-cabbage
+grew broad and succulent,--shelving down into black boggy pools here and
+there, at the edge of which the green frog, stupidest of his tribe, sat
+waiting to be victimized by boy or snapping-turtle long after the shy
+and agile leopard-frog had taken the six-foot spring that plumped him
+into the middle of the pool. And on the neighboring banks the
+maiden-hair spread its flat disk of embroidered fronds on the wire-like
+stem that glistened brown and polished as the darkest tortoise-shell,
+and pale violets, cheated by the cold skies of their hues and perfume,
+sunned themselves like white-cheeked invalids. Over these rose the old
+forest-trees,--the maple, scarred with the wounds that had drained away
+its sweet life-blood,--the beech, its smooth gray bark mottled so as to
+look like the body of one of those great snakes of old that used to
+frighten armies,--always the mark of lovers' knives, as in the days of
+Musidora and her swain,--the yellow birch, rough as the breast of
+Silenus in old marbles,--the wild cherry, its little bitter fruit lying
+unheeded at its foot,--and, soaring over all, the huge, coarse-barked,
+splintery-limbed, dark-mantled hemlock, in the depths of whose aerial
+solitudes the crow brooded on her nest unscared, and the gray squirrel
+lived unharmed till his incisors grew to look like ram's-horns.
+
+Rockland would have been but half a town without its pond; Quinnepeg
+Pond was the name of it, but the young ladies of the Apollinean
+Institute were very anxious that it should be called Crystalline Lake.
+It was here that the young folks used to sail in summer and skate in
+winter; here, too, those queer, old, rum-scented, good-for-nothing,
+lazy, story-telling, half-vagabonds, that sawed a little wood or dug a
+few potatoes now and then under the pretence of working for their
+living, used to go and fish through the ice for pickerel every winter.
+And here those three young people were drowned, a few summers ago, by
+the upsetting of a sail-boat in a sudden flaw of wind. There is not one
+of these smiling ponds that has not devoured more youths and maidens
+than any of those monsters the ancients used to tell such lies about.
+But it was a pretty pond, and never looked more innocent--so the native
+"bard" of Rockland said in his elegy--than on the morning when they
+found Sarah Jane and Ellen Maria floating among the lily-pads.
+
+The Apollinean Institute, or Institoot, as it was more commonly called,
+was, in the language of its Prospectus, a "first-class Educational
+Establishment." It employed a considerable corps of instructors to rough
+out and finish the hundred young lady scholars it sheltered beneath its
+roof. First, Mr. and Mrs. Peckham, the Principal and the Matron of the
+school. Silas Peckham was a thorough Yankee, born on a windy part of the
+coast, and reared chiefly on salt-fish. Everybody knows the type of
+Yankee produced by this climate and diet: thin, as if he had been split
+and dried; with an ashen kind of complexion, like the tint of the food
+he is made of; and about as sharp, tough, juiceless, and biting to deal
+with as the other is to the taste. Silas Peckham kept a young ladies'
+school exactly as he would have kept a hundred head of cattle,--for the
+simple, unadorned purpose of making just as much money in just as few
+years as could be safely done. Of course the great problem was, to feed
+these hundred hungry misses at the cheapest practicable rate, precisely
+as it would be with the cattle. So that Mr. Peckham gave very little
+personal attention to the department of instruction, but was always busy
+with contracts for flour and potatoes, beef and pork, and other
+nutritive staples, the amount of which required for such an
+establishment was enough to frighten a quartermaster. Mrs. Peckham was
+from the West, raised on Indian corn and pork, which give a fuller
+outline and a more humid temperament, but may perhaps be thought to
+render people a little coarse-fibred. Her speciality was to look after
+the feathering, cackling, roosting, rising, and general behavior of
+these hundred chicks. An honest, ignorant woman, she could not have
+passed an examination in the youngest class. So this distinguished
+institution was under the charge of a commissary and a housekeeper, and
+its real business was feeding girls to grain, roots, and meats, under
+cover, and making money by it.
+
+Connected with this, however, was the incidental fact, which the public
+took for the principal one, namely, the business of instruction. Mr.
+Peckham knew well enough that it was just as well to have good
+instructors as bad ones, so far as cost was concerned, and a great deal
+better for the reputation of his feeding-establishment. So he tried to
+get the best he could without paying too much, and, having got them, to
+screw all the work out of them that could possibly be extracted.
+
+There was a master for the English branches, with a young lady
+assistant. There was another young lady who taught French, of the
+_ahvahng_ and _pahndahng_ style, which does not exactly smack of the
+_asphalte_ of the Boulevard _trottoirs_. There was also a German teacher
+of music, who sometimes helped in French of the _ahfaung_ and
+_bauntaung_ style,--so that, between the two, the young ladies could
+hardly have been mistaken for Parisians, by a Committee of the French
+Academy. The German teacher also taught a Latin class after his
+fashion,--_benna_, a ben, _gahboot_, a head, and so forth.
+
+The master for the English branches had lately left the school for
+private reasons, which need not be here mentioned,--but he had gone, at
+any rate, and it was his place which had been offered to Mr. Bernard
+Langdon. The offer came just in season,--as, for various causes, he was
+willing to leave the place where he had begun his new experience.
+
+It was on a fine morning, that Mr. Bernard, ushered in by Mr. Peckham,
+made his appearance in the great schoolroom of the Apollinean Institute.
+A general rustle ran all round the seats when the handsome young man was
+introduced. The principal carried him to the desk of the young lady
+English assistant, Miss Darley by name, and introduced him to her.
+
+There was not a great deal of study done that day. The young lady
+assistant had to point out to the new master the whole routine in which
+the classes were engaged when their late teacher left, and which had
+gone on as well as it could since. Then Master Langdon had a great many
+questions to ask, some relating to his new duties, and some, perhaps,
+implying a degree of curiosity not very unnatural under the
+circumstances. The truth is, the general effect of the schoolroom, with
+its scores of young girls, all their eyes naturally centring on him with
+fixed or furtive glances, was enough to bewilder and confuse a young man
+like Master Langdon, though he was not destitute of self-possession, as
+we have already seen.
+
+You cannot get together a hundred girls, taking them as they come, from
+the comfortable and affluent classes, probably anywhere, certainly not
+in New England, without seeing a good deal of beauty. In fact, we very
+commonly mean by _beauty_ the way young girls look when there is nothing
+to hinder their looking as Nature meant them to. And the great
+schoolroom of the Apollinean Institute did really make so pretty a show
+on the morning when Master Langdon entered it, that he might be pardoned
+for asking Miss Darley more questions about his scholars than about
+their lessons.
+
+There were girls of all ages: little creatures, some pallid and
+delicate-looking, the offspring of invalid parents,--much given to
+books, not much to mischief, commonly spoken of as particularly good
+children, and contrasted with another sort, girls of more vigorous
+organization, who were disposed to laughing and play, and required a
+strong hand to manage them;--then young growing misses of every shade of
+Saxon complexion, and here and there one of more Southern hue: blondes,
+some of them so translucent-looking, that it seemed as if you could see
+the souls in their bodies, like bubbles in glass, if souls were objects
+of sight; brunettes, some with rose-red colors, and some with that
+swarthy hue which often carries with it a heavily-shaded lip, and which
+with pure outlines and outspoken reliefs gives us some of our handsomest
+women,--the women whom ornaments of pure gold adorn more than any other
+_parures_; and again, but only here and there, one with dark hair and
+gray or blue eyes, a Celtic type, perhaps, but found in our native stock
+occasionally; rarest of all, a light-haired girl with dark eyes, hazel,
+brown, or of the color of that mountain-brook spoken of in this chapter,
+where it ran through shadowy woodlands. With these were to be seen at
+intervals some of maturer years, full-blown flowers among the opening
+buds, with that conscious look upon their faces which so many women wear
+during the period when they never meet a single man without having his
+monosyllable ready for him,--tied as they are, poor things! on the rock
+of expectation, each of them an Andromeda waiting for her Perseus.
+
+"Who is that girl in ringlets,--the fourth in the third row on the
+right?" said Master Langdon.
+
+"Charlotte Ann Wood," said Miss Darley;--"writes very pretty poems."
+
+"Oh!--And the pink one, three seats from her? Looks bright; anything in
+her?"
+
+"Emma Dean,--day-scholar,--Squire Dean's daughter,--nice girl,--second
+medal last year."
+
+The master asked these two questions in a careless kind of way, and did
+not seem to pay any too much attention to the answers.
+
+"And who and what is that," he said,--"sitting a little apart
+there,--that strange, wild-looking girl?"
+
+This time he put the real question he wanted answered;--the other two
+were asked at random, as masks for the third.
+
+The lady-teacher's face changed;--one would have said she was frightened
+or troubled. She looked at the girl doubtfully, as if she might hear the
+master's question and its answer. But the girl did not look up;--she was
+winding a gold chain about her wrist, and then uncoiling it, as if in a
+kind of reverie.
+
+Miss Darley drew close to the master and placed her hand so as to hide
+her lips. "Don't look at her as if we were talking about her," she
+whispered softly;--"that is Elsie Venner."
+
+
+
+
+MEXICO.
+
+
+A certain immortal fool, who had, like most admitted fools, great
+wisdom, once said, that the number of truces between the Christians and
+Saracens in Palestine made an old man of him; for he had known three of
+them, so that he must be at least one hundred and fifty years old. The
+saying occurs in a romance, to be sure, but one which is not half so
+romantic as the best-accredited decade of Titus Livius, and is quite as
+authentic as most of what Sir Archibald Alison says, when he writes on
+the United States.
+
+What Palestine and the Crusades were to the witty son of Witless, Mexico
+and her politics are to moderns, not even excepting the predestined
+devourers of the Aztec land, who ought to know something of the country
+they purpose bringing within the full light of civilization through the
+aid of slaughter and slavery. There are some myriads of "Americans of
+the North" yet living, and who entertain not the remotest idea of dying,
+who remember Mexico as a Spanish dependency quite as submissive to
+Viceroy Iturrigaray as Cuba is now to Captain-General Serrano; and who
+have seen her both an Empire and a Republic, and the theatre of more
+revolutions than England has known since the days of the Octarchy. The
+mere thought of the changes that have occurred there bewilders the mind;
+and the inhabitants of orderly countries, whether that order be the
+consequence of despotism or of constitutionalism, wonder that society
+should continue to exist in a country where government appears to be
+unknown.
+
+Less than fifty years cover the time between the appearance of Hidalgo
+and that of Miramon; and between the dates of the leaderships of the two
+men, Mexico has had an army of generals, of whom little is now known
+beyond their names. Hidalgo, Morelos, Mina, Bravo, Iturbide, Guerrero,
+Bustamente, Victoria, Pedraza, Gomez Farias, Paredes, and Herrera,--such
+are the names that were once familiar to our countrymen in connection
+with Mexican affairs. We have now a new race of Mexican
+chiefs,--Alvarez, Comonfort, Zuloaga, Uraga, Juarez, Vidaurri, Haro y
+Tamariz, Degollado, and Miramon. Some of these last-named chiefs might,
+perhaps, be classed with those first named, from years and services; but
+whatever of political importance they have belongs to the present time;
+and the most important man of them all, Miramon, is said to be very
+young, and was not born until many years after the last vestiges of the
+vice-regal rule had been removed. Santa Ana, but for his shifting round
+so often,--now an absolute ruler, and then an absolute runaway, yet ever
+contriving to get the better of his antagonists, whether they happen to
+be clever Mexicans or dull Americans,--might be called the isthmus that
+connects the first generation of leaders with that which now misleads
+his country. Santa Ana's public life synchronizes with the independence
+of Mexico of foreign rule, and his career can hardly be pronounced at an
+end. It would be of the nature of a newspaper coincidence, were he to
+know his "last of earth" at the very time when, by all indications,
+Mexico stands in greater danger of losing her national life than she has
+known since the day when Barradas was sent to play the part of Cortes,
+but proved himself not quite equal to that of Narvaez. Santa Ana owed
+much of his power to his victory over the Spaniards in 1830, though
+pestilence did half the work to his hand; and perhaps no better evidence
+of the hatred of the Mexicans for Spanish rule can be adduced, than the
+hold which he has maintained over their minds, in consequence of the
+part he took in overthrowing that rule, and in rendering its return
+impossible.
+
+Provoked by the anarchy which has so long existed in Mexico, American
+writers, and writers of other countries, have sometimes contrasted the
+condition of that nation with the order that prevailed there during the
+Spanish ascendency, and it is not uncommon to hear Americans say that
+the worst thing that ever happened to the Mexicans was the overthrow of
+that ascendency. They forget that the causes of Mexican anarchy were of
+Spanish creation, and that it must have exhibited itself, all the same,
+if Mexico had not achieved her independence. The shock caused by the
+seizure of the Spanish throne by Napoleon I. led to that war against the
+Spaniards in Mexico which prematurely broke out in 1810, and which was
+of the nature of a _Jacquerie_, but which would have been completely
+successful, had Hidalgo been equal to his position. It had been intended
+that the blow should be struck against the _Gachupines_,--European
+Spaniards, or persons of pure Spanish blood,--who were partisans of
+Spain, whether Spain were ruled by Bourbons or Bonapartes; and it was to
+have been delivered by the Creoles, who remained faithful to the House
+of Bourbon. Circumstances caused the Indian races to commence the war,
+and this was fatal to the original project, as it led to the union of
+both Spaniards and Creoles against the followers of Hidalgo. The army
+with which Calleja overthrew the forces of Hidalgo was an army of
+Creoles. It was composed of the very men who would have been foremost in
+putting down the Spaniards, if the Indians had remained quiet. From that
+time dates the disorder of Mexico, which has ever since continued,
+though at intervals the country has known short periods of comparative
+repose.
+
+In 1811 Morelos was the most conspicuous of the insurgent chiefs, and
+the next year he was successful in several engagements; and it was not
+until the end of 1815 that he fell into the hands of his enemies, by
+whom he was shot, sharing the fate of Hidalgo. During the four years
+that he led the people, efforts were made to settle the controversy on
+an equitable basis that would have left the King of Spain master of
+Mexico; but the pride of the Spaniards would not allow them to listen to
+justice. They acted in Mexico as their ancestors had acted in the
+Netherlands. It is the chief characteristic of the Spaniard, that, in
+dealing with foreigners, he always assumes a Roman-like superiority,
+without possessing the Roman's sense and shrewdness. The treatment of
+the Capuans by the Romans, as told by Livy in his narrative of the
+Hannibalian War, might be read as a history of the manner in which the
+Spaniards ever treat "rebels"; and never did they behave more cruelly
+than they behaved toward the Mexicans in the last days of the viceroys.
+This fact is to be borne in mind, when we think of the sanguinary
+character of Mexican contests; for that character originated in the
+action of the Spaniards during their struggles with the Patriots. The
+latter were not faultless, but they often exhibited a generosity and a
+self-denial that promised much for the future of their country, which
+promise would have been realized but for the ferocious tone of the
+warfare of the old governing race. The Spaniards were ultimately beaten,
+but they left behind them an evil that marred the victory of the
+Patriots, and which has done much to prevent it from proving useful to
+those who obtained it at great cost to themselves and their country.
+
+The defeat and death of Morelos proved fatal, for the time, to regular
+opposition on the part of the Patriots, and it was not until the arrival
+of Mina in Mexico that they renewed the war in force. This was in April,
+1817; and Mina was defeated and put to death in seven months after he
+landed. At the beginning of 1818, the viceroy Apodaca announced to the
+home government, "that he would be answerable for the safety of Mexico
+without a single additional soldier being sent out to reinforce the
+armies that were in the field." Had he been a wise man, the event might
+have justified this boast; but as he was neither wise nor honest, and as
+he sought to restore the old state of things in all its impurity, his
+confidence was fatal to the Spanish cause. The Spanish Constitution of
+1812 had been proclaimed in Mexico in the autumn of that year, and its
+existence kept the Liberal cause alive. So long as the Patriots had any
+power in the field, Apodaca, though an enemy of the Constitution, dared
+not seek its destruction; but after the overthrow of Mina, when he
+believed the Patriot party was "crushed out," he plotted against the
+Constitution, and resolved to restore the system that had existed down
+to 1812. Not a vestige of Liberalism was to remain. He selected for his
+chief tool the once famous Agustin de Iturbide, who turned out an edged
+tool, so sharp, indeed, that he not only cut the viceroy's fingers, but
+severed forever the connection between Mexico and Spain. Iturbide had
+eminently distinguished himself in the royal army, and to him it was
+owing that Morelos had been defeated. He was brave, ambitious, and able,
+and he possessed a handsome person and elegant manners. He was appointed
+to head an army in Western Mexico, on condition that he should
+"pronounce" in favor of the restoration of absolute royal authority. He
+accepted the command; but on the 24th of February, 1821, he astonished
+his employer by proclaiming, not the plan upon which they had agreed,
+but what is known as the _Plan of Iguala_, from the town where the
+proclamation was made. This plan provided that Mexico should be
+independent of Spain, and for the erection of the country into a
+constitutional monarchy, the throne of which should be filled by
+Ferdinand VII., or by one of his brothers,--or by some person chosen
+from among reigning families, should the Spanish Bourbons decline the
+invitation. The monarch was to be called _Emperor_, a title made
+fashionable and cheap by Bonaparte's example. Perfect equality was
+established, and all distinction of castes was abolished. Saving that
+the Catholic religion was declared the national religion, the
+twenty-four articles of this Plan were of a liberal character, and leave
+an impression on the mind highly favorable to their author. Viewing it
+in the light of thirty-nine years, and seeing that republicanism has not
+succeeded in Mexico, even a democrat may regret that the Plan of Iguala
+did not become the constitution of that country.
+
+The simple abolition of Spanish rule would have satisfied the mass of
+the inhabitants, who cared little for political institutions, but who
+knew the evils they suffered from the tyranny of a class that did not
+number above one-eightieth part of the population. For the time, the
+Plan was successful: the clergy, the military, the people, and the old
+partisans of independence all supported it; and O'Donoju, who had
+arrived as successor to Apodaca, recognized Mexican independence. The
+victors entered the capital September 27, 1821, and established a
+provisional Junta, which created a regency, with Iturbide for President.
+On the 24th of February, 1822, a Congress assembled, which contained
+three parties, the representatives of those which existed in the
+country:--1. The Bourbonists, who desired that the Plan of Iguala should
+be adhered to in all its details; 2. The Iturbideans, who wished for a
+monarchy, with their chief as Emperor; and, 3. The Republicans, who were
+hostile to monarchical institutions as well as to Spanish rule. It is
+possible that the first party might have triumphed, had Spain been under
+the dominion of sagacious men; for the clergy must have preferred it,
+not only because it was that polity under which they were sure to have
+most consideration, but because the whole power of Rome might have been
+brought to bear in its behalf, and that the clergy never would have
+seriously thought of resisting;--and the influence of the clergy was
+great over the mass of the people. But the Spanish government would not
+ratify the treaty made by O'Donoju, or abandon its claim on Mexico. This
+left but two factions in the Congress, and their quarrel had a sudden
+termination, for the moment, in the elevation of Iturbide to the
+imperial throne, May 18th, 1822. This was the work of a handful of the
+lowest rabble of the capital, the select few of a vagabondage compared
+with whom the inhabitants of the Five Points may be counted grave
+constitutional politicians. The legislature went through the farce of
+approval, and the people acquiesced,--as they would have done, had he
+been proclaimed Cham. Had Iturbide understood his trade, he might have
+reigned long, perhaps have established a dynasty; but he did what nearly
+every Mexican chief since his time has done, and what, to be just,
+nearly every revolutionary government has sought to do: he endeavored to
+establish a tyranny. He dissolved the Congress, substituting a Junta for
+it, composed of his own adherents. The consequence was revolt in various
+parts of the empire. Santa Ana, then Governor of Vera Cruz, "pronounced"
+against the Emperor; and Echavari, who was sent to punish him, played
+the same part toward Iturbide that Iturbide had played toward Apodaca:
+he joined the enemies of the imperial government. As Iturbide had
+triumphed over the viceroy by the aid of men of all parties but that of
+the old Spaniards, so was he overthrown by a coalition of an equally
+various character. He gave up the crown, after having worn it not quite
+ten months, and was allowed to depart, with the promise of an annual
+pension of twenty-five thousand dollars. Seeking to recover the crown in
+1824, he was seized and shot,--a fate of which he could not complain, as
+he was a man of bloody hand, and, as a royalist leader, had caused
+prisoners to be butchered by the hundred.
+
+The Republicans were now triumphant, but their conduct showed that they
+were not much better qualified to rule than were the Imperialists. They
+made a Federal Constitution,--that which is commonly known as the
+Constitution of 1824,--which was principally modelled on that of the
+United States. This imitation would have been ridiculous, if it had not
+been mischievous. Between the circumstances of America and those of
+Mexico there was no resemblance whatever, and hence the polity which is
+good for the one could be good for nothing to the other. One fact alone
+ought to have convinced the Mexican Constitutionalists of the absurdity
+of their doings. Their Constitution recognized the Catholic religion as
+the religion of the state, and absolutely forbade the profession of any
+other form of faith! In what part of our Constitution they found
+authority for such a provision as this, no man can say. It has been
+mentioned, reproachfully, that our Constitution does not even recognize
+God; yet on a Constitution modelled upon ours Mexican statesmen could
+graft an Established Church, with a monopoly of religion! Just where
+imitation would have been more creditable to them than originality, they
+became original. It has been said, in their defence, that the Church was
+so powerful that they could not choose but admit its claim. This would
+be a good defence, had they sought to make a Constitution in accordance
+with views admitting the validity of an Ecclesiastical Establishment.
+The charge against them is not, that they sanctioned an Establishment,
+but that they sought to couple with it a liberal republican
+Constitution, and thus to reconcile contradictions,--an end not to be
+attained anywhere, and least of all in a country like Mexico.
+
+The factions that arose in Mexico after the establishment of the
+Republic were the Federalists and the Centralists, being substantially
+the same as those which yet exist there. The Federalists have been the
+true liberals throughout the disturbances and troubles of a generation,
+and, though not faultless, are better entitled to the name of patriots
+than are the men by whom they have been opposed. They have been the foes
+of the priesthood, and have often sought to lessen its power and destroy
+its influence. If they could have had their will any time during the
+last thirty-five years, the priests would have been reduced to a
+condition of apostolic simplicity, and the Church's vast property been
+put to uses such as the Apostles would have approved. Guadalupe Victoria
+would probably have been as little averse to the confiscation of
+ecclesiastical property as was Thomas Cromwell himself. The fear that a
+firm and stable federal government would interfere with the privileges
+of the Church, and would not cease such interference until the change
+had been made perfect, which implied the Church's political destruction,
+is one of the chief reasons why no such government has ever had an
+existence in Mexico. The Church has favored every party and faction that
+has been opposed to order and liberty. Royalism, centralism, despotism,
+and even foreign conquest has it preferred to any state of things in
+which there should be found that due union of liberty and law without
+which no country can expect to have constitutional freedom. Had it ever
+been possible to establish a strong central government in Mexico, it is
+very probable the Church would have been one of its firmest pillars. The
+character and organization of that institution, its desire to maintain
+possession of its property, and its aversion to liberty of every kind,
+would all have united to make such a government worthy of the Church's
+support, provided it had supported the Church in its turn. The
+ecclesiastical influence is everywhere observable in the history of
+Mexico, from the beginning of the struggle for independence. The clergy
+were supporters of independence, not because they wished for liberty to
+the country, but that they might monopolize the vast power of their
+order. They hated the Spaniards as bitterly as they were hated by any
+other portion of the inhabitants of Mexico. But they never meant that
+republicanism should obtain the ascendency in the country. A powerful
+monarchy, an empire, was what they aimed at; and the government which
+Iturbide established was one that would have received their aid, could
+it have brought any power to the political firm the clergy desired to
+see in existence. It may be assumed that the clergy would have preferred
+a Spanish prince as emperor, for they were too sagacious not to know
+that the best part of royalty is that which is under ground. Kings must
+be born to their trade to succeed in it; and a brand-new emperor, like
+Iturbide, unless highly favored by circumstances, or singularly endowed
+with intellectual qualifications, could be of little service to the
+clerical party. He fell, as we have seen; but the clerical party
+remained, and, having continued to flourish, is at this time, it is
+probable, stronger than it was in 1822. It is owing to this party that
+the idea has never been altogether abandoned that Mexico should resume
+monarchical institutions; and every attempt that has been made to favor
+what in this country is known as consolidation has either been initiated
+by it or has received its assistance. That we do not misrepresent the
+so-called clerical party, in attributing to it a desire to see a king in
+Mexico, is clear from the candid admission of one of its members, who
+has written at length, and with much ability, in defence of its opinions
+and actions. "Had it been given to that party which is taxed with being
+absolutist," he says, "to see such a government in Mexico as the
+government of Brazil, (not to take examples out of the American
+continent,) their earnest desires would have been accomplished. It is
+therefore wrongfully that that party is the object of the curses
+lavished upon it." This is plain speaking, indeed,--the Brazilian
+government being one of the strongest monarchies in the world, and
+deriving its strength from the fact that it seeks the good of its
+subjects. The blindest republican who ever dreamed it was in the power
+of institutions to "cause or cure" the ills of humanity must admit,
+that, if Bourbon rule in Mexico could have produced results similar to
+those which have proceeded from Braganza rule in Brazil, it would have
+been the best fortune that the former country could have known, had Don
+Carlos or Don Francisco de Paula been allowed to wear the imperial crown
+which was set up in 1822. With less ability than Iturbide, either of
+those princes would have made a better monarch than that adventurer. It
+is not so much intellect as influence that makes a sovereign useful, the
+man being of far less consequence than the institution. Even the case of
+Napoleon I. affords no exception to this rule; for his dynasty and his
+empire fell with him, because they lacked the stability which comes from
+prescription alone. Had Marlborough and Eugene penetrated to Paris, as
+did Wellington and Bluecher a century later, they never would have
+thought of subverting the Bourbon line; but the Bonaparte line was cut
+off as of course when its chief was defeated. The first king may have
+been a fortunate soldier only, but it requires several generations of
+royalty to give power to a reigning house, as in old times it required
+several descents to give to a man the flavor of genuine nobility. If it
+be objected to this, that it is an admission of the power which is
+claimed for flunkeyism, we can only meet the charge by saying that there
+is much of the flunkey in man, and that whoso shall endeavor to
+construct a government without recognizing a truth which is universal,
+though not great, will find that his structure can better be compared to
+the Syrian flower than to the Syrian cedar. The age of Model Republics
+has passed away even from dreams.
+
+We have called the party in Mexico which represents a certain fixed
+principle the clerical party; but we have done so more for the sake of
+convenience, and from deference to ordinary usage, than because the
+words accurately describe the Mexican reactionists. Conservative party
+would, perhaps, be the better name; and the word _conservative_ would
+not be any more out of place in such a connection, or more perverted
+from its just meaning, than it is in England and the United States. The
+clergy form, as it were, the core of this party, and give to it a shape
+and consistency it could not have without their alliance. Yet, if we
+can believe the Mexican already quoted, and who is apparently well
+acquainted with the subject on which he has sought to enlighten the
+English mind, the party that is opposed to the Liberals is quite as much
+in favor of freedom as are the latter, and is utterly hostile to either
+religious or political despotism. After objecting to the course of those
+Mexicans who found a political pattern in the United States, and showing
+the evils that have followed from their awkward imitation, he says,--"No
+wonder, then, that some men, actuated by the love of their country,
+convinced of the danger to Mexican nationality from such a state of
+things, seeing clearly through all these American intrigues, and
+determined to oppose them by all the means in their power, should have
+formed long ago, and as soon as the first symptoms of anarchy and the
+cause of them became apparent, the centre of a party, which, having
+necessarily to combat the so-called 'Liberal party,' or, in other words,
+the American army, is accused of being a retrograde, absolutist,
+clerical party, bent on nothing but the reestablishment of the
+Inquisition and the 'worst of the worst times.' Nothing, however, is
+less true. That party contains in its bosom the most enlightened and the
+most respectable part of the community, men who have not as yet to learn
+the advantages and benefits of civil and religious liberty, and who
+would be happy indeed to see liberty established in their country; but
+liberty under the law, rational and wise liberty, liberty compatible
+with order and tranquillity, liberty, in a word, for good purposes,--not
+that savage, licentious, and tyrannical liberty, the object of which is
+anarchy, so well answering the private ends of its partisans, and, above
+all, the iniquitous views of an ambitious neighbor.... For the present,
+no doubt, their object is limited to obtain the triumph over their
+enemies, who are the enemies of Mexico, and to put down anarchy, as the
+first and most pressing want of the country, no matter under what form
+of government or by what means. In pursuance of such an object, the
+clergy naturally side with them; and hence, for those who are ignorant
+of the bottom of things in Mexican affairs, the denomination given to
+this party of 'Clerical party' supported by military despotism; whereas
+the 'Anarchical party' is favored with the name of 'Liberal
+Constitutional party.' It is, however, easy to see that those two
+parties would be more exactly designated, the one as the _Mexican
+Party_, the other as the _American Party_."
+
+If this delineation of the Conservative party be a fair one,--as
+probably it is, after making allowance for partisan coloring,--it is
+easy to see, that, while the clergy are with it, they are not of it; and
+also, that it would be involved in a quarrel with the priesthood in a
+week after it should have succeeded in its contest with the Liberals.
+Where, then, would be the restoration of order, of which this Mexican
+writer has so much to say? The clergy of Mexico are too powerful to
+become the tools of any political organization. They use politicians and
+parties,--are not used by them. The Conservative party, therefore, is
+not the coming party, either for the clergy or for Mexico. It answers
+the clergy's purpose of making it a shield against the Liberals, whose
+palms itch to be at the property of the Church; but it never could
+become their sword; and it is a sword, and a sharp and pointed one,
+firmly held, that the clergy desire, and must have, if their end is to
+be achieved. The defensive is not and cannot be their policy. They must
+rule or perish. Hence the victory of the Conservatives would be the
+signal for the opening of a new warfare, and the clergy would seek to
+found their power solidly on the bodies of the men whom they had used to
+destroy the Liberals. They have pursued one course for thirty-eight
+years, and will not be moved from it by any appeals that shall be made
+to them in the name of order and of law, appeals to which they have been
+utterly insensible when made by Liberals. Indeed, they will not be able
+to see any difference between the two parties, but will hate the
+Conservatives with most bitterness, because standing more immediately in
+their way. A combat would be inevitable, with the chance that the
+American Eagle would descend upon the combatants and swoop them away.
+
+If anarchy were a reason for the formation of a league in Mexico,
+composed of all the conservative men of the country, it ought to have
+been formed long ago. Anarchy was organized there with the Republic, and
+was made much more permanent than Carnot made victory. Unequivocal
+evidences of its existence became visible before the Constitution was in
+a condition to be violated; and when that instrument was accepted, it
+appeared to have been set up in order that politicians and parties might
+have something definite to disregard. The first President was Guadalupe
+Victoria, an honest Republican, whose name has become somewhat dimmed by
+time. With him was associated Nicolas Bravo, as Vice-President. It was
+while Victoria was President that the masonic parties appeared, known as
+the Scotch masons and the York masons, or _Escoceses_ and _Yorkinos_,
+which were nothing but clubs of the Centralists and the Federalists. The
+President was of the _Yorkinos_ or Federalists, and the Vice-President
+was of the other lodge. Bravo and his party were for such changes as
+should substitute a constitutional monarchy, with a Spanish prince at
+its head, for the Constitution of 1824. Bravo "pronounced" openly
+against Victoria,--a proceeding of which the reader can form some idea
+by supposing Mr. Breckinridge heading a rabble force to expel Mr.
+Buchanan from Washington, for the purpose of calling in some member of
+the English royal family to sit on an American throne. Through the aid
+of Guerrero, a man of ability and integrity, and very popular, the
+Liberals triumphed in the field; but Congress elected his competitor,
+Pedraza, President, though the people were mostly for Guerrero. This was
+a most unfortunate circumstance, and to its occurrence much of the evil
+that Mexico has known for thirty years may be directly traced. Instead
+of submitting to the strictly legal choice of President, made by the
+members of Congress, the Federalists set the open example of revolting
+against the action of men who had performed their duties according to
+the requirements of the Constitution. Guerrero was violently made
+President. That the other party contemplated the destruction of the
+Constitution is very probable; but the worst that they, its enemies,
+could have done against it would have been a trifle in comparison with
+the demoralizing consequences of the violation of that instrument by its
+friends. Yet the Presidency of Guerrero will ever have honorable mention
+in history, for one most excellent reason: Slavery was abolished by him
+on the anniversary of Mexican independence, 1829, he deeming it proper
+to signalize that anniversary "by an act of national justice and
+beneficence." Will the time ever come when the Fourth of July shall have
+the same double claim to the reverence of mankind?
+
+Guerrero perished by the sword, as he had risen by it. The
+Vice-President, Bustamente, revolted, and was aided by Santa Ana. His
+popularity was too great to allow him to be spared, and when he was
+captured, Guerrero was shot, in 1831. Of the many infamous acts of which
+Santa Ana has been guilty, the murder of Guerrero is the worst. Possibly
+it would have ruined him, but for his services against the Spaniards, at
+about the same time. He was now the chief man in Mexico, and became
+President in 1833. The next year he dissolved Congress, and established
+a military government. The Constitution of 1824 was formally abolished
+in 1835, and a Central Constitution was proclaimed the next year, by
+which the States were converted into Departments. Santa Ana kept as much
+aloof from these proceedings as he could, and sought to add to his
+popularity by attacking Texas, where he reaped a plentiful crop of
+cypress.
+
+The triumph of the Centralists was the turning-point in the fortunes of
+Mexico, as it furnished a plausible pretext for American interference in
+her affairs, the end of which is rapidly approaching. The Texan revolt
+had no other justification than that which it derived from the overthrow
+of the Federal Constitution; but that was ample, and, had it not been
+for the introduction of slavery into Texas, the judgment of the
+civilized world would have been entirely in favor of the Texans. In
+1844, when our Presidential election was made to turn upon the question
+of the annexation of Texas to the United States, the grand argument of
+the annexationists was drawn from the circumstance that the Mexicans had
+abrogated the Federal Constitution, thereby releasing the Texans from
+their obligations to Mexico. This was an argument to which Americans,
+and especially democrats, those sworn foes of consolidation, were prone
+to lend a favorable ear; and it is certain that it had much weight in
+promoting the election of Mr. Polk. Had the Texan revolt been one of
+ambition merely, and not justifiable on political grounds apart from the
+Slavery question, the decision might have been different, if, indeed,
+the question had ever been introduced into the politics of this country.
+The sagacious men who managed the affairs of the Democratic party knew
+their business too well to attempt the extension of slave-holding
+territory in the gross and palpable form that is common in these
+shameless days. But Texas, as an injured party that had valiantly
+sustained its constitutional rights, was a very different thing from a
+province that had revolted against Mexico because forbidden by Mexican
+authority to allow the existence of slavery within its borders. There
+was much deception in the business, but there was sufficient truth and
+justice in the argument used to deceive honest men who do not trouble
+themselves to look beyond the surface of things. For more than twenty
+years our political controversies have all been colored by the triumph
+of the Mexican Centralists in 1835-6; and but for that triumph, it is
+altogether likely that our territory would not have been increased, and
+that the Slavery question, instead of absorbing the American mind, would
+have held but a subordinate place in our party debates. It may, perhaps,
+be deemed worthy of especial mention, that the action of the Centralists
+of Mexico, destined to affect us so sensibly, was initiated at the same
+time that the modern phase of the Slavery question was opened in the
+United States. The same year that saw the Federal Constitution of Mexico
+abolished saw our government laboring to destroy freedom of the press
+and the sanctity of the mails, by throwing its influence in favor of the
+bill to prevent the circulation of "incendiary publications," that is,
+publications drawn from the writings of Washington and Jefferson; and
+the same year that witnessed the final effort of Santa Ana to "subdue"
+Texas to Centralization beheld General Cushing declaring that slavery
+should not be introduced into the North, thus "agitating" the country,
+and winning for himself that Abolition support without which his
+political career must have been cut short in the morning of its
+existence. Such are the coincidences of history!
+
+From the time of the victory of the Centralists until the commencement
+of the war with the United States, Mexico was the scene of perpetual
+disturbances. Mexia, a rash, but honest man, made an attempt to free his
+country in 1838, but failed, being defeated and executed by Santa Ana,
+who came from the retirement to which his Texan failure had consigned
+him, as champion of the government. After some years of apparent
+anarchy, Santa Ana became Dictator, and in 1843 a new Constitution, more
+centralizing in its nature than its immediate predecessor, was framed
+under his direction. At the beginning of 1845 he fell, and became an
+exile. His successor was General Herrera, who was desirous to avoid war
+with the United States, on which account he was violently opposed by
+Paredes, with success, the latter usurping the Presidency. Aided by our
+government, Santa Ana returned to Mexico, and infused new vigor into his
+countrymen. On his return, he avowed himself a Federalist, and
+recommended a recurrence to the Constitution of 1824, which was
+proclaimed. Paredes had fallen before a "revolution," and was allowed to
+proceed to Europe. He was a monarchist, and at that time the friends of
+monarchy in Mexico had some hopes of success. It is believed that the
+governments of England and France were desirous of establishing a
+Mexican monarchy, and their intervention in the affairs of Mexico was
+feared by our government. Two things, however, prevented their action,
+if ever they seriously contemplated armed intervention. The first was
+the rapid success of our armies, coupled as it was with the exhibition
+of a military spirit and capacity for which European nations had not
+been prepared by anything in our previous history; and the second was
+the potato-rot, which brought Great Britain to the verge of famine, and
+broke up the Tory party. The ill feeling, too, that was created between
+the English and French governments by the Montpensier marriage, and the
+discontent of the French people, which led to the Revolution of 1848,
+were not without their effect on affairs. Had our government resolved to
+seize all Mexico, it could have done so without encountering European
+resistance in 1848, when there was not a stable Continental government
+of the first class west of the Niemen, and when England was too much
+occupied with home matters, and with the revolutions that were happening
+all around her, to pay any regard to the course of events in the
+Occident. But the Polk administration was not equal to the work that was
+before it; and though members of the Democratic party did think of
+acting, and men of property in Mexico were anxious for annexation,
+nothing was done. The American forces left Mexico, and the old routine
+of weakness and disorder was there resumed. Perhaps it would be better
+to say it was continued; for the war had witnessed no intermission of
+the senseless proceedings of the Mexican politicians. Their contests
+were waged as bitterly as they had been while the country enjoyed
+external peace.
+
+Several persons held the Presidential chair after the resignation of
+Herrera. Organic changes were made. The clergy exhibited the same
+selfishness that had characterized their action for five-and-twenty
+years. An Extraordinary Constituent Congress confirmed the readoption of
+the Constitution of 1824, making such slight changes as were deemed
+necessary. Santa Ana again became President. Some of the States formed
+associations for defence, acting independently of the general
+government. After the loss of the capital, Santa Ana resigned the
+Presidency, and Pena y Pena succeeded him, followed by Anaya; but the
+first soon returned to office. Peace was made, and Santa Ana again went
+into exile. Herrera was chosen President, and for more than two years
+devoted himself to the work of reformation, with considerable success,
+though outbreaks and rebellions occurred in many quarters. President
+Arista also showed himself to be a firm and patriotic chief. But in 1852
+a reaction took place, under favor of which Santa Ana returned home and
+became President for the fifth time, and Arista was banished. The
+government of Santa Ana was absolute in its character, and much
+resembled that which Napoleon III. has established in France,--with this
+difference, that it wanted that strength which is the chief merit of the
+French imperial system. It encountered opposition of the usual form,
+from time to time, until it was broken down, in August, 1855, when the
+President left both office and the country, and has since resided
+abroad. The new revolution favored Federalism. Alvarez was chosen
+President, but he was too liberal for the Church party, being so
+unreasonable as to require that the property of the Church should be
+taxed. Plots and conspiracies were formed against him, and it being
+discovered that the climate of the capital did not agree with him, he
+resigned, and was succeeded by General Comonfort. Half a dozen leaders
+"pronounced" against Comonfort, one of them announcing his purpose to
+establish an Empire. Government made head against these attacks, and
+seized property belonging to the Church. Some eminent Church officers
+were banished, for the part they had taken in exciting insurrections. At
+the close of 1857, Comonfort made himself Dictator; but the very men who
+urged him to the step became his enemies, and he was deprived of power.
+Zuloaga, who was one of his advisers and subsequent enemies, succeeded
+him, being chosen President by a Council of Notables. Comonfort's
+measures for the confiscation of Church property were repealed. The
+Constitution of 1857 placed the Presidential power in the hands of the
+Chief Justice, on the resignation of the President, whence the
+prominence of Juarez lately, he being Chief Justice when Comonfort
+resigned. Assembling troops, he encountered Zuloaga, but was defeated.
+The Juarez "government" then left the country, but shortly after
+returned. Insurrections broke out in different places, and confusion
+reigned on all sides. General Robles deposed Zuloaga, and made an honest
+effort to unite the Liberals and Conservatives; but the Junta which he
+assembled elected Miramon President, a new man, who had distinguished
+himself as a leader of the Conservative forces. Miramon reinstated
+Zuloaga, but accepted the Presidency on the latter's abdication, and has
+since been the principal personage in Mexico, and, though he has
+experienced occasional reverses, has far more power than Juarez. At the
+close of the year 1859, the greater part of Mexico was either disposed
+to submit to the Miramon government, or cared little for either Miramon
+or Juarez.
+
+It is impossible to believe that the Juarez government is possessed of
+much strength; and the gentleman who lately represented the United
+States in Mexico (Mr. Forsyth) is of opinion that it is powerless.
+Nevertheless, our government acknowledges that of Juarez, and has made
+itself a party to the contests in Mexico. In his last Annual Message,
+President Buchanan devotes much space to Mexican affairs, drawing a
+deplorable picture thereof, and recommending armed intervention by the
+United States in behalf of the Liberal party. "I recommend to Congress,"
+says the President, "to pass a law authorizing the President, under such
+conditions as they may deem expedient, to employ a sufficient military
+force to enter Mexico for the purpose of obtaining indemnity for the
+past and security for the future." This force, should Congress respond
+favorably to the Presidential recommendation, is to act in concert with
+the Juarez government, and to "restore" it to power. In return for such
+aid, that government is to indemnify the Americans, and to provide that
+no more Americans shall be wronged by Mexican governments. Does the
+President believe this theory of Mexican settlement will be accepted by
+the world? If yes, then is he a man of marvellous faith, considering the
+uncommonly excellent opportunities he has had to learn what the
+political settlements of Mexico really mean. If no, then he has a
+meaning beneath his words, and that meaning is the conquest of Mexico.
+We do not charge duplicity upon President Buchanan, but it is vexatious
+and humiliating to be compelled to choose between such charge and the
+belief of a degree of simplicity in him that would be astonishing in a
+yearling politician, and which is astounding in a man who has held high
+office for well-nigh forty years. Let us suppose that Congress should
+kindly listen to President Buchanan's recommendation,--that a strong
+fleet and a great army should be sent to the aid of the Juarez
+government, and should establish it in the capital of Mexico, and then
+leave the country and the coasts of "our sister Republic,"--what would
+follow? Why, exactly what we have seen follow the Peace of 1848. The
+Juarez government could not be stronger or more honest than was that of
+Herrera, or more anxious to effect the rehabilitation of Mexico; yet
+Herrera's government had to encounter rebellions, and outrages were
+common during its existence, and afterward, when men of similar views
+held sway, or what passes for sway in "our sister Republic." So would it
+be again, should we effect a "restoration" of the Liberals. In a week
+after our last regiment should have returned home, there would be
+rebellions for our allies to suppress. If they should succeed in
+maintaining their power, it would be as the consequence of a violation
+of their agreement with us; and where, then, would be the "indemnity"
+for which we are to fight? If they should be overthrown, as probably
+would be their fate, where would be the "security" for which we are to
+pay so highly in blood and gold? It is useless to quote the treaty which
+the Juarez government has just made with our government, as evidence of
+its liberality and good faith. That treaty is of no more value than
+would be one between the United States and the ex-king of Delhi. Nothing
+is more notorious than the liberality of parties that are not in power.
+There is no stipulation to which they will not assent, and violate, if
+their interest should be supposed to lie in the direction of perjury.
+Have we, in the hour of our success, been invariably true to the
+promises made in the hour of our necessities? A study of the treaty we
+made with France in 1778, by the light of after years, would be useful
+to men who think that a treaty made is an accomplished fact. The people
+of the United States have to choose between the conquest of Mexico and
+non-intervention in Mexican affairs. There may be something to be said
+in favor of conquest, though the President's arguments in that
+direction--for such they are, disguised though they be--remind us
+strongly of those which were put forth in justification of the partition
+of Poland; but the policy of intervention does not bear criticism for
+one moment. Either it is conquest veiled, or it is a blunder, the chance
+to commit which is to be purchased at an enormous price; and blunders
+are to be had for nothing, and without the expenditure of life and
+money.
+
+We had purposed speaking of the condition of Mexico, the character of
+her population, and the probable effect of her absorption by the United
+States; but the length to which our article has been drawn in the
+statement of preliminary facts--a statement made necessary by the
+general disregard of Mexican matters by most Americans--warns us to
+forbear. We may return to the subject, should the action of Congress on
+the President's recommendation lead to the placing of the Mexican
+question on the list of those questions that must be decided by the
+event of the national election of the current year.
+
+
+
+
+REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+
+_The Florence Stories._ By JACOB ABBOTT. _Florence and John._ New York:
+Sheldon & Co. 16mo. pp. 252.
+
+_Ernest Bracebridge, or Schoolboy Days._ By W. H. G. KINGSTON. Boston:
+Ticknor & Fields. 16mo. pp. 344.
+
+How should a book for children be written?
+
+Three rules will suffice. It should be written clearly and simply; for
+young minds will spend little time in difficult investigation. It should
+have a good moral. It should be interesting; or it will generally be
+left unread, and thus any other excellence that it may possess will be
+useless. Some writers seem to have a fourth rule,--that it should be
+instructive; but, really, it is no great matter, if a child should have
+some books without wisdom. Moreover, this maxim is eminently perilous in
+its practical application, and, indeed, is seldom followed but at the
+expense of the other three.
+
+To these three rules all writers of children's books profess to conform;
+yet a good book for children is a rarity; for, simple as the rules are,
+they are very little understood. While all admit that the style should
+be simple and familiar, some appear to think that anything simple to
+them will be equally simple to their child-readers, and write as nearly
+as possible in the style of "The Rambler." Such a book is "The Percy
+Family," whose author is guilty of an additional impropriety in putting
+his ponderous sentences into the mouth of a child not ten years old.
+Another and more numerous class, evidently piquing themselves not a
+little upon avoiding this error, fall into another by fancying it
+necessary to _write down_ to their young readers. They explain
+everything with a tiresome minuteness of detail, although any observer
+of children ought to know that a child's mind does not want everything
+explained. They think that simplicity demands this lengthy discussion of
+every trivial matter. There is such a thing as a conceited simplicity,
+and there is a technical simplicity, that in its barrenness and
+insipidity is worthy only of a simpleton. In Jacob Abbott's "Juveniles"
+especially, by means of this minuteness, a very scanty stock of ideas is
+made to go a great way. Does simplicity require such trash as this?
+
+     "The place was known by the name of the Octagon. The reason why
+     it was called by this name was, that the principal sitting-room
+     in the house was built in the form of an octagon, that is,
+     instead of having four sides, as a room usually has, this room
+     had eight sides. An octagon is a figure of eight sides.
+
+     "A figure of four sides is called a square. A figure of five
+     sides is called a pentagon, of six sides a hexagon, of eight
+     sides an octagon. There might be a figure of seven sides, but
+     it would not be very easily made, and it would not be very
+     pretty when it was made, and so it is seldom used or spoken of.
+     But octagons and hexagons are very common, for they are easily
+     made, and they are very regular and symmetrical in form."
+
+The object of all this is, doubtless, to impart valuable information.
+But while such slipshod writing is singularly uninteresting, it may also
+be censured as inaccurate. Mr. Abbott seems to think all polygons
+necessarily regular. Any child can make a heptagon at once,
+notwithstanding Mr. Abbott calls it so difficult. A _regular_ heptagon,
+indeed, is another matter. Then what does he mean by saying octagons and
+hexagons are very regular? A regular octagon is regular, though an
+octagon in general is no more regular than any other figure. But Mr.
+Abbott continues:--
+
+     "If you wish to see exactly what the form of an octagon is, you
+     can make one in this way. First cut out a piece of paper in the
+     form of a square. This square will, of course, have four sides
+     and four corners. Now, if you cut off the four corners, you
+     will have four new sides, for at every place where you cut off
+     a corner you will have a new side. These four new sides,
+     together with the parts of the old sides that are left, will
+     make eight sides, and so you will have an octagon.
+
+     "If you wish your octagon to be regular, you must be careful
+     how much you cut off at each corner. If you cut off too little,
+     the new sides which you make will not be so long as what
+     remains of the old ones. If you cut off too much, they will be
+     longer. You had better cut off a little at first from each
+     corner, all around, and then compare the new sides with what
+     is left of the old ones. You can then cut off a little more,
+     and so on, until you make your octagon nearly regular.
+
+     "There are other much more exact modes of making octagons than
+     this, but I cannot stop to describe them here."
+
+Must we have no more pennyworths of sense to such a monstrous quantity
+of verbiage than Mr. Abbott gives us here? We would defy any man to
+parody that. He could teach the penny-a-liners a trick of the trade
+worth knowing. The great Chrononhotonthologos, crying,
+
+    "Go call a coach, and let a coach be called,
+    And let the man that calleth be the caller,
+    And when he calleth, let him nothing call
+    But 'Coach! coach! coach! Oh, for a coach, ye gods!'"
+
+is comparatively a very Spartan for brevity. This may be a cheap way of
+writing books; but the books are a dear bargain to the buyer.
+
+A book is not necessarily ill adapted to a child because its ideas and
+expressions are over his head. Some books, that were not written for
+children and would shock all Mr. Abbott's most dearly cherished ideas,
+are still excellent reading for them. Walter Scott's poems and novels
+will please an intelligent child. Cooper's Leatherstocking tales will
+not be read by the lad of fourteen more eagerly than by his little
+sister who cannot understand half of them. A child fond of reading can
+have no more delightful book than the "Faerie Queene," unless it be the
+"Arabian Nights," which was not written as a "juvenile." There are pages
+by the score in "Robinson Crusoe" that a child cannot understand,--and
+it is all the better reading for him on that account. A child has a
+comfort in unintelligible words that few men can understand. Homer's
+"Iliad" is good reading, though only a small part may be comprehended.
+(We are not, however, so much in favor of mystery as to recommend the
+original Greek.) Do our children of the year 1860 ever read a book
+called "The Pilgrim's Progress"? Hawthorne's "Wonder-Book" is good for
+children, though better for adults.
+
+Then look at our second rule. What, after all, constitutes a "good
+moral"? We say that no book has a good moral which teaches a child that
+goodness and effeminacy, laziness and virtue, are convertible terms; no
+book is good that is "goody," no book is moral that moralizes. The
+intention may be good, but the teaching is not. Have as much as you will
+of poetical justice, but beware of making your books mere vehicles for
+conveying maxims of propriety. You cannot so deceive a child. You may
+talk _at_ him, while pretending to tell him a story, but he will soon be
+shy of you. He has learned by bitter experience too much of the
+falseness of this world, and has been too often beguiled by sugared
+pills, to be slow in detecting the sugared pills of your
+literature,--especially, O Jacob Abbott! when the pills have so little,
+so very little, sugar.
+
+Our notion of a good moral is a strong, breezy, open-air moral, one that
+teaches courage, and therefore truth. These are the most important
+things for a child to know, and a book which teaches these alone is
+moral enough. And these can be taught without offending the mind of the
+young reader, however keenly suspicious. But if you wish to teach
+gentleness and kindness as well, let them be shown in your story by some
+noisy boy who can climb trees, or some active, merry, hoydenish girl who
+can run like Atalanta; and don't imply a falsehood by attributing them
+always to the quiet children.
+
+Mr. Abbott's books have spoiled our children's books, and have done
+their best to spoil our children, too. There is no fresh, manly life in
+his stories; anything of the kind is sourly frowned down. Rollo, while
+strolling along, picturesquely, perhaps, but stupidly, sees A Noisy Boy,
+and is warned by his insufferable father to keep out of that boy's way.
+That Noisy Boy infallibly turns out vicious. Is that sound doctrine?
+Will that teach a child to admire courage and activity? If he is ever
+able to appreciate the swing and vigor of Macaulay's Lays, it will not
+be because you trained him on such lyrics as
+
+    "In the winter, when 'tis mild,
+    We may run, but not be wild;
+    But in summer, we must walk,
+    And improve our time by talk" (!)
+
+but because that Noisy Boy found him out,--and, quarrelling with him,
+(your boy, marvellous to relate! having provoked the quarrel by some
+mean trick, in spite of his seraphic training,) gave him a black
+eye,--and afterwards, turning out to be the best-hearted Noisy Boy in
+the world, taught him to climb trees and hunt for birds' nests,--and
+stopped him when he was going to kill the little birds, (for your
+pattern boy--poor child! how could he help it?--was as cruel as he was
+timid,)--and imparted to him the sublime mysteries of base-ball and tag
+and hockey,--and taught him to swim and row, and to fight bigger boys
+and leave smaller boys in peace, instructions which he was at first
+inclined to reverse,--and put him in the way to be an honest, fearless
+man, when he was in danger of becoming a white-faced and white-livered
+spooney. And that Noisy Boy himself, perversely declining to verify Mr.
+Abbott's decorous prophecies, has not turned out badly, after all, but
+has Reverend before his name and reverence in his heart, and has his
+theology sound because his lungs are so. No doubt, Tom Jones often turns
+out badly, but Master Blifil always does,--a fact which Mr. Abbott would
+do well to note and perpend.
+
+What! Because Rollo is virtuous, shall there be no more mud-cakes and
+ale? Marry, but there shall! Don't keep a boy out of his share of free
+movement and free air, and don't keep a girl out. Poor little child! she
+will be dieted soon enough on "stewed prunes." Children need air and
+water,--milk and water won't do. They are longing for our common mother
+earth, in the dear, familiar form of dirt; and it is no matter how much
+dirt they get on them, if they only have water enough to wash it off.
+The more they are allowed to eat literal dirt now, the less metaphorical
+dirt will they eat a few years hence. The great Free-Soil principle is
+good for their hearts, if not for their clothes; and which is it more
+important to have clean? Just make up your mind to let the clothes go;
+and if you can't afford to have your children soil and tear their laced
+pantalets and plumed hats and open-work stockings, why, take off all
+those devices of the enemy, and substitute stout cloth and stout boots.
+What have they to do with open-work stockings?
+
+    "Doff them for shame,
+    And hang a calf-skin on those recreant limbs."
+
+Believe now, instead of learning by sad experience, that tin trumpets
+and torn clothes do not necessarily signify depravity, and that quiet
+children are not always free from deceit, cruelty, and meanness. The
+quiet, ideal child, of whom Mr. Abbott thinks so highly, generally
+proves, in real life, neither more nor less than a prig. He is more
+likely to die than live; and if he lives, you may wish he had died.
+
+These models not only check a child's spirit, but tend to make him
+dishonest. Ask a child now what he thinks, and, ten to one, he mentally
+refers to some eminent exemplar of all the virtues for instructions,
+and, instead of telling you what he does think, quotes listlessly what
+he ought to think. So that his mincing affectation is not merely
+ungraceful, but is a sign of an inward taint, which may prove fatal to
+the whole character. It is very easy to make a child disingenuous; if he
+be at all timid, the work is already half done to one's hand. Of course,
+all children are not bad who are brought up on such books,--one
+circumstance or another may counteract their hurtful tendency,--but the
+tendency is no less evident, nor is it a vindication of any system to
+prove that some are good in its despite.
+
+Again, the popularity of these tame, spiritless books is no conclusive
+evidence of their merit. The poor children are given nothing else to
+read, and, of course, they take what they can get as better than
+nothing. An eager child, fond of reading, will read the shipping
+intelligence in a newspaper, if there be nothing else at hand. Does that
+show that he is properly supplied with reading matter? They will read
+these books; but they would read better books with more pleasure and
+more profit.
+
+For our third rule, let our children's stories have no lack of incident
+and adventure. That will redeem any number of faults. Thus, Marryatt's
+stories, and Mayne Reid's, although in many respects open to censure and
+ridicule, are very popular, and deserve to be. The books first put into
+a child's hands are right enough, for they are vivid. Whether the letter
+A be associated in our infant minds with the impressive moral of "In
+Adam's fall We sinned all," or gave us a foretaste of the Apollo in "A
+was an Archer, and shot at a Frog,"--in either case, the story is a
+plainly told incident, (carefully observing the unities,) which the
+child's fancy can embellish for itself, and the whole has an additional
+charm from the gorgeous coloring of an accompanying picture. The
+vividness is good, and is the only thing that is good. Why, then, should
+this one merit be omitted, as our children grow a little older? A
+lifeless moral will not school a child into propriety. If a twig be
+unreasonably bent, it is very likely to struggle in quite a different
+direction, especially if in so doing it struggle towards the light.
+There is much truth in a blundering version of the old Scriptural maxim,
+"Chain up a child, and away he will go." If you want to do any good by
+your books, make them interesting.
+
+And with reference to all three rules, remember that they are to be
+interpreted by the light of common sense, and you will hardly need the
+following remarks:--
+
+It is alike uncomfortable and useless to a child to be perpetually
+waylaid by a moral. A child reading "The Pilgrim's Progress" will omit
+the occasional explanations of the allegory or resolutely ignore their
+meaning. If you want to keep a poor child on such dry food, don't
+mistake your own reason for doing so. It may be eminently proper, but it
+is very uncomfortable to him. If you want children to enjoy themselves,
+let them run about freely, and don't put them into a ring, in
+picturesque attitudes, and then throw bouquets of flowers at them. But,
+if you will do so, confess it is not for their gratification, but for
+your own.
+
+If you choose to try the dangerous experiment of writing "instructive"
+stories, beware of defeating your own object. You write a story rather
+than a treatise, because information is often more effective when
+indirectly conveyed. Clearly, then, if you convey your information too
+directly, you lose all this advantage.
+
+Perfection is as intolerable in these as in any other stories. We all
+want, especially children, some amiable weaknesses to sympathize with.
+Thus, in "Ernest Bracebridge," an English story of school-life, the hero
+is a dreadfully unpleasant boy who is always successful and always
+right, and we are soon heartily weary of him. Besides, he is a horrible
+boy for mastery of all the arts and sciences, and delivers brief and
+epigrammatic discourses, being about twelve years old. However, the book
+is full of adventure and out-door games, and so far is good.
+
+After all, a child does not need many books. If, however, we are to have
+them, we may as well have good ones. There is no reason why dulness
+should be diverted from its legitimate channels into the writing of
+children's books. Let us disabuse ourselves of the idea that these are
+the easiest books to write. Let us remember that the alphabet is harder
+to teach than the Greek Drama, and no longer think that the proper man
+to write children's books is the man who is able to write nothing else.
+
+
+_The Simplicity of Christ's Teachings, set forth in Sermons._ By CHARLES
+T. BROOKS, Pastor of the Unitarian Church, Newport, R. I. Boston:
+Crosby, Nichols, & Co. 1859. 16mo. pp. 342.
+
+The name of the author of this volume has long been known as that of an
+accomplished man of letters. Successive volumes of poetic versions,
+chiefly from the German, had, by their various merit, gained for him a
+high rank among our translators, when four years ago, in 1856, by a
+translation of "Faust," he set himself at the head of living authors in
+this department of literature. It is little to say of his work, that it
+is the best of the numerous English renderings of Goethe's tragedy. It
+is not extravagant to assert that a better translation is scarcely
+possible. It is a work which combines extraordinary fidelity to the form
+of the original with true appreciation of its spirit. It is at once
+literal and free, and displays in its execution the qualities both of
+exact scholarship and of poetic feeling and capacity.
+
+This work, and the others of a similar kind which preceded it, were the
+result of the intervals of leisure occurring in the course of their
+author's professional life as a clergyman. While the wider world has
+known him only through these volumes, a smaller circle has long known
+and loved him as the faithful and able preacher and pastor,--as one to
+whom the most beautiful description ever written of the character of a
+good parson might be truly applied; for
+
+    "A good man he was of religioun,
+    That was a poure Persone of a toun:
+    But riche he was of holy thought and werk;
+    He was also a lerned man, a clerk,
+    That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche,
+    His parishens devoutly wolde he teche.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    And Cristes lore and his apostles' twelve
+    He taught, but first he folwed it himselve."
+
+And it is in this character that he now comes before us in the volume
+which is well entitled "The Simplicity of Christ's Teachings."
+
+It is a misfortune that the qualities which distinguish most published
+sermons are not such as to recommend them on the score of literary
+merit. The volumes of religious discourses which are worthy to hold a
+place in literature, when judged by the usual critical standard, are
+very few. A very large proportion of those which are continually
+appearing from the press deserve no remembrance, and fortunately have no
+permanence. They are addressed to a special class of readers,--a class
+generally neither of highly cultivated taste, nor of acute critical
+perception. Their writers are rarely men of sufficient talent to win for
+themselves recognition out of their own narrow set. What in the slang of
+the day are called "sensation" sermons are no exception to the common
+rule. Their momentary effect, depending upon exaggeration and
+extravagance, is no indication of worth. We should no more think of
+criticizing them in a literary journal, than of criticizing the novels
+of Mr. Cobb or Mr. Reynolds. Some of the causes of the poverty of
+thought and of the negligence of style of average sermons are obvious.
+The very interest and importance of the subjects with which the preacher
+has to deal oftentimes serve to deaden rather than to excite the mind of
+one who takes them up in the formal round of duty. The pretensions of
+the clergy of many sects, pretensions as readily acknowledged as made,
+save them from the necessity of intellectual exertion. The frequent
+recurrence of the necessity of writing, whether they have anything to
+say or not, leads them into substituting words for thoughts, platitudes
+for truths. The natural weariness of long-continued solitary
+professional labor brings mental lassitude and feebleness. The absence
+of the fear of close and watchful criticism prevents them from bestowing
+suitable pains upon their composition. These and other causes combine to
+make the mass of the writing which is delivered from the pulpit poorer
+than any other which passes current in the world,--perhaps, indeed, not
+poorer in an absolute sense, but poorer when compared with the nature of
+the subjects that it treats. It is by no means, however, to be inferred,
+that, because a sermon is totally without merit as a work of literature,
+it is incapable of producing some good in those who listen to it. On the
+contrary, such is the frame of mind of many who regularly attend church,
+that they are not unlikely to derive good from a performance which, if
+weak, may yet be sincere, and which deals with the highest truths, even
+if it deal with them in an imperfect and unsatisfactory manner. And,
+indeed, as George Herbert says, good may be got from the worst
+preaching; for,
+
+                        "if all want sense,
+    God takes the text, and preacheth patience."
+
+Unquestionably, however, there is too much preaching in these days; too
+many sermons are written, and the spirit of Christianity is less
+effective than if the words concerning it were less numerous.
+
+It is a rare satisfaction, therefore, to find such a volume of sermons
+as that of Mr. Brooks, which, though not possessing the highest merit in
+point of style, are the discourses of a thoughtful and cultivated man,
+with a peculiar spiritual refinement, and with a devout intellect, made
+clear by its combination with purity of heart and simplicity of faith.
+The religious questions which are chiefly stirring the minds of men are
+taken up in them and discussed with what may be called an earnest
+moderation, with elevation of feeling and insight of spirit.
+
+
+_Goethe's Correspondence with a Child._ Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1859.
+
+The immediate cause of the republication of these letters is the recent
+death of Bettina, the child with whom Goethe corresponded. Though this
+fact, and the beauty of the volume, may quicken the sale of the work,
+and draw out fresh encomiums on its excellence, it has long since passed
+the critical crisis and taken its place as one of the most remarkable
+series of letters which the public have ever been invited to peruse.
+Something of the marvellous vanishes from them, however, when we find
+that the title, "Correspondence with a Child," is a misnomer; Bettina
+having been, in truth, twenty-two years of age when she first visited
+Goethe. Yet while this important circumstance abates much of the wonder
+with which we once read her thoughts and confessions, they really become
+all the more valuable as studies in human nature when we learn that they
+are the exhalations of a heart in full flower, and one upon which the
+dews of morning should not linger. The poet had reached the age of sixty
+when this tide of tender sentiment, original ideas, and enthusiastic
+admiration began to flow in upon him. Their first interview, as Bettina
+describes it, with singular freedom, in one of the letters to Goethe's
+mother, will be found a useful key, though perhaps not a complete one,
+by which to interpret the glowing passion which gushed from her pen.
+That the poet was pleased with the homage of this sweet, graceful, and
+affectionate girl, and drew her on to the revealing of her whole nature,
+is readily perceived. But when we inquire, To what end? we should
+remember, that, like Parrhasius, Goethe was before all things an artist;
+and furthermore, the correspondence of time will show that from this
+crowning knowledge the "Elective Affinities" sprang. It may be that her
+admiration was for his genius alone; if so, she chose love's language
+for its wealth of expression. Were it so received, it could not but be
+regarded as a peerless offering, for she was certainly a kindred spirit.
+There are many rare thoughts and profound confessions in these letters,
+which would have commanded the praise of Goethe, had they been written
+by a rival; and coming, as they did, from a devotee who declared that
+she drew her inspiration from him alone, they must have filled his soul
+with incense, of which that burned by the priest in the temple of the
+gods is only an emblem. To be brief and compendious on this book, it
+appears to be a heart unveiled. German critics throw some doubts on the
+literal veracity of the book; but it belongs at any rate to the better
+class of the _ben trovati_, and among its leaves, the dreamer, the
+lover, and the poet will find that ambrosial fruit on which fancy loves
+to feed, but whose blossoms are so generally blasted by the common air
+that only the few favored ones have had their longings for it appeased.
+In imagination, at least, Bettina partook of this banquet, and had the
+genius to wreak on words the emotions which swept through her heart.
+
+
+_Sir Rohan's Ghost._ A Romance. Boston: J. E. Tilton & Company. 1860.
+pp. 352.
+
+It is very plain that we have got a new poet,--a tremendous
+responsibility both for him who will have to learn how to carry the
+brimming vase of Art from the Pierian spring without squandering a drop,
+and for us critics who are to reconcile ourselves to what is new in him,
+and to hold him strictly to that apprenticeship to the old which is the
+condition of mastery at last.
+
+Criticism in America has reached something like the state of the old
+Continental currency. There is no honest relation between the promises
+we make and the specie basis of meaning they profess to represent. "The
+most extraordinary book of the age" is published every week; "genius"
+springs up like mullein, wherever the soil is thin enough; the yearly
+catch of "weird imagination," "thrilling pathos," "splendid
+description," and "sublime imagery" does not fall short of an ordinary
+mackerel-crop; and "profound originality" is so plenty that one not in
+the secret would be apt to take it for commonplace. Now Tithonus, whom,
+as the oldest inhabitant, we have engaged to oversee the criticism of
+the "Atlantic," has a prodigiously long memory,--almost as long as one
+of Dickens's descriptive passages,--he remembers perfectly well all the
+promising young fellows from Orpheus down, and has made a notch on the
+stalk of a devil's-apron for every one who ever came to anything that
+was of more consequence to the world than to himself. His tally has not
+yet mounted to a baker's dozen. Accordingly, when a young enthusiast
+rushes to tell Tithonus that a surprising genius has turned up, that
+venerable and cautious being either puts his hand behind his ear and
+absconds into an extemporary deafness, or says dryly, "American kind, I
+suppose?" This coolness of our wary senior is infectious, and we confess
+ourselves so far disenchanted by it, that, when we go into a library,
+the lettering on the backs of nine-tenths of the volumes contrives to
+shape itself into a laconic _Hic jacet_.
+
+It is of prime necessity to bring back the currency of criticism to the
+old hard-money basis. We have been gradually losing all sense of the
+true relation between words and things,--the surest symptom of
+intellectual decline. And this looseness of criticism reacts in the most
+damaging way upon literature by continually debasing the standard, and
+by confounding all distinction between fame and notoriety. Ought it to
+be gratifying to the author of "Popular Sovereignty, a Poem in Twelve
+Cantos," to be called the most remarkable man of the age, when he knows
+that he shares that preeminence with Mr. Tupper, nay, with half the
+names in the Directory? Indiscriminate eulogy is the subtlest form of
+depreciation, for it makes all praise suspicious.
+
+We look upon artistic genius as the rarest and most wayward apparition
+among mankind. It cannot be predicated upon any of Mr. Buckle's
+averages. Given the census, you may, perhaps, say so many murders, so
+many suicides, so many misdirected letters (and men of letters), but not
+so many geniuses. In this one thing old Mother Nature will be whimsical
+and womanish. This is a gift that John Bull, or Johnny Crapaud, or
+Brother Jonathan does not find in his stocking every Christmas. Crude
+imagination is common enough,--every hypochondriac has a more than
+Shakspearian allowance of it; fancy is cheap, or nobody would dream;
+eloquence sits ten deep on every platform. But genius in Art is that
+supreme organizing and idealizing faculty which, by combining,
+arranging, modulating, by suppressing the abnormal and perpetuating the
+essential, apes creation,--which from the shapeless terror or tipsy
+fancy of the benighted ploughman can conjure the sisters of Fores heath
+and the court of Titania,--which can make language thunder or coo at
+will,--which, in short, is the ruler of those qualities any one of which
+in excess is sure to overmaster the ordinary mind, and which can
+crystallize helpless vagary into the clearly outlined and imperishable
+forms of Art.
+
+It is not, therefore, from any grudging incapacity to appreciate new
+authors, but from a strong feeling that we are to guard the graves of
+the dead from encroachment, and their fames from vulgarization, that the
+"Atlantic" has been and will be sparing in its use of the word _genius_.
+One may safely predicate power, nicety of thought and language, a clear
+eye for scenery and character, and grace of poetic conception of a book,
+without being willing to say that it gives proof of genius. For genius
+is the _shaping_ faculty, the power of using material in the best way,
+and may not work itself clear of the besetting temptation of personal
+gifts and of circumstances in a first or even second work. It is
+something capable of education and accomplishment, and the patience with
+which it submits itself to this needful schooling and self-abnegation is
+one of the surest tests of its actual possession. Could even
+Shakspeare's poems and earlier plays come before us for judgment, we
+could only say of them, as of Keats's "Endymion," that they showed
+affluence, but made no sure prophecy of that artistic self-possession
+without which plenty is but confusion and incumbrance.
+
+So much by way of preface, lest we might seem cold to the very
+remarkable merits of "Sir Rohan's Ghost," if we treated it as a book
+worth finding fault with, instead of condemning it to the indifferent
+limbo of general eulogy. It is our deliberate judgment that no first
+volume by any author has ever been published in America showing more
+undoubtful symptoms of genuine poetic power than this. There are
+passages in it where imagination and language combine in the most
+artistic completeness, and the first quatrain of the song which Sir
+Rohan fancies he hears,--
+
+    ----"In a summer twilight,
+      While yet the dew was hoar,
+    I went plucking purple pansies
+      Till my love should come to shore,"--
+
+seems to us absolutely perfect in its simplicity and suggestiveness. It
+has that wayward and seemingly accidental just-right-ness that is so
+delightful in old ballads. The hesitating cadence of the third line is
+impregnated with the very mood of the singer, and lingers like the
+action it pictures. All those passages in the book, too, where the
+symptoms of Sir Rohan's possession by his diseased memory are handled,
+where we see all outward nature but as wax to the plastic will of
+imagination, are to the utmost well-conceived and carried out. It was
+part of the necessity of the case that the book should be conjectural
+and metaphysical, for it is plain that the author is young and has
+little experience of the actual. Accordingly, with a true instinct, she
+(for the newspapers ascribe the authorship of the book to Miss Prescott)
+calls her story a Romance, thus absolving it from any cumbersome
+allegiance to fact, and lays the scene of it in England, where she can
+have old castles, old traditions, old families, old servants, and all
+the other olds so essential to the young writer, ready to her hand.
+
+We like the book better for being in the main _subjective_ (to use the
+convenient word Mr. Ruskin is so angry with); for a young writer can
+only follow the German plan of conjuring things up "from the depths of
+his inward consciousness." The moment our author quits this sure ground,
+her touch becomes uncertain and her colors inharmonious.
+Character-painting is unessential to a romance, belonging as it does
+properly to the novel of actual life, in which the romantic element is
+equally out of place. Fielding, accordingly, the greatest artist in
+character since Shakspeare, hardly admits sentiment, and never romance,
+into his master-pieces. Hawthorne, again, another great master, feeling
+instinctively the poverty and want of sharp contrast in the externals of
+our New England life, always shades off the edges of the actual, till,
+at some indefinable line, they meet and mingle with the supersensual and
+imaginative.
+
+The author of "Sir Rohan" attempts character in Redruth the butler, and
+in the villain and heroine of her story. We are inclined to think the
+villain the best hit of the three, because he is downright scoundrel
+without a redeeming point, as the Nemesis of the story required him to
+be, and because he is so far a purely ideal character. But there is no
+such thing possible as an ideal butler, at least in the sense our author
+assumes in the cellar-scene. The better poet, the worse butler; and so
+we are made impatient by his more than Redi-isms about wine, full of
+fancy as they are in themselves, because they are an impertinence. For
+the same reason, we forgive the heroine her rhapsodies about the figures
+of the Arthur-romances, but cannot pardon her descents into real life
+and her incursions on what should be the sanctuary of the
+breakfast-table. The author attributes to her a dash of gypsy blood; and
+if her style of humorous conversation be a fair type of that of the race
+in general, we no longer wonder that they are homeless exiles from human
+society. When will men learn the true nature of a pun,--that it is a
+play upon ideas, and not upon sounds,--and that a perfect one is as rare
+as a perfect poem?
+
+In the prose "Edda," the dwarfs tell a monstrous fib, when they pretend
+that Kvasir, the inventor of poetry, has been suffocated by his own
+wisdom. Nevertheless, the little fellows showed thereby that they were
+not short of intelligence; for it is almost always in their own overflow
+that young poets are drowned. This superabundance seems to us the chief
+defect in "Sir Rohan's Ghost." The superabundance is all very fine, of
+the costliest kind; but was Clarence any the better for being done to
+death in Malmsey instead of water?
+
+This fault we look on as a fault of promise. There is always a chance
+that luxuriance may be pruned, but none short of a miracle that a
+broomstick may be made to blossom. There is, however, one absolute, and
+not relative fault in the book, which we find it harder to forgive,
+since it is one of instinct rather than of Art. The author seems to us
+prone to confound the _terrible_, (the only true subject of Art) with
+the _horrible_. The one rouses moral terror or aversion, the other only
+physical disgust. This is one of the worst effects of the modern French
+school upon literature, the inevitable result of its degrading the
+sensuous into the sensual.
+
+We have found all the fault we could with this volume, because we
+sincerely think that the author of it is destined for great things, and
+that she owes it to the rare gift she has been endowed with to do
+nothing inconsiderately, and by honest self-culture to raise natural
+qualities to conscious and beneficent powers.
+
+
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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 05:07:06 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 05:07:06 -0700
commit	9857092b6d0f9e46f9a3b7ece6aa60cd2fbc8b91 (patch)
tree	318e92c572e01744523a4c499c23b36e54524591